C的音乐

ara oian Raises Awareness About 9-1-1 By Yelena Allakhverdov When Nara Noian and I first met in Washington last month, she was preparing for a performance at the 9-1-1 Honor Awards Gala. We sat down at her hotel to chat about her life, her career, and her journey as musician from Yerevan to Europe, and finally this (first) trip to the United States. Nara arrived here last month on behalf of the 9-1-1 awareness campaign, created to build awareness among children of the importance of the universal emergency call number. Although the emergency number 9-1-1 is virtually ubiquitous among adults in the United States, the European Union must still make a concerted effort toward to raising awareness of its own emergency calling system—the 1-1-2 continent-wide number. Nara’s popularity in Europe, coupled with her clear, airy voice convinced the 1-1-2 campaign to tap her talents to compose and perform a song to draw children’s attention to the campaign. Eventually, when the promoters of the American 9-1-1 system heard her French-language rendition, they decided that American children would also take notice of her song. She had become the new messenger of emergency awareness. And as a messenger communicates between different worlds, it is often external forces that dictate not only where she begins and where she ends up, but also what that message is. Though it was the 911 campaign that brought Nara to the United States for the first time last month, her life in Europe started under very different circumstances. In the 1990s, Nara came to Europe as a student to study at the Paris Conservatory. But when the Soviet Union dissolved, her passport became meaningless. “I never wanted to move to Europe permanently. My life was set for me in my own country,” said Nara. But without a passport, she had to find a way to go back to Armenia, so she filed for refugee status just to get the proper paperwork and be able to travel to Yerevan. “I think I was the only refugee in the world who was not in danger and actually wanted to immediately go back to my country,” Nara said. Nevertheless, Nara stayed in Europe and continued developing her career, recording albums, performing, starring in films, and eventually gaining the spot for 112. She did everything from teaching to serving as headmistress at music schools in France and Belgium. She adapted to a new life and eventually became the mother of two boys. In the meantime, her role as messenger stayed with her, almost unconsciously. Nara describes herself as a musician first. The messenger part just happens, it is not intended. There do not need to be words, even though at times words are there. There simply has to be a melody, a rhythm, a few piano keys that unite people regardless of geographic, political, or language barriers. Most of her fans in Belgium, in Europe, are not Armenian, says Nara. Her music extends to and attracts the general public, regardless of cultural background, while still remaining a beacon to those familiar with Eastern melodies and classic folk instruments like the duduk. Some messengers are born that way, as Nara’s experience shows. Nara ha thought of herself as a musician since she was a little girl. Music was not only in her blood, it was everywhere around her; she always knew she would be a musician, from her days as a four year old composing songs for her cats and elephants at the zoo, to her classical training at the best schools in Armenia. Her father an orchestra tuba player and her mother and actress and singer, Nara grew up backstage and in the orchestra pit. “There was never a question of what I would do when I grew up. It was as if the path was predestined for me,” Nara told me. Sometimes, as in Nara’s case, the predestined path comes with predestined direction. “I am not political,” Nara says, “but I am against genocides, especially because there were two that affected my family.” “For a time I actually imaged I was adopted, because I would compose melodies that were in not Armenian in origin, they were not Russian or classical in origin. So I thought, jokingly, that maybe my parents were from some other distant place, and that I just landed in this family accidentally.” Nara says she would question her own background based on the music she herself would create. “My compositions finally forced me to go to my grandparents and ask, ‘Why? Where is it coming from? Who are you to me?’” Already at seventeen or eighteen years of age, Nara was only just finding out the extent and variety of her roots. Through the music she composed organically, she finally found out that she was not only of Armenian background, but also of German and Jewish ancestry. Without knowing it, and without purpose or direction, Nara was already a messenger of the past. Perhaps it is this mélange of melodies, of notes and chords that come from all over, belonging to several places at once, that Nara’s music creates fans of Europeans, Armenians, and Turks alike. “The musician is the messenger,” says Nara, “I have the chance to talk about serious things, but in a more natural, non-dramatic way. But, it stays on message.” It is not for a lack of awareness about her heritage. “I don’t hide that I am Armenian. People know I’m Armenian,” says Nara. Her last album, Cristal, featured a track dedicated to the victims of the Armenian Genocide. In her own words, Nara’s music transcends genres. It’s neither classical, nor pop. And while someone of Armenian origin will definitely identify with her work, those of Turkish, Greek, Jewish, and European culture would as well. Her music makes her accessible. It does not try to convince the listener of anything. It is simply there, to be enjoyed. And if the listener takes away something from it, then be it. But Nara makes it very clear that she writes from the heart, with no intentions. She makes music for the human soul, with no motive. She sees herself as the messenger of something greater than simply herself as a musician. Rather, Nara is a messenger of unity and understanding across cultures and geographic limits. Asked about her plans for the future, Nara mentions the new album she is working on, tentatively titled “The Wheel of Life.” She would also like to visit the U.S. again, she says, perhaps next time to connect with the Armenian Diaspora on this side of the Atlantic. Until that happens, the intended musician and accidental messenger, will continue her work of composing work that unites, instead of dividing, the children of the world, as she calls them, perhaps referring to me and you.

