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

Hādj Nematollāh

Tanbur

Vocal

Fourths (Sheykh Amīrī)

This suite, which literally means “Before the King,” evokes the imperial rites of ancient Persia transposed to the spiritual level. In anticipation of the King’s arrival, we witness the preparations for His coming, which eventually culminate in the ecstasy of His arrival. The names of God (Ali, Haqq, Hū, etc.) and the seven archangels of the tradition (Benyāmīn, Dāwūd, Pīr Mūsī, Mostafā, Yādegār, Shāh Ebrāhīm, Pīr Razbār) are chanted during the piece.<blockquote>a) Slow Khān Amīrī (Melody of Khāns and Emirs) b) Rapid Khān Amīrī (Melody of Khāns and Emirs) c) Gardūne (The Gathering) d) Jelo Shāhī (Greeting the King) e) Sawār Sawār (Horsemen, Horsemen) f) Jang Ārā (Ornaments of War) g) Mobārak Bādā (Blessed be All) h) Sepā (Three Dance Steps) i) Sejārān (Three Dance Steps)</blockquote>

Jelo Shāhī Suite

This ancient melody is dedicated to Dāwūd, the manifestation of the archangel Raphael. It was also called “Ney Dāwūd,” a likely allusion to the flute (ney) of the prophet David (Dāwūd).<blockquote>a) Mobārak Bādā1 b) Samā (Spiritual Concert) c) Slow Hey Dāwed (O Dāwūd) d) Rapid Hey Dāwed (O Dāwūd)</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>Ostad Elahi was inspired with this melody while on pilgrimage to the shrine of Ali.</li></ol>

Hey Dāwed Suite and Hymns

a. Saharī Saharī (“of the dawn”) was played at dawn to awaken dervishes for prayer. Unfortunately, the recording of this improvisation was interrupted in the midst of its development.b. Gol va Khār This air evokes the alternating states of sadness and joy of the performer.

Saharī Suite

The name of this air evokes the chant (Khānī) of the starling (sār); it may also be a reference to the saint (Sārū Khān) who composed it. The verses sung here are from a prayer attributed to Imam Ali. Originally in Arabic, Ostad translated them into Persian.<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>

Sārū Khānī (Song of the Starling)

