Samā,1 whose various meanings include “audition,” refers both to the mystical concert and the cosmic dance induced by this audition, a meaning that gained prominence in the 13th century under the influence of Mowlānā Rūmī. According to this great Persian poet and mystic, “The Samā constitutes but a small part of the eternal dance the soul is destined to join one day. Every being partakes in this cosmic dance. . . .”2Samā expresses a melody that comes “from the firmament” (samāvāt: heavens) to resonate in the soul and sweep the listener away in a dance that Ostad has described as celestial. This improvisation was recorded in the 50s by Ostad’s eldest daughter while he played alone in his room. Rendered on a five-stringed tanbur (panj sīmī),3 it provides a good example of Ostad’s unique technique, notably his singular style of combining playing techniques from the tanbur with those of the setār (see also track 4).The suite opens with a series of themes, often composed of simple notes that convey a heightened sensitivity. Recurring tremolos impart an intimate character to the melody, which conveys the profound nostalgia of a fettered soul unable to rejoin its Creator. The melody gradually strengthens, supported by an accompaniment of chords that slowly replace the tremolos. The atmosphere shifts, with alternating dissonances and free-flowing solos. Following a rubato cycle of rhythm variations (slowing down then returning to tempo), the sound becomes fuller and the movement of the cosmic dance sweeps the soul away in an increasingly powerful flux, accompanied by the following chant:4<blockquote>Āmān sad āmān wa āmāna kū Ya das[t]-e mena / Ali wa dāmān-e toYour help I implore a hundred times over, but where is Your help? Here is my hand that grasps the hem of thy robe</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>See Ostad Elahi, Celestial Dances, compact disc (Paris: Le Chant du Monde, 2005).</li><li value=2>Jean During, Musique et extase (Paris: Albin Michel, 1988), 200.</li><li value=3>Panj sīmī: A special five-stringed tanbur (two double-strings for trebles and mediums, and a single string for the bass) invented by Ostad Elahi. See Celestial Harmonies, compact disc (Paris: Le Chant du Monde, 1994/2004).</li><li value=4>It is difficult to convey the full meaning of this song, expressed in Kurdish in a simple but powerful way. As Jean During states: “The language of these songs is admirably adapted to the expression of mystical love, with its poetic turns of phrase that are audacious, concise, and striking while exhibiting great freedom.” The Spirit of Sounds: The Unique Art of Ostad Elahi (Cranbury, NJ: Cornwall Books, 2003), 75-6.</li></ol>

Samā

Recorded in the intimacy of his family circle with equipment from the 60s, this melody is conveyed through a pared-down style on the tanbur. From the outset, the chant is quite intimate and high-pitched, unfolding with subtle cantillation-like variations. The voice and the instrument are in complete unity.During the principal chant, the accompaniment of the tanbur is based on a slow and sober rhythm, whereas it becomes filled with ornamentations when the assembly answers. The first verses of this zekr1:<blockquote>Haqq Haqq-e hū hū / Ey āqāy jāfem Ghonaray sar tāfem / Yār bī gazāfem</blockquote>are an invocation to Soltān,2 who in this context represents the divine essence; “Haqq” and “Hū” are divine names that refer to the Truth, God, and the One.“Ghonaray” (the river) “sar tāfem” (the foam on the crest of the wave) represents both the turbulence of the impetuous river’s currents and the flashes of light emerging from the swirling waters, while “yār bī gazāfem” means my Beloved (Yār), Soltān, who is devoid of lies. Thus, these verses can be translated as follows:<blockquote>The world, like a river, is all sparkle and turbulence But You, my Beloved, are devoid of ostentation, pure Truth</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>Zekr literally means remembrance of God. These zekrs are prayers that are chanted or sung aloud, with the repetition of divine names and attributes.</li><li value=2>Soltān Eshāq (or Sahāk), a great theophanic figure of the fourteenth century, is considered the founder of the mystical order of the Ahl-e Haqq.</li></ol>

Haqq Haqq-e Hū Hū

This piece was recorded in Ostad’s home. After he begins to play, a microphone is gently placed in front of his tanbur; he continues playing, absorbed by the intimacy of his dialogue with his Creator.An excerpt of this piece titled Wālā wītāna was released on the CD Celestial Harmonies (track 2) and on the double CD (“Reverence,” track 2) accompanying the commemorative book marking The Sacred Lute: The Art of Ostad Elahi exhibition at the MET. Here, the entire piece has been made available to restore its complete spiritual significance. Rendered on the five-stringed tanbur, the melody develops in a subtle manner, alternating between high-pitched and low-pitched responses that produce a veritable conversation, a musical dialogue. The playing of the left hand is powerful, while the index finger of the right hand, which Ostad uses as if he were playing the setār,1 strikes the strings in a way that greatly amplifies the sound of the instrument2. Though the rhythm frequently varies during the piece, no hiatus is heard throughout.The melody of the next passage was arranged by Ostad Elahi based on verses by Pīr Razbār. The only woman with the spiritual rank of an archangel in the Kurdish Ahl-e Haqq tradition, Pīr Razbār is a highly revered saint who lived in the 14th century. The mother of Soltān Eshāq, her spiritual pole, she was entirely devoted to him.The first verse of the poem, “ Wa[Cha] manzelgātān kām djā djītāna,” can be translated as “where and in what standing do you wish your abode?” Ostad has interpreted this verse as follows: Along your journey, at what point do you wish to stop? At the opulence of this world? At the abundant blessings of Paradise? The purpose of this path (which is revealed to you) is for you to reach the Truth/God. Once you arrive at the Truth, everything will be resolved; you will have knowledge of everything.As for the second verse, “Eshq-e Haqq wa sar sheet-e wītāna,” which can be translated as “Carry the madness of love of Truth in your heart and in your heart be enamored with God!” Ostad has said the following: It is after a person has gone through all of the spiritual stages that the love of the Truth/God blossoms in one’s heart. When one reaches a state where all the pleasures in this world are no longer a pleasure, one becomes boundlessly enamored with the Truth, such as Mansūr,3 who uttered, “I am the Truth!” or Zachary,4 who laughed as they tortured him, or Hoseyn,5 who wore a smile on his face when they decapitated him. In this state, the body and the world no longer mean anything. From there, one reaches a state of rapture, a state in which wherever one looks, it is God/the Truth that one sees, and one is ready to be launched by God into the realm of Perfection.<blockquote>Wa[Cha] manzelgātān kām djā djītāna Eshq-e Haqq wa sar sheet-e wītāna Wa[Cha] manzelgātān kām djā djītāna Rāy Haqq rāsīan rāsī rītāna Ya shart-e eqrār shart-e shātāna Bāqī ākherat manzelgātāna Ya dām-e balā ya balātāna Eshq-e Haqq wa sar sheet-e wītāna Dīn-e āshekār bar malātāna Eshq-e Haqq wa sar sheet-e wītāna Wa[Cha] manzelgātān kām djā djitānaWhere and in what place do you wish your abode? Carry the madness of love of Truth in your heart and in your heart be enamored with God! Where and in what place do you wish your abode? The path of Truth is righteousness, righteousness is the path This is the pact of acceptance, this is the pact Spiritual (permanent) era is your abode This trap of pain is the necessary evil Carry the madness of love of Truth in your heart and in your heart be enamored with God! It is the apparent path that is now revealed to you Carry the madness of love of Truth in your heart and in your heart be enamored with God! Where and in what standing do you wish your abode? Carry the madness of love of Truth in your heart and in your heart be enamored with God!</blockquote>This chant is followed by a supplication that Ostad Elahi was quite fond of. Its melody was inspired by Mansūrī, an archetypal learned Persian melody (gūshe). The chanted text is a poem written in honor of Shāh Khoshīn6 by one of his spiritual companions, who conveys his boundless love for the Divine:<blockquote>Az avval to būdī yā dīn yā dīn Ali Ali Ali Hū Hū Ākheram to bāshī Az qatre-ye āb-e, Az qatre-ye āb-e manī ey dīn Ali Ali Manat kardī naqqāshī yā Mowlām yā Mowlām Bā behesht o dūzakhat hey Mowlām kārī nadāram Omīdvāram yā Ali to bā man bāshī AliFrom the beginning, there was You In the end, it will be just you You, O Almighty, my Faith, my Breath! You, O Almighty, my Faith, my Breath! You molded me from a drop O my Lord! I have no need for Your paradise or Your hell What I hope, O Almighty Is that You are always with me, You!</blockquote>This passage is followed by Mobārak Bādā (second version, Celestial Harmonies, tracks 1 and 2). Both the color and the mood shift, giving way to a more nostalgic tone. A series of themes coalesce, offering an array of rich polyphony and harmonies, nuances and rhythmic changes. The suite is a sort of Zang-e shotorī7—a melodious, soft, and serene piece whose moderate swaying evokes the tingling bells of a moving caravan.<ol class="number"><li value=1>The Persian setār is a classical three-stringed instrument belonging to the family of long-necked lutes.</li><li value=2>Ostad used to play the Persian setār in his own personal way, at times plucking the strings “in reverse”—that is, from top to bottom in order to mark the accents. For more information, see Jean During, The Spirit of Sounds: The Unique Art of Ostad Elahi (Cranbury, NJ: Cornwall Books, 2003).</li><li value=3>Mansūr Hallāj (d. 922), a martyr celebrated in the East, was put to death after having declared in a moment of ecstasy and mystical union: “I am the Truth.”</li><li value=4>Zachary, who was the father of Saint John the Baptist, was wrongly accused of a crime and sawn in half.</li><li value=5>Hoseyn (626-680), the grandson of the prophet Muhammad and the third imam in Twelver Shiism, was martyred in Karbalā.</li><li value=6>Shāh Khoshīn, a prominent eleventh century Kurdish saint, formalized the tanbur as a sacred instrument.</li><li value=7>Zang-e Shotorī (“camel bells”) is a melody inspired by the movement of a caravan of camels. It is said that Ali (a prominent saint of the Shia tradition and son-in-law of the prophet Muhammad) adjusted the sound of the bells of his camels (Zang-e Shotor) so that the ensuing melody would stimulate their pace.</li></ol>