> 0回应

As previously reported, Paste “Best of What’s Next” artists the Civil Wars took home two Grammys last Sunday for Best Country Duo/Group Performance and Best Folk Album. We caught up with the duo, John Paul White and Joy Williams, and producer Charlie Peacock to talk Grammys, what they mean to the group and what’s in the future for the Civil Wars. Paste: You looked like naturals performing on this huge TV broadcast. How did you prepare for the ceremony? John Paul White: I have to admit, we both had the adrenaline pumping all day. I was wondering how I was going to dial it down without whiskey (the entire event was dry). Winning helped us relax. I think it helped us focus on the task at hand and treat it like it was more normal than it actually was. Paste: What was your Grammy experience like? JPW: I made eye contact with Dave Grohl after we won. He was in an interview, but he gave me a little golf clap. I think I giggled out loud. And then stepped firmly on Joy’s dress. Joy Wiilliams: I can confirm JP’s fangirl giggle, and the near strangulation from said stepping on my dress. We had a good laugh about it (that is, once air was able to reach my lungs again). Other highlights include meeting Sir Paul’s band, talking to The Boss for a few minutes, catching up with the lovely Adele, meeting Bonnie Raitt and getting cut off in the backstage security line by Bruno Mars. Charlie Peacock: I felt like the Grammy experience was a big reminder of how amazing it is that the Civil Wars get to jump on the train of music history. Watching the show, I was proud to hear and see that Joy and JP really are from the same historic DNA as the people honored from Etta James to Sir McCartney. So there was the gift of having music we all made together receive Grammys, but sharing the restroom with Ice-T was cool too, and getting to visit with jazz legend Chick Corea was a bucket list item for me. Paste: What are you going to do with your Grammys? JPW: I honestly have no clue. My wife makes the decorating decisions. You’ll have to interview her. JW: My husband and I just bought a house, so I’ll happily be figuring out their resting places in the new digs as soon as we unpack. CP: I’ll put my Grammy in the studio where we made Barton Hollow until it becomes a creative distraction, but that might be awhile. Paste: What were you up to this time last year? Could you have anticipated these awards last year? CP: I didn’t want too get to far ahead of ourselves, but honestly, I was confident the music was Grammy worthy — no doubt about that — and it proved true. JPW: We were releasing our record, and the tour consisted of four people in a van playing in 100-cap rooms. I’m not sure I was even dreaming this big. Paste: What do the Grammys for Best Country Duo and Best Folk Album mean to you? JW: That nobody is quite sure what to do with us, and we are just fine with that. More seriously, it is an honor to be recognized by your peers. We never set out to make a certain kind of record. Never set out to please other ears besides our own. Our criteria was simple: to create a series of songs we felt proud of, songs that we’d want to play night after night. People getting behind our music at all — including this way — is icing on the cake. We are grateful. Paste: How did your families and friends react to the awards? JPW: My beautiful and extremely patient wife was there by my side. When they announced the country duo award, she froze in her chair like a deer in the headlights. I had to grab her and make her kiss me. JW: I have two vivid memories of family reactions. First was my husband, Nate —who has been our tirelessly innovative, brilliant manager since the very beginning— getting misty eyed when the first award was announced. I loved planting a kiss on his handsome, elated face before heading for the podium. The second memory I’ll always remember? Feeling our baby kick and wriggle from all the excitement the whole rest of the day and night. Paste: What’s the future of the band looking like after these awards? JW: While you can’t really predict the future, we still plan to keep chugging along as usual. More shows in more cities. We like it that way, too. Our immediate plans involve heading to Europe, as Barton Hollow releases internationally March 5th. It’ll be our first headlining tour over there, and we are really looking forward to it. After that, we will hit a few festivals early summer including Bonnaroo and Sasquatch. And then, I’m particularly looking forward to the impending birth of my and my husband’s first baby in late summer. Paste: What should we expect from the Civil Wars in the future? JW: The road has always been a priority to us, and will continue to be. JP and I have been brewing up some new melodies along the way. We have a few new songs up our sleeves that we are proud of. Plans for a new album are percolating, but we still have a bit of time before we dive head-long into record No. 2. It’s not far from our minds, though.

> 0回应