Notes from Underground

‘In Iran, we’ve learned how to speak our minds without creating problems for anyone’

by Joobin Bekhrad, REORIENT

A few months back, on a sunny Thursday morning, I met a lanky, wavy haired wild child for tea at Tehran’s Khaneh-ye Honarmandan, a cultural centre in the smoggy heart of the city. I’d been in touch with Moslem Rasouli for a while online, after having developed an interest in his ingeniously clever Facebook images, mostly featuring his face superimposed on those of Qajar concubines, subjects of  Renaissance paintings, and Hollywood belles. It was only later, of course, that I discovered his recordings, and his experiments in fusing classical and folk music from Iran with modern, electronic sensibilities, and his ambition for preserving his country’s musical heritage.

Sipping on a cup of hot Indian chai, overlooking the leafy square below us (where a few individuals had been hanged only weeks earlier), Moslem and I chatted about his rise to comic fame, our shared Rashti roots, and his penchant for Spongebob Squarepants, as well as Tehran’s underground music scene, his life as a twenty-something musician in Iran, and his work.

Having been recently featured on a UK radio programme, and with a new music video out on the net, Moslem is one emerging musician who’s been making quite a ‘sound’ these days, as we Iranians like to say. Exclusive to REORIENT, the following is his first media interview.

How long have you been working as an electronic musician, and how did you enter the Iranian alternative music scene? I know your father is a poet … did he and others around you encourage you to become a musician, or was it more of a decision you made on your own?

I can say I’ve been working as an electronic musician since I was 12 or 13 years old. At the time, I began creating mixes of various songs; the mixes were fraught with imperfections, although gradually I began to find my way as a musician, and my music started to become more ‘professional’. That being said, though, I’m still learning and experiencing things, and I hope to one day reach a much more advanced level.

I had wanted to put together a collection of mixes of songs that I had heard – just songs that I had listened to, not necessarily ones that I had edited or worked on. That’s essentially how I ‘entered’ the alternative music scene in Tehran.

What’s interesting for me when it comes to this sort of music is how it can bring together people from different corners of the earth so closely together. For instance, a German prog rock band sampling the music of an old villager in some remote part of Iran … you never know – I might find my ‘hidden half’ on the other side of the world one day as well!

Regarding my mother and father … my father gave me lots of freedom, and really supported me, although I must say that my mother, first and foremost, has been the one who has been the most encouraging. It was my mother who bought me my first instrument … she had to sell some of her gold jewelry to do so.

As a musician working in a non-traditional genre, and one that doesn’t receive much support from the Government, have you ever encountered any obstacles or impasses? If so, how did you go about dealing with them?

I haven’t encountered any particular problems to date … the only thing is that I sometimes receive messages from ‘purists’ who think I’ve ‘insulted’ traditional Iranian music. In my opinion, the Government doesn’t really have an issue with underground music. Recently, they’ve even been supporting it, to a degree; it’s this society that doesn’t change. A half-naked woman, for instance, poses no threat to the Iranian Government … it’s society that wouldn’t accept something like that, and that would oppose it. In spite of all the difficulties, though, in Iran, we’ve learned over the years how to speak our minds without creating problems for anyone.

In the film, No One Knows About Persian Cats, Bahman Ghobadi tried to cinematically portray the alternative music scene in Tehran. How close would you say his depiction was to the reality there, taking into account the experiences of you and your colleagues?  

I don’t know enough to be able to comment on the works of Bahman Ghobadi, but I can say that although things have gotten better in Iran, the case is more or less the same as Ghobadi depicted.

I was once speaking with Ashkan [a member of the now London-based indie band Take it Easy Hospital, featured in Ghobadi’s film], and he was telling me about how Ghobadi’s film was a representation of the general situation of that particular time, not necessarily of the state of underground music.

From what I’ve seen and experienced, there are many in Iran who still believe that a music scene ‘exists’ in Iran, as well as many other things, and that we shouldn’t be critical … but when you step outside the country, you see that a music scene doesn’t really exist in Iran; everything here is inherently flawed.

Mosfata Heravi has made a new video, using one of your songs as its basis. Where did the idea for the project come from, and what’s the story? As well, where has it been released to date, and what do you think of Mostafa’s interpretation of your work?

I was very happy to collaborate with Mostafa Heravi. Mostafa is currently making a film about movement and dance, and as he said, there are certain types of music that add to his work. The music for Unlikely Lullaby was an excuse to collaborate together on that video, and he will be producing a number of other works in the same vein.

The video has only been released on the Internet so far. In terms of the story … well, naturally, Mostafa had something in mind, although I myself, when it comes to producing a work of art, don’t necessarily look for stories or concepts; I instead try to produce something I enjoy – especially when it comes to producing accompanying music for a dance project, which is all about form and movement. Generally speaking, the concepts behind dance aren’t too complicated, and we don’t have any set ‘rules’; for instance, we wouldn’t say, this movement means ‘this’ or ‘that’ – everyone has their own interpretation. There are many dance productions that have storylines, although the focal point is always form.

