The songs of Sotiria Bellou were a part of my youth growing up in Greek America. A few selections by Bellou are located in the sidebar.
For more than half a century, the voice of Sotiria Bellou defined the rebetiko tragoudi (song), the Greek musical style often referred to as the "Greek blues." The most enduring of a small group of women singers who began performing during the 1940's, she was a national artistic institution on a par with Maria Callas. She was a living legend, adored for her powerful singing and admired by many for an uncompromising if notorious lifestyle that made no secret of her passion for gambling and love of women.
The oldest child of greengrocers Kyriako and Eleni Bellou, Sotiria was
born in Drosia (formerly Halia) a village near Halkida. Her brief unhappy
marriage at the age of seventeen ended disastrously. After months of abuse,
she finally attacked her violent husband. She was tried and
sentenced to a three-and-a-half-year prison term, four months of which
she actually served. Facing continuous ill treatment at home on her release,
she took charge of her fate on the October 28. 1940, the day that Greece
refused to acquiesce to Italian occupation and, with little more than the
clothes on her back, she took the train to Athens, never looking back as
Greece entered into the war years of the 1940's.
Before her discovery by the late composer Vassilis Tsitsanis in 1945,
Sotiria Bellou spent the starvation years of the German Occupation (1941-1944)
doing every imaginable job - selling sweets and cigarettes, portering at
train stations, washing dishes. In 1947, she made the first of many successful
78 r.p.m recordings of Tsitsanis' songs. Perhaps the most famous of all
of these is the moving "Cloudy Sunday," composed during the bleak Occupation
years. Immortalized by Sotiria and the unforgettable Prodromos Tsaousakis,
this is almost a second Greek national anthem. At the same time, Sotiria
took part in the Resistance, selling the outlawed Communist newspaper Rizospastis.
She was beaten and imprisoned more than once by the Germans for this and
other infractions. She also saw action in the fighting during the infamous "Days of December"
in 1944.
A turning point in her nascent career came in 1948 when she came to
the attention of the smart bohemian set that began to frequent a cabaret named "Fat Jimmy's" where she was appearing with Tsitsanis. This group included the young Manos
Hatzidakis, a trained composer who produced many popular songs
over his long career. In a famous lecture of 1948, he argued for the artistic
merit of the rebetiko. Although she did not sing the songs of Hatzidakis,
the attention that was focused on her at the time, together with the quality
of her singing, her personal charm and bold lifestyle, earned her a life-long
reputation with a more sophisticated audience than other singers of her
generation managed to capture. This did not, however, gain her entry into
their recording studios until much later.
The career of Sotiria and other exponents of the rebetiko temporarily
waned however, as musical fashions changed from the mid-1950's to the late-1960's.
The times demanded glamor, something that Sotiria could never aspired to.
As she often recalled, she was reduced to selling cassettes on the street
to earn a living. During the repressive years of the Junta, however, a
new generation, particularly students and record collectors, rediscovered
their musical roots. While many people remained fans of Sotiria, it took
this revivalist interest to reactivate wider interest in the rebetiko and
older performers who were now appreciated as being authentic and "pure."
In 1966 Sotiria began a series of definitive recordings on the Lyra
label. In 1975 she entered yet another highly successful phase in her career
when she began working with a number of leading composers such as
Dionysos Savvopulos. She claimed a place in Greek song that she might have
had much earlier, if the music business relied on quality alone. She continued
to sing regularly in nightspots, including the renowned "Harama" with Tsistsanis
until his death in1984. Her last public season was in 1993-1994.
Her life had become a model of social defiance by the mid-1950's. She
lived as she liked, openly adopting a masculine style in dress and demeanor.
While never explicitly identified as a Lesbian, she never pretended to be anything
other. Her severe style added to the "serious" and "respectful" appearance
she was noted for during her entire professional life. While other singers stood
up to sing, a mark of a more modern, "sexier" performance style, Sotiria
remained seated among the musicians, in the traditional singer's place,
with a cigarette in her hand as she sang. With her short hair slicked back,
her simple shirts and skirts, she didn�t hesitate to openly charm women
with her dazzling smile and dark eyes. With very few exceptions, she was
accepted by her colleagues and admired by audiences of all classes. For many Sotiria Bellou embodied the
freedom that most people could not or would not allow themselves.
