By Antranig Kzirian / @TheOudPlayer
Armenian Americans have utilized the oud—a fretless plucked string instrument with deep roots in the traditions of their homeland in Asia Minor—for over a century in the performance and study of Armenian music. While the oud could be characterized as a fairly simple instrument typically composed of wood, glue and strings, it is also an emotive echo of heritage and hope. As such, the oud is highly regarded as a sacred symbol of Armenian identity, functioning in Armenian-American communities as a powerful means of cultural continuity.
Given the tortured history of the Armenian experience and taboos associated with the Armenian Genocide, the place of the oud in the Armenian story along with Western Armenian music can be complicated and controversial for some Armenians – nonetheless the oud’s significance within the broader tapestry of Armenian-American musical heritage, diaspora resilience, and identity formation is of profound importance.
Preserving Memories Through Melody
As Armenian Genocide survivors escaped the Ottoman Empire and washed ashore in America, these Armenian migrants brought with them, among other things, baggage of two particular inter-connected kinds: emotional and musical. The heaviness of somber stories and suffering, along with the levity of sounds and songs symbolizing survival.
One of the primary instruments that was brought to America by these Armenians was the oud. The resonating strings of the oud served as the fabric and connective tissue of a paradoxically delicate yet durable Armenian identity – linking loss and longing to memories of home and hearth that might never be seen again, lamented in the tender embrace of their oud. In this newly forming American Armenian diaspora, the oud not only provided comfort to cope with the aftermath and trauma of genocide, the instrument simultaneously provided critical countenance for migrants to continue surviving – and thriving in their new environment.
Community Connectivity
At its core, the oud brought American Armenians together. Over the course of the past century, the dynamic Armenian oud tradition played a central role in their experience.
Featured in dances, concerts, picnics and weddings across New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Boston, Detroit, Los Angeles, Fresno and beyond, the oud enlivened Armenians at social, family and community functions all over the country, maintaining connectivity and a flourishing Armenian identity.
This was especially important given the challenges of preserving Armenian culture in the new American setting where Western Armenian — once spoken fluently in preceding generations of Armenian Americans — would see a decline in use across generations despite the presence of dedicated Armenian schools, community and compatriotic organizations and weekend education programs.
For these now Armenian-Americans, the oud offered a bond within Armenian culture to nurture a sense of belonging to one’s heritage. This form of cultural richness is a valuable source of linkage to, and preservation of, Armenian identity.
Innovation and Identity
Identity is rooted in the past, responsive to the present and reimagined into the future. The great oud master Udi Hrant Kenkulian played a significant role in the rise and prominence of Armenian oud playing in the 20th century. Udi Hrant’s 5 disciples in America: Chick Ganimian, John Berberian, Harry Minassian, George Mgrdichian and Richard Hagopian, in addition to countless other Armenian oud players, carried on the tradition of Armenian oud playing in America and strengthened its foundation with their own mastery, contributions, adaptations and innovations.
With the nurturing guidance of these musicians, the oud not only supported identity preservation, the oud also pivotally served as a driver of identity evolution. Multi-generational Armenian American musicians and enthusiasts experienced an immersive and stimulating American mainstream culture, and the oud — and the music it made possible — presented a familiar vessel for the expression of art which would authentically reflect the complexity and imagination of the diaspora experience.
Further pioneering and experimentation followed in the Armenian American story, as Ara Dinkjian carried the torch with his impactful compositions, which in turn inspired oud players such as myself to not only preserve Armenian folk traditions, but to create artistically with original music, and in turn strive to pay the tradition forward to the next generation. Originality in music is essential to keep the art form alive, relevant and evolving as a core pillar of the vast Armenian musical canon, and also to give a voice to Armenian artists as they navigate the contradictions of their diaspora realities. Speaking of the Armenian musical canon and contradictions, no discussion would be complete without the consideration of Gomidas’ impact.
The Gomidas Effect and Reclamation of Western Armenian Folk Music
Gomidas Vartabed is a mythical figure in Armenian music. There is no question that Gomidas played an invaluable role as he collected and preserved numerous Armenian songs and prevented their erasure, which should be applauded and recognized especially given the calamity of the Armenian Genocide.
