She is more aware of  what is to come now.

Mama, Christmas is coming.  Jesus’ birthday is coming!

Can we sing those songs again?  Who is that man in the red suit?  Who is he?  Mama, Mama, look at all the lights!  Look at the trees!

Can we light the tree?  Can we look at the lights again?  And again?  And again?

Mama, look!

Yes, my child.

I love seeing the wonder of this season of Advent through your eyes.  I love seeing the wonder of any season through your eyes.  You do not hold back.  The joy in your heart bubbles up, overflowing from inside you, you can hardly contain yourself…  and we are looking at a tree  or lights or even a leaf, something so simple as that; oh, but to you these are the most amazing creations in the whole entire world.  Yes, they are.   I love your passion and your enthusiasm.

May that joy remain in you forever.

Christmas is coming, Little One.

Christmas is always coming.

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Driving up to the Lake Eden Arts Festival and looking out the car window, I see tent after tent after tent… I don’t think I have ever seen so many tents in my life! All close together, little villages, friends, strangers living side by side for a few days… here to celebrate music and the beauty of Black Mountain!

Ah, what awe-inspiring beauty!

The mountains bejeweled with red, yellow, golden, orange, green leaves; it is a tapestry!! The lake shimmering glory; the air, crisp and clean… the festival site is a buzz with energy and volunteers, staff, audience members, artists and musicians gathered together from all over the world… all united for four days of bliss!

We had an absolutely fantastic time at LEAF! Performing to a packed out house on Friday night – people wearing coats and hats and me shivering on stage – my mission was to get us all moving and warmed up! I love seeing the audience clap with me, dancing, singing along, totally engaged in the music, in this Armenian folk music! And we were warmed up by the end of our set! And then singing again with the amazing Free Planet Radio, the guys I love, on Saturday afternoon during their set… much warmer this time and the audience again, so energetic! We had a massive dance party going by the end of the show!! And then performing with the students that I had worked with during the week as part of my residency with the LEAF in Schools… the children singing Gakavig with me and dancing to Arev, Arev… children who had never before heard about Armenia (“Do they wear the same clothes as we do? Do they eat the same food?” they asked me. And then, “Why did they have to go through Genocide?”)… Meeting so many people, audience members once again, my favourite part of performing… people telling me their stories… telling me they hadn’t really heard much about Armenians before…

Ah, this has been a very moving week for me… here are a few of the highlights:

Breakfast at Sunny Pointe Cafe, laughing at the Roundhouse, meeting all sorts of musicians, artists, exchanging stories, enthralled by their performances, watching dear friends lit up with love, meeting a mom whose baby was conceived the night of one of my shows last year! My husband’s eyes as he watches me sing, my little one, reaching out for me, content and full of joy once I am holding her… dedicated volunteers driving us to and fro the stages and the festival site and parking lot… hospitality volunteers making us laugh, serving us in so many ways… sound check, losing power and then seeing it come again! Listening to Free Planet Radio mesmerize any audience… lunch, dinner, lunch, dinner… so delicious! Meeting so many interesting folks… the festival site at night… afternoon sun and watching the zipline! Ah, the list goes on an on…

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• Groong, Gakavig and Blblooli Hit…
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• Armenian folk music in Detroit, MI!
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I love lahmajun.

My mom’s lahmajun is currently one of the best I have ever eaten – her cooking in everything is always the best, really. Mama knows what kind of spices to use, how much to use and she puts her heart and soul into everything she bakes and cooks. You can taste that.

Then there was the lahmajun in Yerevan. How exciting it was to discover that restaurant where I would buy those delicious Armenian pizzas as people call them… in Yerevan, the lahmajun dough was paper thin – I wasn’t used to this difference – and the pizzas would usually fall apart by the time I started eating them… but it was all mouth watering yumminess nonetheless.

Ah, but my grandpa’s lahmajun… well, that was something else entirely.

When I was a little girl, Grandpa would come over to our home to make lahmajun with my mom. I loved those days. He would come over, roll up his sleeves, and with those capable, gentle, yet rugged hands, roll out the dough, pita, after pita spread all over the kitchen table, all over the counter tops… and then, go to each individual pita and pat on the delicious ingredients, the toppings… I remember his hands as he delicately, expertly patted on the sauces, with extra spices, of course… Grandpa worked quickly… Mama working along side him, and me, watching closely… listening to them talk, anticipating tasting the lahmajun once out of the oven, piping hot…

I love my grandpa’s hands. Those hands that carefully fashioned each lahmajun so perfectly for us to enjoy. The same hands that held mine as we walked home from school when he would come to pick me up. The hands that would clap and clap and clap for me after I would sing for him. My little concerts usually ended up having many encores because Grandpa was such a great audience member. I would sing, he would clap, I would bow and curtsey, and he would continue to clap jubilantly… and I would enthusiastically sing some more with my comb as a microphone. The same hands that played dumbec when he was a young man, and then years later, would tap out a rhythm on the window sill, a faraway look in his eyes as he sang Armenian folk songs to himself… not aware that I was listening…

I remember the taste of the lahmajuns Grandpa made for us. Tomatoes, meat, spices… the dough, not paper thin, but not too thick… just right… squeezing a bit of lemon on top before I rolled it up or folded the pita in half and ate… a bit of sauce dripping down my chin….