During her illness, she often complained to the Greek press that she was alone and impoverished, forgotten by friends and colleagues. While it is true that she suffered fools lightly, she was extraordinarily generous with friends and often helped younger musicians. Despite the fact that she could be "difficult," those who loved her usually forgave her. Her financial straits were not unconnected to her passion for gambling, particularly the secret dice games she frequented. Indeed, as she herself admitted, over the years she had lost several fortunes. The Greek government provided her some financial relief and bore a large part of her medical expenses. The State funeral with which Sotiria Bellou was honored on Friday, August 29 1997, was a tribute to her lifetime of song.
Let me begin by saying that I am a fan of Rembetiko. This art form, once relegated to the outcasts of society and akin to American Blues, had its origins in the coastal cities of Asia Minor. Like everything since the establishment of the modern Greek state, it is the subject of endless infighting by proponents of one form or another of Greek identity. One Greek journalist recently described the conflict thus: "The demotika (Greek regional folk music) are Greece’s only genuine musical identity. Musicologically and morally, they are far superior to the
adulterated, drug-deadened Turco-Arabic fare which, beginning with the infamous rembetika , passes for Greek music today. Who in his senses would prefer the product of Piraeus hashish dens to the pure, bracing air of Epirus or the sapphire blue of the Aegean Sea, both reflected in their respective musical
traditions? But when you’re drugged, you cannot exercise your senses correctly."
Now as far as I am concerned, Rebembetika is very much a integral part of the Greek musical legacy and I embrace it as I embrace other more purified expressions of the Greek soul. John Akritas over at Hellenic Antidote has provided a number of glimpses into the Rembetiko style and Radio Akritas offers an opportunity to partake of some great songs that give one a real feel for Rembetika.
While delving into the subject I came across a paper that was presented at the recent "Researching Rebetika Conference" held in October on the Greek island of Hydra. Written by Gail Horst-Warhaft of Cornell University, it does a superb job of dissecting the evolution of Rembetika in the context of its love-hate relationship with the Greek-speaking world:
"In her insightful study of modern Greek literature “Topographies of Hellenism” Artemis Leontis speaks of the Greeks’ tendency to exoticise themselves. “Greeks have regularly sought to recover the primitive element in themselves,” she notes. “To compensate for what others perceived as backward behavior or bad blood, they have defined their homeland, Hellas, as their native entopia, their coffeehouse, if you will, in which they are aboriginal customers.” The tendency to exoticise oneself is not exclusively Greek, of course, but Greeks experienced a unique combination of the high expectations of western Europeans obsessed with their illustrious ancestry, and low estimation, based on these same unrealistic expectations and the observations of western Europeans. The preoccupation of the modern Greek has been to claim his or her ancient pagan past but to combine it with a Byzantine and Ottoman past and reconcile the diverse strands of his inheritance. The dilemma has never been satisfactorily resolved, and the rhetoric of Greek nationalism or has been obsessed with determining the character of modern Greece.
During the Metaxas dictatorship, from 1936-1940, rebetika musicians were harassed. Many were exiled to the islands or thrown into prison, and the hashish dens of Piraeus were closed down. This was not merely because the rebetes and their hangouts were seen as disreputable, but because they offended Metaxas’ belief in a “Third Hellenic Civilisation” that would draw its character from the folk culture of Greece. Amanedhes were also banned, during the dictatorship, probably as a response to a similar ban placed on them by Turkey’s ruler Kemal Ataturk. Ataturk’s ban was part of a general attempt to westernise Turkey, and de-emphasise its “oriental” character.
Despite the fact that it was, in many ways, a home-grown hybrid, rebetiko was not associated with the ideal "topos (place)" of nationalism, i.e. with the Greek countryside (especially the mainland areas first liberated from the Turks). The regional folk music of Greece, much of which was itself of hybrid origin, was generally defined by association with a particular landscape. The deracinated, urban rebetika, with their foreign derived slang, their shady milieu and anti-authoritarian lyrics were a thorn in the side of nationalists, but for the same reason they were attractive to modernist writers and intellectuals who opposed narrow nationalism, and to working class urban Greeks, many of whom were sympathetic to the Greek Communist Party’s campaign for a more equal distribution of resources.
