Witness and memory: Kronos Quartet and Mary Kouyoumdjian give voice to the silenced

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Kronos Quartet’s latest release, WITNESS, is the first full portrait album devoted to Armenian-American composer and documentarian Mary Kouyoumdjian. Over the past decade, she has developed a deep creative relationship with Kronos, resulting in works that merge field recordings, oral history and strikingly expressive quartet writing.  

WITNESS brings together the ensemble’s collaborations with Kouyoumdjian, who was named a finalist for the 2024 Pulitzer Prize in Music. The longest of these, Silent Cranes, is a music-documentary work composed in 2015 to mark the centenary of the Armenian genocide. Kouyoumdjian’s haunting arrangement of the folk song Groung, which served as a catalyst, is also included. 

Commissioned in 2014 through the Kronos: Under 30 Project, Bombs of Beirut incorporates interviews with family and friends to offer what the composer describes as an ‘unfiltered’ experience. The most recent work, I Haven’t the Words, addresses ‘some particularly hard moments in our world over the last several years’.

Kouyoumdjian and Kronos founder and violinist David Harrington reflect on their artistic partnership, what it means to carry the voices of others through string and bow, and how music can become a vessel for memory, resistance and empathy.

Kronos has been championing Mary Kouyoumdjian’s work since 2014. What initially brought you together?

David Harrington: There is a magnetic attraction that happens every once in a while between the work of a composer and me as a listener. When I first heard Mary’s music I felt that magnetic attraction. There were qualities of empathy and her desire to make music that could touch listeners as it expanded her expressive palette. I knew that we should meet and that it would be important, even essential, that we should talk about music and life.

For me, it’s very important to speak with our composers, to share stories, to get a sense of what it is that leads each of them to a new work. Once we were able to do this, I had my CD player with me along with the recording of [Armenian American soprano] Zabelle Panosian singing Groung [’Crane’] and played it for Mary. From her reaction to hearing this music and the way she talked about experiences her family had endured and surmounted, I felt Mary could make amazing music for Kronos and for all of us.

That historical recording of the folk song Groung is what launched your collaboration.

David Harrington: When I write my novel, it will be about the two high notes that Zabelle sings in her 1917 recording of Groung. Until the novel happens, here’s the short description of why I thought Kronos should play Groung: for me, Groung raises the bar for what I demand of myself and my playing.

Very rarely does one encounter a note that alters the way you think about all notes. This happened twice in Groung! I’ve never heard a note that was as light, as weightless, as sun-filled and at the same time as heavy and dark, inconsolable. Zabelle’s notes live inside of me and are a yardstick by which I compare all the notes I get to play. Who better to make the arrangement for Kronos than Mary Kouyoumdjian?

What’s unique for you, Mary, about working with Kronos?

Mary Kouyoumdjian: ‘Genuine curiosity’ always comes to mind when I think of Kronos and David. These pieces were recorded by the extraordinary individuals who have been part of the quartet and the Kronos organisation [over the past decade] and informed each creative choice and my own engagement with music. We’ve had countless conversations about music and beyond. My takeaway is how remarkable it is that these incredible individuals have immeasurable amounts of curiosity about sounds, people and the larger world around them. David and I can chat over a good diner breakfast and multiple cups of coffee for hours, and I always leave with more faith in people, a greater sense of purpose and an excitement to learn something new that day. 

Kronos is known for its fearless engagement with political and historical themes, taking on some of the world’s hardest questions. How did this shape the way you collaborated on these works?

Mary Kouyoumdjian: Writing for a group that has historically been committed to approaching difficult topics inspired me to both be more intentful and brave in writing these pieces. While I had already been exploring the Lebanese Civil War and Armenian genocide prior to meeting Kronos, I wouldn’t have had the courage to write these works in such a direct and unapologetic way prior to our collaborations. Because Kronos aims to inspire a brighter future, they inspired me to ask the same of my work as well.

What does it mean to you, David, to perform works like Silent Cranes and Bombs of Beirut?

David Harrington: The sound I’ve been involved with since age 12 is that of the string quartet. In a way, most of my thoughts exist within the string quartet sound. I’ve wanted this sound to be a central part of my own investigations of life. And I’ve wanted Kronos to absorb that amazing repository of musical wisdom, use the thrust given to us by so many other composers and make a body of work that is a living response to the world we share as well as a celebration of creativity. 