In Unlikely Lullaby, we presented a form of modern dance … even though it was quite ‘simple’, and aesthetically it wasn’t anything grandiose, I am quite proud of what Mostafa achieved.

I know you’re very passionate about Iranian folk music, from all around the country. What importance does folk music hold for you, as an electronic musician? Many in Iran – especially those of our parents’ and grandparents’ generations – believe that the two styles of music are irreconcilable. What do you think?

A few friends and I began listening to various styles of music from around the world. Afterwards, one of us became interested in electronic music, the other in jazz and classical, and another in metal, while I developed an interest in folk music. I was looking for emotion, which I found in that style of music. In folk music, there are all sorts of emotions and feelings … for me, a classical piece performed by the best musicians in a symphony orchestra pales in comparison to the thrill of listening to the voice of an old villager in the middle of nowhere.

It’s only natural that folk and electronic music are often at opposite ends of the spectrum; however, even though they’re very different, essentially, that doesn’t mean that they can’t be reconciled. The mixing of the two styles is like the friendship between two people with fundamentally different beliefs – who says they can’t still be friends? In fact, one of the reasons I combine the two is to bridge the gap between these two generations you referred to. I thought that maybe as a result, our parents could forge a relationship with today’s music, or vice versa, that the young people of today’s generation could develop an interest in Iranian folk music.

We were recently talking about Iranian underground music from before the Revolution, and you seemed quite sad about the fact that certain groups weren’t received very well and given enough support to continue making music. Have any of these groups influenced your music in any way? As well, what do you make of the recent fascination in the West with many hitherto unknown rock, psych, and funk records from Iran?

There were a lot of groups that were active before the Revolution, like the Rebels, Ojoobe-ha, the Jokers, Tak Khal-ha, and many others, who in the long run, weren’t received too well and slowly disappeared over time, or whose members went on to form other groups [such as The Rebels’ Shahram Shabpareh, who later performed with other legends such as Ebi and Farhad as the Black Cats]. After the Revolution, of course, while the music scene effectively disappeared, the music itself did not. The fact that record labels in the West [e.g. Finders Keepers, Pharaway Sounds, Light in the Attic] are interested in the songs of that era is wonderful to hear. Great works – even in the absence of their composers – remain, and will always keep their name and memory alive.

What are you working on at the moment? What’s next for Moslem Rasouli? 

Right now, I’m working on a project called Genital Instrument, a collection of covers of popular rock songs, as well as songs from other genres, on the setar [a long-necked Persian lute, meaning literally, ‘three (se) strings (tar)’]. Aside from my personal projects, I’m also working on music for television programs, short animations, trailers, and video games.


Translated from Persian by Joobin Bekhrad

Via  REORIENT

Persia meets Europe in Zurich

by le mag, Euronews

The artistic dialogue between Persia and Europe is at the heart of a new exhibition in the Swiss city of Zurich.

It explores the way Europe and Persia, today’s Iran, began to inch closer 400 years ago – politically, economically, culturally and artistically. Europe dispatched trading companies and religious orders; the shah sent his ambassadors. Rubens drew inspiration from Persian miniatures and Muhammad Zaman created works inspired by Italian and French painters.

An exchange that lives on to this day according to curator Axel Langer: “I think it really comes from both sides. There isn’t one side which has less or more [impact] than the other. But, what I thought is interesting is that the two react differently to each others’ art,” he said.

The adaptation of famous engravings by Italian artist Marcantonio Raimondi is a prime example of the way European art influenced Persian painters. Semi-naked bodies had long featured in Persian painting, but nudes were used solely to illustrate stories and were not intended to be sensual. The encounter with European art brought about a dramatic artistic evolution.

“The Persian nude was something that might have been developed through contact with European sources. We don’t expect it, because we have a certain prejudice or certain idea of Islamic ethical behaviour, and we think this didn’t exist, but it is not true. it was for private use only. It was not copying European sources but they turned it to something new,” said Axel Langer.

Persian art was enthusiastically imitated in Poland. The first silk sashes, which soon became a must-have accessory among the Polish nobility, were brought over from Persia in the 17th century. By the end of the 18th century, sashes with Persian patterns were made in Poland.
The exhibition also features artworks by seven contemporary Iranian artists that reflect the globalisation of cross-cultural exchange:

“We integrated contemporary art because we wanted to show that Iranian art is also global. That means it is not influenced anymore by Europeans or only the West, but this is a kind of art that is reacting to a global market or to global ideas, which might react to an Iranian presence or situation, but which are also giving ideas to audiences all over the world.”

“The Fascination of Persia” runs at Zurich’s Rietberg Museum until January 21.

The dialogue between Persia and Europe is echoed by the work of the Nour Ensemble, a unique artistic experiment combining Iranian and European music. Euronews’ Mohammad Mohammadi attended a concert by the group at the Zurich museum.

The head of the ensemble, Christophe Rezai, explained how it came about: “Why did I chose medieval music for the European part of our ensemble? The reason is I think it has three elements in common with Persian music. Firstly, it is modal. Secondly, it is inspired by the people. And the other common element is improvisation, which played an important part in medieval music,” he said.