Among the writers who championed the rebetika was Kostas Tachtsis. His 1964 essay on the zeibekiko offers us a possible explanation for the transformation of the rebetika from a narrow local phenomenon to a broadly popular style . The extreme privations of the German Occupation leveled class differences: There were no more hungry and satisfied, there were no masters and slaves, everyone was a slave, everyone was hungry, all felt the need to bewail their fate... All the houses suddenly became hashish dens, not literally of course, but in character. Everywhere the spirit of lawlessness prevailed, of constant fear, misery and death. ... The zeibekiko found room to develop, develop rapidly. Suddenly, it was no longer a dance of the underworld, but of a large number of Greeks, mostly those living in urban centers. Many of the songs which were first heard immediately following the war, had been written during the Occupation and differed markedly from the pre-war, heavier "hashish" rebetika....In contrast to such meaningless songs, the rebetika offered the suffering population songs that dealt with reality, and not only with a literal but a symbolic reality. They were identified, according to the author, with “the spirit of resistance.” Tachtsis goes on to explain that while the Communist-led resistance fighters in the mountains of Greece sang Russian and other imported songs, the Greeks who drank their wine in underground tavernas, listened to rebetika songs that spoke not of the actual situation of the war, but of the “eternal poison of life.”
Read the whole thing here.
Nikos Xylouris was born in Anoghia, Crete, on the 7th of July, 1936. At the age of five he witnessed the burning of his home and village by German soldiers during the Occupation. As a boy Nikos was very fond of music and he had a gift for singing and playing the mandolin with his friend Giorgo Kalomiris. Enthralled by the music of a skilled player of the Lyra (Cretan fiddle), Leonidas Klados, he convinced him to take him on as an apprentice for two years. He began to ply his craft at village weddings, baptisms and other celebrations throughout Crete.
At the age of seventeen he got his first job in a small cabaret in the city of Heraklion named the "Kastro" or Castle. The adjustment to city life was a difficult but life changing experience. As he later related: “...The changes taking place in the cities could not have been experienced by the people living up in the mountain villages of Crete. In the city, the people were listening to European music and dancing the tango, waltzes, the rumba and samba. We were obliged to learn those tunes so as to play them at weddings and festivals to earn our living. We began to try to make people change, to love Cretan music again, little by little...”
While playing at one of those festivals he meets and later marries Ourania Melampianaki, daughter of a prosperous Heraklion family. On the 21 November 1958 he recorded his first 78 RPM record, a song named “Kritikopoula mou” (My Cretan Girl). Two years later a son is born followed by a daughter six years later. Xylouris eventually finds himself in Athens cutting 45 singles in order to pay for medical care for his seriously ill child. He is forced to churn out records for a pittance, even by the standards of the time.
In 1966 he has a huge break. Leaving Greece for the first time in his life, he travels to and participates in a folk festival in San Remo, Italy and wins first prize. He subsequently opens the first Cretan music hall, “Erotokrito." His popularity rising, he begins to draw huge audiences. In 1969, a hit record “Anifantou," hits the top of the charts and he returns to Athens to sing at the Konaki Music Hall. There he meets Erikos Thalassinos who introduces him to the composer Yiannis Markopoulos. Signed by Columbia Records, he agrees to sing popular songs but holds out for two albums, to be composed entirely of Cretan music, which the company agrees to. As a result Cretan music was introduced throughout Greece, something that his predecessors on the Cretan music scene were unable to accomplish previously.
Xylouris and Markopoulos worked together to create a series of songs that re-examined the relationship between tradition and the present. These songs, known as "Rizitika" were released under his personal direction in 1971 and were introduced in a live performances at “Ledra”, a well-known Athens club of that period. During this period many Greeks opposed to the military regime in power adopted songs sung by Xylouris and they became emblematic of the resistance movement. In the summer of 1973, Xylouris sang in a landmark performance staged by Jenny Karezi and Costas Kazakos at the Athenaion Theatre. The subject matter of that performance was the recent history of Greece. It was entitled “To megalo mas tsirko” (Our Grand Circus). His songs expressed the tense political climate of that period which culminated in the uprising of the Polytechnic students, the invasion of Cyprus and the fall of the Military Junta.
