09 August 2010
Review
Tahereh Matejko
Special to the Daily Star
BEITEDDINE: Friday evening’s concert at the Beiteddine International Festival was not a typical performance. At least, it did not end with an ecstatically cheerful, firework-cracking climax.
Iran’s most listened-to vocalist and composer, Shajarian, accompanied by the Shahnaz Ensemble, under the baton of Majid Derakhshani, appeared at the inner courtyard of Beiteddine Palace intent on elevating his audience to a “higher realm.” By the time he departed the stage, his mission had been accomplished.
The hypnotizing pairing of traditional Iranian music with medieval Sufi poetry transported the audience to a state of meditation, if not trance.
It seems festival organizers were confident the audience was fully aware of Shajarian’s stature. It is uncommon for Iranian classical artists to address their audience, but the fact that Beiteddine did not extend a few words of welcome or introduction to Ostad Shajarian left some audience members puzzled.
It was a colorful evening. The dozen-plus men and three women of the Shahnaz Ensemble, all draped in traditional Iranian garb, were as richly hued as the acoustic palette with which they worked. Perhaps the most striking feature of Friday’s concert was the radical shift – at times within a single composition – from quiet and contemplative to rhythmically complex virtuoso musicianship.
The Shahnaz Ensemble was comprised of the standard array of classical Iranian instruments: the “tar” (long-necked lute), the “kamancheh” (spike fiddle), the “nay,” the “daf” (frame drum) and the “tombak” drum.
These were augmented by others Shajarian himself designed specifically for this genre of music. Among these was the “kereshmeh,” a member of the lute family with seven main strings and 10 sympathetic ones. Another innovation was the use of the pizzicato technique (involving the plucking of the instrument’s strings) in a few pieces, a feature uncommon in Persian classical music.
The concert’s first half maintained the calm, meditative mood created through the melancholic Homayoun “dastgah” (mode) of Persian art music, while the second part sampled pieces in the Mahour mode, which resonates with bright audaciousness.
The central feature of traditional Iranian music is the vocals, and the concert saw the interplay of Ostad Shajarian’s dynamic tenor voice with that of single instruments, the ensemble as a whole and, at times, with the vocals of Mojgan (his daughter).
At times soothing and calming, at others sounding like a painful cry from the heart, Shajarian’s vocal work ranged from something like operatic bel canto to ornamented vocal filigree so characteristic of classical Iranian traditional music.
Love and desire, separation from and reunion with the spiritually beloved, faith and the path towards the divine are centuries-old motifs in Iran’s classical music tradition. They are reflected in the medieval Sufi poetry of Saadi, Hafez and Rumi or Mawlana – revered by religious and secular Iranians alike with something close to religious devotion.
The audience seemed unfazed that – aside from those who had flown in from Tehran and Europe to see Shajarian perform – they were unable to understand the Farsi lyrics. It is nearly impossible to distinguish between Persian poetry and music: What meaning is not conveyed by the words is carried by the music.
There was no danger that the audience would become lost in this “otherwordly” experience. Much of the concert’s second half was accentuated by the disturbingly loud enthusiasms of a near-by wedding celebration, effectively pulling the listeners back down to earth.
Copyright The Daily Star 2010.