The ensemble is made up of French and Persian artists, who share their musical tradition and reinvent traditional Kurdish, Persian and European repertoires.

“Everyone in our ensemble plays his part by bringing in his own musical tradition. Each artist engages in the conversation in his own language. For instance, one part is Iranian and then turns European, before the two are mixed to create a new language,” said Christophe Rezai.

The outcome? A creative melting pot of classical, traditional and contemporary music.


Via Euronews

'Persian Visions,' Ovations concert promise 'diverse immersion' in Iranian culture

“Untitled”, Arman Stephanian, 2003. Courtesy MaineToday Media.

Exhibit Catalog (PDF)

by David Carkhuff, Portland Daily Sun

The universal character of art is one of the revelations offered by an exhibit of Iranian photography at University of Southern Maine.

The lesson: "It's not so foreign after all. Art does flourish, it's part of our aspect of being and it will flourish even at times of repression," said Carolyn Eyler, director of Exhibitions and Programs at University of Southern Maine in Gorham and Portland.

"Persian Visions: Contemporary Photography from Iran," on display until Dec. 8, gives visual clues to life in Iran, a nation also known as Persia with deep roots in ancient Asia. For years, Iran has dominated the news cycle in America for different reasons, generally as a result of policy tensions and political conflicts. Yet, the photographs reach into a deeper understanding of Iranian life, Eyler noted.

"It's interesting that the country that we knew as Persia still exists, there's a place, a people, a culture, there's a particular sensibility," said Eyler, describing a "very refined aesthetic sensibility," as illustrated in ornate tapestries and other works of art. The photography often cuts against the grain of tradition. albeit with subtlety and nuance.

"From over a dozen artists, 58 works, you can see a variety of personal expressions, which in totality gives us a glimpse, at least a slice of the overall cultural sensibility," Eyler said.

Reza Jalali, American-Iranian scholar and writer, and coordinator of the USM Office of Multicultural Student Affairs, explained in a press release, "Modern Iran, the heir to the 2,500 year-old Persian civilization, is home to a vibrant artistic community, which despite state censorship and decades-old sanctions, continues to create and express art that demands our attention."

Jalali will explore the context of contemporary Persian performing and visual arts Saturday with a lecture, "Unveiling Contemporary Iranian Arts," at USM's Hannaford Hall in Portland. The lecture, from 7 p.m. to 7:45 p.m., is a lead-in to another cultural experience, that of a concert by four-time Grammy nominee Kayhan Kalhor, renowned for his mastery of traditional Persian music. Kalhor will perform at Hannaford Hall at 8 p.m., in a production by Portland Ovations, a premier nonprofit performing artists group active in Portland since 1931.

Aimee Petrin, executive director of Portland Ovations, said the group has sought out Kalhor for some time. "He's been on our wish list for several years," she said.

The "Persian Visions" exhibit helped spur Saturday's concert into becoming a reality, Petrin said.

"Once we heard through our partners at USM that this exhibit was coming, we thought this is the perfect timing," Petrin said.

The Gorham Art Gallery will be open noon to 4 p.m. on Saturday (at presstime, indications were the Portland gallery would be open Friday but not Saturday, per normal hours). So, with a little bit of planning, for those embarking on an art-and-music combination, the photography exhibit could be the first part of a multi-pronged experience.

"I think if someone goes to the exhibit, and then comes to the preconcert lecture and then the performance they would get a pretty instant and diverse immersion in Persian art," Petrin said.

"I think they provide different insights into Persian art," Petrin said of the images and music.
Eyler said the Persian photography has parallels in history.

Speaker Pamela Karimi, assistant professor of art history at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, at a lecture earlier this year in Portland, expressed an analogy of African-Americans whose art often held masked meanings.

"All countries have had their moments, with the music of African-Americans, looking back to the 1920s and '30s there are a lot of coded words and things they couldn't say directly," Eyler said.

Likewise, the photography exhibit features "cultural references and perhaps a sense of repression that can only be pointed toward," she said.

"It appears it's a very important culture particularly right now to get to know better," Eyler said. "Isn't it wonderful that here's an opportunity to bypass all the middlemen, the media, and stand face to face in front of a personal expression of an Iranian or Persian artist?"

At USM, the multicultural population is one of the growing populations of students, reflecting changing demographics of the Portland area, Eyler said. This trend, she said, adds significance to the USM art exhibit, the Portland Ovations concert and a Portland Museum of Art exhibit, "Ahmed Alsoudani: Redacted," from American-Iraqi artist and Maine College of Art graduate Ahmed Alsoudani.

“Untitled”, Ahmad Nateghi, 1998. Courtesy  MaineToday Media.

For more about the Master of Persian Music: Kayhan Kalhor concert, visit www.portlandovations.org.
For more about Persian Visions: Contemporary Photography from Iran," visit http://www.usm.maine.edu/gallery.

Event Details:

• "Unveiling Contemporary Iranian Arts" at Hannaford Hall, University of Southern Maine, Portland. Saturday, Nov. 23, 7 p.m. to 7:45 p.m. Writer and community organizer, Reza Jalali introduces examples and explores the context of contemporary Persian performing and visual arts.