The Celestial Music of Ostad Elahi

Shām Āmā

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 Haqq-e Hū Hū

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

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

CD 2

This suite, the pure expression of a profound quest wherein material preoccupations have no role, is the supplication of one who aspires solely to meeting and reuniting with the Beloved. The piece has moments of pure imploration calling upon the intercession of Bābā Yādegār, Soltān’s companion and the manifestation of one of the seven archangels. His indifference to base worldly matters makes him a symbol of the esoteric aspects of the relationship with God.The story of Ābedīn is one of the accounts passed on orally in the Ahl-e Haqq tradition; it is included in The Book of the Kings of Truth, a mystical epic written around 1912 by Ostad Elahi’s father, Hādj Nematollāh. Ostad himself has written a detailed commentary on this work entitled Hāshīye bar Haqq ol-Haqāyeq. The story of Ābedīn is as follows: A devout man at the time of Soltān had four sons, three of whom embraced the mystical faith of their father and believed in Soltān as the earthly manifestation of the divine essence. But the fourth son, Ābedīn, denounced this mystical approach as heresy, placing his enthusiasm and faith in Islamic theology and jurisprudence instead. According to Ābedīn, the salvation of the soul lay in the literal study of the holy texts and the rigorous application of exoteric rules. He felt such animosity toward Soltān and his followers that he even strewed thorns along the path leading to Soltān’s abode to lacerate the feet of pilgrims going to see him.When Ābedīn’s father sought Soltān’s counsel, the latter replied, “Leave your son alone. Though he doesn’t possess the same faith as your other children, his soul is even purer than theirs. The day he reaches illumination, he will become as my own son.”A few days later, Ābedīn, engrossed in his theological studies, felt a wave of mystical exaltation rising within him, something he had never experienced till that day. Suddenly lifted outside of himself, he found himself projected into another dimension where the secrets of creation were revealed to him and his previous lives were disclosed to him.When he came to, he was no longer the same man. Whatever he gazed upon, even the tiniest thing, he could feel the presence of Soltān’s essence. As though inebriated with this essence, he threw all his books and lessons into the water; they were no longer of any use to him. While all this was happening, a few beautiful young women were sitting at the water’s edge. Ābedīn’s teacher (a holy man) had witnessed the whole event, but thought Ābedīn’s wild gestures were a reaction to seeing the beautiful young women and designed merely to attract their attention; he rebuked him, invoking punishment and divine wrath. But Ābedīn’s feelings were elsewhere. His newly enlightened heart longed for different shores. In a state of exaltation, oscillating between passion and remorse, he rushed off toward the abode of his Beloved and henceforth became one of Soltān’s close companions.In this suite, Ostad Elahi sings some lines from the long poem recounting the story of Ābedīn. The instrument is tuned in fifths (Tarz). From the very start, we are plunged into the heart of a deep meditation. In spite of the reduced range of the melody in the early part of the work, it is extremely intense. The notes of the motif never follow one another in the same manner. Through ornamentation, rhythm, and phrasing and their different combinations, the whole piece is constantly renewed and recreated. The play of chromatic fifths between the lower and higher registers gives dramatic fullness to the piece, expressing the noble quality of the quest. A counter-melody played in chromatic notes on the low string imbues the work with a mood of deep longing and nostalgia, a sign of the heartrending suffered due to separation from the Beloved.A few lyrical passages at the higher end of the scale reinforce these feelings, which are then aroused again by their seemingly obvious musical treatment in the form of the most delicate intervals (a succession of fifths, augmented fourths, a major seventh). Finally, the voice joins the instrument in its expression of this quest.

Suite Ābedīnī, with a Yādegārī Introduction

<blockquote>Yār dīdagīānī, Benyāmīn pīra Pīr Mūsī vazīr / Dāwed dasgīraO Friends, / Benyāmīn is the leader Pīr Mūsī oversees the register / Dāwūd is the intercessor (the succor, the savior).</blockquote>Three more of Soltān’s companions are invoked with regards to their mission. In fact, in the spiritual hierarchy of the Ahl-e Haqq, several individuals guide those who are making their way toward the spiritual Ruler, the manifestation of spiritual enlightenment and divine Truth. These include the Dalīl, who guides the soul, and the Pīr, who intercedes and establishes a link between the soul and the Divine.<blockquote>Dowr-e yārāna Haqq o Haqq / Rahmat wārāna Haqq o HaqqThis is the reign of God’s friends / The rain of goodness showers upon God’s friends.</blockquote>The “reign of God’s friends” can have several meanings, including a period in which divine grace showers down upon God’s friends—those who genuinely love Him—like a gentle, restorative rain shower (wārān).

Hymns

Kākā Redā was one of the close companions of Shāh Khoshīn, who was among the 11th century theophanies according to the Ahl-e Haqq. It is due to Shāh Khoshīn that the tanbur became the choice instrument for expressing spiritual love. The spare structure and slow tempo of the mode make it difficult to perform. There is immense delicacy in Ostad’s highly-individualized ornamentation. The language of his music is transcendent, a supplication addressed to the Beloved, an intimate conversation tinged with sweet gentleness and closeness, yet containing within it strong energy and high tension.Seyd Khāmūsh, who occupied the rank of an archangel, lived around the 15th century. His name has been attributed to a mode presenting certain analogies to Kākā Redāī, but the mystery as to its precise author remains. In general, it’s difficult to know the extent to which tunes named after holy figures were actually part of their personal creation or a tribute to them. Whatever the case may be, their music is present in the history of the Ahl-e Haqq, with nostalgia, lamentations, and the never-ending quest for the Beloved as recurring themes throughout.