Yā Shāh to Bā Man Bāshī

Saharī is usually played to announce dawn and the awakening of nature. It can also be perceived as a call for the soul to awaken and experience more intensely the effect of the One, which is present everywhere and in everything, and to not be negligent or sluggish while all of creation sings and praises the Divine.This piece originates from recordings made in the early 60s. It represents both a technical and artistic challenge: it is performed on a small Persian setâr that Ostad had named “Bolbol” (nightingale).1 He had modified this setâr into a smaller replica of his five-stringed tanbur. Ostad played this instrument in a manner that upended established rules: he combined tanbur playing techniques (five fingers hitting all the strings or playing rolls) with those of the setâr (plucking the strings with the index). Above all, he played this melody in the Farangī chord (in thirds) on a five-stringed tanbur, an almost insurmountable challenge; both the technical and physical means are lacking to achieve the desired sound. Only Ostad's virtuosity is able to produce this astonishing impression of ease and simplicity.The suite is incomplete, as the very beginning of the recording was unusable. The piece thus opens on a major key, an A-F third, that also constitutes its foundation. As the melody develops, the initial rhythm changes, with the playing of ornamentations and several shors (five-finger rolls) during short silences. The melody then returns, played in solo, in the simplest and purest manner possible, on a string with a single finger. The melody is then played anew, with all the previous characteristics (melodic, rhythmic) but with a fresh intensity. The piece as a whole is akin to an overture featuring expansive and energetic playing, a combination of subtle fluidity and great power.<ol class="number"><li value=1>A flat-bodied travel instrument with which he almost always traveled. Ostad Elahi’s family has donated this instrument to the Musée de la musique de la Philharmonie in Paris.</li></ol>

Saharī Suite

“Yā Soltān Āmān” is a zekr composed by Ostad during his youth, probably in the 1930s, during one of his journeys to the shrine of Soltān. This version is performed on a tār (a long-necked lute from the learned Persian tradition) and is accompanied by a daf (a frame drum struck with the hand).The original lyrics of this zekr are:<blockquote>Yā Soltān Āmān Āgerem Dāy Dasht-e awrāmān wāvarem dāyO Soltān, mercy, you have set me aflame You have laid the plain of Awrāmān1 at my feet</blockquote>On this recording, however, Ostad does not sing these words but introduces subtle variations invoking the Divine (“Yā Ali Jān,” “Haqq Ali Jān,” “Mowlām Ali,” “Yā Ali Āmān”). The piece enables us to appreciate the power of Ostad’s right hand, which is never overshadowed by the beats of the daf and the collective hand-clapping.Although played with variants, the main motif has the specificity of always ending on a countercurrent chord that coincides with the last strike on the daf, imparting each time a rhythmic impulse and energy that revives the dynamics of the piece. A festive feeling and joy predominate, as the melody is light and the rhythm lively.<ol class="number"><li value=1>Awrāmān is a region in Kurdestān that occupies a symbolic role in the Ahl-e Haqq tradition.</li></ol>

Variations on the Yā Soltān Āmān Āgerem Dāy Melody

Ostad often played this suite, but rarely on the five-stringed tanbur; this is the only recording of its kind. In a calm and peaceful atmosphere, he introduces the piece with these words:<blockquote>Ey Khodāvand-e tabārak va taālā rūh-e mān va tavajoh-e mān be sūy-e Tost Ey Khodāyā Īnak barāy-e meymanat-e shab-e emshab ke shab-e mobārakī be nazar mīresad, īnak shurū mīkonīm be yek Jelo Shāhī Omīdvāram ke pasand-e maqām-e Manavī beshavad. Hū yā AliO God, the Almighty and Great, our soul and our attention are turned toward You, O Lord! Now, in order to receive grace on this night, which appears to be a blessed night, we will begin by playing Jelo Shāhī. I hope it will meet with the approval of the spiritual Rank.</blockquote>The piece opens with several chords struck vigorously in a major key. The deep, majestic sounds reverberate to fill the entire audible spectrum. Throughout the piece, the energy and intensity of the playing increase, with moments of lively staccato. During a more solemn passage at about 10’20 in the recording, the main melody seems to divide itself, leading to several distinct melodic phrases, all different yet complementing each other, as if additional instrumentalists had joined in, rendering a true polyphony.Almost of a pictorial nature, this piece offers a series of musical canvasses that impart a sense of grandeur, dignity, and nobility, unfolding like scenes from a film. At first, one can sense a feeling of joy, but a feeling that is somewhat contained. The melodies relate a sense of anticipation up until the final passage, which corresponds to the arrival of the spiritual king.Although the typical melodies of the Jelo Shāhī suite are all discernable,1 they are played here with complete freedom of improvisation. At times they are played faster, and at times they can only be heard between two cavalcades: the rhythms are races, gallops, and rushing whirlwinds. Each melody appears to want to displace the prior one. The lush and orchestral sound that Ostad Elahi produces with the five-stringed tanbur endows this interpretation with a masterful dimension, yet another account of the freedom that was among the hallmarks of his playing.<ol class="number"><li value=1>See The Celestial Music of Ostad Elahi, compact disc (Paris: Le Chant du Monde, 1996/2004), track 1.</li></ol>

