Kurdish diva Pervin Chakar delves into Mesopotamian heritage

The five tracks on the album are sung in Kurdish, Kurmanci, Zazaki, Armenian and Assyrian. (Supplied)
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Updated 31 March 2022
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Kurdish diva Pervin Chakar delves into Mesopotamian heritage

  • The Kurdish diva pays tribute to her musical roots on new album

ANKARA: The award-winning Kurdish soprano Pervin Chakar may have made her name on international opera stages, but throughout her long and distinguished career she has also focused on the musical heritage of her homeland.

Her new album, “Breath of Nahrain,” proves the point. It is a collection (and reimagining) of the rich melodies of Mesopotamia — the area between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers that is often referred to as ‘the cradle of civilization,’ but is now equally well-known as a site of violent conflict.

The five tracks on the album are sung in Kurdish, Kurmanci, Zazaki, Armenian and Assyrian — thus covering Turkey, Syria, Iran, Iraq and Armenia; a reflection of the area’s diverse history and culture. The album’s recently released first single, the Kurdish-language “Heyran Jaro,” for example, is based on a love song familiar to the region’s nomadic tribes.




The album’s recently released first single, the Kurdish-language “Heyran Jaro,” is based on a love song familiar to the region’s nomadic tribes. (Supplied)

“The song is about two lovers who cannot be together,” Chakar told Arab News. “It resembles the big, mad scene — a 15-minute rollercoaster ride of very extravagant music — in Donizetti’s ‘Lucia di Lammermoor.’”

Clocking in at almost a quarter of an hour, “Heyran Jaro” is not an obvious choice for a single. But, as Chakar explained: “I couldn’t interrupt the lyrics of this love story. I wanted to abide by its spirit,” she said.

It was no easy task for Chakar to put the album together; she was meticulous in her approach to ensuring she was singing these ancient languages properly, and in adapting the folk-song source material into operatic form. But her insistence on singing in Kurdish has cost her in the past, with several concerts being cancelled in Turkey and harsh criticism coming from conservative circles. Still, Chakar felt it was too important a record to be dissuaded from releasing it.




Chakar grew up in a Kurdish family in Turkey’s southeastern province of Mardin. (Supplied)

“These lands were part of a very rich cultural heritage that should be recognized by Western musicians and (the music industry),” she said. “This album helped me to pay tribute to my personal roots and it gave me enormous strength. People continuously fought for these lands, where blood has often been shed; they constantly faced atrocities. But, despite everything, they managed to live together and produce a great musical treasury.”

As an opera singer, Chakar is used to ‘learning’ different languages. She has performed across Europe, singing in — among others — Turkish, Kurdish, Armenian, Assyrian, Italian, Yiddish, and German. In a recent performance in Germany, she even sung a Ukranian lullaby, which she dedicated to children around the world.

Chakar grew up in a Kurdish family in Turkey’s southeastern province of Mardin. She was studying at a conservatory in Ankara when she first heard an album by the legendary diva Maria Callas. It was at that point, she explained, that she knew for certain what she wanted to do with the rest of her life: Become a soprano.




As an opera singer, Chakar is used to ‘learning’ different languages. (Supplied)

Her first major break came when an Italian opera manager visited Ankara. He was so impressed by Chakar’s voice that he invited her to Italy, the birthplace of opera. She attended the Conservatorio di Musica F. Morlacchi in Perugia, from which she graduated with honors.

Kurdish ethno-musicologist Huseyin Erdem believes the true importance of Chakar’s work should be recognized. “Pervin’s works provide people with the opportunity to perceive music accurately — to experience high-quality musical aesthetics,” Erdem told Arab News. “She is a source of light, from which the field of Kurdish folk songs can only benefit.”

“As a musician who has spent years abroad, and has now lived in Germany for a couple of years, I would like to stick to my cultural and linguistic roots, while at the same time singing in the languages of my neighboring communities. It’s kind of a way of thanking them,” Chakar said.

