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Daily Star - Lebanon
Dec 22 2008
Armenian heritage thrashed out on angry guitars
By Matthew Mosley
Special to The Daily Star
Monday, December 22, 2008
BEIRUT: "I don't want to blow my own trumpet," says Eileen
Khatchadourian after her recent Beirut show, "but I don't think that
Armenian music has ever been treated like this before."
The vocalist may well be correct. As a folk tradition, Armenian songs
have been variously re-interpreted down the years, but her Beirut
audience had never before heard it filtered through the angry guitars
and feedback loops of alternative rock. This week Khatchadourian
launched her new album, "Midan," with two shows at Achrafieh's Monnot
Theater. In literary Armenian, midan means "home."
The album is a homecoming for Khatchadourian in more ways than
one. Not only does it consist of re-interpretations of the Armenian
songs that are part of the vocalist's heritage, but she says that when
making this album she felt she had finally found a place to call her
own.
"I never stay long in any one place," Khatchadourian told The Daily
Star. "I divide my time between Lebanon, Montreal, Paris, Belgium and
the Cote d'Ivoire. I do not feel like I belong anywhere. With this
album I finally created my own space, and now I'm inviting people to
join me."
Born in Beirut in 1978, Khatchadourian was the lead singer of pianist
Guy Manoukian's ensemble from 1999 through 2006. "We sang covers. I
was not really happy with this. I needed to find my own artistic
identity," she explains. "It's wonderful to have achieved this with
'Midan.'"
The capacity crowd at Monnot Theater on Wednesday were palpably
excited at the prospect of witnessing this new identity. As dry ice
swirled through the auditorium and Khatchadourian's band began to
produce riffs from the edges of the stage, there was a real sense of
expectation.
Khatchadourian's entrance did not disappoint. Looking as though she'd
just raided the dressing-up box, she sported a wonderfully flouncy
creation designed by young Beirut hotshot Krikor Jabotian.
Khatchadourian's voice was equally impressive. Rich and confident, it
was a match to the ostentatious guitars and percussion. Sometimes
lamenting, sometimes aggressive, it seemed to exist on its own plane
and added real interest to the material.
The particular brand of alt-rock played by Khatchadourian's band, all
head-banging guitar chords and mosh-pit percussion, is somewhat marred
by its association with the navel-gazing of pimply teens. It is, at
least initially, a curious choice for vehicle of the re-birth of
Armenian music.
But the somewhat aggressive edge to all those thrashing guitars is
appropriate for Khatchadourian's purpose. "When you are a minority you
have to fight," she explained. "This is part of my battle to defend my
heritage."
The album is constructed with a youthful audience in mind. "I wanted
to repackage these songs for a new generation," said
Khatchadourian. "The songs are more easily accessible in this form."
On Wednesday Khatchadourian paused between each song to say a few
words about its derivation, fulfilling the educational aspect of her
project.
It should be said that Wednesday's audience spanned the generations -
old and young alike appeared to be enjoying themselves. The Monnot
Theater was a slightly unsuitable venue for such "youthful" music. The
loud, thrashing chords demand some head-jerking at the very least,
which all becomes a bit self-conscious when sitting politely in a
theater. Only Khatchadourian had freedom to jump around on stage.
It was a conscious decision to hold the concert in a more formal
setting. "Since this is an avant-gout I really wanted people to listen
to the music," she explained. "I didn't want people to be drinking and
chatting. In Europe bands hold concerts in theatres all the time. I
really like the idea"
The visuals became a redeeming feature for any uncomfortable audience
members. VJs Gabi Ferneine and Amin Dora projected a wonderful series
of images onto a screen behind the band. Desert landscapes,
androgynous youths holding flowers, contemporary dancers and undersea
adventures were inter-cut, reversed, frozen and overlaid, making a
diverting spectacle. But occasionally the application of dry ice was
so zealous as to obscure the diversion.
The final song of the evening, "Oror" ("Lullaby"), was also the
best. This is one of the songs that kicked the whole project off. At
the Dubai Jazz Festival in 2008, Khatchadourian and her band played
"Oror" and "Karouna" ("Spring"), which is now the first song on the
album. The warm reception convinced Khatchadourian she was on the
right path, and this path led ultimately to "Midan."
"Oror" begins with a wonderfully haywire melody that wouldn't sound
out of place on the soundtrack of a Tim Burton film. Soon the guitars
come crashing in, almost theatrical with their exaggerated,
angst-ridden wall of sound.
Khatchadorian's voice floats over the top in an elegiac lament.
Suddenly everything ceases. Khatchadourian places her fingers to her
lips: "Shhhhhhhh." The audience disobeyed this instruction and gave
way to rapturous applause.
Eileen Khatchadourian's "Midan" is released through the independent
label Incognito.
