BY MEGAN BURSLEM
I recently completed a Master of Arts in Music Performance at Monash University. At the beginning of this course, I was absolutely pumped about the research component. What would I write about? What could I research?! My inner nerd was let loose and I spent weeks brainstorming with a smile from ear to rear. Now this was real freedom. Oh, the endless possibilities! I swooned over my butcher’s paper.
Alas, this new found freedom was too much for my decisive skills and I could not, for the life of me, settle on a topic. I trudged into my supervisor’s office and sighed. Flopping onto the ‘therapy couch’, I moaned, “Joel, I can’t decide what to doooo,” dragging out my vowels like an exasperated kid. My proposal deadline was approaching and I had to make a decision, and fast.
Joel furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “what is the most interesting piece of music in your programme?” The answer was easy: Havik (1998) by Tigran Mansurian. The Armenian composer had weaved a web of magic inside my soul with this exquisite piece. I first heard it on the ECM album Hayren (ECM New Series 1754). The melody (performed magnificently on this album by violist Kim Kashkashian) is a traditional Armenian folk song, beautifully coupled with Mansurian’s addition of a harmonically pleasing vibraphone line (Robyn Schulkowsky). It was love at first sound.
Joel gauged my excitement for this music: “then, it’s settled.” So began my journey into the world of Armenian folk music.
I read up on the subject, but literature in English was hard to come by. The only option that would satisfy my thirst for knowledge was to visit Armenia. “Why not?” I asked myself. I put plans in place immediately and, a few short months later, found myself squashed into an economy seat, headed for the big unknown.
If you’ve never seen Armenia on a world map, the country located between Turkey, Georgia, Iran and Azerbaijan. The Armenian landscape is arid and rocky, yet fertilized by both the rich volcanic earth and an extensive spring-water irrigation system that flows from the mountain regions all over the country. If you visit Armenia in late May or June, you will get to experience one of life’s great delights: the Armenian apricot in peak season. Boy oh boy, these babies melt in your mouth like a Paddle Pop on a hot summers’ day. That is not to exclude the wonders of the other fruits including watermelons, olives, peaches, nectarines, plums, quince, berries and figs that will blow your mind!
Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, is an amazing city. It smells of Christmas cooking and chook poo. Teenagers flock the streets dressed in an exotic array of fashions that have come and gone over the past four decades. The ’70s pointed collar was a common denominator in men’s fashion, and for the girls, well … I couldn’t get past the effort they put into their hair and make-up.
The snow-capped peak of Mt Ararat rises high above the city as if watching over its inhabitants. It is on this mountain that the biblical character Noah is said to have crashed his arc all those thousands of years ago. While waiting for the RAC, he let out his animals two-by-two, and this is how legend was created.
I had organised to meet with musicologist and folk music specialist Levon Eskenian on a hot Tuesday evening. Levon was a softly spoken encyclopaedia of information on all things folk music, and I methodically picked his brain over a few Eastern-style coffees. At the end of the interview, Levon asked me how I got into Armenian music and I explained my connection with the work of Mansurian.
“Oh,” he replied with immense cool. “The National Choir of Armenia are recording a work of his tomorrow at the Saghmosavank Monastry. He will be directing. Would you like to go along?”
Uh…dah…
The very next morning, I was on a bus with the men and women of the NCA and none other than Maestro Mansurian himself. I tried to suppress my beaming smile.
At first, the choir members did not receive me with much warmth and many queries were thrown my way: “why you in Armenia?” This question was usually accompanied by an investigative look up and down that would rattle even the toughest constitution. I explained my research. By lunchtime, they had accepted me as “our Aussie!” They shared their food with me, explained their customs, sang me songs of legend and even showed me a card trick or two! At the end of the day, the rather mischievous alto named Arik (also responsible for the card tricks) explained this behaviour to me: “Armenians, we wait time to make the trust, but then you are, to us, our family.”
The choir, now organised and positioned in the middle of this extraordinarily beautiful monastery, were almost ready to go. I stood in one corner and waited for the sound engineers to finish the set-up. Men were running everywhere and instructions were flying around the room. It was all very official and I was left to observe and stay out of the way. From one side of the room I saw Mansurian carrying a chair. His manager, seeing him struggle, offered to assist, but he shook his head and kept going. I realised he was bringing the chair to me and my heart melted at such sublime thoughtfulness. He placed it down and grabbed my hand, guiding me to sit.
I had been welcomed.
A hush descended over the room as the sound engineers gave the go-ahead. The conductor raised his arms, and from the bellies of the choristers came the most exquisite sound I had ever heard. It was magic, and for a lengthy moment I forgot how to breathe because of the incredible raw emotion. Mansurian listened to his creation sheathed in afternoon sun, eyes closed, his head tilted backward. I wondered what it must feel like to be responsible for such a sound. I got shivers down my spine.
At the end of the day, my new Armenian family got off the bus at the outskirts of Yerevan and I continued on to my hotel. I waved excitedly out the window and hoped that I would get to see them again – perhaps one day in Australia. They didn’t wave back, instead, clipped their heels together, straightened their backs and gave me one hell of an Armenian salute.
There are some amazing sounds coming out of Armenia at the moment including works by Tigran Mansurian. If you want to experience Armenian folk music first hand, the Gurdjieff Folk Instruments Ensemble, lead by Levon Eskenian, will perform at the Canberra International Music Festival on 11 May 2014.
Image: Megan Burslem
