System of a Down's Serj Tankian on his memoir, why a new album hasn't come since 2005
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Serj Tankian, singer for System of a DownTravis Shinn / Hachette Books -
Cover art for Serj Tankian's "Down with the System: A Memoir (Of Sorts)"Travis Shinn / Hachette Books
The sound of protest music used to be the gentle plucking of Bob Dylan's guitar or the smooth grooves of Marvin Gaye. But at the end of the 1990s, there was a more insistent voice, screaming through a wall of amplifiers.
System of a Down became the most popular metal band of its era, scoring three No. 1 albums in the early part of the 2000s. Concert venues sold out. Eardrums were pummeled. Then, at its height, the Los Angeles-based band stopped releasing music and hasn't offered a new album since 2005.
Singer Serj Tankian describes the band in a new memoir, Down with the System, as:
"Armenian-Americans playing a practically unclassifiable clash of wildly aggressive metal riffs, unconventional tempo-twisting rhythms, and Armenian folk melodies, with me alternately growling, screaming, and crooning lyrics that could pivot from avant-garde silliness to raging socio-political rants in the space of a single line. I'd be the first to admit it: It's not easy listening."
Part of the band's mission was to educate a new generation about something that happened more than a century ago — the Armenian genocide. The Turkish government has never acknowledged it as a genocide, and a U.S. president didn't formally recognize it as genocide until Joe Biden did in 2021.
Morning Edition host A Martinez spoke with Serj Tankian about his memoir.
On his family fleeing the Lebanese Civil War as a child:
I was seven; my brother was four. And I remember when the bombings first started and school was closed, we were crouching in our bedroom from the sounds, the building shaking from bombs falling nearby. And it was just fear. I remember fear, you know? The fear of the unknown as well because as a child you're not cognizant of who's fighting for what reason. You just feel the fear of war, and it's a horrible feeling.
That definitely made me anti-war at a very young age, but as I grew up, it is actually the hypocrisy of the taboo nature of the recognition of the Armenian genocide in a well-known democracy like the United States that ultimately made me an activist.
On his family's link to the Armenian Genocide:
My ancestors, my great grandparents – perished in the genocide. My grandfather, Stepan Eytan, was born in the early 1900s in a small village called Efkere in the Gesaria area of Turkey, which used to be historical Armenia. Turkey used to have at least 3 million Armenians, if not more. We were the largest Christian minority in the country. During the First World War in 1915, there was a systematic, organized genocide conducted by the government of the Ottoman Empire at the time. And my grandfather is a survivor of that genocide. He told us his story of survival.
My grandfather lived to the age of 93, 94 (we're not exactly sure of his age because of lost documents). We know his story more than our other grandparents, so that was a gift for us. I wanted him to know that before he [died], we were fighting for his memory, the memory of his family, his whole generation, and what he had fought for during his life.
On losing fans over his activism:
I'm OK with that because an artist isn't supposed to please everyone. An artist is supposed to basically try to receive through the collective consciousness whatever truths that we're trying to live by, the truths of our times. If we can't do that as artists, then we're entertainers. From day one, you have to make that choice: Are you an entertainer only or are you going to be an artist? If you're an entertainer, that's cool; there's many entertainers I follow and love. But if you're going to be an artist, then the road is not going to be easy. You're going to have to be honest with yourself and everyone else at all times, and people are going to like you and people are going to hate you, and that's OK.
I was more of the activist in the band than anyone else. There was always this push and pull between the message and the music. The other guys, rightfully so, didn't want the music to be victimized by the message at all times. I understood that because I loved the music as well, but when there was [a message] that needed to be dispersed, I felt like that was just as important, if not more important, than the music.
On why System of a Down hasn't released a new album since 2005:
I guess the short answer to that is: creative differences. And trying to imbue egalitarian means within the system, not only through our message. A band is a unique dynamic of individuals, with goals and things that they want to express. Not all of it works together at once.
Our original format was: Daron [Malakian], guitarist in System of a Down and my friend, would write the music and I would write the lyrics. As he grew as a lyricist. I tried to encourage him to sing as much as possible, because those were his lyrics. I wanted his voice to come out through his song. I believe that when someone writes a song – and they have a more complete song, both lyrically and musically – they can encapsulate it better with their voice.
I felt like I wasn't getting the same back at the time, in terms of encouragement. I was writing more music now, not just lyrics, and I wanted that badly within the band. I was also passive at the time, based on everything that was happening in my life. I wasn't as assertive. And I totally take the blame for that, which is not who I am now. I'm more assertive now. So it's an interesting dynamic that caused this block for us to be able to proceed musically ultimately.
On many fans learning about the Armenian Genocide through System of a Down's music:
I consider the awareness having to do with the Armenian genocide one of the band's largest non-musical legacies. In fact, in 2015 when we were playing the 100th anniversary of the Armenian genocide in Yerevan, Armenia in Republic Square, that feeling was palpable, like we were almost created for this moment. This is the top of the mountain for this band. I'm incredibly proud of that, that we've been able to help.
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Transcript
A MARTÍNEZ, HOST:
The sound of protest music used to be the gentle plucking of Bob Dylan's guitar or the smooth grooves of Marvin Gaye. But at the end of the 1990s, there was a more insistent voice delivered through a wall of ants.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "P.L.U.C.K.")
SYSTEM OF A DOWN: (Singing) A whole race, genocide, taken away all of our pride. A whole race...
MARTÍNEZ: His name is Serj Tankian, and he sings for the Los Angeles-based band System of a Down. Here's how he describes them in a new memoir - quote, "Armenian Americans playing a practically unclassifiable clash of wildly aggressive metal riffs, unconventional tempo-twisting rhythms and Armenian folk melodies."
