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Oct 15 2012
Serj Tankian on Harakiri Social Change, and System of a Down
by Andrew Fish
When System of a Down first hit, they fit right alongside their
nu-metal contemporaries, yet their sound and sensibilities came from
somewhere else. Serj Tankian's voice shattered and soared with
cultural history, out to educate as well as entertain. I suspect there
are many who would never have heard of the Armenian Genocide if not
for Tankian's visibility and activism, and as he's set out on his own,
his work has developed an even finer focus on the state of the world.
His latest solo effort is Harakiri, a release that offers pounding
licks and flowing melody while taking on issues of environmental
degradation, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, reality television, and
American corporatocracy -- all fitting topics for the performer who
co-founded the social-action organization Axis of Justice with
guitarist Tom Morello.
When I first heard System's music back in 2001, I remember wanting to
hear more of the Armenian performer's softer vocals, like the ones
that crept into "Toxicity" and "Deer Dance," and -- amid the
hard-hitting rock -- Harakiri provides just that. The album's title
was inspired by the eerily synchronous mass die-offs of fish and birds
in early 2011, to which the musician applies the metaphor of harakiri,
a samurai's ritual suicide. "They crown the sun," he sings on the
title track, suggesting a spiritual significance to the creatures'
mysterious demise. Harakiri is my favorite of Tankian's solo releases
thus far, and it's one of several projects he's currently working on.
Also in the pipeline is a fusion of classical jazz and dancehall synth
called Jazz-Iz-Christ, and a full-orchestra symphony entitled Orca --
a beautiful work, if this sample is any indication. The Lebanon-born
artist -- who used to design software for the jewelry industry -- has
collaborated with Jimmy Urine from Mindless Self Indulgence on a
project called Fuktronic, an experimental mix of jazzy, Euro-inspired
electronics laid beneath a British-mobster, spoken-word audio play.
Just finishing up the North American leg of his Harakiri tour, Tankian
performed his final Stateside show at L.A.'s Club Nokia to an adoring
audience, and now he's off to Europe.
It's a serene drive through the Santa Monica Mountains to meet with
Tankian at his home in Calabasas. I had interviewed him once before
for his Elect the Dead Symphony in 2010, and I was looking forward to
the follow-up. He's flanked by two friendly dogs -- one named Bowie
for his different-colored eyes -- when we meet in his peaceful,
hardwood sanctuary overlooking a forest valley. The quiet, thoughtful
rocker kicks back on the couch to chat about Harakiri, social change,
and the blast he's had back on the road with System.
Read the abridged interview below or jump to Iconic Interview for the full Q&A.
How did you develop the frenetic feel of Harakiri, which seems to
bounce around between landscapes?
Frenetic is a good word for it. I was bouncing around continents,
landscapes, projects. I was working on four records at once, all of
completely varied genres, so I think all of that lent itself to making
each project really interesting. I would say Harakiri is the easiest
record I've ever written in my life, the least filtered record, and
the least amount of time I've spent making a record. I just put it
down and didn't question what I was saying, didn't question what the
arrangement was, I didn't fuck much with it, basically. And I think
the message comes out that way, that there is a certain urgency, a
certain direct connection, a certain unapologetic sense of
transference.
You are carrying on a long tradition of rock 'n' roll harnessed for
social change.
It's always easy to err on the side of public opinion. It's always
harder to take a stand and go, this is the truth. With all my heart
and soul and knowledge, I believe this is the truth. And you're going
to fucking hate me for it, but this is the truth and you're probably
going to take my song off the air and not buy my records, and call me
unpatriotic sometimes, or whatever, you know? The truth is the truth.
It doesn't change.
Do you feel this is something that is important for you to do as an artist?
Yes. Music has many phenomenal purposes, and entertaining is a great
one; dancing is a great one. There's nothing wrong with that. And
there are so many variations of music; it's such a gorgeous,
inspiring, intuitive medium. But I think part of that is to illustrate
the times that we live in, to narrate some of the truths of our times,
and to inspire for positive change. There's definitely that aspect of
music and I'm very partial to that. Now, I'm partial to that on
Harakiri; the jazz record [Jazz-Iz-Christ] is not partial to that
because that's a whole different vibe. Orca's not partial to that
because that's a whole different vibe. So it depends. Lyrically,
maybe, I am partial to that.
How did System of Down decide to saddle up again and go on tour?