Throughout
the years of tumultuous changes in Greek politics, he interpreted some more songs by
other noted composers such as Christos Leondis and Stavros Xarchakos. At the same time, he recorded the
“Antipolemika” (Antiwar songs) by Linos Kokotos and Dimitris Christodoulou as
well as George Seferis’ poetry, set to music by Ilias Andriopoulos. He was once more engaged in singing folk songs originating
from Crete, while he also interpreted popular songs by Stelios
Vamvakaris. With songs such as “Argalios”, “Mia padremeni agapo”
(Filedem), “Pramatevtis” and “Mesopelaya armenizo”, his voice was back
to singing “songs of life”.
Nikos Xylouris' brilliant musical career was cut short by his premature death from cancer at the young age of 44. He died far from his beloved island, in a Piraeus hospital, on the 8th of February in 1980. May the example of his life and his haunting voice serve to awaken all Greeks from the slumber of the present to relive the glory of the past in our own lives. Thank God Hellas gave us Niko and his music. May his memory be eternal
When I was growing up, my parents had an active social life. They never went out to bars, restaurants or nightclubs. They never went to cocktail parties or intimate candlelight suppers. They would never think of socializing without my sister and I tagging along. Every weekend they would drag us to the homes of all their Greek friends and relatives, where, without fail, we would spend hours eating and they would talk, argue and laugh incessantly. Sometimes they would turn on a record player and dance to Greek music. I even remember my yiayia dancing the dances of her native Epirus and refusing to sit, even one out. Occasionally, my father and his hometown friends would sing the songs of Northern Epirus. To my young ears it all sounded like the caterwauling of a bunch of old guys. I was actually quite embarassed by it all. It was only later on in my life that I began to truly appreciate the beauty of this type of music. The polyphonic songs of Epirus constitute one of the most interesting musical forms in this part of the world. My expertise in this area is limited, therefore I will defer to Wikipedia Encyclopedia:
"The origin of this polyphonic form, in spite of the fact that the research hasn’t reached certain conclusions yet, is considered to be very old (possibly, even pre-Hellenic). The melodies of polyphonic songs, including some more songs of Epirus and Thessaly, are the only ones in Greece that have preserved the pentatonic scale without semitones (a scale consisted of five tones without semitones). According to some musicologists, this scale is identified with the Doric way of ancient Greeks, the par excellence Hellenic harmony. Except from its scale, what pleads for the very old origin of the kind is its vocal, collective, rhetorical and modal character.
These days, polyphonic song is found in northwestern Greek region of Ioannina (villages of Pogoni, Parakalamos and some villages north of Konitsa), in very few villages in northeastern Thesprotia, Tsamantas, Lias, Vavouri, Povla) and, mainly, in Northern Epirus, in the villages of the Greek minority in south Albania (Dropolis, Upper Pogoni, Vuthrotto, Chimarra).
Polyphonic groups of Epirus consist of four members at least. There are four distinct roles that compound the group:
"Πάρτης" (partis) or "σηκωτής" (sikotis) is the voice that sings the main melody, beginning, "παίρνοντας" (pernontas, taking) or "σηκώνοντας" (sikonontas, lifting) the song.
The second voice answers him, "γυρίζει" (yirizei, turns) or "τσακίζει" (tsakizei, crimps) the song; that’s why he is called "gyristis". Sometimes, instead of "gyristis", or according to some musicologists parallel with him, we find the role of "κλώστης" (klostis, spinner), who makes peculiar yodels, "κλώθοντας" (klothontas, spinning) the song between the tonic and subtonic of the melody, a technique that reminds the movement of the hand which holds the spindle and spins the thread.
A role that is often, but not always, found is the one of "rihtis", who "ρίχνει" (drops) the song in the end of the introduction of "partis", singing an exclamation (e.g. «αχ ωχ ωχ» (ah oh oh), «άντε βρε» (ante vre) a fourth lower than the tonic of the melody, resting "partis" and uniting its introduction with the entrance of "ισοκρατές" (isokrates).
