Chidem Inch: Dzaner Bar

Armenian-American musicians in the 1950s. From left: Mugurdich Asadoorian (davul/drum), Hovagim Der Hagopian (born in Hussenig, clarinet), Abraham Garabedian (oud) (Source: Queenie Hagopian Sadoian, “Armenian Folk Music and Dance: Selected Materials For Use In American Schools", 1957). ~Houshamadyan.com

 

Sometimes I think I know something about the music I play.  Other times, I feel like there is so much I don’t know and there is little chance I will ever become any kind of expert even though “expert” is a relative term. 

Today on Facebook was a post I saw on Houshamadyan.com a most impressive website that is a “Project to reconstruct Ottoman Armenian town and village life.”  It is an open digital archive that covers trades, schools, missionaries, cuisine, song and dance, games, religious customs, folk medicine, and more.  It is a labor of love of Armenians living in Europe from Lebanon and Turkey.  They need an “about our staff” part of their very impressive and incredibly useful and informative website.  From what I can tell, the brain trust behind Houshamadyan are Garine Gokceyan, Vahé Tachjian, and Shogher Margossian. 

The post I saw was a beautiful piece on just one dance, Dzaner Bar (Heavy Dance), from Kharpert.  There is a detailed explanation on how to do the dance, a video showing how it is done, including a wonderful recording of the melody.  If you are remotely interested in something like this, I encourage you to check out Housmadayan.  Start with the Dzaner Bar page but don’t stop there.

I was not familiar with the song nor the dance.  My heritage is mostly Kharpertsi.  I am a musician.  I take pride in knowing things.  But I only know what I know and hope I don’t forget.  There is so much more to know.

This kind of abyss is not limited to music.  It is in everything I dabble or am interested in.  I wrote a piece just this month on Ford Madox Ford:  The Best Writer I Never Heard Of?  How many other Dzaner Bars and Ford Madox Ford’s are there?  More than I could possibly guess.

Not surprisingly, Harry Kezelian, from Detroit, a friend, and fellow Kharpertsi, knew about the Dzaner Bar.  He is quite knowledgeable about “our” Western Armenian music.  In fact, he is sending me the full recording of the Dzaner Bar as performed by Hovagim Der Hagopian and group.  He has become quite an expert on the history and the early recordings of our music.  It started as a hobby and has become a passion maybe even an obsession.  To me, he is an expert.  I say this by virtue of the knowledge gained and so willing to share with whoever is interested.  He just wrote extensive and well crafted (think monograph) liner notes for a recent 3 CD set Armenians in America on 78 RPM:  From the Ara Dinkjian Archive.  The Turkish and Armenian lyrics he has gathered over the years is very impressive.  I hope he publishes those soon.  He is not an ethnomusicologist by degree but that does not matter he has become one.

Harry is vastly more “expert” compared to me.  After a Turkish concert with the University of Chicago Middle Eastern Music Ensemble, he once me for the program.  I gladly sent it to him.  He responded with, “I thought I knew a lot about Turkish Music, but I was not familiar with most of these pieces.”  Before performing in that concert, I was not familiar with those pieces either.   Indeed, expert is a relative term.

The same also applies to musical performance and virtuosity.  I have been playing the oud for years.  I once told John Berberian at a testimonial we threw for him in Chicago, "When I was 20, I knew it would take 7 years of effort to be your level John.  I have gotten better but now in my 60s, it would still take 7 years of effort to be at your level."  There is some much more to learn and master.  It requires dedication and passion.  

 In 1959, The Readers Digest printed the following in an article Leonard Lyons:

The world’s foremost cellist, Pablo Casals, is 83. He was asked one day why he continued to practice four and five hours a day. Casals answered, “Because I think I am making progress.”

Casals, clearly a virtuoso, embodied the notion of continuous improvement and the Lexus “relentless pursuit of perfection.”