A Closer Listen
The refugee crisis continues to rage around the world, sparking a dual backlash of racism and xenophobia. The focus may have shifted from the southern border of the U.S. to the demolished camps of Gaza, but the story remains the same: millions are fleeing violence and persecution: tired, poor, huddled masses, yearning to breathe free.
I am the grandson of immigrants; composer Mary Kouyoumdjian is the daughter of immigrants. Often lost in the debate are the contributions that enrich a multi-cultural nation: not simply an enlarged work force, but a treasure chest of ideas, inspirations and art. 2 Suitcases is the story of a couple fleeing the Lebanese Civil War with their one-year-old son and the two suitcases of the title.
The composition with a reminder of home: slow percussion accompanied by steadily rising strings, portraying the beginning of a journey. Clarinet and flute begin to color the edges, representing the dreams of a new life as the old one is left behind. The composition toys with dissonance, without toppling into it; no matter how horrible conditions may be, it’s hard to leave home, knowing that one may never return. The piano and drums enter like travel companions, providing a sense of order, the mind shifting from fear to conversation.
The story is conveyed through the lushness of the music, which often recalls Armenian folk tunes; it is also told in Arabic, Armenian and English. At first (not knowing every language), one yearns to understand; eventually, with attention, one will. The decision to open the dialogue like this mimics the response many have to immigrants: at first, they are “not like us;” but after conversation, they are us. Later, to our chagrin, we realize that they were always us.
The first instrumental segment after the opening monologue grows brighter and more active; there is liberation is telling one’s story. The second monologue draws the curtains shut; the music relays the sadness of disconnection. The third overlaps as the family members and dates are listed. The family settles in San Francisco. “A life without their native tongue, a life without family, a life away from home, struggling to make the most of two suitcases; like their parents, this is not the life they chose.” The composer has become part of the story, and in some ways is the story; the composition would not exist without those two suitcases.
One can hear the emotional struggle in the score as well: the intimations of explosions (4:27, 4:40) offset by the grace of the ivories. And then the tonal shift: is it acceptable to dance when so much has been lost? A daughter shares the outlines of a love story beginning in 1973 offset by “shrapnel … broken windows, (and) closed borders;” the composition, which has flirted with celebration, has ended in reflection. One family is safe; others are not. This story continues; others have ended.
Kouyoumdjian’s tonal balance is also a plea to regard immigration not as a national issue, but as a personal issue. Every immigrant has a story, and many are heartbreaking. By highlighting one family, she encourages empathy for all. This Pulitzer-nominated composer has produced another work worthy of conversation, humble and hopeful, a direct appeal to the heart. (Richard Allen)
Wed May 08 00:01:27 GMT 2024