• Master of Persian Music: Kayhan Kalhor, at Hannaford Hall, University of Southern Maine, Portland. Saturday, Nov. 23, 8 p.m. Internationally acclaimed virtuoso on the kamancheh (a four-stringed, upright Persian fiddle, ancestor to the violin), four-time Grammy nominee Kayhan Kalhor is a major creative influence in today's global music scene. His performances of traditional Persian music and multiple collaborations have won him fans around the world. Recognized for his classical playing and compositions, Kalhor has appeared in solo recital at Carnegie Hall and as part of Lincoln Center's MostlyMozart Festival. He is a founding member of Yo-Yo Ma's Silk Road Project. In Portland, he will be joined by additional musicians, to be announced, for an evening of masterful music.

• A University of Southern Maine art exhibit of 58 works of photography and video installations reflecting life in contemporary Iran is now open and on display until Dec. 8. "Persian Visions: Contemporary Photography from Iran," noon to 4 p.m., Tuesday to Sunday, Art Gallery, Gorham Campus, and 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., Monday to Friday, AREA Gallery, located in the Woodbury Campus Center, Portland Campus. "Persian Visions" was developed by Hamid Severi for the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art, Iran, and Gary Hallman of the Regis Center for Art, University of Minnesota and is toured by International Arts & Artists, Washington, D.C.


Via Portland Daily Sun

Busting Geographical and Cultural Boundaries

Traditional Persian classical music enjoys an almost unassailable status in Iran – in contrast to the country's rather disreputable but creative underground scene. The "New Sounds of Iran" Festival shows how the two apparently conflictive genres can be combined. Amin Farnanefar reports on the event and new trends in Iranian music

by Amin Farzanefar, Qantara

A key concern in the ongoing German integration debate is a call to open cultural institutions such as museums and concert halls up to non-European culture - to bring the German public closer to its immigrant communities -, but also to get more members of migrant communities into the "hallowed halls".

If this goes according to plan, as it has done for example for a while now in at the Cologne Philharmonic, then as well as Smetana, Grieg and Beethoven audiences also get to hear works by regional icons such as Mohammad Reza Shadjarian, Sezen Aksu and Anwar Brahim. A series of events at the Elbe Philharmonic Hall in Hamburg and the Cologne Philharmonic makes it visibly and audibly plain to what extent the concept of "high culture" is being influenced and changed by migration and globalization.

"New Sounds of Iran", initiated by the new Cologne-based "Academy of the Arts of the World" and its "Diwan" association is probably the largest festival of Iranian music to take place in Europe. Its primary achievement is to afford a passage through the latest developments in Iranian music – and it shows that traditions are also in flux there, in a productive tussle between various trends from East and West, North and South.

Global melancholy

The virtual map in use here, the "music of the imaginary Iran" – to use a title coined by music ethnologist Martin Greve for a book originally on Turkey – not only spans the Iranian homeland, but also naturally the vibrant exiled community and its Diaspora. Many representatives of the Iranian musical avant-garde live in Europe, Canada or the US: The gruelling authorisation process for concerts or CDs through the puritanical Ershad Ministry drives many bands and musicians out of the country sooner or later.


Members of the cult band "Kiosk", formed in Tehran in 2003/04, are now scattered throughout the US and Canada: Frontman Arash Sobhani sings in manly, melancholy style about the malaise of the megacity Tehran or the stress caused by a Facebook friendship, but he can also equally well launch a sarcasm attack on the influential pistachio billionaire and ex-president Rafsanjani.

The satirical texts have – since Sobhani has been living in San Francisco – become even more unambiguous. This is in a certain sense a circular movement, a return to the source. Sobhani says the group's typical association of humour and politics is derived from the American Beat movement; this reached "Kiosk" in Iran via the lyrics of Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan and Dire Straits – all also unmistakable musical sources of inspiration for the band's style, which bears the hallmarks of blues, rock and folk.

It is exactly this blend that really appears to correspond to mentalities and circumstances in Iran, and it can also be found – delivered in varying degrees of melancholy or defiance – in the work of other underground artists; the best known of these are probably exiled musicians Mohsen Namjoo and Shahin Nadschafi – both of them virtuosos playing music that also divulges other influences: a clear point of reference here is the traditional music of Iran.

The generation gap

It is difficult terrain: The gap between ‘serious' and ‘popular' music also divides the generations in Iran and indirectly points to a substantial gulf that prevails there: That some patriarchs are imposing their conservative way of life upon a predominantly young population that is already participating in totally different worlds via satellite television and Internet.

Many of the bands, ensembles and musicians performing for the first time just now in Cologne and Hamburg are consciously seeking proximity to the classical traditions with their fusion experiments, as a way of therapeutically reconciling old and young.

Sorush Ghahramanlou from Mashad is like a kind of Jimi Hendrix of the three-stringed setar; he gets the classical instrument into a groove – with the help of electronic boosting and distortion – until he entices nuances from it the likes of which have never been heard before. The dynamic concerts by his crossover band "Nioosh" are performed against a backdrop of animated calligraphy using the nasta'liq' script, which dates from the 14^th century.