The rest members of the polyphonic group, "isokrates", keep the «ίσο» (iso, vocal drone), namely the sound of the tonic of the melody, creating the modal base of the song. The isokrates' role is particularly important; the louder the «ισοκράτημα» (isokratima, keeping of the vocal drone) is, the more «βρονταριά» (vrontaria) the song goes (i.e. the better).
The perfection of the rendition of the polyphonic song presupposes the existence and the unity of the several voices–roles of the polyphonic group. As a result, polyphonic song presupposes the collectiveness of expression and the firm distinction between the roles it reflects, and the unwritten hierarchy in the composition of the group and the distribution of the roles."
The best collection of the polyphonic songs I have discovered on the Internet can be found in the music section of www.Politsani.com
I recommend you start here, here, here and here. All of these songs are sung by natives of the North Epirotan village of Politsani. The last two called "Song of Xenitia (Foreign Land)" and "Yianoula" are sung by Politsanites who now reside in Portland, Maine, USA.
When someone gets married, it represents a melding of two families into one. Greeks, being the family-oriented people that they are, want more than a passing acquaintance with the family their offspring will marry into. Sometimes these unions are problematic and uneasy. In our case, Anoula and I couldn't have asked for a better situation. Our two families took to each other like we had known one another for years. There is something to be said for marrying someone with a similar background and religious faith, not that it is any guarantee of future success. It certainly eliminates a few areas of potential friction. My in-laws, Maria and Christos, have become a second set of parents for me over the years and I often refer to them as "Baba" and "Mama." That is because they treat me like a second son. Both are part of the generation that spent their youth embroiled in the tough decade of survival spanning the German invasion , the Occupation and the subsequent Civil War. Growing up in Athens during this time, they experienced their share of starvation, the loss of parents and were caught in the middle of urban combat between the British and Communist guerrillas. My father in law, an orphan, was in his late teenage years during the Civil War and was victimized by both the Left and Right. He was beaten by a Right Wing death squad within an inch of his life because he was unshavened and resembled a Communist guerrila with his scraggly beard. Later while working as a day laborer at the shipyard in Elefsina he was taken hostage, starved and marched into the hills for months by ELAS guerrilas before being released. My mother in law, the oldest of three children, was eleven years old at the height of the German Occupation. She lived on meager handouts and what her mother could scrounge in the Kesariani section of Athens. This neighborhood was a hotbed of anti-German resistance and the scene of indiscriminate round-ups and executions of its civilian inhabitants. After liberation, during the fighting between British troops and ELAS guerillas, the shack her family lived in was burned to the ground with all the family's worldly possessions. The entire family including her widowed mother and her two younger siblings were reduced to living under some pine trees and eating out of a solitary soup dish on the outskirts of the neighborhood. Despite these horrific youthful years, Baba and Mama managed to survive, although not unscathed. They raised a family by working hard during difficult economic times after the war. Throughout it all, they preserved their time honored sense of filotimo and pride in who they were. Their generation, now fading slowly, is increasingly under pressure in the twilight years of their lives, having to contend with rising prices, stagnant pensions and a health care system that is complex and unable to keep its many promises.
Through it all, they continue to love their country and Church, and to look to the hopeful future of their children and grandchildren. As is frequently the case with folks approaching the final years of their lives, they remember the good times and relegate the bad to the darker recesses of the mind. The music they grew up with lights up their faces and recalls the good times. I am always amazed by the ability of now forgotten tunes to make them smile and conjure up the memories they cherish.
One of the great composers and singers of their era was Vassilis Tsitsanis. He was one of the most famous purveyors of Rebetiko music, a muiscal form that originated among the Greeks of Asia Minor, and brought to Greece during the expulsion of the Greek communities there. Originally from Trikala, a very quaint little town in central Greece, Vassilis wrote some of his most unforgetable songs during the Occupation while living in Thessaloniki. In 1946, Tsitsanis returned to Athens and began recording many of his own compositions with other singers such as Sotira Bellou, Maria Ninou and Prodromos Tsaousakis. From then on, Tsitsanis enjoyed wide acclaim throughout Greece up until his death in 1984, when he was mourned by the entire country.