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On this rainy Monday afternoon, I cannot help but think of a song that mom would sing when she was a little girl… Arev, Arev… Sunshine…

I remember hearing her sing this song one day as we were washing dishes in the kitchen. She began to sing, as she always does, and this particular melody caught my attention. “Mom, I haven’t heard you sing that in years,” I smiled. “I love that song!” It is a delightful tune, and mom told me how she had learned it when she was a really young… my grandmother would sing it, and she would also sing it in school… I knew at that moment that this was going to be the last song for my album.

Mom wasn’t convinced at first, and it took some coaxing on my part to help her see that this song needed to be recorded. See, Mom and I take the process of choosing Armenian folk songs for my albums very seriously. We are thoughtful and deliberate about it. Every song is sacred to us. And we never rush this process that we both enjoy so much: time spent together singing, reliving memories; mom – sharing stories of when she first heard a particular song, me -listening to her at her feet; mom – reflecting, remembering… me – feeling one step closer to my grandmother through it all… and feeling so thankful for a mom who loves to sing, who loves to share her heart with me… a mom who gives.

So I began to work on this song. I wrote a new verse and added a bridge section and a new opening section… and we were ready to record.

But this time, when it came time to record Arev, Arev, I didn’t go to the studio alone. This time, I convinced my mom and sister to come with me. They protested at first… “Please come,” I almost begged, “you’ll have fun, I promise!” And so they came. My producer wanted to use their voices on this song and while they arrived at the studio with me a bit apprehensive, by the end of our session, my mom and sister were sad to go. And I had expected this…

The process of recording this song with my mom and sister will forever be one of my favourite memories… our voices blending together as we sing the melody… mom’s voice, my sister’s, mine… all three of us giggling together as we sing… singing into those microphones as if we were children, my mom gently beating out the rhythm on the hand drum – a track that we saved and kept on the final recording. All of us together. I remember this day so vividly because it was during the recording of In the Light that I was also planning my wedding… and in the days leading up to the wedding, I was a mix of all sorts of emotions – joy in being united with my beloved, sadness in having to leave my family behind as I moved away with my husband to a new city, a new country…

But at least on this day, at this moment, recording this song, time stood still. That moment is forever captured in Arev, Arev. when I am still together with my favourite women.

I remember after that recording session, going out for lunch with mom and my sister and then shopping for wedding veils…

And now, a couple of years later, I have some new fans of this song. My two little girls love Arev, Arev.
Driving in the city today, my older babe asks if we can listen to it, and as I play the song for her, we sing along, and my younger babe begins to bop her head back and forth…

And I listen to the voices of my favourite women again, with two more voices now, joining in on the choir…

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I love it.

I love that magical moment on stage when I look out into the audience and I am singing one of my Armenian folk songs, something like Groong or Gakavig or Blbooli Hit and I see people, clapping with me, or humming or wiping away tears or something… they are feeling something… and I cannot help but be moved by that intense magical moment. Those moments are so precious to me. For in that moment, that person has connected with the music, a connection has been made, and it becomes more than just singing songs… it becomes much, much more…

Friday’s show was amazing. I am not quite sure what other words to use. The venue, the beautiful old church – First United Methodist Church – was perfect. Fantastic acoustics combined with a fantastic sound engineer, Chip Reardon, such a treat for a vocalist and band! The guys and I were thrilled by it all.

And what a superb audience! We went on a journey together, with our mournful songs through to our celebratory songs… mesmerized by River’s drum solo once again… Chris working his magic on the cumbus and guitar, Eliot adding such beauty and depth on the acoustic bass… time for our dance number, as I asked for volunteers to help with teaching the dance steps to the crowd, I instantly had two people jump on stage! And the energy in the room was palpable as we all danced together – a room full of people singing and dancing to Armenian folk music, weaving around the church, sweating, laughing, dancing, holding hands… ah, how sweet!

After the show was over, so many people came up to me wanting to talk… one girl, who didn’t really look Armenian began to speak to me in Armenian! Incredible! I was speechless… she proceeded to tell me, with tears in her eyes, that she had been a Peace Corps Volunteer in Armenia and had lived and worked there for two years… hence her knowledge of the language… I was blown away! Gave her a big hug. She hadn’t spoken Armenian in a few of years, so this concert had been so special for her. Met another couple from Macedonia who related so much with the stories about the Armenian Genocide… the wife had tears in her eyes as she explained, “I know what you are singing about…” others come to me to tell me how they had never heard Armenian music before… this was a brand new experience for them… some have never even heard about Armenia…

And this is why I continue to do what I do…

Thank you Lotus World Music Festival for an amazing first night!

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