Iran’s Dylan
[how many people have been named the “Bob Dylan of _____”? - the
father of Iraq deserter Camilo Mejia was known as the Bob Dylan of
Nicaragua, e.g.]
New York Times - August 31, 2007
Iran’s Dylan on the Lute, With Songs of Sly Protest By Nazila Fathi
TEHRAN
HE plays the setar, a traditional Persian lute, and is a master of
classical Persian literature and poetry. But the sounds he draws from
the instrument, along with his deep voice and his playful but subtly
cutting lyrics about growing up in an Islamic state, have made Mohsen
Namjoo the most controversial, and certainly the most daring, figure
in Persian music today.
Some call him a genius, a sort of Bob Dylan of Iran, and say his
satirical music accurately reflects the frustrations and
disillusionment of young Iranians. His critics say his music makes a
mockery of Persian classical and traditional music as he constantly
blends it with Western jazz, blues and rock.
Mr. Namjoo, 31, is a singer, composer and musician, but most of all,
his fans say, he is a great performer.
“I wanted to save Persian music,” he said in an interview at one of
his studios in Tehran. “It does not belong to the present time and
cannot satisfy the younger generation. The fact is that Persian music
is very close to other styles, and it is possible to mix in other
styles with a little shrewdness.”
His blending of Western and Persian music produces unexpected moments
that jar the traditionalists but are thrilling to his fans, who are
mostly young artists and intellectuals. His music sounds Persian, but
the melodies take away the melancholy that often suffuses classical
Persian music.
But it is Mr. Namjoo’s lyrics, his fans say, that make his music so
important. He sings old Persian poetry, such as works by the 13th-
century mystic poet Rumi or the 14th-century poet Hafiz, with its
connotations of love and lust. But with his mastery of Persian
literature, he is able to write his own lyrics into the accepted
forms, adding layers of meaning.
“The first time I listened to his music, I found it unexpected,” said
Mahsa Vahdat, a 33-year-old singer. “It started with a laugh for me
and ended with a cry. His music and his lyrics express the bitter
situation of my generation, and they represent the society we live in.”
Defying Iran’s cultural police, he does not shy away from
contemporary issues.
“What belongs to us is an apologetic government,” he sings in a song
called “Neo-Kanti.” “What belongs to us is a losing national team.”
Those are references to the widespread disappointment with the
government of the former reformist president, Mohammad Khatami, and
the constant losses of Iran’s soccer teams.
“What belongs to us, maybe, is the future,” he adds, in a voice that
is more resigned than hopeful.
In another popular song he sings, “One morning you wake up and
realize that you are gone by the wind, there is no one around you and
a few more of your hairs have gone gray, your birthday is a mourning
ceremony again.”
After throwing in an unexpected Western melody, he goes on in a lower
voice, saying, “that you are born in Asia is called the oppression of
geography, you are up in the air and your breakfast has become tea
and a cigarette.”
Atabak Elyassi, a musician and a professor of music at the Music
College at Art University in Tehran, said there was protest and
satire in Mr. Namjoo’s music. “In the meantime, it is very Iranian,”
he said, “because he constantly points to issues that are about the
lives of Iranians.”
MR. NAMJOO was raised in the religious city of Mashhad in
northeastern Iran, where he started learning classical Persian music
when he was 12.
As he grew older, he said, he listened to Western music and became
interested in Jim Morrison, Eric Clapton and the Irish pop singer
Chris de Burgh. He read philosophy and Persian literature, and
developed a fondness for a strain of modern Persian poetry that
stresses phonetics over the meanings of words.
But what changed his approach more than anything, he said, was his
experience in the theater. When he was admitted to the University of
Fine Art in 1994, he was told that he had to wait a year before
starting classes. So he decided to pass the time studying theater.
“A musical instrument is a medium for a musician to play music,” he
said. “So is the voice of a singer — it is like a medium to sing
through it. But neither of them is involved in building relations
with a living creature.
“But when I studied theater I learned to connect with my audience,
and that was when my poems changed,” he said.
It is hard to gauge Mr. Namjoo’s popularity, for he has come of age
in a time of intense pressure on Iranian music.
Most music was banned after the 1979 Islamic Revolution, with only
religious and revolutionary songs deemed appropriate. To this day,
women are not allowed to sing. Over time the restrictions were eased,
first on classical Iranian music and then, in the mid-1990s, on pop
music. But after the election in 2005 of Iran’s current, conservative
president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, music came under a cloud once again.
The authorities canceled a concert of rock and jazz music in Tehran
in July. In August, more than 200 people who attended a private rock
concert in Karaj, 30 miles west of Tehran, were arrested. The public
prosecutor in Karaj, Ali Fallahi, called the concert “satanic,” local
news agencies reported.
Mr. Namjoo himself has not yet been able to give a live, public
performance, and he has not received a government license to sell his
CDs. But he is able to perform privately, his CDs are sold on the
black market and, in an inexplicable twist, his songs are played on
Iranian radio stations. As of early August, his manager said, 1.6
million people had heard his music on YouTube.
In July, he did receive an invitation to a government ceremony to
sing a few songs in praise of Imam Ali, the martyred son-in-law of
the Prophet Muhammad and the man whom Shiite Muslims consider
Muhammad’s legitimate successor. Yet, the room was filled with
artists and musicians, rather than government officials.
BECAUSE of his cutting-edge style, Mr. Namjoo is under another kind
of pressure. Most classical musicians are purists, insisting that the
music not be altered in any fashion. They dismiss Mr. Namjoo’s music
as absurd because of the way he has incorporated Western influences.
If you take Iranian classical music on one side, and Western music on
the other, said one critic, Reza Ismailinia, who runs a small art
gallery in Tehran, “then I think Mr. Namjoo’s music is like a
caricature in between, or a kind of fantasy.”
But many disagree with Mr. Ismailinia.
“I think he will be remembered as a courageous artist who opened a
window toward creating something new and for going beyond traditional
barriers,” said Alireza Samiazar, the former director the
Contemporary Museum of Art in Tehran. “I think his contribution to
our music will be great.”
Undeterred by the critics, Mr. Namjoo says his next ambition is to
study music abroad.
“I want to be challenged and get acquainted with Western music,” he
said. “I was accepted too easily here.