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

Beyond Politics, Iranians Share Their Rich Art and Culture

Toronto's Tirgan Festival is the largest of its kind in the world 

Vancouver Pars National Ballet. Courtesy Epoch Times.

by Madalina Hubert, Epoch Times

Legend has it that the land of Iran was expanded into a diverse nation when the Iranian archer Arash shot an arrow to end the dispute between the feuding kingdoms of Iran and Turan.

The understanding was that the place the arrow landed would mark the territory between the two countries.

The arrow flew for a long time—from dawn to noon—and significantly expanded Iran’s boundaries, encompassing in its path different cultures, ethnicities, languages, and traditions.

This legend inspired Tirgan, a traditional festivity honouring diversity, and today this celebration continues with a multi-day Toronto festival called Tirgan (Tir is a reference to arrow in Farsi).

“For thousands of years, Iranians have been celebrating diversity … and Tirgan is a celebration of diversity,” said Behrouz Amouzgar, the festival’s public relations director.

The Tirgan Festival, taking place July 18-21 at the Harbourfront Centre, is the largest celebration of Iranian art and culture in the world. With over 90 events and 150 Canadian and international artists of Iranian descent, the festival features artistic and cultural events of various genres, as well as a food and shopping bazaar.

As a city embracing diversity, Toronto is a good fit for the festival, said Amouzgar. It is also home to an estimated 120,000 Iranians, the largest Iranian community after California.

Initially started in 2006 as a Nowruz (New Year) celebration in March, the festival opened as a summer event in 2008, growing to attract an audience of 120,000 people by 2011. This year, the festival expects 150,000 people, Iranians and non-Iranians alike.

“Iranians are very interested in art and culture, and presenting their art and culture to the world, so that’s one of the main reasons why Tirgan has grown so significantly,” said Amouzgar.

Some of the prominent guests this year include honorary chair Anousheh Ansari, the first female space tourist, and Dr. Firouz Naderi, the director of the Solar Systems Exploration at NASA.

Discovering Iranian Culture

When people hear about Iran, the first thought that usually comes to mind is its politics rather than its culture, said Amouzgar.

One of the goals of the festival is to change this perception.

“We hope that one day when a non-Iranian hears the term “Iran,” instead of being reminded of politics and policies taken by a government, they get reminded of a particular musical performance, or a performance in dance or visual art,” he said.

“Art and culture is a universal language,” Amouzgar added, noting that in today’s globalized world, it is important to learn about all the different cultures.

“For example, if I don’t know what’s important in your life, what kind of values that you hold dear to you, I’m not going to be able to communicate with you effectively.”

He finds two main aspects that surprise non-Iranians when first encountering the culture. One is its cultural and linguistic diversity, the other is the food.

“Many non-Iranians just presume that Iranian food is awfully spicy. When they come and try Iranian food, they find that it’s actually very delicate, and with a touch of saffron.

“It’s very unique and it only belongs to that region.”

Preserving the Heritage 

In addition to introducing the culture to non-Iranians, the festival also aims to help Iranians preserve their traditions.

“Like many other nations, upon immigration, we are exposed to a new culture, a new society, a new geographic location, and it is quite natural for all of us to change slowly with time,” Amouzgar said.

“In addition to providing this information to non-Iranians, we also want to remind Iranians of their traditional art and culture, to make sure that despite their dislocation and their far distance with their home country, they do not lose touch with the cultural values that made them the beings that they are today.”

Some festival highlights include the opening performance narrating the journey of Arash the Archer; a special concert by rock band Blurred Vision, known for their remake of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”; the Hope Collaboration Project, an art project in which visitors express their hopes for the future; and a cooking workshop by renowned chef Najmieh Batmanglij, “the guru of Persian cooking.”

Most events will be held in English, although the traditional theatrical performances will be held in Farsi. Amouzgar encourages people to visit the website tirgan.ca and plan their visit according to the schedule.

“I highly recommend that they do their research before coming to the site so that they know exactly what performances they are going to attend and watch,” he said.

Those who cannot attend the festival can watch it online at tirgan.ca/live

Unpicking the Negatives

Images of Iran in the West

A German, an exiled Iranian and a Persian singer – at the "Bliss Festival", the clichés are roundly challenged and turned on their heads. If we look beyond the stereotypical images of Iran, we find a culture that has the power to touch our hearts.

by Marian Brehmer, Qantara

Here's Benedikt Fuhrmann, the spotlight trained on him, standing in lederhosen and woollen stockings, typical of Bavaria in southern Germany. But we're in Hamburg, in the North of Germany, and this is a festival of Iranian culture. How did this mishmash come about?