Jelo Shāhī Suite on the Five-Stringed Tanbur

My Beginning and My End

Tanbur

Vocal

Fifths (Tarz)

Ali Āmān Yā Ali

Āmān Sad Āmān

Dam Dam-e Isā Ruhollāh Nāman

Donīa fānīyan

Dowre Yārāna

Dust Bejan Bejan Barza Meli

Ey Darvīsh Darvīsh

Haqq Sefīd Pūshān

Har Va aw Soltān

Hey Dāwed (fast)

Hey Dāwed (faster)

Hey Dāwed (slow)

Jam Neyān

Papū Soleymāni

Sāheb Tūl-e Zar Dāwed

Shāh Nematollāh Valīan Haqq

Shām Āmā

Shīrīna Leylā

Shoq-e Shādīman

Soltān Sahākī

Soltān sar Jam

Soltān-e Mardān

Wa Āmāna Kū

Wa Fedāy Manzelgāt

Wa nokht-e kalām dīdadār-e shūn 

Wālā Wītāna

Yā Soltān Āmān Āgerem Dāy

Yār dīdagīānī Benyāmīn pīra

Yārān wa bāten ye dang-ī mayū

Zāt-e Yār Dāwed Hāzeran va Jam

This piece was recorded in the 1970s at Ostad Elahi’s home in Tehran. It highlights the virtuosity, power, and speed of his playing, both with his right and left hands. The main theme evokes the story of Nakīsā and Bārbad, two characters of ancient Persia who were famous musicians at the court of King Sassanid Khosrow Parvīz in the early seventh century. According to Kurdish gnosis, they are bound by a deep and unwavering spiritual love, comparable to that of Joseph and Jacob, or of Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. Having undergone the trial of separation, they were finally reunited after overcoming many obstacles. Ostad liked to honor their memory and often mentioned their names when he played their melody in the midst of an improvisation.As was the case for classical music of Persian masters,1 Ostad’s music is based on the different states and needs of the soul. Thus, this heartbreaking suite vividly depicts the states experienced by true spiritual lovers, including profound nostalgia, the pain of separation from the Beloved, and the soul’s resilience in overcoming this pain. This improvisation is not based on and cannot be linked to any ancient, pre-Islamic foundation. It contains passages of Ostad’s repertoire, but they are played differently and in a new sequence. At first, the piece is meditative, but it then invites the listener into a dense and intense soundscape in which the most surprising resonances echo one another.Although the tempo increases, driven by a brilliant shor,2 the piece remains quite nostalgic at first. Successive waves are unleashed as so many cries for help. The repetitions are increasingly virtuosic, calmed by pauses from which dissonances still emerge, like a sorrow that has not yet been alleviated. Amid these cascades of notes, unexpected chords arise that gradually bring about a change in the atmosphere. Toward the end, Ostad plays a joyous air, a kind of catharsis, of plenitude, before returning briefly to the main theme pursuant to a pattern that is frequently found in his improvisations.<ol class="number"><li value=1>According to Ostad Elahi, “It is for the soul that the Iranian masters created their music, looking each time for the air that was the most suitable, the melody that would make the soul joyful and buoyant at that moment. This even includes music tinged with nostalgia, for weeping calms the soul and procures joy.” Āsār ol-Haqq, vol. 2 (Tehran: Jeyhūn, 1991), 359-360.</li><li value=2>A type of roll played with the right hand.</li></ol>

Shīn-e Tarz in the Nakīsā and Bārbad Suite

With this piece, also recorded in the 1970s in Tehran, the listener is transported directly into an intimate and personal atmosphere. The tanbur precedes the singing and guides it in the melody. The cantor here is a visitor who was quite fond of Ostad. In a way, this supplication was “his” piece and Ostad appreciated the simplicity, humility, and sincerity with which he addressed God. Ostad affectionately affords the cantor the opportunity to join his voice to that of the tanbur, to express his love of the divine through this sensitive and profound declaration. The voice and the instrument respond to each other with strong emotional tension, each silence complementing this emotion and seemingly even strengthening it. This entanglement of sounds is punctuated by Ostad’s appeals to Ali.1 This poem was originally written in Kurdish Kurmānjī (close to Turkish) by Hazrat-e Qosh tchī Oghlī, a great spiritual figure of the Turkish Ahl-e Haqq tradition:2<blockquote>I am no more than a sinner, but You, a reservoir of generosity, Forgive us in the name of the Friend Forgive us in the name of the pact with Benyāmīn,3 the guide Our Lord, light of divine power Pearl of the Ocean without a shore, You who take Your friends by the hand Forgive us, in the name of Dāwūd, the intercessor Do not immerse us in earthly attachments and worries Do not throw us into the circle of the unjust Forgive us, in the name of Pīr Mūsī, the scribe with the golden pen And in the name of the devotion of Razbār It is in You that I seek refuge, O peerless Friend You, above whom there is no one In the name of Khān Almās, the masterful (proficient), the greatest among the humble, forgive us! It is in You that I seek refuge, Seigniorial Essence I am intoxicated, inebriated Forgive us in the name of Mostafā Dāwdān Who bears Your wrath as half of his name4 Preserve us from the glittering tinsel of the world Do not cast us among unjust men Forgive us, in the name of Pīr Razbār, from the crucible where she bakes bread From the King who commands all that there is The true friend is one who has crossed the mountains and meanders of the way And who has reached the destination The fire that burns the deniers, Forgive us in the name of this fire that burns the deniers The master, the true sage, is one who knows Whoever has renounced his head, his life Forgive us, in the name of King Jamshīd, Who drank from the chalice,5 with intoxicated eyes Qosh tchī Oghlī says: O Unique Friend, Peerless, the Efficient in everything You who have 70,000 [spiritual] servants Forgive us, for the sake of all of these servants!</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>In this context, Ali’s name is a way of invoking the divinity, similar to Haqq (Truth) and Hū (Him).</li><li value=2>The Ahl-e Haqq constitute a religious community numbering about one million among the Kurds of Iran and Iraq, as well as the Lors and Turks of Northwestern Iran.</li><li value=3>In the tradition of the Ahl-e Haqq of Kurdestān, Benyāmīn, and later in the poem, Dāwūd, Pīr Mūsī, Razbār, and Mostafā Dāwdān, are archangelic essences who, in the fourteenth century, were companions of Soltān Eshāq (or Sahāk), the founder of the Order who served as their spiritual pole and was himself deemed a theophany. Each of these essences had a specific spiritual function.</li><li value=4>Mostafā is the agent of divine wrath.</li><li value=5>The chalice in which the pure wine of mystic initiation is poured.</li></ol>

Turkish Sheykh Amīrī

Drawn from the dance repertoire, the Tchapī suite often appears in Ostad Elahi’s interpretations, both in a developed form or as a reference within another suite. As with all his other pieces, it is rendered in an innovative way.Here, it is played on the five-stringed tanbur (two trebles and mediums, one bass), a special tanbur invented by Ostad Elahi. Played in a major key, the melody is joyful and harmonious, giving an impression of sweetness. The slow and soothing tempo invites the listener on a distant musical journey, one where landscapes can be envisioned passing by. The listening induces a feeling of protection and benevolence that reassures the traveler about the road ahead.

