Laura Zarougian brings all of herself to her new double single “Double-Sided”/”New Used Car.” The self-described sidewalk cowgirl leans heavily into country, Western, and East Village folk on these two songs, though her Armenian heritage is never far from her mind. “New Used Car” has the jaunty, freewheeling nature of a Dylan song, while “Double-Sided” is a luscious serving of pedal steel and loneliness. Zarougian commands these performances with a sense of self and dogged perseverance. Below, she describes her process for the two songs.
I wrote ‘Double-Sided’ after moving to Brooklyn. The song started out as a reflection on a particular run-in with the wrong crowd, but has evolved since I first performed it. It definitely has strong roots in the folk storytelling tradition. Although the themes in this release are more rooted in the American landscape than the Armenian immigrant stories of my first album, Nayri, I feel like this song faces my conflicting identities. There is the sidewalk cowgirl of Brooklyn, and then there is the daughter of Armenian immigrants and refugees — both sides looking for belonging.
As with almost everything, there is always a Side A and a Side B. Every story, every album. I envision the release of ‘Double-Sided’ and ‘New Used Car’ to be like an old school 7″- one song per side. As one of our many side hustles, my husband (and drummer) Mike and I sell vintage vinyl records and cowgirl boots upstate. Collecting records is a passion, and perhaps a bit of an obsession. There are artists in the American tradition I am always returning to: Odetta, Taj Mahal, Emmylou Harris. At the same time, I am constantly on the lookout for Armenian Dance or Kef records. If you come across an Onnik Dinkjian record — buy it. Down the line, I hope to incorporate oud, douduk, zurna, and other Armenian and Middle Eastern instruments in my music.
Armenian folk songs, much like the American folk tradition, are strongly linked to the land: the mountains, trees and birds. These are places that we can’t return to, except through the memories within the music. Songs preserve a place, a moment, or a feeling. Whether I am writing about the streets of Brooklyn or the plains of Anatolia, I feel the same thread connecting the songs to place, time, and longing.