Kākā Redāī followed by the Saharī Suite of Seyd Khāmūsh

The literal meaning of shān jonbān[ak] is “to move one’s shoulders.” Ostad Elahi used to say that if one could not move one’s shoulders according to the movements suggested by this dance, then one would never be able to play it properly. What’s more, he was the only person able to reproduce the rhythm to perfection on his instrument, thereby imparting momentum to a whole assembly.The scansion of the rhythm here carries listeners to new heights. The dance-like quality of the music is present throughout the work in spite of certain more nostalgic passages and those that are simply played more slowly. Ostad takes passages from several other themes, reshaping them as he likes on new rhythms. He even goes so far as to strip down the theme with a pizzicato by the left hand, before the twirl and the dance resume more beautifully.

Shān Jonbān[ak]

This ancient tune from pre-Islamic times enables us to understand the amazing powers of expression reached in a tessitura as concise as a tone and a half. Indeed, the suite of three sustained semitones acting as an ostinato that this short piece gradually builds generates a tension that is truly unheard of. The apparent lack of movement is the pretext for Ostad to install the dynamics of his music, using changing rhythms and a profusion of subtle embellishments that endow each note with unusual depth and relief. The listener is not accustomed to this, but anyone who is willing to let oneself be guided by the sounds will find they touch both mind and soul alike. It is as though a mere few notes hold both a time and a place immemorial condensed within them. The tension is somewhat relieved when a diminished fourth is reached, then right at the end of the piece, when the perfect fourth bursts through to introduce the following key, the space opens up as though suddenly filled with light.

Tarz

Nakīsā and Bārbad are two characters from Ancient Persia, both famous court musicians for the Sassanid King Khosrow Parvīz in the early years of the 7th century. In Kurdish gnosis, they are thought to be linked by an absolute, unfailing spiritual love, similar to the one that united Joseph and Jacob or Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. In spite of having to undergo the trials of separation, they overcame all the obstacles before them and were finally reunited. Ostad Elahi was fond of honoring their memory and would often say their names aloud when he included their melody in the middle of an improvised passage.As with all the melodies in the Tarz mode, the Nakīsā and Bārbad suite is weighted with nostalgic longing, for these ancient tunes are charged with the feelings and emotions of entire generations of mystics who sacrificed themselves along the path to God. In spite of its apparent simplicity, this composition is quite difficult to play, for if everything is not absolutely right (such as the harmony and rhythm), the desired effect will not be obtained. The Tarz mode requires subtlety and interiority; if performed as such, it will touch the innermost core of the listener.