So it is not only the underground bands, but also high-calibre classically trained musical artists who – in changing formations, interlinked and interacting with one another – are trying out new style directions. Pedram Derakhshani, who was already a master of the santur at an early age, uses delicate mallets to entice spherical sounds akin to those of a sitar, spinet and a synthesiser from the 72-string wooden trapezoid lying horizontally on the floor.

He toured the world with the legendary Dastan ensemble at the age of 19, and became acquainted with a great variety of styles. The 39-year-old is currently focusing on the influential medieval mystic Mewlana Rumi: But regardless of whether the album sometimes sounds like energetic rock music with driving Latin American style brass passages, or whether it sounds more like laid-back electro ambient music – often the vocals and mystical texts form the unmistakable Iranian element.

In Iran itself, the ambiguous symbolic lyricism of classical works provides a means of sidestepping the censor. Outside the country it becomes an adhesive that holds the essence of national identity together even in the most wide-ranging musical manifestations.

Multi-cultural instead of ethnocentric

Two paths facilitate the opening of these venerable traditions without immediately descending into the prattling pop kitsch that is just as unbearable in Tehran as it is in "Tehrangeles", the large community of exiled Iranians in L.A.. One is the inward opening, onto the varied spectrum of the Iranian "multiculture". For too long, musical high culture was only defined through the reference to what was purely Persian, while the rich variety of regional and local traditions in the multiethnic state was sidelined.

The Arab-African musical cultures of the Iranian South around Bandar Abbas were mocked in popular culture and always in cinema as exotic-comic "Bandari" entertainment. In the face of this ethnocentricity, Said Shanbehzadeh's ensemble confidently asserts its "Bushehri" style: In his hometown, the port city of Bushehr on the Persian Gulf, wide-ranging elements of non-Persian folklore are interlaced: Indian, Arab and Central African rhythms, the trance influences of the exorcists. There are hints of reggae, jazz and rock.

The rap cultivated by musicians from coastal regions did not come from MTV, but much earlier: from Africa, Hormoz and Menab, the slave markets of the 17^th century. Shanbehzadeh, whose ancestors come from Zanzibar, deploys regional instruments: the Neyanboo – a mighty set of bagpipes – or the Boogh – which is a horn, but also performs with post-traditionalists such as Pedram Derakhshani or the crooner Kamran Rasoulzadeh.

A hybrid game with one's own origins

The other way to open classicism is in the hybrid game with one's own origins: This is why the London band "Ajam" knows that this cultural heritage is becoming increasingly difficult within the Diaspora, and they cheerfully throw everything overboard and cast everything into disarray, playing hip-hop on traditional instruments, for example.

"Ajam" is the Arab terminology often applied to Iranians as non-Arab Muslims, and the group's videos are urban collages full of self-ironic scenes featuring Persian accessories: a full taxi, a water pipe, moustache and kohl-lined eyes. In their lyrics, the Londoners extol this very "clash of the cultures" as a new lifestyle.

This could all simply be cast off with a load of noise, like the Tehran post-punk band "Hypernova", which scored a hit in the US with "Fairytales". Or like the unrelenting heavy metal craze: when heads shake to the music of "Arsames" to "Hyper Planet" in Tehran, then this isn't an expression of disapproval – it's called head banging.

The boundaries that previously defined "traditional" Iranian music are currently being blurred and extended. And the outcome could serve as an inspiration to the western musical world too.


Translated from the German by Nina Coon
 
Via Qantara

Waiting for the Sun

‘Day and night I tore myself to shreds so the sun would come – it didn’t come’

 

L-R: Alfredo Caceres, Hamed Nikpay, Hussain Jiffry & Farzin Farzad. Photo courtesy Javad Nikpour and REORIENT.

by Joobin Bekhrad, REORIENT

For three hot, sticky, and otherwise unbearable summer days in July, a motley crew of Iranians from around the globe descended on Toronto’s sleepy Harbourfront Centre to put the ‘Tehran’ back into Tehranto. For its third edition, the Tirgan festival gathered together artists, musicians, performers, scholars, and myriad other pundits from various disciplines for what has now become the world’s largest celebration of Iranian arts & culture outside Iran. Kicking off this year’s theme of ‘hope’ – which some may have regarded as a reflection of the dire state of Iranian international relations, or of a spirit of optimism regarding Iran’s political future – was Siavash Shabanpour’s operatic rendition of Arash the Archer, based on the late Siavash Kasraii’s poetic retelling of the ancient Iranian myth. To the clash of symbols and the occasional clack of a beer can cutting through the thick veil of humidity that summer’s eve, a colourful crowd of awestruck, sweat-drenched onlookers witnessed the timeless trial of one of Iran’s most noble sons against the warriors of Turan, which brought forth a renewed spirit of nationalism, pride, and, true to the festival’s adopted theme, hope; and thus, with a bang (literally), the kabab-infused festivities began.

