For Love of the Music: Καναρίνι μου γλυκό

 

From the 1930s: 
Lambros, Eskenazi, and Tomboulis

Growing up, we called the music we love, that I love, Armenian music.  Mostly it was.  But we also played a fair amount of Turkish, Greek, and Arab music.  Occasionally, an Israeli, Persian, or Balkan song might enter our repertoire.  We were open to other cultures and embraced the music… especially tunes that fit in with the core Armenian music we played, moved us, and made people dance. 

I know a lot of songs.  I love the old songs I grew up with more than the newer songs I have learned over the years.  I love the old songs more than I like classical music (Turkish classical music) which I really like.  Of the old songs, I really like those that lie in that intersection of the Greek and Turkish, with dashes of Armenian.  I am talking about the taverna music, the music of the old 78s, the music of places I have never been like the 8^th Avenue night clubs, Club Zara, and Sammy G’s.  The music that we die-hard kefjis live for.  A lot of that music is from Smyrna where Greeks, Turks, and Armenians lived before… well you know. 

Like many of my peers, we learned from the likes of John Berberian, Harry Minasian, Kelly Kuchukian, Richard Hagopian, John Bilezikjian, Hachig Kazarian, Souren Baronian, Carnig Mikitirian, and so many more.  We would learn from their records and live recordings.  Sometimes, we learned a song that wasn’t recorded.  We would hear it a few times and learn it old school… by memory and the age-old aural tradition.  Sometimes I learned songs on a gig when the clarinet player played it in a medley.

One such song is one I heard growing up in Detroit and listening to the inimitable Hachig Kazarian and the Hye-Tones.  I heard Hachig play one of these Greek-Turkish songs a few times, perhaps even with Richard Hagopian.  The melody was familiar and quite natural.  I played the song a few times with my old band in Detroit, the Johnites.  The first time we played it, John Tosoian, our clarinet player, just went into it.  I perked up and delightfully followed him.  It was very nice.  I don’t think I have played this song with any other group since I left Detroit in 1990.  I have continued to play the tune when I practice without ever knowing the name of it.  I always assumed it was a Greek song or a Greek version of a Turkish song.]

Fast forward to 2022, listening to Roza Eskenazi, the famed singer of Rembetiko, and boom, I heard the song and learned the name:  Καναρίνι μου γλυκό or My Sweet Canary.  What a great song.  She was born in Istanbul in the 1890s to a poor Jewish family.  Her birth name was Sarah Skinazi.  The family relocated to Thessaloniki.  Roza found work in a tavern owned by a Turk.  The owner heard her singing while doing chores and put her on stage.  She quickly grew into a singer and dancer, eventually to be known for her voice, the voice of the Rembetiko or Rebetiko – The Greek Blues – The Music of Life style of Greek music.  Per Roza Eskenazi: canary of the Aegean,

Eskenazi was the queen of rembetika, the Greek blues, a genre that sprang up in the Aegean’s port towns in the 1920s. She was a prodigious and prolific talent, revered for her soul and her charisma, as well as for giving a voice to the underclass: the displaced, the poor and the desperate.

Another excellent website, Rebetiko – The Greek Blues – The Music of Life, defines Rebetiko as:

Rebetiko, a subculture, appeared around The Mediterranean, usually in coastal towns, around the early 1900s, it’s a genre of music generally associated with poverty, the lower class, crime, drink, prostitution and drug addiction.

 The oud player that often played with Roza is Agapios Tomboulis.  He is on My Sweet Canary and has the taxim at the beginning of the recording.  When I first knew of him several years ago, someone told me he was Armenian.  Others have told me he was Greek.  Wikipedia, not always the most accurate reference, said with a reference that he was born Hagop Stamboulian “in 1891 in the Pera district of İstanbul to an Armenian father and a Greek mother.”  He passed away in 1965.  Half Armenian and half Greek?  I’ll take that.

Really, as student of the music, I should have known all about this song years ago.  While I have some knowledge of this music, I am not an ethnomusicologist by any means.  There are very astute PhDs and some very good, dedicated amateurs that are obsessed with the history and lore of this music, classical and folk.  Maybe I should have asked and inquired.  Then again, my ad hoc method of discovery and learning aided by the wonderland of YouTube works for me.

There was another song that I always loved.  It was another Turkish song from the era of 78s.  I believe I heard it on a record sung by Marko Melkon.  But, that recording is nowhere to be found in my repertoire or on YouTube.  I will occasionally play this song in my practice sessions and would hear what I thought was Marko singing it in my head.  Again, John Tosoian surprised me by randomly going into it few times.  I missed playing the song with a full band.  I recorded myself playing it this past August and sent it off to fellow musicians I thought would know song.  They did not.  In October, while playing at the Keghi Night in Detroit.  Hachig Kazarian was part of the large group of volunteer musicians.  I asked him about the song.  He knew the song immediately and commented that it was our mutual friend Chris’s favorite song.  He did not know the name.  During the gig, he glanced over at me, winked, and went into it.  It was a very good moment.

In the process of my stumbling onto My Sweet Canary, YouTube offered up a mix of Roza Eskenazi songs.  I just put it on while doing some grading.  In the middle of this mix, the song I played with Hachig popped up.  It is called Mes' To Vathí Skotádhi (In the Deep Darkness).  Pure Rembetiko.  Another loop closed.

Here are YouTube links to both songs.

 

 

Καναρίνι μου γλυκό (My Sweet Canary)

Mes' To Vathí Skotádhi (In the Deep Darkness)