This air manifests the pure expression of a profound quest wherein material preoccupations have no role; it is the supplication of one who aspires solely to meeting and reuniting with the Beloved.

This air manifests the pure expression of a profound quest wherein material preoccupations have no role; it is the supplication of one who aspires solely to meeting and reuniting with the Beloved.

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

Tanbur

Ābedīn

Vocal

Fifths (Tarz)

Ābedīnī

Shāh Khoshīnī

Kākā Redāī

Bābā Sarhangī

Bābā Nāūsī (Nāvūsī)

Bābā Jalīlī

Yādegārī

Seyd Mohammadī

Tan-e Amīrī

Tarz-e Erfānī

Bābā Faqīhī

Bābā Tāherī

This first piece is attributed to two prominent figures of the Ahl-e Haqq tradition,1 considered to be theophanies: Bābā Sarhang and Bābā Nāūs, who lived between the 10th and 12th centuries. Whereas the spirit of self-abnegation and self-sacrifice along the divine path characterized the mystical love of Bābā Sarhang, the main focus of Bābā Nāūs was to warn us of the need to emerge from our spiritual amnesia in this world and to concern ourselves with our spiritual destiny in the hereafter: "Do you think the eye that is blind today can tomorrow see? Beware that day when you shall be blinded to all that He has revealed.”2The uniqueness of this piece lies in the fact that the entire session, from the moment the instrument is taken in hand and tuned to the concluding words that are uttered, has been recorded. The atmosphere is intimate, with only a few close acquaintances and relatives in attendance. The tuning of the tanbur can be heard, mixed with ambient noise, before the transition to playing begins with a sweet melody. The repetition of the same note that follows the first melodic phrases creates a kind of weightlessness. The playing gradually intensifies, as one can hear various melodies enriched with ornaments. The mood suddenly shifts to a joyful melody that invites a dance, as the melody alternates from one chord to another. Prompted by Ostad, a daf (frame drum) joins in; despite its overpowering presence and the rudimentary recording equipment,3 the sound of the tanbur can still be heard. Ostad Elahi was seldom accompanied by the daf—this accompaniment marks one of only two known instances to have been recorded.4After concluding the sequence with the words “Hū avval-o ākherem Yār, Yā Ali”5 (You are my beginning and my end, O Ali), Ostad Elahi takes the daf and, exceptionally, plays a few beats, providing an example of the balance and solemnity with which he played this instrument.<ol class="number"><li value=1>A mystical tradition of Western Iran.</li><li value=2>Ostad Elahi would often utter this phrase, which comes from Majma ol-Kalām, a manuscript of the kalāms of the Ahl-e Haqq tradition. Based on his in-depth knowledge of his native tradition, Ostad Elahi gathered together and rectified these kalāms, removing in the process any nonauthentic extraneous additions.</li><li value=3>A single analog, non-directional microphone.</li><li value=4>In all of Ostad Elahi’s recordings published to date, the daf can be heard only once: on Destinations (Paris: Le Chant du Monde, 2008), vol. 1, track 3.</li><li value=5>Invoking Ali, a great saint in the Shiite tradition and son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad, is a way of invoking the divinity.</li></ol>

Bābā Sarhangī and Bābā Nāūsī (Nāvūsī) Suite

The three zekrs1 in this suite are addressed to Soltān;2 the first and third were composed by Ostad, while the second was composed by his father Hādj Nemat.3The first zekr is characterized by a recurring chord that concludes each phrase of the chant. An astute listener will hear a number of improvised movements of rhythm, creating the impression of multiple instruments being played at the same time.<blockquote>Soltān Sahākī Ali gīān Shāy tanīā tākī Ali gīānO Ali, my Beloved, you are Soltān Sahāk, the Lord O Ali, my Beloved, you are the unique and peerless King</blockquote>The second and third zekrs are quite close from a melodic standpoint and are especially rhythmic. Behind the simple chant lies a highly dense melody with a multitude of subtle variations and ornaments.<blockquote>Soltān-e mardān yā Ali Shafāy kol dardān yā AliYou are the Sovereign of all beings, O Ali You are the remedy for all ills, O AliSoltān sar jam Hū Hū Zāt-esh va jam Hū HūSoltān, He presides over the gathering, Hū Hū His essence is present in this gathering, Hū Hū</blockquote>As is often the case, this series of zekrs ends with “Hū avval-o ākherem Yār” (He! [You] are my beginning and my end).<ol class="number"><li value=1>A zekr is a sacred hymn in which participants repeat the refrains in chorus.</li><li value=2>Soltān Sahāk (or Eshāq) was a great theophany of the fourteenth centuries and is considered the founder of the Ahl-e Haqq order, the mystical tradition in which Ostad Elahi was raised. Addressing Soltān is also a way of invoking the Divinity, as is invoking Hū, which refers to both the personal pronoun "He" and the "Breath."</li><li value=3>A writer and mystical poet in the Kurdish and Persian languages, Hādj Nemat is regarded as a great saint of the Ahl-e Haqq tradition.</li></ol>