I want music that touches all the feelings we have. The sorrow, the happiness, the resolute, abrasive counter to injustice and unfairness, the poignancy of new life, the buoyant role of discovery—Kronos’ music must have it all. I want music that sonically looks us in the heart’s eyes. I’d love it if our work can be a refuge, a safe haven for our frailty.

Many composers are hesitant to embed political or historical themes too directly into chamber music. You lean into it fully. How has the string quartet allowed you to do this, musically and emotionally?

Mary Kouyoumdjian: The string quartet is one of the most human forms of expression. We have the idea of individuality – from the way each performer interprets material to the individual sound of each handcrafted instrument – and we have the idea of individuals coming together to create one larger ensemble or idea greater than what any individual can create on their own. 

The string quartet fits so closely with the range of human voice and the timbres that can be achieved, from various depths of old-soul vibrato to shrieking and screaming on their instruments. The vibrations of violin, viola, and cello against the human body, the way we hold these instruments and physically pull them into ourselves – these all feel like a beautiful representation of community at its best.

And then there’s the Kronos Quartet and what these musicians have allowed me to say. Kronos has been committed to speaking big and difficult truths through fostering empathy and hope since they started. This has deeply informed my love of the string quartet and how it can communicate.

What role do you see the quartet playing in giving voice to those who could not speak – or were never heard?

Mary Kouyoumdjian: On one hand, in WITNESS we have the direct speech of survivors of the Armenian genocide and Lebanese Civil War. On the other, we have what is unspoken – whether  by those who never had the chance to speak out, or because there are no words to possibly describe what is experienced in the darkest corners of our world or selves. 

In I Haven’t the Words, I explore the latter through the quartet. We’ve had some particularly hard moments in our world over the last several years, and those first few months of the pandemic – with such extreme isolation, the relentless harmfulness of our country’s administration and the horrific murder of George Floyd and our nation’s response – were particularly difficult for me to process.This piece burst out as a sonic diary entry through a piano improvisation I later transcribed for string quartet. It expresses what I did not have the tools to express through spoken language but could attempt to express through music alone.

You’ve suggested that the migratory birds in Silent Cranes symbolise those lost in the genocide, who cannot speak for themselves. Do you see the string quartet as a kind of surrogate voice for them – or something else?

Mary Kouyoumdjian: I see ourselves as the continuation of their voices. There’s a beautiful line spoken by investigative journalist David Barsamian at the end of Silent Cranes. Over the string quartet and Zabelle Panosian’s hauntingly beautiful 1917 recording of ‘Groung’, Barsamian reads: ‘Our grandparents are singing. Let’s finish their songs’.

David, how does Kronos prepare for that kind of interpretive responsibility?

David Harrington: A public Kronos concert is a place where the audience can help pull music from us and into existence. A concert is a communal experience where all of the listening we do together brings music to life. Even the toughest issues can find their way into a concert. If we have programmed and curated our concerts and recordings sensitively, each piece should take a vivid place in one’s memory and each audience member should have a clear image of the experience we have all created together.

How do you approach playing alongside archival recordings and field materials?

David Harrington: I look at the recorded voices, the real graphic, intimate personal stories, the sounds of bombs, the original recording of Groung, etc., all as part of the texture and the score to Mary’s music. When we perform these pieces, the assembled voices have an overpowering effect on the tones we try to pull from our instruments.

There are frequent moments when we try to make our bows become one with the voices, and the notes we play need to be the words being spoken. For I Haven’t the Words, any US citizen who was paying attention on 25 May 2020 heard the voice of George Floyd as he was being killed. George Floyd’s voice was inside of us as we recorded I Haven’t the Words.

Mary, what does it ultimately mean to you, as an Armenian-American composer descended from survivors of the genocide, to release this portrait album at a time when cultural erasure and historical denial remain real threats?

Mary Kouyoumdjian: I truly wish that this album weren’t as relevant as it is today. It’s heartbreaking that history continues to repeat itself, whether it’s in my immediate Armenian community that has been ethnically cleansed from Artsakh/Nagorno-Karabakh by Azerbaijan just a year and half ago, my Lebanese community between the 2020 Beirut port explosion and bombings by Israel in this last year, the relentless ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from their indigenous land, or our global silence as these events continue across so many communities and cultures. 

It’s also a responsibility that I feel I carry within a larger community of artists who are committed to speaking these ugly truths. I am incredibly privileged to be in a position to speak out with little-to-no consequence. This album means both the freedom of that expression and the hope for all of us to do better.