Benedikt Fuhrmann, a photographer and designer from Bavaria, travelled through Iran in 2006 and fell in love. "Fell in love," he says, with the effect that Iran had on him. The country had a firm hold on him, as did the hospitable and friendly Iranian people. So he stayed – ostensibly on his way to Vietnam – for a whole year, eventually expressing this affinity by way of a photo exhibition in 2012.

His collection of 24 empathic images and sound installations, aims to act as an antidote to the negative images of Iran so prevalent in the West.

Benedikt Fuhrmann spent a year in Iran and attempted to acquaint himself with the culture so often shrouded by negative images prevalent in the West. He aims to pass on his findings to a German audience in the form of an exhibition of photos and sound installations. Image courtesy of Qantara.

Twenty-seven-year-old Ali Abdolazimi, is a German-Iranian living in Hamburg who visits his parents' homeland every year. The student loves Iranian culture, in particular classical Persian music, and wanted to bring a taste of it back to Hamburg. A one-man enterprise, he founded the "Bliss Festival". The idea: To present Iran in a positive light for once.

"Say 'moin' and 'salam'"

The festival slogan "Say 'Moin' and 'Salam'" is the Hanseatic edition of "Say 'Servus' and 'Salam'" – the title of Benedict Fuhrmann's original exhibition shown in Munich in 2012, 'moin' and 'servus' being formulas of greeting from northern Germany and Bavaria, respectively.

"You shouldn't mix politics and the culture of a nation," says Abdolazimi. China and Russia have a cultural history that is recognized and valued. "I don't understand why the same isn't true of Iran." Abdolazimi is irritated by the unchanging stereotypes that crop up whenever anyone writes anything about the country. "Iran is being judged on what's happened there over the last 40 years, although its cultural history goes back 7,000 years," he says.

Nevertheless, there was little support for the project from the community of exiled Iranians in Hamburg – the second biggest in Europe after London, with 30,000 members. It didn't matter which cultural association Abdolazimi approached: No one took him or his idea seriously.

Sometimes his requests were met with suspicion: "Many Iranians in exile believe that if you portray a positive image of Iran, then you're supporting the Iranian government. They are also unable to separate politics and culture," says Abdolazimi.

Iranians are not managing to present themselves confidently as cultural players within German society, he says, and attributes this in part to Iranian history: The last turbulent 100 years have had a deeply unsettling effect on the Iranian identity.

Negative images cloud our perception

When Benedikt Fuhrmann entered Iran, his head was also full of the usual clichés. As he drove his VW Polo over the border, he intuitively worried that his photographic equipment might be stolen. Instead, border guards displayed curiosity and invited him to share their tea.

One of the slogans in Fuhrmann's exhibition is "A country where people live". "We shouldn't forget that. After all, negative images cloud our perception of the people, of the music, the food, the beauty of the women," he says. He is often ridiculed for his exhibition – as a dreamer and a romantic. Fuhrmann explains: "When you cast someone else in a bad light, you're protecting and concealing your own faults. And anyone who challenges this perception turns a certain view of the world on its head."

Through his bond with Iran, Fuhrmann has also felt a new connection with his own homeland – a process of closing a circle.

Most of the audience is Iranian. But there are also Germans in attendance. The concert is being given by Salar Aghili, one of the best-known contemporary interpreters of classical Persian song. His filigree voice captivates the audience while breathing life into the poetry of ancient Iran, accompanied by the music of the setar, a long-necked lute. His wife Harir Shariatzadeh drums on a daf in an ecstatic frenzy, giving rise to an ambience that touches the heart.

"Breathing life into the poetry of ancient Iran": Equipped with nothing but his voice and the traditional stringed setar, Salar Aghili is one of the most famous interpreters of classical Persian music today. Image courtesy of Qantara.

Ali Abdolazimi's choice of title – "Bliss Festival" – was anything but random. "Everyone is striving to achieve bliss. But people have to be ready for it in their heads first, before the heart can follow," he says.

For him, this is about demonstrating the connective power of culture, instead of focusing on divisive aspects. Iranian artists – whether they are filmmakers or musicians – often only receive due attention in Germany if their work is associated with some kind of protest.

"But there are certainly artists who are satisfied with their nation. And what about Islamic art?" asks Abdolazimi. Mainstream media displayed scant interest in the "Bliss Festival", despite a tenacious PR campaign publicizing the event.

Those attending the festival can hardly contain their enthusiasm. They include Iranians moved to tears at finding a piece of their homeland here in Germany, and many Germans astonished at how the festival changed and enhanced their perception of Iran and its people.

When Salar Aghili sings the song "Vatanam, Vatanam" as an encore, a Persian hymn to the fatherland, the entire room sways to his rhythm. There is a great need for more such initiatives; events that focus on the things that a political eye may not want to see.


Translated from the German by Nina Coon


Via Qantara