A Souvenir: Lacquer Discs and the Armenian Argentine Story
Written by Jesse Kenas Collins
Mgrditch - Unidentified oudist
Recording period: circa 1940s
Recording type: Non-commercial home recording
Given the Museum’s location in the US, many of the recordings we have discussed in the Sound Archive represent the output of the Armenian American diaspora, but the nature of diaspora is inherently global and the unifying aspect of a common culture means that sometimes documents end up far from their place of origin. Today we present one such record that provides a window into the Armenian Argentine diaspora, as well as a special subcollection of non-commercial lacquer discs.
Lacquer discs, sometimes called transcription or acetates, are a type of record that may appear to be unremarkable, given their often plain or handwritten labels, but they are quite different from your average commercial recording. They are made from a range of unstable and fragile materials. There is often a cardboard, aluminum or glass base coated with a thin surface of delicate nitrocellulose into which the sound is etched. Unfortunately, this makes them very vulnerable to deterioration, and means the quality of sound can be poor. But importantly, the content of these discs sets them apart from the bulk of commercial recordings. Lacquer discs are sometimes the only copy of a recording, often made on consumer machines at home to document personal memories like a special party or the lullabies of a parent. Other times we find discs that were cut in a professional studio either as commemorative souvenirs, as is the case with the disc here, or as demo recordings for a commercial release. The combination of a fragile medium and unique content make these recordings an important case for preservation. The Museum is fortunate to have over 30 discs of this type, which we have been able to transfer to date. Among those recordings are some remarkable pieces of history that we hope to share in the future, including a recording of William Saroyan speaking at a house party at Hamasdegh’s home, and living room recordings of Kanouni Garbis Bakirgian.
Today's recording is an example of a souvenir recording made in a professional studio but intended as a personal token. Like many lacquer discs, the artist information is limited and in this case we only know the performer’s first name, Mgrditch, from the inscription on the label which reads: “Pretty girl - I present you this disc as a memory, Mgrditch.” What we hear is a rendition of the Armenian song Partsr Sarer, though it is mislabeled as Siroon aghchig, as both songs come from the opera Anoush. The second song is Sareri Hovin Mernem, though the label reads Boyit Mernem, which is a phrase repeated in the song meaning “I would die for your figure.” Both songs are solo performances on an instrument in the style and register of an oud, but with the sound of a metal stringed instrument, possibly a cumbus, banjo, or other such instrument, which were used as alternatives to the oud in the Armenian communities during the period. While we don’t know more about the context or individuals involved, this disc, being made in Buenos Aires, does give us a small but personal glimpse into the Armenian culture of that city in the 1940s.
The Armenian community in Argentina descends from the movement of families from the province of Adana in the 1920s- a direct result of the deportations and massacres around the time of the Genocide. Immigrants from the cities of Marash, Hadjin and Antep made up over half of the Armenian population who settled in the southern portion of Buenos Aires, as well as a large proportion of immigrants from the region of Gesaria. While we can't tell the full story of the oud player who found himself recording these pieces at Estudio Cab in the 1940s, we are grateful to share the slice of life and artistry captured on this disc that found its way into the Museum’s collection, through a long and unlikely path.
A special thanks to the SJS Charitable Trust for their generous support of our work to digitize and share our collection of 78 rpm records.