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.as p?edition_id=10&categ_id=4&article_id=9859 9
Dec 22 2008
Armenian heritage thrashed out on angry guitars
By Matthew Mosley
Special to The Daily Star
Monday, December 22, 2008
BEIRUT: "I don't want to blow my own trumpet," says Eileen
Khatchadourian after her recent Beirut show, "but I don't think that
Armenian music has ever been treated like this before."
The vocalist may well be correct. As a folk tradition, Armenian songs
have been variously re-interpreted down the years, but her Beirut
audience had never before heard it filtered through the angry guitars
and feedback loops of alternative rock. This week Khatchadourian
launched her new album, "Midan," with two shows at Achrafieh's Monnot
Theater. In literary Armenian, midan means "home."
The album is a homecoming for Khatchadourian in more ways than
one. Not only does it consist of re-interpretations of the Armenian
songs that are part of the vocalist's heritage, but she says that when
making this album she felt she had finally found a place to call her
own.
"I never stay long in any one place," Khatchadourian told The Daily
Star. "I divide my time between Lebanon, Montreal, Paris, Belgium and
the Cote d'Ivoire. I do not feel like I belong anywhere. With this
album I finally created my own space, and now I'm inviting people to
join me."
Born in Beirut in 1978, Khatchadourian was the lead singer of pianist
Guy Manoukian's ensemble from 1999 through 2006. "We sang covers. I
was not really happy with this. I needed to find my own artistic
identity," she explains. "It's wonderful to have achieved this with
'Midan.'"
The capacity crowd at Monnot Theater on Wednesday were palpably
excited at the prospect of witnessing this new identity. As dry ice
swirled through the auditorium and Khatchadourian's band began to
produce riffs from the edges of the stage, there was a real sense of
expectation.
Khatchadourian's entrance did not disappoint. Looking as though she'd
just raided the dressing-up box, she sported a wonderfully flouncy
creation designed by young Beirut hotshot Krikor Jabotian.
Khatchadourian's voice was equally impressive. Rich and confident, it
was a match to the ostentatious guitars and percussion. Sometimes
lamenting, sometimes aggressive, it seemed to exist on its own plane
and added real interest to the material.
The particular brand of alt-rock played by Khatchadourian's band, all
head-banging guitar chords and mosh-pit percussion, is somewhat marred
by its association with the navel-gazing of pimply teens. It is, at
least initially, a curious choice for vehicle of the re-birth of
Armenian music.
But the somewhat aggressive edge to all those thrashing guitars is
appropriate for Khatchadourian's purpose. "When you are a minority you
have to fight," she explained. "This is part of my battle to defend my
heritage."
The album is constructed with a youthful audience in mind. "I wanted
to repackage these songs for a new generation," said
Khatchadourian. "The songs are more easily accessible in this form."
On Wednesday Khatchadourian paused between each song to say a few
words about its derivation, fulfilling the educational aspect of her
project.
It should be said that Wednesday's audience spanned the generations -
old and young alike appeared to be enjoying themselves. The Monnot
Theater was a slightly unsuitable venue for such "youthful" music. The
loud, thrashing chords demand some head-jerking at the very least,
which all becomes a bit self-conscious when sitting politely in a
theater. Only Khatchadourian had freedom to jump around on stage.
It was a conscious decision to hold the concert in a more formal
setting. "Since this is an avant-gout I really wanted people to listen
to the music," she explained. "I didn't want people to be drinking and
chatting. In Europe bands hold concerts in theatres all the time. I
really like the idea"
The visuals became a redeeming feature for any uncomfortable audience
members. VJs Gabi Ferneine and Amin Dora projected a wonderful series
of images onto a screen behind the band. Desert landscapes,
androgynous youths holding flowers, contemporary dancers and undersea
adventures were inter-cut, reversed, frozen and overlaid, making a
diverting spectacle. But occasionally the application of dry ice was
so zealous as to obscure the diversion.
The final song of the evening, "Oror" ("Lullaby"), was also the
best. This is one of the songs that kicked the whole project off. At
the Dubai Jazz Festival in 2008, Khatchadourian and her band played
"Oror" and "Karouna" ("Spring"), which is now the first song on the
album. The warm reception convinced Khatchadourian she was on the
right path, and this path led ultimately to "Midan."
"Oror" begins with a wonderfully haywire melody that wouldn't sound
out of place on the soundtrack of a Tim Burton film. Soon the guitars
come crashing in, almost theatrical with their exaggerated,
angst-ridden wall of sound.
Khatchadorian's voice floats over the top in an elegiac lament.
Suddenly everything ceases. Khatchadourian places her fingers to her
lips: "Shhhhhhhh." The audience disobeyed this instruction and gave
way to rapturous applause.
Eileen Khatchadourian's "Midan" is released through the independent
label Incognito.
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.as p?edition_id=10&categ_id=4&article_id=9859 9