Gutted at having missed Paris-based Shahrokh Moshkin-Ghalam’s dance interpretation of a selection of love stories from the Shahnameh (the Persian ‘Book of Kings’ epic) for the second time due to the bane of typical Toronto traffic – which the influx of Iranians did nothing to assuage whatsoever – I arrived at Harbourfront a good three hours before a concert by Hamed Nikpay, consoling myself with the fact that I’d have plenty of time to explore the communal delights the festival had to offer. After picking up a bit of Persian swag at the pop-up bazaar on the green (sans bargains, alas), and a spanking-new copy of Hamid Rahmanian’s new version of the Shahnameh, I caught a lecture on classical Iranian music by the eccentric Lloyd Miller, a somewhat familiar name in the jazz lexicon. Although captivated at first by the 70-something’s colourful anecdotes about performing in pre-Revolution Iran and his remarks about identifying as an Iranian (though he lamented not having ‘the cool hair or the cool skin’), he later lost me with some dubious remarks about the origins of Persian music and misplaced praise for various figures in Iranian history. The juvenile spirit of my university days still flowing strong within me, I slipped out as inconspicuously as possible (having only had to walk past a camera or two) back into the heat, ticket in hand, in pursuit of Agha Hamed.

‘With his heartwarming poems and beautiful music, please welcome Hamed Nikpay!’ The audience – composed mostly of ardent young fans and clueless baby boomers – clapped, hooted, and howled, as the five-piece ensemble slowly emerged from behind the stage and began to fine-tune their moisture-ridden instruments. After a rather humble introductory greeting, Nikpay set the record straight, lest there should be any misconceptions about his practice. ‘I just wanted to say I’ve never written a poem in my life’, he said softly, gazing at his red velvet loafers. ‘I’m not a poet … I’m just a musician’. Hats off to you, Hamed, I thought, as I made out the words afarin and damet garm being whispered in the rows beyond. As with his forbears and contemporaries in the Iranian avaz tradition, the overwhelming majority of Nikpay’s compositions are based around poems by renowned medieval Persian poets such as Rumi, Saadi, Hafez, Attar, Khayyam, and others. Despite his songs being firmly rooted in mystical Persian verse, Nikpay has been able to carve out a signature sound for himself, through his openness to world cultures and his seemingly effortless synthesis of styles – both instrumental and vocal – from Iran, the greater Middle East, South Asia, and beyond. While ‘purists’ such as Miller may find Nikpay’s brand of music abhorrent (the former having expressed a profound dislike for Googoosh and any form of non-spiritual Iranian music in general), he has garnered quite a following both in Iran, as well as in Europe and North America, pandering to the tastes of lovers of Persian music with a deep appreciation for the grand ostads such as Shajarian and Nazeri, yet who don’t mind a bit of a ‘shaking up’ of the status quo every now and then.

Accompanied by four master musicians – Farzin Farhadi on soprano saxophone, Hussain Jiffry on electric bass, Alfredo Caceres on Spanish guitar, and Satnam Ramgotra on tabla – Nikpay, with utmost devotion and resolve, performed an eclectic set of songs from his most recent album, Reaching You (Vasl-e To), as well as a number of older favourites from the previous Spellbound (Divaneh-tar) and All is Calm (Asoudeh). Commencing with a handful of more contemplative and jazzier numbers, the initial focus was largely on the interplay between the musicians, as well as the subtle vocal work of a reserved, yet undoubtedly enrapt Nikpay, whose impassioned wails continuously reached new sonic heights. Later, as the ensemble found their groove and became more ‘comfortable’ (as exemplified by Ramgotra’s humorous Indian-themed interjections in-between songs, and the gradually increasing taarof-ridden banter between Nikpay and Farhadi), Nikpay took his setar and tanbur in hand, and progressed through some of his more dynamic compositions. On the piquant Cordoba to Kordestan, Nikpay’s masterful cascading strumming on the tanbur (an Iranian long-necked lute used extensively in Sufi rituals, particularly in Kurdistan), accompanied by Caceres’ fluid melodies on the guitar evoked at once the rugged mountains and valleys of Kurdistan and the lush gardens of Moorish Andalusia. Hearing Nikpay alternate seamlessly between Persian, Spanish, and Indian schools of singing and instrumentation, I couldn’t help but recall the legendary Zaryab (lit. ‘one who finds gold’), the eminent Persian musician at the Abbasid court in ninth century Cordoba, and the longstanding relationship between the Persian and Spanish (and Arabic) musical traditions. History lessons have never been so visceral.

Having gone from Cordoba to Kurdistan and back, Nikpay’s performance reached a sombre tone on what was perhaps the most emotionally charged number of the afternoon. Gently laying his beaten tanbur aside, a downcast Nikpay solemnly addressed the audience to introduce the next song of his set, which would see him and Caceres trading licks on the setar and guitar. Entitled Nayamad (lit. ‘It Didn’t Come’), the song was a homage to his late uncle, who, after being stripped of his post as a university professor in Tehran twice, was reduced to selling sandwiches in the tiny town of Rudehen on the outskirts of the city. Under extreme financial pressure to provide for his wife and children, he soon succumbed to a fatal heart attack. As Nikpay related this painful anecdote, the story of another friend of mine, the Iranian artist Farbod Morshedzadeh, came to mind. As we were chatting in his Rudehen abode just a few months ago, he told me how, as a result of his honesty regarding his religious tendencies, he was fired as a university professor. In between cups of tea and drags on his cigarettes, he further went on to lament the state of a country, in which, to quote a song by the alternative Iranian rock group Kiosk, ‘everyone is out of place’.