My in laws and others of their generation, forged in the crucible of the forties, adore Tsitsanis. His music is part sentiment, part art form, and it still has the power to awaken the bittersweet memories of the past. Back when I was a kid, my Thia Amalia gave me some of her old Greek Odeon 78 RPM records that she had bought at a department store or "pantopoleion" that catered to immigrant Greeks. It was called Prodromidis and was located in a west side Greek neighborhood in Manhattan. In those days, Mr. Prodromidis himself greeted his customers and you walked into an establishment full of every non-edible Greek product imaginable. In the back of his store he had a set of booths where you could listen to a record before deciding to buy it. Thia Amailia had all the Tsitsani's hit's including a song named: "Ta Kavourakia," which I loved. It was only later in my life that I realized the deep significance that Tsitsanis' work had for my second set of parents. When I hear Tsitsanis now I can't help but feel a certain fondness for the man and his music.
The following videos from YouTube include some great Tsitsanis hits sung by the unforgettable George Dalaras: Yiasou re Dalara. Tsitsani ese athanatos.
Stavros has extended me, AntigoneSis, an offer to relate to My Greek Odyssey's readers a poignant story about a regular American family's extraordinary hope and an example of the Greek philotimo of which we are so very proud.
Matt Maupin is the only US soldier who is unaccounted for in the Iraq war. Like so many other young Americans, the Batavia, Ohio native became an Army reservist to earn money for college. The 724th Transportation Company of which he was a part frequently guarded civilian supply convoys moving to and from Baghdad. It was on such a mission on April 9, 2004--Good Friday--that the convoy which he was guarding was attacked by insurgents, and Matt was taken hostage. About a week later, a video released by his captors showed Matt surrounded by five masked gunmen. He stated his name and his company and seemed OK, although dazed. But several months later, another video aired on Al-Jazeera which showed the execution of a blindfolded man and a statement that it was retribution for the US policy in Iraq. The video quality is so poor that the Army and Matt's parents cannot determine if it is in fact him. For that reason, Matt is still considered officially missing. And his parents, loved ones, friends and an entire Ohio community hope and pray that he is still alive.
Despite their angst, the Maupins have established the Yellow Ribbon Support Center, an all-volunteer group which daily sends care packages to soldiers in Iraq that include a picture of Matt and a note asking for assistance in locating him.
Last year, the Center organized a large dinner-dance on the east side of Cincinnati on April 9 to raise funds for scholarships to be given to students at the high schools of local fallen soldiers in their memories. As plans for the event took shape, Matt's father Keith told his friend and the event organizer June Izzi-Bailey that he listened daily to a song sung by Greek tenor Mario Frangoulis "Here's to the Heroes." I believe the song was written for Mario to sing at the Opening Ceremonies of the Athens 2004 Paralympics. Mr. Maupin heard the song on Mario's album "Follow Your Heart," which had been released in the US in the hopes of sparking a crossover career for the classically-trained tenor. In passing, he asked June if Mario would be kind enough to come and perform this song live on April 9th.
I was still still trying to pick my jaw up from the ground after having been introduced to Mario's beautiful voice and expressive singing from a concert DVD ('Sometimes I Dream' recorded in Thessaloniki at the Theatre of the Earth) when I happened upon the news that Mario would be performing for this fundraiser just down the road in Cincinnati. My jaw fell further, and I promptly called my immediate family and made their attendance mandatory! Then I got to work on the rest of the local Greek community.
Mario, accompanied by his friend and talented pianist/composer Theodoris Economou, sang a set of songs, including John Lennon's "Imagine" and a lovely Neapolitan song "Mamma," which he dedicated to all the mothers there that evening. He ended with a performance of "Here's to the Heroes" during which the pictures of all the local soldiers who have been killed in Iraq were displayed. I think that despite people's sentiments about the validity and the need of the war, many tears were shed.
I wish that my efforts to get more people of Greek heritage to support this cause and enjoy Mario's singing had been more successful. While I do not know Mario's politics, from what he said that evening, he believes in the dream of a peaceful, harmonious world. Professionally, he probably had little to gain by performing in front of a small audience that likely does not comprise the demographic that his record label's marketing folks normally point him towards. On top of that, he's not even an American! But talk about philotimo--to fulfill the wish of a father desperate to know what happened to his son, and he probably did it on a volunteer basis as well...It's certainly an experience that I as an observer who claims Greek heritage, is the mother of two sons, and comes from a military family (with a brother still on active duty) will never forget. Despite my own strong convictions concerning this war, that evening last year caused me to realize that assisting our soldiers and veterans is a very worthwhile and necessary cause.
