Extended online interview: NZ resident and LA rock star Serj Tankian on why his memoir goes much wider than his time with band System of a Down.
As is apparent from his memoir, Down with the System, Serj Tankian has had an interesting life. Then he became a rock star. Then he became a New Zealand resident.
His System of a Down was one of the biggest American metal bands of the late 1990s-early 2000s. The group was formed by four Armenian-American guys who had mostly all attended the same Armenian school in Los Angeles.
Those roots gave their moshpit-friendly, heavy rock a distinctive melodic sense. By the time Tankian called a hiatus on the band in 2006, they had sold 40 million albums. These days, there are occasional live reunions. Throughout and since, frontman Tankian has been vocal, musically and politically, in the campaign for recognition of the Armenian genocide committed by the Ottoman Empire in World War I, during the foundation of what became modern Turkey. The country has aggressively denied it since.
Tankian has been a permanent resident for nearly 20 years and has a rural home north of Auckland, where he and his family spend most Southern Hemisphere summers. He has occasionally ventured out creatively, with a show with the Auckland Philharmonia and an exhibition of his paintings.
Today, we’ve interrupted him via Zoom in his home studio in LA, where he’s working on soundtracks for three different screen projects.
Your family fled Beirut, where you were born, during the Lebanese Civil War and you landed in Hollywood. You went out into the world with a band that made fun of the Hollywood sign on the cover of your biggest album but here you are working in Hollywood’s main business. Do you find that funny?
It’s definitely amusing because I never saw that being my life in the least bit when I was growing up. When I was going to uni, I had no idea that music was my calling. I studied business administration and got a degree in that, then I went off and started working in the jewellery industry, because of my uncle. I also had experience in the shoe manufacturing industry because of my dad. Then I started my own software company, which I sold. It took me a while to realise what my destiny was. But in retrospect, it’s interesting that when we migrated, the first place we stayed in was Hollywood. And here we are.
There are some things you don’t see in a typical rock memoir. There’s a chapter about the problems of establishing democracy in a post-Soviet Armenia. And we have a chapter about establishing democracy in a heavy metal band. The band one seems harder.
Isn’t it? Yeah, it hit me as well, that the ideals of democracy and an egalitarian kind of architecture sometimes work and sometimes don’t. It’s not very easy with a band – different characters; different expectations. It’s not easy with a country, either. The idea of democracy is very interesting to me because it means different things to different people. A lot of people regard the United States as a very well-known democracy. But we have the largest amount of money in our political system. There’s not a lot of money in our political system in New Zealand and when that changes, it’s going to be a whole different ball game.
The early chapter about your grandfather witnessing and surviving the Armenian genocide as a boy – I don’t want to be flippant, but having finished that, did writing the rest of the book feel easy?
It’s a really good question. You don’t want to get really heavy in the beginning of the book and turn people away, obviously. So that was a concern. But I just couldn’t conceive of telling my story without telling my grandfather’s story, which is how I came to exist. His story is very unique to my life because he was the patriot and activist in the family, in a way, and I inherited his kind of activism. So, to me, that was important – telling his story. He lived the longest, so I got to know him more than any other grandparent. So, I had to start with him to tell my story, because it just made total sense. Putting it later in the book just didn’t make any sense. So, at the risk of turning people off, I put it at the beginning.
The campaign for the recognition of the Armenian genocide – how is it going?
It’s hard to answer that question because of a few factors. Number one, I mean, we were excited by the fact that in 2019, the US Congress and President Joe Biden formally recognised the genocide. Unfortunately, New Zealand, Australia, the UK have not formally recognised it. That has a lot to do with geopolitical expediency and relations with Turkey. But in New Zealand’s case, it’s pretty much economic but also has to do with Anzac Day and the memories related to it, which have to be historically corrected, to put it mildly.
A lot of countries have recognised the genocide but the important one that hasn’t? Turkey, because it’s their Ottoman ancestors who committed the atrocity. That’s why you can’t say there’s been that much progress. The second reason you can’t say there’s been progress is because in 2020, Azerbaijan, with the help of Turkey, attacked Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh and there was ethnic cleansing going on. There were beheadings and all of these things Azerbaijan committed in the Nagorno-Karabakh with the full backing of Turkey. It makes me think that, no, we haven’t learnt a lesson from 100-plus years ago.
Have you been to the Atatürk memorial in Wellington?