Shetab kard ke aftab biyayad, sang a humble, yet undeniably impassioned Nikpay: He made haste, so the sun would come – nayamad; it didn’t come. Akh, daridam; shabaneh rooz daridam ke aftab biyayad – nayamad, the bitter tale continued: Oh, I tore myself to shreds; day and night I tore myself to shreds so the sun would come – it didn’t come. After his fervent laments came the pitiful and harrowing verse, which seemed to serve as a reflection of all those tired, weary, and beaten faces one so often comes across in the land of the noble: What strange, ominous days … hah … time is the master of the dog, and I, its dog.

Stepping outside the auditorium, the sun was burning ever vehemently above a white canvas of sails, seagulls, and steamers. Looking around at the throngs of children devouring hot dogs by the water’s edge and the families languidly ambling along the thoroughfare, I couldn’t hold back the pangs of melancholy within the depths of my stomach, despite the joy around me. What strange, ominous days, Nikpay’s voice continued to resound. Though the sun shines resplendent above our heads on this lazy midsummer’s eve, I thought, for some, it has yet to come. The words of the sage from Khorasan, the land where the sun ‘rises with ease’, seemed to echo from beyond the waves:

From our arrival and departure, what have we to show?
And where is the warp of our being’s weft to sew?
Many innocent souls in the firmament’s cycle
Burn and become dust – where’s the smoke?

From Joobin Bekhrad’s The Quatrains of Omar Khayyam
Via REORIENT

Iran listens for Mohammad-Reza Shajarian, the lost voice of Ramadan

Traditional Persian recording of Rabana (Our Lord) has not been broadcast since artist spoke out against government in 2010

Iranian singer Mohammad-Reza Shajarian enjoys enormous popularity in Iran for his recording of a Ramadan prayer set to Persian melodies. Photograph: Kamran Jebreili/AP. Courtesy Guardian.

by Saeed Kamali Dehghan, Guardian

At every Ramadan for more than 30 years, millions of Iranians have turned on the TV or the radio to listen to one particular prayer in the few moments just before Iftar, the evening meal when observers break their fast.

It is called Rabana (Our Lord), a breathtaking performance by Mohammad-Reza Shajarian, Iran's most celebrated singer and grand maestro, who has selected sections of four different Arabic verses of the Qur'an, each beginning with the phrase "Our Lord" and sung it as one combined prayer, based on traditional Persian melodies.

Many Iranian faithfuls regard it as the perfect way to express thanks to God and to ask for his mercy and forgiveness at the end of their day-long religious duty. For thousands of non-believers, too, Rabana is compulsory listening as Ramadan is as much an opportunity for big family gatherings as it is a religious festival.

"Our Lord, grant us mercy from thine own presence for thou art the grantor of bounties without measure," Shajarian sings in Rabana. "Our Lord, we believe; then do thou forgive us and have mercy upon us for thou art the best those who show mercy." A version of Shajarian's Rabana with English subtitles is posted on Youtube.


But at sunset on Wednesday, the first day of Ramadan in Iran, the thirsty and hungry faithful waiting for Iftar were disappointed not to hear Rabana from the state-owned Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting (IRIB). In fact, the IRIB stopped airing the prayer three years ago when Shajarian made clear he was siding with the opposition Green Movement and gave an interview to BBC Persian criticising the Islamic republic for its crackdown on music and dissent.

"Ramadan without Rabana is like Christmas without Christmas carol," said one Iranian from Tehran via Facebook chat. "I don't observe fasting but yet every Ramadan I listened out for it."

This year, calls are mounting on the IRIB to once again broadcast Rabana as it did for more than 30 years after the 1979 Islamic revolution. Earlier in the week, Kamalodin Pirmoazen, a member of the Iranian parliament, asked the IRIB to resume airing the prayer. Iran's newly-elected president, Hassan Rouhani, who is due to be sworn in next month, is also an admirer of Shajarian, having described him as a great musician during a live debate broadcast on national television.

However, Ali Darabi, deputy head of the IRIB, indicated on Tuesday that Rabana would remain on the network's blacklist. "Sometime artists sophisticate [sic] issues and this would only harm themselves and create controversies," he told the Isna news agency.

Shajarian is an outspoken critic of the IRIB, believing that the network distorts reality and has previously written a letter to its director, Ezzatollah Zarghami, banning the network from broadcasting his works except for Rabana. Shajarian's believes that his enormous popularity among Iranians has given him a certain immunity from state reprisals.

Via Guardian

An Uphill Struggle All the Way

Musicians in Iran

Officials sweeping up CDs and DVDs in Iran. Photo Courtesy MEHR and Qantara.

by Bamdad Esmaili, Qantara

With heavy censorship and no copyright laws, being a musician in Iran is a thankless job. Bamdad Esmaili spoke to a number of Iranian musicians about the manifold challenges they face.