I don't know. It wasn't a particular event that happened or anything
like that. I think one day, John [Dolmayan] and I were communicating
-- we would always get offers to tour and stuff like that, and it was
like, okay, I can make it, [but] no, he can't make it. Everyone's
schedules and stuff. So Shavo [Odadjian] was about to get married [in
2010], so we all got together then, but even before then, I think we
met up one time just to hang out; it had been a while since we had all
hung out. So everyone said what they felt like doing; like, this is
what I'm willing to do. At first, I'm like, hey, let's just play a few
dates; maybe just play an L.A. show and have fun. And that turned into
a whole tour. The whole tour turned into two continents, turned into
four continents. [laughs] So it wasn't like, let's go back tour again
and tour the world! It was more like, hey, I miss playing a show; that
would be fun. Not thinking of recording, not thinking of anything.
Just like, I miss this. I miss the jokes, and I miss having food with
you, let's go play a show! We haven't done this in six years, let's go
play one!
Is it like traveling back in time when you're together with them? Is
there a sense of comfort and familiarity, like going back home to
visit?
There's a certain aspect of that, I guess. But it's not going back in
time because everyone has changed, time has changed, time has moved
on. Although some of the old jokes come back and you're like, I
remember that from fucking 1995, dude! [laughs] You're still saying
that joke? Are you serious? And we'll laugh. But it's a good vibe
among all of us, which is the important thing. We're all actually
really having a great time doing it. Sure, it's comfortable. You've
been doing it for a while. Doing your own stuff is always a little
tougher, of course. There's more responsibility, more of everything to
do. You've got to do all the press and everything's on you. Whereas,
when you're doing it as a band, you separate out the responsibilities
and everything else. Plus, touring with System has been great, also,
because we're not supporting anything. We don't have a record out, we
don't have press to do, we don't have shit to do! We just go play the
shows. We barely sound check -- just the first show -- because that's
how we like to roll. It's like, let's have some fun out there! So
that's been awesome. That's made the show better, I think.
I've always wondered about the influence your background has had on
the way you use your voice.
I think the influence on my voice, there is a certain melancholy to my
voice that's inherent in my people, in the Armenian people, because of
all the 600 years living under the Ottoman Empire as second-class
citizens. And the pain behind the Genocide and all that. I think
there's something behind my voice that has that tinge to it. I can't
really describe it.
When did you first become interested in music?
My dad would sing at home; there was always that influence. He loved
music. Growing up, he played instruments, although he never played
them at home because he was too busy working to raise the family --
but not as a musician, as a designer. So I remember as a kid singing
with my dad at home and stuff like that, and that song that we used to
sing together, I sang with him on his record [Inchbes Moranak] two
years ago. My dad's name is Khatchadour. [Writer's note: see Tankian
and his father sing together here.] But I never really got into
playing music until I was in college. I just had a little Casio
keyboard, just to get my mind off my studies. It was a great way to
relax, and that's what it was. But I started getting more and more
into it, so after college, I was writing these little pieces, and I
had a more professional keyboard, and singing along -- and I'm like,
wow. But I still didn't consider it a career choice. I think coming
from a culture that has seen hunger, everyone wants their kids to be
professionals -- doctors and lawyers -- because they want the best for
them. They want the most security possible. But we have such inherent
cultures that have the arts as part of our blood, that it's hard to
avoid.
What do you see as the ideal state of the world in which things could
work out better rather than worse?
If I could make everyone believe in one thing that they all share
together, it would be interconnectivity. If everyone can feel
interconnected with other beings, other animals, other people, the
environment, everything around them. If everyone was like that -- they
could be of any culture, any race, any religion; it doesn't matter. If
they could just believe in interconnectivity, I think the world would
be a different place, altogether. Because if you yell at the guy in
front of you and honk at him in your L.A. traffic, and you believe in
interconnectivity, you're connected to that guy. He could be your
brother from another lifetime. He could be you, really. So am I
yelling at myself now? All compassion would rise automatically. We'd
still go into our states of egoic existence, which we all have, but if
I could change one thing on this planet in everyone, then you would
go, "Wait, my actions are causing this. So if I reverse them or if I
do this, there will be less of this." You'd look at global warming --
or climate change, I should say more correctly -- and you'd go, "Okay,
what's causing this?" It's very factual. You look at our meat
industry, you look at the water that we use, what most of corn is used
for, and all this stuff, and you go, "If I believe in
interconnectivity, and if I did this, this, and this, then I could
help, here, here, and here." Everything would be simple, really. I
guess knowledge, too. Interconnectivity is one thing and knowledge
would be the other.