Mario - na eise panta kala! Bravo!
The Maupin Family and Matt - May God grant you courage and peace!
Let us never forget!
Christos Hatzis, one of Canada's most imposing composers, was born in Greece, educated in the United States and a Canadian citizen since 1985. Christos Hatzis has been hailed “a contemporary
Canadian master” by New Yorker magazine. Hatzis’s eclectic and powerful
music is captivating audiences all over the world and has been awarded
several coveted Canadian and international awards. His impressive biography and long list of musical accomplishments can be found here. Mr. Hatzis' latest triumph is a multimedia musical production entitled "Constantinople" featuring the string musical ensemble, "The Gryphon Trio."
"Constantinople explodes on stage in a rich, multidisciplinary exploration of composer Christos Hatzis’ musical score. Movements entitled Creeds, Kyrie, Ah Kalleli, On Death and Dying and Alleluia immerse performers in spectacular projected visuals and surround the audience with electronic choral and orchestral textures. Virtuosic, reflective and intimate, Odd World, Dance of the Dictators and Old Photographs confirm the unique artistry and extraordinary chemistry of the Gryphon Trio."
From the William Littler of the Toronto Star: "There must
be something wrong with Christos Hatzis. He is a living, Greek-born Toronto
composer with serious academic credentials, yet at the end of a concert
devoted entirely to his music at Walter Hall Friday night, the audience leapt
to its feet cheering. Composers are supposed to be dead before that sort of
thing happens. Some of his fellow composers probably wish he were dead,
because he doesn't play by the rules of academic respectability, which
consistently rate intellectual challenge over aural pleasure. Hatzis appeals
to the ear, unashamedly and unreservedly."
Hatzis has also created a number of recordings including the standout concert version of the Greek Orthodox Trisagion funeral service in the CD called "Everlasting Light."
Since creating this blog I've been trying to figure out how to bring more Greek Music to my readers. In particular I would like to afford them the opportunity to listen to the latest hits directly from Greece, while they are reading my latest post or just surfing the net. Thanks to E-Radio Greece you can now listen to high quality Greek radio without static, absolutely free via the Internet. When you go to their Homepage you can choose your station, many commercial free, based on your musical tastes. I've also provided a permanent link for your convenience. If you want a real taste of Greece go to stations playing LAIKA (popular music) or those offering TRADITIONAL music. There are also a few good religious stations which will give you a taste of liturgical chants over a thousand years old. So far my favorite station is DERTI. Enjoy and let me know what you like.
Music has always been an essential part of the Greek soul. Although Greeks have been wanderers in many lands, their connection to their home, no matter where it was, included music and food. These two elements have been part of the Greek passion: life lived to its fullest. In 1922, about two million Greeks who had lived in Asia Minor for thousands of years, became refugees. Entire communities were uprooted. They left with the clothes on their back carrying a few precious belongings, their icons and in some cases the bones of their parents. The exodus which ended the Greek-Turkish War, also brought to an end a vibrant culture and was one of the greatest of the many Greek catastrophes of the Twentieth century. More about this forgotten episode in history in future posts. Many skilled musicians, composers, and singers moved with their communities to Greece and beyond. These talented people were able to revitalize the emerging Greek recording industry of the 30s and 40s. They were able to blend old and new musical traditions.
Two of the most prominent styles were the urban cafe songs and music of the common folk known as Rebetika and Smyrneika. This music is thankfully once again enjoying renewed interest and appreciation with the release of old recordings and the effort of a new generation of
musicians. Last year I had the distinct pleasure of hearing the music of Sophia Bilides. She is a nationally renowned Greek American singer and skilled player of the Santuri, an ancient stringed dulcimer. In my opinion she is a living Greek cultural treasure. Her sublime music evokes a nostalgia for a past that although gone, represents the woes and joys of Greeks today. Ms. Bilides has a CD out named GREEK LEGACY. It is worth every cent. Even better visit her website and try to catch her in concert. You won't regret it.
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