Nakīsā and Bārbad Suite

CD 1

Sheykh Amīrī is a generic term designating a type of melody and a specific way of tuning the tanbur in fourths, known as kūk-e Sheykh Amīrī. The basic melody dates back to the time of Sheykh Amīr, an 18th century Kurdish mystic who was a simple, illiterate shepherd. As a result of a sudden illumination and spiritual awakening, he was inspired with numerous symbolic poems replete with mystical and philosophical teachings.Ever since Sheykh Amīr, this melody has become the archetypal musical appeal to the Beloved in the context of this mystical tradition. It is often sung at the beginning of a religious meeting to prepare the adherents to detach themselves from their worldly preoccupations and to meditate on their true origins and the homeland from which they’ve been separated. It is usually followed by other more lively pieces with a stronger rhythm.Ostad Elahi’s repertoire contains seventeen variations of the melody, some of which go under the title of Sheykh Amīrī followed by a person’s name, for each one is attributed to its composer; others are designed to pay tribute to a spiritual personality (e.g., Sheykh Amīrī-e Hādj Nemat, Sheykh Amīrī-e Shāh Hayāsī); still others go under the title of Sheykh Amīrī followed by the name of the region where they’re traditionally played (e.g., Sheykh Amīrī-e Gūrān (from the Gūrān area), Sheykh Amīrī-e atrāf-e Sahne (from the Sahne area, with its three variants)). The least complex of these different versions is that of Sheykh Amīr himself, and the most elaborate that of Ostad Elahi.The suite featured on the present CD comprises all the versions of Sheykh Amīrī, one of the most captivating and meditativepiecesin the Ostad Elahi’s whole Ostad Elahi’s repertoire. Each of the seventeen melodies expresses a close personal relationship with the Beloved, embellished, ornamented, and integrated into a varied yet homogenous whole. The introduction, soft but dense, immediately demonstrates the exceptional talent and finesse of Ostad.The Sheykh Amīrī piece is inherently simple but difficult to execute. In general, the song provides the matrix that enables the basic structure of the melody to be preserved while offering infinite possibilities for variation. In the case of Sheykh Amīrī, however, the two do not coincide and matching song to the tanbur is indeed a perilous exercise. To add to this difficulty, Ostad Elahi’s personal style consists of rich and subtle ornamentation, using shors1, vibrations, vibratos, and the plucking of strings, all of which require a technique that demands extreme dexterity.It should not be forgotten that the tanbur uses a regular chromatic scale, and dividing the octave into twelve semitones of equal value means any melody can be played on any basic note, thereby offering an infinite number of combinations. The numerous passages occur in what seems like a random order, though it is in fact predetermined, always producing a feeling of meditation even in passages where the rhythm is tenser and less stable, especially toward the end of the piece with the passage of a perfect fifth to an augmented fifth. But calm returns with Ostad’s version. In spite of its density, this part gives a profound impression of deep peace; from an uninterrupted flow of music and a cascade of notes somehow emerges a feeling of serenity and gentle melancholy tinged with sweetness, one of the paradoxes of Ostad’s style.<ol class="number"><li value=1>The shor is a roll, a tremolo typical of the Kurdish tanbur style. Ostad Elahi perfected a technique in which each finger was used autonomously, quite distinct from the others. The most frequently occurring shor consists of striking the string with the fleshy part of the fingertips of the right hand, one finger after the other, at a constant speed so as to produce a continuo.</li></ol>

Sheykh Amīrī Suite

A series of three hymns devoted to Dāwūd (Dāwed in Kurdish), the manifestation of Raphael, the archangel of divine clemency and one of Soltān’s close companions.1 Ostad Elahi was especially fond of Dāwūd, about whom he would say: “I rejoice when Dāwūd’s name is invoked, for he is the embodiment of goodness. He has been granted permanent permission to intervene and doesn’t need to make a special request to Soltān for each individual case. Dāwūd has never been observed to become angry with anyone, for he is pure goodness and kindness from head to toe.”2 Similarly, Ostad states: “There are a few people whose names bring sheer pleasure to my ears: Christ, for his goodness toward all living beings . . . Dāwūd, the personification of mercy, who is always present, ready to help anyone in need.”3 Ostad sings three songs one after the other, beginning with the slowest and proceeding to the most rapid, as though drawing the participants into this invocation to Dāwūd.1. Hey Dāwed (slow)<blockquote>Hey Dāwed, gīān Dāwed O Dāwūd, life Dāwūd</blockquote>This first appeal, charged with longing, is very rich harmonically, with numerous variations and modulations. The slow tempo makes it difficult to perform. Ostad rarely played as long as he did on this occasion. Some of those close to him comprise the assembly around him, and spontaneously take up the refrains when moved by the emotions of the supplication. The supplication closes with a passage on the tanbur recalling the introduction.2. Hey Dāwed (faster)The piece begins in an almost relaxed manner, but gradually draws the listener along through its uninterrupted, insistent rhythm, offering an identical drone throughout to form an immense symbiosis between the low notes of the chant and the high ones of the chorus.3. Hey Dāwed (fast)<blockquote>Hey Dāwed, Haqq gīān Dāwed / Dīn Dāwed, īmān Dāwed O Dāwūd, Haqq, life, Dāwūd / Religion, Dāwūd, faith, Dāwūd</blockquote>This very old hymn was recorded informally in the intimate context of a family gathering. No other musician or professional singer was present, simply a few people whose fervor gives the chorus its special quality. In spite of the rather rudimentary conditions of these recordings with a single microphone positioned haphazardly, a natural balance has been achieved between the chanting, the voices, and the instrument.<ol class="number"><li value=1>Soltān Sahāk (or Eshāq), founder of the mystical order of the Ahl-e Haqq, lived in the 14th century.</li><li value=2>Āsār ol-Haqq, vol. 1, sayings 1442, 1441.</li><li value=3>Ibid., saying 1355.</li></ol>