Read the full Q&A at IconicInterview.com
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/andrew-fish/serj-tankian-harakiri_b_1947191.html
From: A. Papazian
Oct 15 2012
Serj Tankian on Harakiri Social Change, and System of a Down
by Andrew Fish
When System of a Down first hit, they fit right alongside their
nu-metal contemporaries, yet their sound and sensibilities came from
somewhere else. Serj Tankian's voice shattered and soared with
cultural history, out to educate as well as entertain. I suspect there
are many who would never have heard of the Armenian Genocide if not
for Tankian's visibility and activism, and as he's set out on his own,
his work has developed an even finer focus on the state of the world.
His latest solo effort is Harakiri, a release that offers pounding
licks and flowing melody while taking on issues of environmental
degradation, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, reality television, and
American corporatocracy -- all fitting topics for the performer who
co-founded the social-action organization Axis of Justice with
guitarist Tom Morello.
When I first heard System's music back in 2001, I remember wanting to
hear more of the Armenian performer's softer vocals, like the ones
that crept into "Toxicity" and "Deer Dance," and -- amid the
hard-hitting rock -- Harakiri provides just that. The album's title
was inspired by the eerily synchronous mass die-offs of fish and birds
in early 2011, to which the musician applies the metaphor of harakiri,
a samurai's ritual suicide. "They crown the sun," he sings on the
title track, suggesting a spiritual significance to the creatures'
mysterious demise. Harakiri is my favorite of Tankian's solo releases
thus far, and it's one of several projects he's currently working on.
Also in the pipeline is a fusion of classical jazz and dancehall synth
called Jazz-Iz-Christ, and a full-orchestra symphony entitled Orca --
a beautiful work, if this sample is any indication. The Lebanon-born
artist -- who used to design software for the jewelry industry -- has
collaborated with Jimmy Urine from Mindless Self Indulgence on a
project called Fuktronic, an experimental mix of jazzy, Euro-inspired
electronics laid beneath a British-mobster, spoken-word audio play.
Just finishing up the North American leg of his Harakiri tour, Tankian
performed his final Stateside show at L.A.'s Club Nokia to an adoring
audience, and now he's off to Europe.
It's a serene drive through the Santa Monica Mountains to meet with
Tankian at his home in Calabasas. I had interviewed him once before
for his Elect the Dead Symphony in 2010, and I was looking forward to
the follow-up. He's flanked by two friendly dogs -- one named Bowie
for his different-colored eyes -- when we meet in his peaceful,
hardwood sanctuary overlooking a forest valley. The quiet, thoughtful
rocker kicks back on the couch to chat about Harakiri, social change,
and the blast he's had back on the road with System.
Read the abridged interview below or jump to Iconic Interview for the full Q&A.
How did you develop the frenetic feel of Harakiri, which seems to
bounce around between landscapes?
Frenetic is a good word for it. I was bouncing around continents,
landscapes, projects. I was working on four records at once, all of
completely varied genres, so I think all of that lent itself to making
each project really interesting. I would say Harakiri is the easiest
record I've ever written in my life, the least filtered record, and
the least amount of time I've spent making a record. I just put it
down and didn't question what I was saying, didn't question what the
arrangement was, I didn't fuck much with it, basically. And I think
the message comes out that way, that there is a certain urgency, a
certain direct connection, a certain unapologetic sense of
transference.
You are carrying on a long tradition of rock 'n' roll harnessed for
social change.
It's always easy to err on the side of public opinion. It's always
harder to take a stand and go, this is the truth. With all my heart
and soul and knowledge, I believe this is the truth. And you're going
to fucking hate me for it, but this is the truth and you're probably
going to take my song off the air and not buy my records, and call me
unpatriotic sometimes, or whatever, you know? The truth is the truth.
It doesn't change.
Do you feel this is something that is important for you to do as an artist?
Yes. Music has many phenomenal purposes, and entertaining is a great
one; dancing is a great one. There's nothing wrong with that. And
there are so many variations of music; it's such a gorgeous,
inspiring, intuitive medium. But I think part of that is to illustrate
the times that we live in, to narrate some of the truths of our times,
and to inspire for positive change. There's definitely that aspect of
music and I'm very partial to that. Now, I'm partial to that on
Harakiri; the jazz record [Jazz-Iz-Christ] is not partial to that
because that's a whole different vibe. Orca's not partial to that
because that's a whole different vibe. So it depends. Lyrically,
maybe, I am partial to that.
How did System of Down decide to saddle up again and go on tour?