Improvisation in the Tchapī Suite

Once again, this version of Sheykh Amīrī, played in the intimate setting of his family, provides a good illustration of Ostad Elahi’s sayings about music as a language of the soul, independent of any considerations of technique, aesthetics, time, or place: “Music is connected to the soul, and the soul is connected to God. . . if we play in this spirit, we will establish a connection to the Source.”1 The important thing is to have constant attention to the divine, to which Ostad adds: “Regardless of the time and place, whenever a state of attention is realized, do not let it slip away; time and place are of no consequence.”2 The act of worshipping God requires neither a special framework nor a particular form; only the connection of the heart matters. “We should seek to hear those true sounds of music. Music should be used as a means of establishing a spiritual connection, not as an end unto itself.”3There are multiple versions of Sheykh Amīrī, but the most complex and elaborate, which is played here, is that of Ostad Elahi himself. The melody, though highly ornamented, is devoid of any superfluity or artifice, marked instead by a kind of purity and original simplicity. Musical phrases are linked together, punctuated by dissonances that underscore a deep nostalgia. Despite its richness and its harmonic and rhythmic complexity, this air is imbued with great sweetness and seems to comfort a babbling child that can be heard not far from the musician.<ol class="number"><li value=1>Ostad Elahi, Āsār ol-Haqq, vol. 2 (Tehran: Jeyhūn, 1991), p. 215.</li><li value=2>Ostad Elahi, Paroles de Vérité (Paris: Albin Michel, 2014), saying 148.</li><li value=3>Ibid., saying 226.</li></ol>

Sheykh Amīrī II of Ostad Elahi

This recording dates back to the 1970s and was also made in Ostad Elahi’s home in Tehran. Among these four hymns, repeated in unison by the audience, the first three were composed by Hādj Nematollāh, Ostad Elahi’s father; we do not know the author of the fourth. The first hymn is sung by Ostad, the next three by his eldest son Hādj Amīn.(1) Intense and full of energy, the first hymn evokes the companions of Hādj Nematollāh who were all dressed in a long white tunic.<blockquote>Haqq sefīd pūshān / Haqq sefīd pūshān Kowsar manūshān[benūshān] / Haqq sefīd pūshān Haqq dressed in white / drink from the water of Kowsar / Haqq, those dressed in white</blockquote>“Haqq” is one of the divine names that evokes the Truth, while “Kowsar” literally means the source from which all the streams of paradise flow. For mystics, this source lies in the possession of Ali, a manifestation of God, who grants this water to whomever he wants in a quantity that corresponds to each person’s spiritual capacity.(2) This hymn was composed in honor of Soltān Eshāq,1 when Hādj Nematollāh received the manifestation of his Essence.<blockquote>Shām āmā, Shām āmā, Shahanshāy Shāhān āmā My King has come, my King has come, the King of Kings of all Kings has come.</blockquote>(3) In this hymn, the responses of the assembly end with some a cappella measures. The collective fervor is clearly perceptible.<blockquote>Shāh Nematollāh valīyan Haqq / Avval-o ākher Alīyan Haqq Shāh Nematollāh is the Valī of Truth / The beginning and the end are Ali, who is Truth</blockquote>(4) This more rhythmic chant has an unusual characteristic: at the end of each melodic phrase, it includes a surprising chord that reverses the melody. The playing of this chord corresponds to the only time when nobody sings, as if to allow everyone to catch their breath before expressing their gratitude.<blockquote>Shoq-e shādīman Khodā shokor Dowr-e bāqīman Khodā shokorThis is my joy and enthusiasm, thank you O’ God This is my spiritual (permanent) era, thank you O’ God</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>Soltān Eshāq (or Sahāk), a great theophanic figure of the fourteenth century, is deemed the founder of the mystical order of the Ahl-e Haqq, to which Hādj Nematollāh belonged.</li></ol>

Suite of Zekrs II

Joy predominates here: the festive and joyous melodies sweep the listener away to another realm. Along with a basso continuo, Ostad makes this melody dance, with a few harmonic variations, as if to play along with the children’s voice that is heard in the background. The developed rhythm reinforces the invitation to dance.When the singing begins, the soft and fluid voice blends with the melodies and rhythms played on the tanbur. The song is addressed to the “Papū Soleymānī,” a mythical bird that resembles the hoopoe. Each verse is repeated twice.<blockquote>Papū soleymāna danūk zarrīna O Papū Soleymānī with a yellow beakBālakat vāka bechū va mūyna Spread your wings and travel over thereBechū va awrāmān Go to Awrāmān (the site of Soltān’s tomb)Soltān gīān būyna And visit our beloved Soltān SahākKhavar-e bāra Bring back some newsVao sarzamīna From that country there</blockquote>

Khān Amīrī in the Jelo Shāhī Suite

This improvisation is based on the theme and rhythmic matrix of a particular Kurdish dance, of which there are about ten different versions. It is named “Pāykūbī” (literally “tapping one’s foot against the floor”) in reference to the dance steps performed. The opening of this piece is quite particular: both fluid and irregular, it gives the impression of a mechanism that starts up in order to set itself in motion.Once the theme has been presented, Ostad Elahi introduces variations and sketches other melodies that then dissolve back into the main theme. He does not merely play each piece one after the other; he also melds and coordinates them, sustained by an invariable bass that is the counterpoint to the execution of the masterfully sequenced airs.Most of these melodies are usually played on the zurnā (oboe) or the dozaleh (double clarinet), accompanied by a powerful dohol (two-sided drum). Prior to Ostad, it seems that these pieces had never been played on a tanbur. The adaptation of these melodies to this lute and their ornamentations, typical of wind instruments, was another of his innovations. While playing these melodies requires an exceptional technique, perhaps even more remarkable are the host of innovative techniques that enable him to reach a barely conceivable level of musical intensity on this three-stringed lute.

Pā Kotakī II Suite

Resilience

Fourths (Sheykh Amīrī)

Tanbur Panj Sīmī

Ostad Elahi called this joyful melody, whose inspiration came to him during a forty-day spiritual pilgrimage to Ali’s memorial in Najaf, Iraq, the “Najaf Melody” (Āhang-e Najaf). Incorporating passages from the Saharī and Gol wa Khār tunes, Ostad would play this melody either alone, as a central theme for other melodies, or as a linking pattern designed to ornament various modes. An “expansive” melody that shoots toward new horizons before returning to the original theme, it can be accompanied by secondary tunes or incorporated in them. This track is from a recorded session that took place in a family setting where nothing had been prepared or planned in advance: Ostad picked up his instrument, a microphone was placed before him, a recorder was turned on, and people sat and listened.Though permeated with a profound nostalgia, this piece is actually quite elating. The consonant harmonies in the major tonality create a bright and positive mood. Ostad draws upon a variety of playing techniques, at times playing on all strings with all ﬁngers, at other times only with one ﬁnger, thereby creating varied harmonic effects and a rich polyphony.

