Lara Sarkissian - Remnants

A Closer Listen

At the end of his review of Lara Sarkissian‘s Born of the Sea EP in June of this year, Damian Van Denburgh wrote, “Let’s hope we don’t have to wait another five years to see what’s next.”  We didn’t have to wait five years, only five months.

Remnants is not only Sarkissian’s first full-length album, but the first release on her own new platform btwn Earth+Sky, which encourages cross-disciplinary collaboration and experimentation.  Her debut album exemplifies this approach by shifting between genres and timbres, all the while celebrating her Armenian heritage. Kanun, duduk, davul and dhol drums feature strongly on the release, which melds past and present by placing ancient instruments, stories and songs in a modern context.

The album is placed in our Electronic section, but it’s not all electronic; in fact, it launches from a decidedly non-dance club base.  “Heaven, or Paradise; and Hell (ft. Adrien Soleiman)” is a gentle beginning, an ambient reconstruction of the Armenian hymn “Aravot Luso,” the pieces scattered about like shells on the shore.  Saxophone and synth are in dialogue, as are memory and creativity.  The piece grows more dramatic as it develops, setting the stage for “Our Dead Can’t Rest (Old Jugha Flute Dance),” which shifts the tone from bright and beautiful to savage and sobering.  The title refers to the moving of Armenian graves, as reflected in the khachkar (cross stone) on the album’s cover.  Deeply percussive, the track displays Sarkissian’s dance roots, tribal in nature, reminiscent of a ritualistic ceremony.

The first single, “Miracle,” is well-chosen, an explosion of jungle rhythms … in the jungle!  The contrast between the rapid-fire percussion and slow burning synth creates a captivating tension that should translate well to the dance floor.  But even here, Sarkissian is not content to remain in a single genre, as the piece descends to a moody drone, devoid of drums.  A similar contrast develops on “The Crane Has Lost Its Way Across the Heaven,” albeit with a slower tempo and growling bass, exploding into fractured rhythms, and then drone again, as the first side ends.

As we explore the trajectory of Side B ~ two club cuts followed by two ambient pieces – we begin to understand the arc of the album.  Sarkissian is traveling into her ancestry, unafraid of what truths she might recover, reemerging to tell the tale.  Folk tales and ancient instruments are given fresh forms for a new generation.  The graves are moved, but relocated intact.  The closing pieces, again featuring Adrien Soleiman, afford space for reflection.  One need not discard the old in order to make room for the new; one need only find new settings for old diamonds.  (Richard Allen)