I don't know. It wasn't a particular event that happened or anything
like that. I think one day, John [Dolmayan] and I were communicating
-- we would always get offers to tour and stuff like that, and it was
like, okay, I can make it, [but] no, he can't make it. Everyone's
schedules and stuff. So Shavo [Odadjian] was about to get married [in
2010], so we all got together then, but even before then, I think we
met up one time just to hang out; it had been a while since we had all
hung out. So everyone said what they felt like doing; like, this is
what I'm willing to do. At first, I'm like, hey, let's just play a few
dates; maybe just play an L.A. show and have fun. And that turned into
a whole tour. The whole tour turned into two continents, turned into
four continents. [laughs] So it wasn't like, let's go back tour again
and tour the world! It was more like, hey, I miss playing a show; that
would be fun. Not thinking of recording, not thinking of anything.
Just like, I miss this. I miss the jokes, and I miss having food with
you, let's go play a show! We haven't done this in six years, let's go
play one!
Is it like traveling back in time when you're together with them? Is
there a sense of comfort and familiarity, like going back home to
visit?
There's a certain aspect of that, I guess. But it's not going back in
time because everyone has changed, time has changed, time has moved
on. Although some of the old jokes come back and you're like, I
remember that from fucking 1995, dude! [laughs] You're still saying
that joke? Are you serious? And we'll laugh. But it's a good vibe
among all of us, which is the important thing. We're all actually
really having a great time doing it. Sure, it's comfortable. You've
been doing it for a while. Doing your own stuff is always a little
tougher, of course. There's more responsibility, more of everything to
do. You've got to do all the press and everything's on you. Whereas,
when you're doing it as a band, you separate out the responsibilities
and everything else. Plus, touring with System has been great, also,
because we're not supporting anything. We don't have a record out, we
don't have press to do, we don't have shit to do! We just go play the
shows. We barely sound check -- just the first show -- because that's
how we like to roll. It's like, let's have some fun out there! So
that's been awesome. That's made the show better, I think.
I've always wondered about the influence your background has had on
the way you use your voice.
I think the influence on my voice, there is a certain melancholy to my
voice that's inherent in my people, in the Armenian people, because of
all the 600 years living under the Ottoman Empire as second-class
citizens. And the pain behind the Genocide and all that. I think
there's something behind my voice that has that tinge to it. I can't
really describe it.
When did you first become interested in music?
My dad would sing at home; there was always that influence. He loved
music. Growing up, he played instruments, although he never played
them at home because he was too busy working to raise the family --
but not as a musician, as a designer. So I remember as a kid singing
with my dad at home and stuff like that, and that song that we used to
sing together, I sang with him on his record [Inchbes Moranak] two
years ago. My dad's name is Khatchadour. [Writer's note: see Tankian
and his father sing together here.] But I never really got into
playing music until I was in college. I just had a little Casio
keyboard, just to get my mind off my studies. It was a great way to
relax, and that's what it was. But I started getting more and more
into it, so after college, I was writing these little pieces, and I
had a more professional keyboard, and singing along -- and I'm like,
wow. But I still didn't consider it a career choice. I think coming
from a culture that has seen hunger, everyone wants their kids to be
professionals -- doctors and lawyers -- because they want the best for
them. They want the most security possible. But we have such inherent
cultures that have the arts as part of our blood, that it's hard to
avoid.
What do you see as the ideal state of the world in which things could
work out better rather than worse?
If I could make everyone believe in one thing that they all share
together, it would be interconnectivity. If everyone can feel
interconnected with other beings, other animals, other people, the
environment, everything around them. If everyone was like that -- they
could be of any culture, any race, any religion; it doesn't matter. If
they could just believe in interconnectivity, I think the world would
be a different place, altogether. Because if you yell at the guy in
front of you and honk at him in your L.A. traffic, and you believe in
interconnectivity, you're connected to that guy. He could be your
brother from another lifetime. He could be you, really. So am I
yelling at myself now? All compassion would rise automatically. We'd
still go into our states of egoic existence, which we all have, but if
I could change one thing on this planet in everyone, then you would
go, "Wait, my actions are causing this. So if I reverse them or if I
do this, there will be less of this." You'd look at global warming --
or climate change, I should say more correctly -- and you'd go, "Okay,
what's causing this?" It's very factual. You look at our meat
industry, you look at the water that we use, what most of corn is used
for, and all this stuff, and you go, "If I believe in
interconnectivity, and if I did this, this, and this, then I could
help, here, here, and here." Everything would be simple, really. I
guess knowledge, too. Interconnectivity is one thing and knowledge
would be the other.
Read the full Q&A at IconicInterview.com
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/andrew-fish/serj-tankian-harakiri_b_1947191.html
From: A. Papazian