Mobārak Bādā Suite (2nd Version)

This piece is given an unexpected and original interpretation, reminiscent at times of the variations on the same theme found in the Najaf melody (see Track 1). Although it is a modal piece, dominant and tonic alternate. The ﬁrst section is prolonged by a prayer Ostad particularly liked, inspired by a basic melody (gūshe) of classical Iranian music called Mansūrī. The sung text is a prayer from one of spiritual companions of Shāh Khoshīn, a great Kurdish saint from the 11th century who elevated the tanbur to a sacred level.In this prayer, the poet expresses his exclusive love for the divine:<blockquote>You were my beginning, You will be my end You have drawn me from a drop of water I care not about Your paradise or Your hell My only hope is that You will always be with me.</blockquote>The melody in the next section was arranged by Ostad based on verses from Pīr Razbār, a revered Kurdish saint of the 14th century. Her poetry expresses the spiritual state of those who travel across the “plain” of passion in search of the divine, overwhelmed by divine love to the point of directly invoking Him in simple words, which begin as follows:<blockquote>Eshq-e Haqq wa sar sheet-e wītāna Wa[Cha] manzelgātān kām djā djītāna They are in love with Truth, those whom we call enamored with God What place shall you hold in eternity?</blockquote>This section is followed by Mobārak Bādā. A change of color and atmosphere transpires, as the overall tone becomes more nostalgic. Several themes are brought together in a passage rich with polyphonies, harmonies, nuances, and rhythmical shifts. This, in turn, is followed by a variant of Zang-e Shotorī—a soft, melodic, and serene piece whose gentle swaying evokes the marching of camels in a caravan. This musical form is found in classical Persian music as well.

Several tunes are strung together here:<blockquote>Ali āmān yā Ali / Dakhīlem wa to Ali Ali, help, O Ali / Upon You I rely, Ali1</blockquote>This verse is followed by Tchapī, a dance tune, which serves as a linking pattern to the next tune.<blockquote>Yā Soltān āmān āgerem dāy O Soltān, mercy, You have set me aﬂame!</blockquote>This verse was composed by Ostad. The Tchapī theme keeps returning throughout this improvisation, as new forms emerge at every moment in a dazzling proliferation of sonorities.<ol class="number"><li value=1>The name of Ali in this context refers to the manifestation of the Divine; Ostad sometimes invoked the name “Soltān” as well.</li></ol>

Ostad Elahi had a small Persian setār he had named bolbol (nightingale), which was a replica of his five-stringed tanbur, only smaller. A travel instrument with a flat body, he would almost always take it with him on his trips. The manner in which he played this instrument defied all expectations, for he would freely combine techniques specific to the tanbur (the rolling of the fingers on all strings) with those of the setār (using one finger only). This style of playing became especially popular among setār players who followed him. Here, Ostad is playing in an intimate family setting during the last years of his life (in the early 1970s). Despite the poor recording quality, the piece captures the spiritual fervor that united the participants.Āmān Sad Āmān This song was composed by Hādj Nematollāh, Ostad Elahi’s father, at the onset of his illumination around 1901. Its lyrics, which invoke the Creator’s attribute of mercy, are a kind of petition addressed to the spiritual King or Beloved:<blockquote>Āmān sad āmān, shāy karamdārān Karam kheyre kar, wa hāl-e yārānHave Mercy, O Merciful King Bless Your companions with Your Grace</blockquote>Ey Darvīsh Darvīsh This song was also composed by Hādj Nematollāh during the same period. It is addressed to the Lord, referred to here as a dervish, for it appears that Hādj Nematollāh witnessed the Beloved in the guise of a dervish and composed this song in praise of Him:<blockquote>Ey darvīsh darvīsh, īmānem darvīsh Ez va fedāt bām, pā benyar wa pīshO Dervish, O Dervish, my faith rests in You My life is Yours, come to me, come!</blockquote>Soltān Sahākī The music and lyrics of this song were composed by Ostad:<blockquote>Soltān Sahākī Ali gīān Shāy tanīā tākī Ali gīānYou are Soltān Sahāk, O beloved Ali You are the unique and peerless King, O beloved Ali</blockquote>Only the melody is played here.Shīrīna Leylā Initially, this soft melody was used to accompany a hymn by Hādj Nematollāh that can be translated as follows: “All in this world is precarious, O Beloved Dāwūd / Only the Truth shall remain, O Beloved Dāwūd,” an allusion to the Quranic verse: “All that is on earth will perish, but abide (forever) will the Face of thy Lord, full of Majesty, Bounty, and Honor.”1Although dedicated to Dāwūd, the archangel of mercy, this hymn invokes the divine attributes of majesty and rigor, so that when performed by a group it was considered to be ominous. During one of his trips to the west regions of Iran, Ostad Elahi modified the lyrics and turned this hymn of mourning into one of joy:<blockquote>Shīrīna Leylāna leylāna Shīrīnī khorīā vey mīkānaIt is here that we have tasted sweetness</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>55: 26-7.</li></ol>

Hymns

Ostad Elahi had translated a prayer by Hazrat-e Ali1 from the original Arabic into Persian and Kurdish. For several months, he would sing it every day upon awakening. Later, he would quote certain verses of this prayer when playing the tanbur. Here, he sings an excerpt of it in its original Arabic version, interspersed with short invocations in Persian: “Ali jān, āmān” (O Beloved Ali, help me) in the Mansūrī mode (tchahārgāh dastgāh). The recording dates back to 1965 when Ostad was seventy years old. Below is a translation of a few of the verses:<blockquote>Praise to You, benevolent and glorious Lord You who knows all that is hidden and revealed My Creator, my Refuge, my Support It is You that I implore, in hardship and in fortune No matter how great my failings, Your forgiveness is greater still I have succumbed to temptation, now I am plagued by remorse O God, hear my plea For You know how miserable and destitute I am.</blockquote>Chanted sequences of a deep lyrical character, to which the tanbur answers in kind, alternate throughout this piece with rhythmic sequences and a leitmotif (minor third). The combination of these various elements—rhythm, leitmotif, repetition of ornamented notes, and unfamiliar harmonies—produces a state of elation. The second section of this piece, a sort of Zang-e Shotorī followed by a stirring hymn or zekr (Ali Hū Hū . . .), inspires one with an irresistible movement.<ol class="number"><li value=1>A great saint of the Shiite tradition and the son-in-law of the prophet Muhammad.</li></ol>

Prayer of Hazrat-e Ali

Tchapī is part of the Kurdish dance repertoire. It is played in the context of festivities or to express spiritual enthusiasm. This is one of the earliest recordings of Ostad’s music: it was made in 1960 without his knowledge behind the closed door of the room where he had been playing for about an hour. The quality of the recording is naturally poor, but the interpretation of tchapī presented here clearly justifies its inclusion in this selection. The listener is carried into a thrilling dance rhythm that is sustained throughout this masterly improvisation. Although tchapī often appears in Ostad’s playing (whether as a central piece or as a passage), it takes on a different form each time. In the instant case, it is played on a Persian scale with a neutral third, endowing it with a special quality.