Yes.
How was that?
Unsettling.
You didn’t take a spray can?
No. It’s not my job to tell people that they may have got a certain part of history wrong. It’s their job to realise it. It’s my job to talk about it. Turkey tried to make this connection with the Anzac countries after the war and said, you can come visit your graves. But that does not mean that these countries should not recognise the one and a half million slaughtered by that same government of the Ottoman Empire. [The Turkish regime] used Anzac Day as blackmail against both Australia and New Zealand in the past, [effectively saying] “If you recognise the genocide, we won’t do Anzac Day.” What the fuck is that?
Getting back to the book, were there other memoirs which made you think “I want to be as good as that”?
I’m a huge fan of [the late] Anthony Bourdain. I took him to Armenia in 2017 for [his TV series] Parts Unknown. I’ve read his Kitchen Confidential, but I also just recently listened to another audiobook by him. It’s just his wit. His style of writing is fucking amazing.
If I can repeat a question Bourdain asked you: How Armenian are you?
Well, he hit me on the head with that, because that is not an easy question to answer. And that’s the question I’ve been trying to answer pretty much most of my life, because here I am from a culture from the Caucasus, Armenia, right? Born not where my people come from but in the Middle East, raised in Los Angeles, living in New Zealand and all of them are our homes, but none of them are the home. LA feels like an expanded office. To me, it’s a great place to work. It’s got a lot going on, so it allows me to be ultra-productive and creative. New Zealand allows me to slow down, to take a breath, to enjoy my family, my life and spiritually, it’s my favourite place right now. My brain wants to be in LA; my spirit wants to be in New Zealand. Culturally, I like being in Europe. I like going to Armenia once in a while and tapping into my roots. Home is not an external construct. It’s inside of us. It’s where you can’t walk away from.
How did the book come about?
A literary agent from London reached out and had seen my documentary film called Truth to Power that we made about my activism. He had read a Guardian interview I had done for the film, but mostly talking about politics and talking about Armenia. So, he found it intriguing. At the time, I was reluctant to do a memoir because it wasn’t what I had in mind as a more philosophical kind of book. But he made me realise that both were possible at the same time. It got me started on the road to conceiving the idea of a philosophical memoir.
Given the family history it covers at some length at the beginning, System of a Down fans might pick it up and go: “Where do I come in?”
There’s plenty of meat for the System fans, believe me. There’s a lot about the intricacies of the band, how each of us met each other. But I tried not to make the book a telling of who’s who of Hollywood or bands I’ve met and the fun parties … all that bullshit that people love to put in books. Originally, we had some of it just because it was part of the experience, but then we cut it all out because it just felt like it didn’t belong. Also, I didn’t feel comfortable sharing things about people without being able to ask everyone “is it okay if I tell this story?” It’s not that kind of book, it’s a more serious kind of really deep dive that I think fans will enjoy.
Was there a moment you fell out of love with being in the band?
Sure, I would say it was probably around 2004-2005. When we did our last double record, Mesmerize Hypnotize. There were many reasons for it, it wasn’t specifically only internal creative differences or anything like that, which happens with every band. There was also the commercial aspect of it – I felt for a very anti-establishment band … I felt like the band was turning into this brand thing. I didn’t want to be a widget. We were these left-leaning crazy punk-rock guys making music that we never thought would be commercially viable, but somehow struck a chord.
When I first started, my goal was to be in a studio making music and creating every day and I didn’t even think of touring. I didn’t even think of making videos or doing interviews or any of that other stuff. But I did do them for many years and then I realised, “This cycle is not going to stop unless I stop it.”
But I also wanted to do my own thing … I needed to go out and to find the confidence in myself as a songwriter – to do it on my own without the band and come back to the band in a different light. That’s what happened.
Did writing Down with the System get something out of your system?
There’s a certain sense of being unburdened … I’m also expecting some trouble as well [in reaction to the book]. But the truth is the truth, let it lie where it does kind of thing. The other day, I had this wonderful podcast with my friend Rick Rubin, who has produced all the System of a Down albums. He’s got a podcast that he was kind enough to have me on and we’ve known each other for 25 or so years. He had never asked about Armenia, and we had this incredible conversation. After, he looked at me, and said, “I find it strange that I’ve known you this long, and we’ve never had this conversation.” Now, that wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for the book.
Down with the System by Serj Tankian (Hachette) is out now.