Hey Dāwed Hymns

This track marks a pinnacle in the art of improvisation, a kind of journey of initiation where several tunes are evoked, refreshed, placed alongside each other, ornamented, and rendered more complex, both through changes of rhythm and the counter-melody on the low register string. Ostad enjoys making them talk, sing, and laugh all at once in the most disconcertingly natural way. He seems to be setting out on an adventure without any predetermined musical schema; he plucks whatever comes his way and uses it each time as the starting point for a new creation, only more complex and more finely wrought. He shapes the melodies at will, like clay softened in his hands, much like his instrument, which also becomes wax under his touch. Technical difficulties vanish, as in the two-chord passage using the Farangī chord, where improvisation is notoriously hard. Whereas each melody he alludes to is normally presented in a single block, with any omission likely to cause the whole thing to collapse, Ostad takes the liberty of moving things around, taking things out here and there and putting them elsewhere, perhaps even a second time, without ever altering the inner cohesion and harmony of the whole.Throughout the piece, the binary and tertiary rhythms alternate smoothly. A melody usually expressed in binary rhythm makes a foray into a ternary section before completing its transformation into a new motif altogether. Most unusually, a daf (frame drum) accompanies the tanbur here. In fact, in spite of its simplicity, the tanbur is a complete instrument in itself; the right hand marks the rhythm very clearly as well as all the desired variants, such that no other instrument is needed. This is the first recording among all the releases of Ostad Elahi on the tanbur where he has a percussion accompaniment, but its support is extremely sober and does not seek the limelight. The percussionist here is Hādj Amīn, Ostad Elahi’s eldest son. As well as being an outstanding daf player, Hādj Amīn was also an exceptional tanbur player and a connoisseur of the Kurdish dance repertoire.

Improvisation in Bābā Jalīlī in Fourths Followed by the Suite Zang-e Shotorī in Seconds

Destinations

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>

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

Instrumental

Ostad was well-versed in the techniques and repertories of instruments in the Persian classical tradition. The influence of the classical tradition became perceptible in his playing of the tanbur, which in turn inspired his interpretation of pieces in the classical Persian repertory. Seeking to achieve a synthesis of the Persian and Kurdish lutes (the setār and tanbur, respectively), he designed and built an original instrument—a tanbur with five strings—that enabled him to integrate the characteristic techniques of the setār and the tanbur. It was on this five-string tanbur, which he alone could play, that Ostad expresses himself here in a piece entitled the Qatār suite.The term Qatār covers a wide range of meanings. Depending on the context, it can mean advancement, train, caravan, convoy, chain, link, or liaison. In addition to being the name of a musical mode in the repertory of the classical Iranian tradition, Qatār also designates an ancient modal suite that provides the origins of the modern mode, whose resonances can be heard echoing in certain peculiarities in Ostad’s playing. The Qatār mode is a profound, intimate mode that is not very rhythmic, evoking a sense of prayer and contemplation. What is remarkable here is the way in which Ostad fleshes out his interpretation of some twenty pieces that he describes as being in the Qatār mode, playing them in the aura, tonality, and tuning characteristic of Qatār while connecting one piece to the next with the fluidity of a cascade. Approximately forty minutes in length, the Qatār suite rendered here is considered among the most complete recordings that remain of Ostad’s music.

Cascade

Tanbur Panj Sīmī

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>

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>

“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>

Shām Āmā

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Shām ĀmāVocal

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Shām Āmā