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Armenian music holds a steady beat
by Tom Vartabedian
Published: Monday February 22, 2010
http://www.reporter.am/go/article/2010-02-22- armenian-music-holds-a-steady-beat
Haverhill, Mass. - Maybe it's a sign of old age but more and more,
I've preferred listening to Armenian music as opposed to dancing by
it.
That was not the case 20-30 years ago when I would be the first to
approach a dance floor and "halleh" the night away.
People used to look at me and get inspired themselves to do a "bar" or
two. And before you knew it, we were perspiring in our own sweat.
Now, the only sweat I'm being exposed to is someone else's. This was
evident at AYF Olympics when I was more attuned to watching the
musicians perform.
These guys never seem to age, especially Onnik Dinkjian in his 80s.
(Sorry, my friend, this was meant as a compliment.) If anyone is the
Tony Bennett of our society, it's this crooner.
I'm waiting for his next song, "I Left My Heart in Yerevan."
He's joined at the hip by Johnny Berberian and Hachig Kazarian - both
of whom became anointed as teenagers. If I'm getting AARP material, so
are they.
Again, maybe it's me, but these guys don't skip a beat, whether they
sing their song or play their instrument.
Like any transition, we're fortunate to have many talented newcomers
harping (no pun intended) upon the scene. The industry is in capable
hands with bands like the Aravod and Jason Naroian.
It must also make others like veteran oudists Joe Kouyoumjian and
Richard Hagopian proud. They've had their day and still beating
strong. But there's no hiatus in the ranks, at least not yet.
Growing up, I had the best music from all fronts. My goodness! If it
wasn't the Vosbikians one week, it was the Gomidas in another. The New
England Ararats were going strong, not to mention the Aramites, Hye
Echoes and another venerable - Artie Barsamian - who continues to give
old age a bad name.
Then we had the juniors - sons of the greats - who injected a lot of
their own rhythm into the mix. I heard the junior Vosbikians perform
and I couldn't tell the difference.
It does my heart so much good at Olympics in watching young Steve
Vosbikian win his gold medals as an exceptional athlete for
Philadelphia and then seeing the father right by his side. I sense a
great deal of mutual respect that started with music and spilled over
to the athletic field.
I had the benefit of being entertained by the greatest oud player who
ever lived. My wife and I were honeymooning in New York City back 42
years ago (eeks!) when we decided to spend an evening at Greektown.
We randomly picked a spot on a Thursday and in we walked. The place
was virtually empty except for a few seats taken at the bar. We were
led to a table and given a couple menus.
The food wasn't bad but what was to follow was exceptional. In walked
an hombre sporting dark glasses and carrying a large case. Goodness, I
thought it was the Mafia ready to shoot up the place.
Just as we were ready to make a run for it, out came an oud and the
musician began strumming a tune - one song after another done with
impeccable virtuosity.
"Do you take requests?" I asked.
He did. And we gave him all he could handle for the next three hours.
I said "we" because my bride and I were the only ones seated in the
audience.
He couldn't have noticed otherwise. Come to find out, the man was
blind. If you're in my generation, you may have heard of Oudi Hrant.
Well, that's who entertained us on our honeymoon. A year or two later,
he was gone and I still think of that day. I think about how such a
great musician wouldn't consider it beneath his dignity to play in an
inferior hall as opposed to a Carnegie stage, symphony or performing
stage.
It must be the music in the man. Maybe that's the reason why guys like
Johnny and Onnik and the late Roger Krikorian gave so much of
themselves to make our world a performing art.
Roger's gone. How wonderful it would be to have all the musicians come
together annually for a benefit dance in his honor. They could play in
shifts and attract an Olympics-size crowd.
The proceeds could go toward a music scholarship for some deserving
high school graduate. Let the music continue, whether we listen or
dance. We owe it to our proud heritage.
by Tom Vartabedian
Published: Monday February 22, 2010
http://www.reporter.am/go/article/2010-02-22- armenian-music-holds-a-steady-beat
Haverhill, Mass. - Maybe it's a sign of old age but more and more,
I've preferred listening to Armenian music as opposed to dancing by
it.
That was not the case 20-30 years ago when I would be the first to
approach a dance floor and "halleh" the night away.
People used to look at me and get inspired themselves to do a "bar" or
two. And before you knew it, we were perspiring in our own sweat.
Now, the only sweat I'm being exposed to is someone else's. This was
evident at AYF Olympics when I was more attuned to watching the
musicians perform.
These guys never seem to age, especially Onnik Dinkjian in his 80s.
(Sorry, my friend, this was meant as a compliment.) If anyone is the
Tony Bennett of our society, it's this crooner.
I'm waiting for his next song, "I Left My Heart in Yerevan."
He's joined at the hip by Johnny Berberian and Hachig Kazarian - both
of whom became anointed as teenagers. If I'm getting AARP material, so
are they.
Again, maybe it's me, but these guys don't skip a beat, whether they
sing their song or play their instrument.
Like any transition, we're fortunate to have many talented newcomers
harping (no pun intended) upon the scene. The industry is in capable
hands with bands like the Aravod and Jason Naroian.
It must also make others like veteran oudists Joe Kouyoumjian and
Richard Hagopian proud. They've had their day and still beating
strong. But there's no hiatus in the ranks, at least not yet.
Growing up, I had the best music from all fronts. My goodness! If it
wasn't the Vosbikians one week, it was the Gomidas in another. The New
England Ararats were going strong, not to mention the Aramites, Hye
Echoes and another venerable - Artie Barsamian - who continues to give
old age a bad name.
Then we had the juniors - sons of the greats - who injected a lot of
their own rhythm into the mix. I heard the junior Vosbikians perform
and I couldn't tell the difference.
It does my heart so much good at Olympics in watching young Steve
Vosbikian win his gold medals as an exceptional athlete for
Philadelphia and then seeing the father right by his side. I sense a
great deal of mutual respect that started with music and spilled over
to the athletic field.
I had the benefit of being entertained by the greatest oud player who
ever lived. My wife and I were honeymooning in New York City back 42
years ago (eeks!) when we decided to spend an evening at Greektown.
We randomly picked a spot on a Thursday and in we walked. The place
was virtually empty except for a few seats taken at the bar. We were
led to a table and given a couple menus.
The food wasn't bad but what was to follow was exceptional. In walked
an hombre sporting dark glasses and carrying a large case. Goodness, I
thought it was the Mafia ready to shoot up the place.
Just as we were ready to make a run for it, out came an oud and the
musician began strumming a tune - one song after another done with
impeccable virtuosity.
"Do you take requests?" I asked.
He did. And we gave him all he could handle for the next three hours.
I said "we" because my bride and I were the only ones seated in the
audience.
He couldn't have noticed otherwise. Come to find out, the man was
blind. If you're in my generation, you may have heard of Oudi Hrant.
Well, that's who entertained us on our honeymoon. A year or two later,
he was gone and I still think of that day. I think about how such a
great musician wouldn't consider it beneath his dignity to play in an
inferior hall as opposed to a Carnegie stage, symphony or performing
stage.
It must be the music in the man. Maybe that's the reason why guys like
Johnny and Onnik and the late Roger Krikorian gave so much of
themselves to make our world a performing art.
Roger's gone. How wonderful it would be to have all the musicians come
together annually for a benefit dance in his honor. They could play in
shifts and attract an Olympics-size crowd.
The proceeds could go toward a music scholarship for some deserving
high school graduate. Let the music continue, whether we listen or
dance. We owe it to our proud heritage.