Interview with Nune

by Paul Chaderjian

AIM Magazine

April, 1998

Yerevan, Armenia - Out of the darkness comes a flash of white, and from an enormous cloud of fog descends a figure dressed in a white robe of ancient royalty, a slender, long-haired modern-day minstrel taking the stage by storm. The concert hall fills with applause as Nune Yesayan begins to belt out traditional songs set to an untraditional and contemporary beat.

It’s a sold-out performance at the Opera House in Yerevan; Nune has made her return after a two-year absence. The duduk and zurna provide the background. Male dancers in costume encircle the songstress while they move in unison shoulder-to-shoulder in a dance choreographed hundreds of years ago. On both sides of the stage, angelic, petite young women caress the air with the familiar feminine movements of hands and fingers.

At center stage, Nune sounds the call for a return to the homeland with a passionate rendition of "Kele Lao." She sings the praises of hardworking villagers, speaks of love, innocent and playful, and mourns the losses her people have endured; fans say she not only brings on a warm yearning for the innocent days of yester-year, but she also sends chills down their backs and captures their hearts. Yesayan has proven that she can not only seduce the most apprehensive of critics but also tantalize young and old alike.

The 28-year-old arrived at our office in Yerevan for our interview in a chauffeur-driven E-class Mercedes Benz as would be expected of any star-in Yerevan or Hollywood. As we drove to her suburban Yerevan apartment, we sat in the back and talked about her conviction that by setting traditional Armenian folk songs to modern arrangements, she can reach younger generations who are deeply submerged and drowning in Western culture.

"It’s rare that you hear an Armenian song on the radio," she says, referring to one of Yerevan’s several new FM stations-playing on the car stereo. "It’s always the love song from Titanic or Madonna," she says as we drive past walls with English-lettered graffiti which spell out Nirvana," "Michael Jackson" and "Sex Pistols."

Traditional songs are not the only selections Yesayan sings. "I also have newer songs written by the composer Artur Grigorian," she says. She plays with pride an audio tape of a recent performance when she belted out Toni Braxton’s "Unbreak My Heart" with just as much heart and soul as Braxton.

Yesayan says she can relate to the words she sings with more understanding and depth now, having survived a traumatic experience a few years ago-an experience not openly and easily addressed in most families. "Before," she says, "I’d sing the words and maybe didn’t relate to them as much as I can now. I understood the words but couldn’t really feel them and bring the song to life."

She hesitates but begins to explain the experience by talking about falling in love, so deeply in love that she lost herself in the relationship. "It’s not that I hadn’t loved before," she says, "but this type of love, pain, all of the emotions I’d experienced gave me new insight." Her dedication and love for her husband, her desire and passion to make him happy meant sacrifices, first minor then drastic. He asked her to spend more time at home; she did. He asked her not to make any more public appearances or accept invitations from television shows; she obliged. He then asked her to never sing again; she agreed. But making the relationship work wasn’t going to be that easy. "The arguments, the mockery, the humiliation," she remembers. "All that in one year was a bit overwhelming."

During the dark, cold and impossible years in Armenia, when the nation was without power, without food and without an economy, Yesayan became a prisoner of jealousy, a prisoner of a man who she says would not let her leave their apartment. His fear of losing her, his rage that others would see her on television or hear her on the radio, and his need to box her up all for himself would play out through violent daily outbursts, physical and psychological abuse which would leave Yesayan beaten and bruised, defeated and depressed.

Yesayan says she was convinced she could change her husband and help him heal from his psychological and emotional problems; but when a year passed and her husband began to demand they have children, she forced herself to call her mother and ask that she save her from her private hell.

Escaping from her husband and healing from the trauma were not easy. Yesayan experienced a complete emotional breakdown for months following the break-up of her marriage. She was confined to bed at her parents’ home, physically and emotionally damaged, and unable to stop crying. It was her mother who became her pillar of strength, stood by her, held her hand, prayed with her daily, reminded her that she was fine, that she could be loved, and that the fragile and bruised songbird would find her voice and sing once again.

Her mother and close friends talked her into accepting a three-month contract to perform at a five-star hotel in Syria. Nune was hesitant, convinced by her husband that she made a fool of herself when she performed, that she wasn’t talented enough to get up in front of a microphone, and that she should be ashamed for having pranced around in flashy outfits and short dresses in front of total strangers.

But she eventually regained her self-confidence and went to Damascus, convinced that if she didn’t leave Yerevan, her husband could and would lure her back. She couldn’t risk falling back into her lover’s trap and knew if she were to ever sing again, she would have to make a clean break and leave.

"Music is my life," she says. "When I was three or four, I remember singing pop songs we heard on the radio." She’s not hesitant to share her disinterest in everything else. "I’ve never liked to read. A book would have to be very interesting for me to finish. I like to look through magazines, and I get all of my news and information from television," she says, glancing up to her set which is now tuned to the CNN World Report.

"When I was 13 or 14, I used to watch Raissa Megerdichian, Suzanna Markarian and the Constantine Orbelian Group," she says, sipping coffee from a demitasse with grace and elegance. "I used to wish I’d see them on the street or be with them. I’d dream of being one of them, but my family is traditional and singing wasn’t a proper career choice for a young lady."

Convinced by her family that she needed to attain a diploma in the sciences, Yesayan attended engineering school after graduating from high school. "I survived the first year of college," she says and quickly professes that she took matters into her own hands and arranged for an audition at what is now called the Jazz and Pop College. She was accepted, but her family didn’t think it made sense for her to leave an engineering institute where acceptance was next to impossible. Her instructors at the music college included the likes of Grigorian, Datevik Hovhanessian and Robert Amirkhanian; these musicians would eventually help her land a spot in Orbelian’s orchestra.

"I went directly into the jazz band," she remembers. "It was the one which all young singers dream of being involved with. I began to perform and hang out with people I used to watch on television and wished to emulate." After two years of performing with Orbelian, Yesayan won a spot on the Ayo television talent showcase. It was there that Garbis Titizian of Prime Entertainment discovered her.

Titizian was then the Executive Producer of the Armenian National Committee Media Network’s popular Horizon television news magazine and one of the judges for Ayo. Titizian encouraged her to record her first album; but Yesayan would eventually meet her husband and walk away from her singing career. Her first album would be shelved for five years.

Yesayan says her road to recovery covered a span of two years. It wasn’t until her return to Armenia in January 1997 while on a short break from her appearances in Syria that she met Titizian, and Grigorian, again. They encouraged her to think about her abandoned recording career and suggested she consider touring; Titizian suggested that she stay in Yerevan and focus on her career.

Yesayan told him that earning a living in Armenia as a musician was next to impossible. "Nothing is impossible," he told her and offered to have his company, Prime Entertainment, manage her career and bankroll her next album, Ov Inch Kidi (Garni). Titizian then arranged for the release of her first album, Kavarn Mer (PE-KO) and began to promote her in Armenia and the Diaspora.

Since her return to Armenia, Yesayan has not only recorded her second album but is also working on a third. She has made several television appearances, and her music videos appear regularly on Armenian television programs. Yesayan has also performed at two sold-out concerts in Yerevan; and last summer, she toured for three months throughout Armenia and Karabakh, singing and fundraising for the Armenia Fund. She has also performed in Cairo, Cyprus, and Brazil.

What are your dreams now, I ask her. "This is it," she says. "My dream is now. I don’t need or want any more. Everything is perfect as long as it remains this way."