“Although I have sung in several languages — singing in the language of my own land gives me a distinct flavor,” she continued. “We all need peace, calm and tolerance. I’m so lucky that with this album and with my other projects I’m able to be positioned as an ambassador of music for peace.”


Review: Netflix’s ‘The New Yorker at 100’

Updated 14 December 2025
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Review: Netflix’s ‘The New Yorker at 100’

  • Directed by Marshall Curry, the documentary opened the doors to the publication’s meticulous world, offering viewers a rare look inside the issues within the magazine’s issues

Out this month, Netflix’s “The New Yorker at 100” documentary marks the centennial of the weekly that has brought forth arguably some of the most compelling long-form journalism in my lifetime.

As a ferocious reader with an insatiable appetite for print, I vividly recall picking-up a copy of The New Yorker in Saudi Arabia after school as a teen, determined to read it cover-to-cover — only to find myself mentally, intellectually and physically exhausted after deciphering a single lyrical and Herculean-sized long-form piece.

Reading The New Yorker still makes one both feel smarter — and perhaps not smart enough — at the very same time. Just like the documentary.

Much like Vogue’s 2009 documentary, “The September Issue,” which followed (now retired) editor-in-chief Anna Wintour as she prepared for the September 2007 issue; this documentary largely centered on the making of the Feb. 17 & 24, 2025 multi-cover edition.

A quintessentially New York staple that readers either love or loathe — or both — the magazine has long been seen as a highbrow publication for the “elite.”

But The New Yorker is in on the joke. It never did take itself too seriously.

Directed by Marshall Curry, the documentary opened the doors to the publication’s meticulous world, offering viewers a rare look inside the issues within the magazine’s issues.

Narrated by actress Julianne Moore, it included sit-down interviews with famous figures, largely offering gushing testimonials.

It, of course, included many cameos from pop culture references such as from “Seinfeld,” “The Good Place” and others.

It also mentioned New Yorker’s famed late writers Anthony Bourdain and Truman Capote, and Ronan Farrow.

As a journalist myself, I enjoyed the behind-the-scenes peeks into staff meetings and editing discussions, including the line-by-line fact-checking process.

While lovingly headquartered in New York — and now based at One World Trade Center after decades in the heart of Times Square — the magazine has long published dispatches from elsewhere in the country and around the world.

I wish there had been more airtime dedicated to Jeanette “Jane” Cole Grant, who co-founded the magazine with her husband-at-the-time, Harold Ross, during the Roaring Twenties.

Ironically, neither founder hailed from New York — Grant arrived from Missouri at 16 to pursue singing before becoming a journalist on staff at The New York Times — and Ross came from a Colorado mining town.

Perhaps more bizarrely, Ross, who served as the first editor-in-chief of The New Yorker — known today for its intricate reporting and 11 Pulitzer Prizes — had dropped out of school at 13. He served as lead editor for 26 years until his death, guided by instinct and surrounded by talented writers he hired.

As the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and the magazine’s fifth editor-in-chief, David Remnick has held the role since 1998. “It is a place that publishes a 15,000-word profile of a musician one week, a 9,000-word account from Southern Lebanon, with gag cartoons interspersed in them,” he said in one scene.

It also offered a glimpse of the leadership of his predecessor, the vivacious and provocative Tina Brown, who served as editor-in-chief for six years starting in 1992.

No woman has held the top editor position before or since her tenure.

Some of the most compelling moments in the documentary, for me, showed journalists scribbling in reporter notebooks in darkened movie theaters, rocking-out in dingy punk shows, and reporting from political rallies while life unfolded around them.

These journalists were not sitting in diners, merely chasing the money or seated in corner offices; they were on the ground, focused on accuracy and texture, intent on portraying what it meant to be a New Yorker who cared about the world, both beyond the city’s borders and within them.

While Arab bylines remain limited, the insights from current marginalized writers and editors showed how the magazine has been trying to diversify and include more contributors of color. They are still working on it.

A century in, this documentary feels like an issue of The New Yorker — except perhaps easier to complete.