Tchapī Suite

Celestial Harmonies

Ostad Elahi

Pīr Razbār

Instrumental

Nakīsā and Bārbad are two characters from Ancient Persia, famous court musicians of the Sassanid King Khosrow Parvīz in the early 7th century (pre-Islamic period).1 According to Jean During, “We owe to Bārbad the invention and classification of a large number of melodies and modes; some thirty tunes have come down to us.”2 He is traditionally credited with inventing the musical system incorporating seven modal structures known as “royal modes” (khosrovānī), thirty derived modes (lahn), and three hundred and sixty melodies (dastān) corresponding to the number of days in the week, month, and year of the Sassanid calendar. His favorite instrument was the barbat, a sort of tanbur considered to be the oldest stringed instrument in Iran.It is said that Bārbad had a considerable reputation even before he became a famous court musician.3 The court favorite at the time, Sarkīs, was jealous of Bārbad’s reputation and (fearing that he would be overshadowed) prevented him from coming to the court. One day, Bārbad met the royal gardener and persuaded him to allow Bārbad to remain in the garden incognito when the King came for a walk. At the appropriate time, Bārbad came in and hid in a tree. The King arrived with his courtiers. As he was being served a goblet of wine, Bārbad began to play.4 The King was amazed and asked who was playing; Bārbad stopped and stayed hidden. He began playing again as a second goblet was served to the King. Again, the King was deeply moved by the music, but Bārbad did not emerge. When the third goblet was served, Bārbad and his instrument set nature to music with such emotion that the King stood up and cried: “This must be an angel sent by God to bring us joy!” He begged the musician to show himself. Bārbad came down from the tree, fell to his knees and, from that moment, was the incomparable court musician. His name reflects his new status, as bār means “court” and bad means “possessor.”Bārbad’s musical supremacy was such that he could evoke at will any feeling in his audience. The story goes that the King had a black horse named Shabdīz, which he loved above all else, to the extent that he had decreed if Shabdīz should die, the person announcing such news to him would be executed. The fateful day came and nobody dared tell the King the sad news. Bārbad was given the task. So he composed a tune he called Shabdīz. When he went to the King and played it for him, the King exclaimed: “Shabdīz is dead!” Bārbad was subsequently assassinated, though no one knows whether it was the work of Sarkīs or one of his students.Sources disagree as to whether Nakīsā was a man or a woman and whether he or she was born in Persia or Greece.5 This musician’s favorite instrument was the harp, though Nakīsā was equally famous as a singer, with a musical standing almost as great as Bārbad’s. They met at the court of King Khosrow Parvīz and collaborated on the composition of the “royal modes.” In Kurdish gnosis, Nakīsā and Bārbad are bound by a deep and enduring spiritual love, comparable to that between Joseph and Jacob or Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. They endured the trial of separation and were finally reunited after overcoming a number of obstacles (tradition does not tell us the circumstances of either their parting or their reunion).According to Jean During, “Nakīsā and Bārbad is a (dastgāh), an Iranian mode with no particularly marked Kurdish character. It seems to belong properly to the school of Ostad Elahi. Its noble and serene expression suits equally well the instrumental solo as the cantillation of kalāms or mystical verses.”6 Ostad Elahi liked to honor the memory of these two illustrious musicians and often referred to them when he played their melody in the middle of an improvisation. In this piece, after a short introduction, the rhythm becomes livelier; the playing grows louder before taking an unexpected turn. A series of sudden changes occurs, achieving integration only as a result of Ostad’s virtuosity and technical mastery.<ol class="number"><li value=1>See CD, Destinations, vol. 2, Le Chant du Monde/Harmonia Mundi, 2008.</li><li value=2>Musique et Mystique dans les Traditions de I’lran, Paris, IFRI Peeters, (Book II, part 2), 1989.</li><li value=3>Tārīkh-e mūsīqī-e Iran (History of Music in Iran), by Hassan Mashhūn, published by Cimorgh, 1373 (Iranian calendar), vol. 1, p. 56-66.</li><li value=4>In the pre-Islamic period, wine was not forbidden in Persia.</li><li value=5>Tārīkh-e mūsīqī-e Iran, 66-67.</li><li value=6>Musique et Mystique.</li></ol>

Nakīsā and Bārbad Suite

We are immediately plunged into the heart of an intense musical landscape where rhythm and melody evolve along lines of continually renewed inspiration. These successive changes are perfectly executed: Notes added in a different mode, strong tempi sliding into a different rhythm, risky transpositions, unlikely modulations, etc. These are but a few examples of the boldness and complexity of Ostad Elahi’s musical project.Toward the end of the piece, the music gathers speed as if to sweep the listener into a dance of joy with a captivating rhythm. Nakīsā and Bārbad are reunited and their purely spiritual love intensifies with each moment they spend together, an exaltation expressed by the virtuosity and creativity of Ostad.

Reunion of Nakīsā and Bārbad

A recording of Farangī appeared on the CD Dialogue with the Beloved.1 Farangī, which literally means “Frankish” or “European,” is distinguished by a sense of the foreign or strange. “Farangī tuning” (kūk-e Farangī) is when the tanbur is tuned in seconds rather than the usual fourths, giving it an unusual color and atmosphere while allowing for great subtlety as the thumb plays on the low string. Ostad Elahi introduced this tuning to the tanbur, one that is rarely encountered in the Oriental lute family of instruments.Praise the Divine lies at the heart of this piece. It is preceded by a preparation, a sort of introduction that is characteristic of Ostad Elahi and to which he held the key, creating shades of meaning around lively playing in unison. Just as an orchestra tunes in preparation for a concert, successive rows playing an A, so too does Ostad appear to introduce all the beings taking part in the celebration and have them play in unison. The hymn of praise unfolds during the Zang-e shotorī theme, reaching a dense climax. Then, step by step, the atmosphere lightens until a passage of gentle sweetness is reached, where the murmur of the voice seems to fuse with the tanbur to express joy and gratitude. Yet Ostad Elahi’s music does not allow the listener to “settle” into any single state: he is instead drawn to a different place and made to break from what he is accustomed to. The music takes him ever further, toward other levels of perception, finishing with a zekr and a simple dance tune performed with the instrument.<ol class="number"><li value=1>Le Chant du Monde, 1997, reissued 2004.</li></ol>

Farangī Suite

This smooth, rhythmic recitative is a prayer to the Creator, expressing intense emotion in a deeply contemplative atmosphere. In a low voice and confidential tone, Ostad addresses simple and direct words to his Beloved.The tanbur is heard first, in a melody rising toward Him. Then Ostad begins his song, invoking Ali, a divine name. Voice and instrument mingle in total symbiosis throughout this appeal to divine clemency and mercy. Ostad Elahi plays here in a style entirely his own. One may occasionally recognize a theme from a previous recording, but closer listening will reveal that this is definitely an improvisation with the motifs unfolding in a totally unexpected manner. The passages evoking more familiar modes and themes (such as Hey Dāwed toward the end of the piece)1 are themselves played in an original way. Even listeners used to Ostad’s compositions can be taken unawares and led from one new experience to another. Ostad’s universe is infused with gentle sweetness, but the pain of separation from the Beloved can be clearly felt. The emotion is even more palpable when Ostad’s voice catches and the appeal becomes more urgent. According to Ostad, “weeping (in a spiritual state) soothes the soul and brings it joy; if music is based on the aspirations of the soul, it will be more attractive both in its technical and spiritual quality.” (Āsār ol-Haqq, vol. 2, 359-360). When the soul is touched, as it is by the awareness of separation from its Beloved, one cannot control one’s tears. Like purifying rain, they finally afford some relief.Ostad Elahi’s emotion inspires this poem, improvised as he plays:<blockquote>Ali (x 6) Ali, agar bogzarī, Ali (x 5) Ali, gonābāranān, Ali (x 7) djān Gonābāran yā Ali, Ali, Ali, Ali Gonām bar gardan, yā Ali, yā Ali, yā Ali Va gonāy sar va jīr-e bār yā Mowlām, Ali (x 5) Gonāy wīm bardan yā Mowlām āmān Ali (x 5) djān, Ali, Hū Sar va jīr-e bār Ali djān Mowlām Gonāy wīm bardanVa gonā(h) kārān mabū weyardan, ey Khodā-ye man, ey Mowlā-ye man Bī gonā(h) va kas ey Ali djān mennat nabardan, amān amān amān, amān Agar bogzarī, yā Mowlā-ye man va gonā(h)kārī Aw vakht malūman yā Mowlām to karamdārī Djān Ali, ey Khodā-ye man, Ali (x 4) karīmī, rahīmī, bozorgavārī Ey Khodā-ye man (x 3), Khodā-ye man (2 x) Ey khāleq-e man, ey Khodā-ye man Ey Ali, amān, Ali (x 6)</blockquote><blockquote>Ali Ali, Forgive me, O Ali My sins are innumerable, Ali, Ali my life Forgive me, Ali Take this weight from me, O Ali You are my refuge, O Ali My head bows under the weight of my sins Yes, I have been so remiss, O God With this burden on my heart, whom else shall I call upon, O Ali? I take refuge in Thee Pardon me, Lord And thus show Thy generosity Ali my Beloved, O Lord, You are generous, magnanimous, all-powerful O my God, my creator, my educator, my God</blockquote>Like Ali, the terms Mowlā (Lord), Khodā (God), Djān (Beloved), and Hū (Him) are expressions of the divinity, a way of invoking God.Then, to the slow Hey Dāwed theme:<blockquote>Yā Dāwed-e dāwedan Ali Hū har Dāwed-e khāsan Ey Khodā-ye man ey rabb-e man Yā Hayy yā qayyūm</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>See CD Destinations, vol. 1, Le Chant du Monde/Harmonia Mundi, 2008.</li></ol>