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "CHOP SUEY!")
SYSTEM OF A DOWN: (Singing) Wake up. Wake up. Grab a brush and put a little makeup. Hide the scars to fade away the - hide the scars to fade away the shake-up. Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "B.Y.O.B.")
SYSTEM OF A DOWN: (Singing) Everybody's going to the party, have a real good time.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "AERIALS")
SYSTEM OF A DOWN: (Singing) Aerials in the sky.
MARTÍNEZ: System of a Down had three albums hit number one in the early part of the 2000s. Part of their mission was to educate a new generation about something that happened more than a century ago, the Armenian genocide, something the Turkish government has never acknowledged. Then at the band's height, they just kind of stopped releasing music. They had no new album since 2005. Serj Tankian explains in a new memoir called "Down With The System." He goes all the way back to his childhood home in Beirut during the Lebanese Civil War.
SERJ TANKIAN: I was 7. My brother was 4. And I remember when the bombings first started, and school was closed. We were crouching in our bedroom from the sounds of the building shaking, from bombs falling nearby. And it was just - it was fear. I remember fear - the fear of the unknown as well because, you know, as a child, you're not cognizant of who's fighting what and for what reason, obviously. You just feel the fear of war, and it's a horrible feeling.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "BOOM!")
SYSTEM OF A DOWN: (Singing) Boom, boom, boom, boom. Every time you drop the bomb, you kill the god your child has born. Boom, boom...
MARTÍNEZ: What you experienced at the age of 7, how did that start to form and shape your political views and your activism?
TANKIAN: That definitely made me anti-war at a very young age, obviously, but, you know, as I grew up, it is actually the hypocrisy of the taboo nature of the recognition of the Armenian genocide in a well-known democracy like the United States that ultimately made me an activist. I mean, 1 1/2 million people, my ancestors, my great-grandparents all perished in the genocide, and I couldn't understand how a country such as the United States - you know, a self-professed beacon of democracy - would put that all under the rug for political expediency. But as I grew older, I realized that that is the norm.
MARTÍNEZ: And it wasn't until April of 2021 that President Biden declared that the U.S. recognizes the Armenian genocide. Now, the Armenian genocide isn't something that's taught in many schools, and I think that you've discovered over the years a lot of people learned about it through System of a Down. That's got to be something that you think - could that be something that serves as legacy marker?
TANKIAN: I consider the awareness having to do with the Armenian genocide one of the band's largest nonmusical legacies. If there's anything that we can be proud of as four Armenian Americans that we've done in our lifetimes, it's that. In fact, in 2015, when we were playing the 100th anniversary of the Armenian genocide in Yerevan, Armenia, in Republic Square, that feeling was palpable, kind of like we were almost created for this moment.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)
TANKIAN: It was a Turkish mayor that saved my grandmother. The government of Turkey should be hailing these saviors as heroes instead of denying the obvious history.
MARTÍNEZ: Now, you write the lyrics to the majority of System of a Down songs. A lot of the lyrics that you've written - very serious, very political.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "PRISON SONG")
SYSTEM OF A DOWN: (Singing) All research and successful drug policy shows that treatment should be increased and law enforcement decreased while abolishing mandatory minimum sentences.
MARTÍNEZ: Was everybody in the band on the same page with this approach? I mean, did you ever face pressure from your bandmates to tone things down?
TANKIAN: There have been those moments over the many, many years 'cause I was more of the activist in the band than anyone else. And there was always this push and pull between the message and the music. And the other guys, rightfully so, didn't want the music to be victimized by the message at all times. And I understood that because I loved the music as well. But when there was something that needed to be dispersed as far as a message, I felt like that was just as important, if not more important, than the music. So it was this push and pull. And I think that's what makes System of a Down unique.
MARTÍNEZ: Why has there been no new System of a Down album releases? I mean, you were coming off of back-to-back No. 1 albums then. It just seems - I know that, you know, some people like to get out while they're on top, but it just seemed like you had so much more to offer.
TANKIAN: I guess the short answer to that is creative differences, as Daron and I specifically grew as songwriters.
MARTÍNEZ: And you're talking about Daron Malakian.
TANKIAN: Daron Malakian, yeah, my guitarist in System of a Down and my friend. Our original format was he would write the music and I would write the lyrics. As he grew as a lyricist, I tried to encourage him to sing as much as possible because those were his lyrics. I wanted his voice to come out through his song. I believe that when someone writes a song, they can encapsulate it better with their voice. And so I felt like I wasn't getting the same back at the time, in terms of encouragement, because I was writing more music now, not just lyrics, and I wanted that. I wanted that badly within the band. That kind of caused this block for us to be able to proceed musically, ultimately.
MARTÍNEZ: Now, you write, quote, "I know for a fact that I've lost fans over my politics and my activism. I'm OK with that." Why are you OK with that?
TANKIAN: I'm OK with that because an artist is supposed to basically try to receive through the collective consciousness whatever truths that we're trying to live by, you know, the truths of our times. And if we can't do that as artists, then we're entertainers. From Day 1, you have to make that choice. Are you an entertainer only, or are you going to be an artist? And if you're an entertainer, that's cool. Like, there's many entertainers I follow and love. But if you're going to be an artist, then the road is not going to be easy. You're going to have to be honest with yourself and everyone else at all times, and people are going to like you, and people are going to hate you, and that's OK.
MARTÍNEZ: That's Serj Tankian. His new book is called "Down With The System: A Memoir (Of Sorts)." Serj, thank you very much.
TANKIAN: My pleasure. Thank you for an amazing interview. I appreciate that.
(SOUNDBITE OF SYSTEM OF A DOWN SONG, "TOXICITY") Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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