On the other hand, Gomidas’ actions resulted in unilateral narrowing for the definition of what would be considered “authentic” Armenian music. Whether by omission or circumstance, substantial amounts of music were not included in Gomidas’ preservation and re-arrangement efforts – all while employing Western European classical musical methods to his “rebranding” of Armenian music.
This phenomenon took on a life of its own, where classicized composition became miscast and misrepresented as actual folk music.
In the post-genocide era, Gomidas’ place has reached such a level of romanticized monolithic legacy where it is as if the very idea of Armenian music begins and ends with Gomidas – such that over time, other forms of Armenian music are viewed as inadequate or inferior, as perhaps “primitive village music” or even as being tainted by foreign elements of other cultures, such as, for example, Turkish or Kurdish music.
Another example – consider the exceptionalist view that Gomidas’ distilled polyphonic arrangements are the sole authentic version (or representation) of Armenian music.
To illustrate, there are numerous recordings of Armenian Americans performing in 10/8 meter from the early 20th century, yet Gomidas has not one song in this meter in his collections – which means 10/8 was either not ever encountered in any manner; encountered, but not understood; or encountered and omitted.
Further, as a product of his era’s political and cultural trends, Gomidas’ presentation of music was likely crafted to cater to the attitudes and expectations of certain European and high-society audiences in Constantinople. Gomidas’ Westernized classicization of the Armenian songs he had collected removed the improvisational and microtonal traditions rooted in folk music of rural village life, and replaced these core elements with lieder-style polyphony which he learned in Germany as a music student.
Yet folk music was generally performed in communal settings, which is fundamentally different than the formality of a concert hall.
The process of forcibly subjecting the folk music to the filter of Western classical music – whether through orchestration or operatic stylings – exposed Western Armenian folk music to distortion and even destruction of essential modal and improvisational nuances which were a foundational component of Western Armenian music.
As every so often an Armenian may be heard stating and judging with quite strong opinions and authoritative tone that something “sounds Turkish”, we should kindly note that Armenians (along with others in Asia Minor and nearby regions) were using a modal system, which consisted of microtonality, as early as the 8th century AD, while the Seljuk Turks did not invade Asia Minor until approximately 300 years later – and notably, Turkish ethnomusicological historians themselves state that the original ancestral music of the Turks is pentatonic in nature (as in, not like the modal system used in Turkey today, which was used by the Armenians).
The impact and effect of Gomidas has been a long-lasting topic of discussion among Armenian American musicians for many years, and is explored thoroughly in Hachig Kazarian’s recent book “Western Armenian Music” which discusses this very topic in depth.
Ironically, many of Gomidas’ collected songs have been performed and recorded for generations in America by Armenian American oud players alongside their more traditional Western Armenian folk and Ottoman Classical repertoire with the aim of being inclusive and comprehensive about what constitutes “Armenian music”.
The perpetration of the Armenian Genocide culminated in not only human suffering and death and confiscation of land and possessions – but quite profoundly in cultural appropriation of Armenian music – which in turn has eventualized into a form of cultural destruction and omission, sadly by Armenians themselves.
Perhaps this is an opportunity to renew our commitment to more fully reclaim and revive Western Armenian folk music as an alternative to any defeatist, exclusionary or exceptionalist practices.
The Oud’s Enduring Resonance
Today, as the Armenian diaspora confronts both new and existing challenges—assimilating youth, fractured identities, existential infirmity and separation from homeland—the oud endures as a symbolic and practical tool for connection.
It is encouraging to see that in Armenia, there is a revival of the oud which has been observed in the 21st century, which is a welcome development – one cannot help but think that the Armenian American oud phenomenon thousands of miles away over the course of the past century may have contributed in some way to this resurgence.
Conclusion: A Legacy of Sound and Survival
As descendants of genocide survivors, for Armenian Americans identity is complex and often fluid – as immigrant refugees contend with integration and assimilation over the course of several generations of diaspora living, the music of the oud connects us to our origins and propels us forward.
For Armenian-Americans, the oud functions simultaneously as instrument, metaphor, and mechanism for identity preservation, construction, and formation, as our diaspora identities thrive in the interplay between memory and adaptation. The oud’s symbolism in Armenian identity and soulful timbre and melodies synergistically map that terrain. The resilient and versatile tone of the oud reminds us: more than blood or birthplace—in the case of Armenian Americans, the oud’s strings tie generations together—and, even more, manifest a soundscape of an identity perpetually in the making.
