“I remember. I remember. I saw everything.”
Witness is a sonic documentary on the power of memory in the face of tragedy. For many who have lived through war or genocide, memory is inescapable—whether they want to remember or not. Memory can keep something alive —a person, a hope, a love—or it can haunt, serving as a testament to the outsize impact of a single event.
In this collaboration with the renowned Kronos Quartet, composer Mary Kouyoumdjian expertly weaves together traditional melodies, real-life testimonies and the horrors of war in an emotionally rich musical experience. Kouyoumdjian is an Armenian-American composer, documentarian and Pulitzer Prize finalist, based in Brooklyn, New York.
With an introduction written by famed Armenian-Canadian filmmaker Atom Egoyan, the album booklet provides context for each piece and, critically, transcripts and translations of all the voices heard—forever preserving these important stories.
“Bombs of Beirut” suite
This suite is deeply personal and intimate, presenting specific sites, sounds and stories. It feels like a family friend recounting their firsthand experience of the Lebanese Civil War.
So many children of immigrants have heard their families say of the homeland: it was different then, not like it is now. All around the world, families retell stories about the joyful, peaceful times before the war…before the coup…before the earthquake…the drought…the famine…the fire. It’s hard to wrap your mind around the splendor, the paradise that might have existed before.
But that’s exactly what the first movement accomplishes. “Before the War” features real people describing what life was like in Lebanon before the war, accompanied by a melody that becomes increasingly stressed and hectic, signalling the end of life as they knew it and the beginning of “The War.” These are the voices of displacement, of diaspora. Moving from ceasefire to anticipated violence to actual bombs, the music shifts from a high-pitched staccato to long, deep ominous tones.
Then, the music falls silent, and we’re left only with the sound of bombs. No one should know what a bomb sounds like. No one should know how to tell if a bomb is getting closer. The cry of a violin rises as the bombardment continues in the background. The rest of the quartet joins in, hectic and unsettling. Like the quick-moving smoke and debris from the explosion, the music grows louder and faster, closer and closer, until it finally catches up and envelopes you.
Closing the suite is the third movement, “After the War,” a calmer, sorrowful piece about surveying the rubble. While the violence may be over for now, there are still unknowns: what is left? Who is left? The music escalates as memories of the time before flood in.
“Silent Cranes” suite
Witness opens with a new arrangement of the Armenian folk song “Groung” [Crane] and comes full circle with “Silent Cranes,” a suite in honor of the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. To misquote Oprah: Were the cranes silent, or were they silenced—traumatized by the atrocities they witnessed?
The first movement, “slave to your voice,” opens with what sounds like a police siren, sounding the alarm for what’s to come for the Armenians. The yearnful voice of Armenak Shah-Mouradian performs a hymn or sharagan-like rendition of “Groung,” as the music becomes more adventurous. Something is afoot; it’s tense and high-stakes.
The second and third movements, “you did not answer” and “[with blood-soaked feathers],” feature testimonies from genocide survivors and their descendents. The music provides a background that is at once deep and unsettling as we hear of the terrible atrocities in vivid detail. There is a cacophony of voices and instruments—all-consuming, excruciating—that you cannot escape.
At times, it’s difficult to keep listening. These stories, while painful and horrific, are so important to be recorded and preserved for future generations, so that we never forget what happened. But still, after all this terror, the movement ends with a moment of beauty and love, showcasing the small rays of light that help get us through the darkest times.
The final movement, “you flew away,” includes a poem by David Barsamian read aloud over Zabelle Panosian’s rendition of “Groung.” This moving piece is a message of hope and resistance in spite of aggression and annihilation – “A century is a long time. It is and it isn’t.”
“Silent Cranes” reminds us that no Armenian artist can escape the Genocide. With these wounds still open, art has a way of helping to express, to process and to heal. Tragically, genocide remains a global reality, as conflicts persist around the world.
Where to listen
Witness was released on March 14, 2025 and is available on CD, vinyl and streaming. Phenotypic Recordings will donate its streaming proceeds from the album to Kooyrigs and the Lebanese Red Cross to support Armenian and Lebanese communities.
Rosie Nisanyan