Bābā Jalīlī Invocation

Harmony, communion, and great sweetness are the keynotes of this ancient Kurdish zekr, played within the family circle.<blockquote>Yārān wa bāten ye dang-ī mayū / sedāy hey dayyār sarhang-ī mayūCompanions, from the world of the spirit comes a voice It is the voice of a Knight of God calling his divine Beloved</blockquote>"Knight" in this context refers to a high-ranking individual.

Yārān Wa Bāten Ye Dang-ī Mayū

This zekr was probably composed by Ostad in the 1930s, before a pilgrimage to the tomb of Soltān Eshāq.1 This impromptu recording was made at the point of breaking a forty-day fast (in fact, the beginning of the zekr is missing). Ostad had asked for all of his tanburs, chose a specific one, and played several zekrs, of which this is one.The choir is made up mainly of women and children in his family. There is a palpable intensity and the gathering shows great concentration, even though the intonation is shaky. When one voice sings spontaneously in thirds, there is an effect of “despatialization,” rare in this harmonic context. But more astonishing is the moment when the choir is responding and a different tanbur sound is distinctly heard; a low, highly rhythmic note, even though there was no other tanbur player in the room.<blockquote>Yā Soltān, āmān āgerem dāy / Dasht-e awrāmān wāvarem dāyO Soltān, mercy, You have set me aflame You have spread the plain of Awrāmān at my feet</blockquote>The meaning of these words is something of a mystery; they seem to refer to a personal spiritual event. At the end of this piece, which moved the participants deeply, Ostad can be heard addressing his family, a testimonial to the spiritual state that permeated the musical sessions he led: “When a family is united in heart, it can do anything… Had we spent ten years playing zekrs and praying, perhaps it would not have had as great an effect as this unity of heart in which we gathered as a family to approach God in one fervent outpouring. I hope God Almighty will always grant us the happiness of such faith and always look upon us with His benevolent gaze and light, as we unite in turning to Him with sincere faith and hearts to lead a life that is in accord with His contentment. Hū yā Ali; may God always grant us His blessings. This was truly a great joy for me.”<ol class="number"><li value=1>Soltān Eshāq, founder of the mystical order of the Ahl-e Haqq, lived in the 14th century.</li></ol>

Yā Soltān, Āmān Āgerem Dāy

As before, this dance piece is full of spiritual joy and begins powerfully, reinforced by a persistent humming on the low string. The listener is taken up in the movement, surrounded by the lightness and swirling rhythm of uninterrupted variations. In the sequence of tunes often played by Ostad, every change of rhythm creates a new atmosphere and carries one ever further. Then the music abruptly stops and silence sustains the emotion.

Harātī Suite

Presence

Tār

The story of Bābā Faqīh is one of the stories belonging to the Ahl-e Haqq tradition. Ostad Elahi was particularly fond of this piece and played it often, each time improvising a new variation, which required great virtuosity and mastery. The playing is light at first, in major tonalities, leading to a more poignant expression with the introduction of the Sheykh Amīrī piece. This precedes the vocals that slowly lead the piece into the developments of Bābā Faqīhī. Throughout the piece, there are allusions to many other suites and there is a smooth and continuous succession of different modes, revealing total freedom in the rendering of the piece.The transitions eventually lead to the Jang Ārā piece, a part of the Jelo Shāhī suite. The theme of this piece depicts the preparations for, and feverish anticipation of, a great event: the coming of the theophany—the height of the spiritual quest for seekers of Truth—expressed by the words “Shām āmā” (“My King has come”). Combined with a quick and light melody, the lively rhythm and persistent bass of the tanbur gradually contribute to creating an intense spiritual emotion among the listeners.

Supplication in the Bābā Faqīhī Suite

The term Samā can have two meanings: either “audition” in the sense of spiritual audition, or “cosmic dance.” According to the great Persian mystic and poet Mowlānā Rūmī, “The Samā is only a part of the eternal dance that the soul is destined to join someday. Every creature partakes in this cosmic dance. . . .” Based on Ostad’s description of the universal process of perfection that animates all of creation, this piece is inspired by a beautiful choreography: from the initial descent from the Source to the ascending movement of return that lifts beings to their perfection, every level of creation is involved in this celestial dance.Translated literally, Qara chūpī (qara: black, chūpī: dance), means “dance in black clothes.” This dance is performed by some Iranian Kurds when a close relative passes away. The apparent mortuary symbolism of this piece is strangely in contrast with its lively tempo, and one may wonder why Ostad has linked a mourning dance to the celestial dance of Samā, which is an exultation of life in all its forms, a life that is endless and eternally in motion.

Qara Chūpī Suite, and its Samā introduction

This recording dates back to the early 50s and is one of the most ancient recordings of Ostad’s music. Slow and meditative at first, almost an incantation, the suite gradually becomes more animated. Ostad plays on three registers simultaneously (low, medium, and sharp) and superimposes “layers” of overlapping melodies, with persistent sounds that create a universe of harmonies utterly foreign to any established rules. The radical and unpredictable changes of rhythm do not, however, alter the cohesion of the piece. This musical language is both quite puzzling and strangely familiar. It seems that one is always hearing it for the first time, recognizing elements of a structure that is undoubtedly solid and fully mastered, but nevertheless difficult to completely grasp and comprehend.

Samā Suite

In Ostad Elahi’s repertoire, the Tchapī suite is often played, in a developed form or as a passing reference within another suite. Like for every other piece, it is never played in the same way. The five-string tanbur produces a multitude of different tones: sometimes dry and metallic, sometimes soft and velvety; sometimes round and full and other times snappy like percussions. All the technical possibilities of the instrument are being used here. The "bourdon", often played with two notes, underlies a steady rhythm. In the medium register, the master combines chords in a way that would be improbable in any western or even eastern structure. He produces unknown tones and harmonies with a totally novel instrument, created by him. And he is the only one to know its secrets. It is about this piece that Ostad once said, that everything that exists has an ever-lasting effect.