The presidential elections in Iran four years ago and the waves of protest they unleashed remain fresh in many people's minds, particularly now that the country went to the polls again on 14 June. In 2009, songs relating to the so-called "Green Movement" sprang up like mushrooms. Musicians inside and outside Iran released new material inspired by the political protest movement on the Internet on a daily basis.

Singer Arya Aramnejad from Babol in northern Iran was among them. His song "Ali Barkhiz", which he put out during the religious Ashura festival in 2009, proved his undoing. In the music video for the track, he sang, "What sin have the people committed? / We just want freedom", while showing scenes of bloody clashes between militia and demonstrators.Aramnejad went on to call upon the imam Ali, considered by many Muslims to be the very first imam, to rise up and do something. As a result of his song, the musician was repeatedly sent to prison, where he suffered many reprisals. He was only released again in early 2013.

Threats and repression at home and abroad 

Arya Aramnejad's case is not unique. Another Iranian musician, who became world famous overnight, is Shahin Najafi, who now lives in Cologne, Germany. His song "Naghi" caused a stir in 2012. Iran's religious leaders claimed that the singer had insulted the imam named in the song's title.

Band performing live in Iran. Photo Courtesy IRNA and Qantara.

According to Bamdad Esmaili, musicians in Iran enjoy very little artistic freedom. This is confirmed by 32-year-old Shahin Najafi: "A singer who wants to perform live in Iran has to stand there like a piece of dead wood and is not allowed to move to the music".

Their disapproval led various ayatollahs to issue no less than four fatwas (Islamic religious rulings). These fatwas gave any Muslim in the world permission to kill Najafi. One Shia website even offered a bounty of $100,000 (€75,000) to anyone who did so. Fearing for his life, Najafi went into hiding for several months and was given police protection. According to Najafi, his situation was far from simple even before he left Iran. 

"A singer who wants to perform live in Iran has to stand there like a piece of dead wood and is not allowed to move to the music," says the now 32-year-old. This is problematic for Najafi, who wants to behave on stage like Western performers: "Why are musicians like Bob Dylan or Metallica allowed to thoroughly enjoy their performances on stage, but we aren't?" 

Because he was unwilling to stick to the rules, members of the militia stormed one of his illegally organised concerts in September 2004. Najafi faced criminal charges, but was able to flee to Turkey just before his court case got underway. He applied for political asylum in Germany eight years ago.

Illegal music market 

Not everyone encounters as many difficulties as Shahin Najafi. Musicians whose trade is sanctioned by law in Iran have it much easier. They typically perform traditional songs, making sure not to deviate from the dictates of Ershad, the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance. If they remain uncontroversial, they are allowed to produce albums.

For pop musicians, though, things are different because they often draw on Western musical elements, which the government regards with suspicion. Lyrics are not allowed to be critical of Islam or the regime, nor are they allowed to sound too modern or too "Western".

Audiences at concerts are not allowed to either dance or clap. The general atmosphere of prohibition leads many Iranian musicians to release their music illegally and without any permits.

Musicians playing traditional Iranian music. Photo Courtesy MEHR and Qantara.

According to Bamdad Esmaili, musicians in Iran enjoy very little artistic freedom. This is confirmed by 32-year-old Shahin Najafi: "A singer who wants to perform live in Iran has to stand there like a piece of dead wood and is not allowed to move to the music". 

Pop musician Alireza Bolouri, for example, has been playing this game of hide-and-seek with the authorities for over ten years now. "Although we are operating within the legal framework of an Islamic country, many of us cannot give any public concerts," says the 37-year-old from Tehran. As a result, Bolouri cannot perform on big stages and instead earns his living by performing at company parties or wedding ceremonies.

Getting around restrictions 

But the artists need money to produce videos and album – both of which are expensive. This is why a huge market has developed in recent years, albeit outside the country. Artists with ties to the West are performing more often in Europe and the US, including Alireza Bolouri. For the Persian New Year in March 2013, he gave his first European concert in Bonn, Germany.

For several years now, exiled Iranians have been organising a growing number of concerts for wealthy Iranians; not in Iran, but in neighbouring countries. In Dubai, Turkey and even in Iraq's Kurdish region, pop concerts featuring popular Iranian stars like Googoosh, Ebi or Darvush have been taking place. Fans from Iran travel in droves to these concerts in order to see their idols perform live.

But the problems for Iranian musicians don't end there: bootlegging and unauthorised copying are rampant. The country has no copyright laws, so songs can quite easily be reproduced on the Internet. This puts artists in a difficult financial situation, says Siamak Khahani, violinist in the Iranian pop band Arian.

"We never really noticed it before; we were breaking sales records in Iran with our albums," the musician recalls. "But those days are over, even though we are still the same band, making the same music." Siamak Khahani hopes that Iran will soon introduce a new copyright law that ensures musicians are able to live from their art. Until then: "We all have other jobs. Music can only be our hobby."

Via Qantara