Edward Manukyan - Speeches, Statements and Articles

Ladies and gentlemen,

It is not my music that is important in this beautiful event. It is that we have so many young, enthusiastic musicians, eager to play symphonic compositions at a time when so much skepticism saturates the future of classical music.

I’d like to express my deep gratitude to these wonderful musicians, and I also thank my long-time colleague and friend Ms. Amy Rangel, who has worked very hard to prepare for this concert.

Now, since I am expected to say a word or two about the music that you are about to hear, let me just uncover the main philosophy that lies behind this and all other works that I have written.

In this day and age when nationalism, often covered by certain religious ideology (or visa versa), is doing so much damage to civilization, I find it necessary to remind my friends and my audiences that my music, although deeply national and almost unmistakably Armenian, speaks of my world-patriotism above all. Being an Armenian composer, I have Armenian music closest to me and I can express myself more authoritatively in that idiom. But I remain, as I have always been, a devote cosmopolitan, proud of the human race and its achievements.

I cherish and care deeply for folk music from all nations. I think folklore is a natural phenomenon that grows and advances like life itself. Indeed, one can clearly observe how the theory of Natural Selection works in folklore. Only the good songs are remembered and passed down from generation to generation, being constantly enriched and developed as they live on. The bad songs are forgotten often the very next day. And only those which have survived are what we identify as “folk music”.

To me the greatest value of folklore is in its life-affirming inspirations. Folk songs never carry ideologies or political propaganda. They are about what we care for the most - life as we experience it. So I have made it my life's commitment to compose music that preserves elements of folklore and develops them, applying contemporary techniques. This composition is one of my earliest attempts towards this goal, and I thank you all for listening.

Edward Manukyan

An opening speech given before the performance of “Images Armenia” suite, by the Glendale High Symphony Orchestra, directed by Amy Rangel. Glendale, October 23, 2007.

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Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!

Please, let me know if you can’t hear me. I can always speak louder.

You see, I often hear my friends and colleagues ask me questions like “If you don’t use folk themes in your works, then what exactly is your association with folk music?”.

Let me touch on this subject very briefly, since there isn’t much time left, and maybe extend a little more onto discussing folk music from a more scientific prospective.

I generally don’t use folk melodies in my music, both in terms of presenting them in direct quotations and “dressing them up” by colorful orchestration or other techniques. I still consider myself a composer who is heavily based on folklore traditions, because I use the very minimal elements of folk music, which, to me, provide greater wealth, than the mere incorporation of any specific melodies would.

In order to give a more accurate idea of how I apply the elements of national music to my own works, I have to provide a few words that unfold my aesthetic philosophy regarding folk music. By studying the folk songs I discovered for myself that understanding the meaningful simplicity in music may be the best strategy for achieving higher goals as a composer. And a composer, who is in search for more and more “depth” and often vastly preoccupied by compositional techniques, may easily leave unnoticed a simple and beautiful idea, the understanding of which could have become his greatest success. Of course, I am far from speaking in disfavor of intellectualizing the process of music composition. Quite the opposite, I firmly believe that a “scientific” approach to understanding the essence of music is of great benefits. But I believe that a great amount of attention should also be directed towards experiencing what I like to call “meaningful simplicity” in folk music.

For example, take this simple rhythmic motif - a dotted eighth note, beamed to a sixteenth note and an eighth note, and three eighth notes beamed together, as a six/eight pattern. This motif is widely used in Armenian folk music and in most countries near the Caucasus region and further east and south. I couldn’t believe the potentials of this minimal unit when I began analyzing the extent of its use! This small cell can explode into billions of potential melodic and rhythmic ideas in the hands of an inspired composer. A suspicion many would have at this point is whether just any motif could be used as such a cell and that it perhaps makes no difference what that motif actually looks like. Sure, a master composer can turn anything into gold; we can all marvel endlessly at what Beethoven was able to do with a simple four-note motif in his fifth symphony. But the evidence suggests that the motifs, reduced from folk songs, possess an even greater potential. It is not surprising at all if you notice that the most common motifs in folk music have certain characteristics that are appealing even by themselves, out of any context. For example, that six/eight motif I just referred to is capable of providing some kind of a comforting feeling that seems to set itself in motion and go in circles. Its appeal had been recognized by people, generations after generations, ultimately becoming an inseparable part of Armenian folk music.

The evolutionary significance of folk music, the fact that songs created by peasants pass through a long process of filtering and refinement before they establish themselves as “folk songs”, is of profound importance. Although I am barely scratching the surface, I am still happy beyond measure that my interests in sciences have helped me understand the little that I do about the nature of folk music. Thank you.

Edward Manukyan

A speech given at the California State University, Los Angeles. December 18, 2006.

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Ladies and gentlemen,

I am honored to be asked to speak for an introduction to Tchaikovsky’s music but, as Mr. Piazza suggested, I should give a more personal prospective, since there is hardly anything new to be said about Tchaikovsky.

We all understand the main value of the composer’s work - its profound embodiment of Russian folklore and the school of symphonism, passed down to him from Glinka. But what exactly is Russian folklore? Is it possible that the world’s largest country can have folk music, which can be identified in singular terms? Well, not really. Different parts of Russia have developed different types of musical traditions. Tchaikovsky’s music utilizes folk material from all these sources and, most often, from Russia’s north, his so-called “Slavic” influence - as apposed to Rimsky-Korsakov, for example, who drew more influences from the south, particularly the Caucasus region. And as someone, who was born and raised in Armenia, a country that shares the land of the Caucasus, I know all too well how all these traditions can mix and find shape within the European classical forms. Examples of such international crystallization of art music can be observed not only in the works of Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-Korsakov, but also in the works of Alexander Spendiaryan, Aram Khachaturyan, Alexander Machavariani, Kara Karayev and many others. A masterful integration of such diverse influences can produce phenomenal works of immeasurable values.

I would like to take this opportunity to express my deep appreciation for the work of all the composers who held this philosophy. And I must tell you, it was after listening to Khachaturyan’s music that I devoted myself to composition. If I was Russian, my “Khachaturyan” might have been Tchaikovsky.

Edward Manukyan

A speech given before a concert of Tchaikovsky's music, performed by the L.A. Symphonic Winds. Los Angeles, June 13, 2005.

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