Tchapī Suite II

Celestial Dances

In its basic form, this melody is attributed to Sheykh Amīr, an eighteenth-century Kurdish mystic. Following a sudden spiritual awakening, this illiterate shepherd composed numerous poems with deep spiritual meaning and rich symbolic imagery.Sheykh Amīr played the tanbur in a simple yet captivating manner. This melody became widely known and was often sung as an invitation to heartfelt communication with God. “Sheykh Amīrī” has since become a generic term describing a mode in which numerous melodies have been composed. Each of these melodies is called “Sheykh Amīrī,” followed by the name of the composer or arranger, or the name of the region where it is played. There are seventeen variations of this melody, from the simplest, that of Sheykh Amīr himself, to the most elaborate, that of Ostad Elahi.The melody revolves around a mysterious scale of alternating tones and semitones, creating a dissonant counterpoint with the lower strings. The ebb and flow of the melody produced by the instrument are similar to waves dying on the shore, one after another, converging toward the final note where all dissonance is resolved and all tensions fade away.This melody, one of the most moving in Ostad Elahi’s repertoire, reminds the soul of its origin, awakening it and uncovering memories deeply buried, inducing a sense of longing for its original abode. The melodic pattern is often accompanied by chanted verses from Sheykh Amīr in the form of an intimate dialogue, the last verse of which addresses the Creator:<blockquote>Delay gonāhkār, delay zabūnbakht, cha azal gonāhkār Ar cha rūy azal mowyāī borda-bār, pey chīsh makaftī, dūr tcha qāpī yār Sobh-o shām sajdat āw bashar maward, salwātet wa dīn hazerāt makard  Weyarday sālān ablay nāshenākht, majnūn-e kam fām nābīnāy kajbakht Awan sang-e sakht dāy wa dīdey weyt, yak yak namāyān gesht āmā nareyt Ozr-e mazurīt wa kī nakīshā, cha [wa] bordabārī pīshat na īshā To narāy khedmat darset kam wānā, tārīkī pāy sham wa to namānā  Marham cha qāpī yār-e māyadār, bebakhshū gonāh kalb-e gonāhkār</blockquote><blockquote>O sinner heart, how weak and destitute Sinner since the dawn of creation If only you had shown more patience in the beginning How you have lacked respect and patience What have you done to distance yourself from the divine abode? From morning till night, you prostrated yourself before men Adoring their idols So many years on, you who still fail to understand You who are drowning in ignorance O mindless creature, blind and miserable! All for this heavy stone to strike your eyes! One by one, you have suffered the consequences [of your faults] Is there anyone you have not humiliated yourself before? The suffering you have endured has reached the depths of your being You have not drawn enough lessons along the Path Instead you have become the shadow at the base of the candle The remedy to relieve my pain Must be sought from that supreme Sage Won’t you have mercy and absolve this humble servant of his sins?</blockquote>Ostad Elahi played exclusively in the presence of his family and close friends. As can be heard on this recording, at the conclusion of the piece he recounts the date as the night before Sunday, March 21, 1965, which marked the beginning of Nowruz, the Persian New Year. He expresses his hope that the piece has been helpful in drawing the attention of his listeners toward the realm of truth.

Ostad Elahi's Sheykh Amīrī

a. Ostad Elahi's Sheykh Amīrī (return) b. Hādj Nemat’s Sheykh AmīrīThe theme of this melody belongs to Hādj Nemat, Ostad’s father. Ostad has enriched it to such an extent that it is now considered one of the jewels of the tanbur repertoire.

Sheykh Amīrī Suite

a. "Wa Fedāy Manzelgāt"One summer as Ostad was completing the 40th day of his ascetic fasting in the mountains of Sheykhān, a dervish nearby, seized by a state of spiritual rapture, began supplicating his Lord. Overwhelmed by the dervish's sincerity, Ostad was inspired with this prayer and melody:<blockquote>Wa fedāy manzelgāt Ali Pāy sheykhānet bām Nazr-e tchāwakey Ali Jām jahānet bām Dīnem dīna, shām Khoshīna Shād bāy (ke) shādem kardanī Wa pāy Shender Kū Ali feyzem dādanīMy all I will give when I find You, O Ali I found You at Sheykhān1 My all I will give for those eyes, O Ali, which behold the universe My religion is The Religion, my King is Shāh Khoshīn Rejoice, O You who have filled me with joy At the foothill of Mount Shender,2 O Ali, You granted me grace.</blockquote>Ostad Elahi used to say: “True prayer consists in praising God: worshipping Him, supplicating Him, submitting to His will, regardless of the words used, the names given, or the manner in which He is invoked.”The melody begins with a typically Kurdish rhythm consisting of three notes, which can be interpreted as 2 x 5 beats (3 2 2 3). The musical architecture then becomes increasingly complex as other themes come into play, echoing one another, interacting, melting, and giving rise to an entirely new melody. The performer plays with the elements and constantly rearranges them, yet the overall impression is one of deep unity.b. Improvisation on Tchapī Tchapī ("alternating steps") is a Kurdish dance tune in which the steps alternate between forward and backward. Tchapī’s theme arises in a natural way from the developments of the preceding melody, alternating with other tunes on slower beats and other patterns reappearing throughout the whole improvisation. The transition from a slow rhythm to a faster one is revived and guided to its peak through passages of great virtuosity, consisting of a progression of chords in the high register. The piece concludes with a return to the original rhythm. This tune is suggestive of communicating with God, which for some may take the form of a dance. As Ostad has said, “Each individual enters into an intimate dialogue with his Creator according to his or her own particular mood. . . .”<ol class="number"><li value=1>The shrine of Soltān Eshāq, where Ostad would often travel on pilgrimage.</li><li value=2>Mount Shender is located near the shrine of Soltān Eshāq.</li></ol>

Mystical Hymns and Dances

a. Shāh Hoseynī (Tune of Shāh Hoseyn) The origin of this melody is unknown. The first notes sound a call, with a counterpoint in the low register. Sometimes Ostad lingers on one or two notes, or keeps the beat in a more persistent way, as if wishing to give weight to a request. Then a very strange harmony arises and the link is established: one wanders about in marvelous musical landscapes in a higher register. After returning to the initial theme, a more joyful polyphonic passage is rendered in a lower pitch.b. Bālā Dastān (Lower register of the tanbur’s neck) The name of this traditional tune suggests that it is played in a low pitch, but Ostad Elahi develops it by utilizing the full register of the tanbur.c. Zīr-e Dastān (Higher register of the tanbur’s neck) This piece suggests a free play of questions and answers between the high (zīr) register and the low (bālā) register, corresponding to the last seven frets and the first seven frets, respectively. The mode is joyful, resembling the major mode; certain passages give the impression that two tanburs are playing at the same time.d. Do Bālā Bālā refers to a particular segment of the scale. Some believe that this is also the melody of a dance where one stretches out the arms like two (do) wings (bāl).e. Karīm Khānī (Tune of Karīm Khān) The enthusiasm is sustained until a change in the rhythm generates a gradual appeasement.f. Chūpānī (Tune of the Shepherd) The atmosphere is more serene now, the melody recited on the instrument. There are only a few reminders of the previous agitation, like an inner murmur.g. Bārīya Bārīya (Royal Court) The title of this piece alludes to the Court of the Lord, the Divine Threshold. This melody was a song before being conveyed in its instrumental form. The title also refers to a chapter of the Kurdish sacred scriptures (15th century, Ahl-e Haqq) in which one of Soltān Sahāk's seven companions is said to have discovered his own divine essence and recalled all of his successive manifestations in the course of sacred history. The chromatic theme is at once strange and fascinating. The intervals formed with the lower voice, as well as the rhythm, produce an air of majesty.

Haqq Haqq-e Hū Hū

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Renditions of Haqq Haqq-e Hū Hū

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Haqq Haqq-e Hū HūVocal

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Haqq Haqq-e Hū Hū