Suite of Zekrs

This supplication alternates between high and low tones, with restrained and more intense melodies—such as a shor phrase1 (2'11)—rising up and immediately subsiding. Ostad uses different playing techniques from the tanbur and the setār2 to produce successive waves of notes that unfold in a permanent drone on the low note.<ol class="number"><li value=1>A kind of roll produced by the right hand.</li><li value=2>The Persian setār is a classical instrument belonging to the family of long-neck lutes. It initially had three strings, but it is said that a fourth string was added in the eighteenth century by Moshtāq Alīshāh, an ecstatic mystic and legendary musician who was a setār master. The right-hand playing technique involves only the index finger, which plucks the strings in a back and forth movement, whereas Ostad's technique on the tanbur uses all five fingers of the right hand.</li></ol>

Supplication in the Bābā Jalīlī Suite

This piece is played on the choghūr,1 the traditional instrument of the Azerbaijani bards. This rare choghūr was built in Hamadān, though it resembles the shape of instruments from Urmia, with two rows of three and four strings. Dating from the 19th century, it features a carvel-built body with mulberry ribs and soundboard and a hollow ornate neck, attesting to its authenticity. The name “Seyyed Ali” has been carved on its soundboard.Gereylī is part of what Ostad Elahi called the “Turkish suites," or, more precisely, the main "royal suites.” The denomination of these pieces, which capture the intensity of one’s relationship with the Beloved, refers to the time of the first Safavid Persian kings (from 1501), who were Turkish-speaking.The melody here is joyful, and the configuration of the instrument with its many strings offers a wide spectrum of harmonic resonances. Ostad plays this instrument in his own unique way, using a cherry wood plectrum between his thumb and index finger, as is customary, while keeping the other three fingers free to produce rolls (shor) that he would combine with the plectrum strokes.The day this piece was recorded on tape, Ostad Elahi played several of his instruments and, to the surprise of those in attendance, picked up the choghūr and demonstrated considerable mastery of the instrument. In fact, Ostad Elahi had learned to play the choghūr during his youth and was intimately familiar with its repertoire. In addition, he had innovated its playing technique, notably by introducing the shor (roll). He played the choghūr less frequently over time and stopped playing it altogether during the latter years of his life, which imparts this singular moment with even greater value. Subsequently, he recorded the entire Turkish suites—some twenty pieces—in a single session. The only other recording of Ostad Elahi playing the choghūr was released as part of the eponymous double CD-Book commemorating The Sacred Lute: The Art of Ostad Elahi exhibition (Paris: Le Chant du Monde/The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2014), Shekaste, CD 2, track 7.<ol class="number"><li value=1>This instrument, along with several others that belonged to Ostad Elahi, is featured in a dedicated showcase within the musical instrument galleries of The Met.</li></ol>

Gereylī

The story of Bābā Faqīh is well-known in the Ahl-e Haqq tradition. A version of this story appears in The Book of the Kings of Truth,1 the spiritual epic composed by Hādj Nemat. The story is set in the time of Shāh Khoshīn, a 10th century mystic considered to be a theophanic figure by the Ahl-e Haqq. It recounts how a magnanimous glance from a man of God led Bābā Faqīh, a rebellious and arrogant individual, to completely transform his nature and become devoted to spirituality: "(H)earing these words, the eyes of Bābā Faqīh's soul were opened and he saw himself for what he was. He threw himself at Shāh Khoshīn’s feet, imploring forgiveness from the merciful God: 'In the proximity of Your presence, I ask that You absolve me of my faults! Blind and ignorant, I did not know You, You who are goodness! Now I attest that from the beginning to the end of time, You were, You are, and You will be Lord of the Worlds!'"2Ostad Elahi was particularly fond of this poignant and powerful supplication, often playing improvised versions that were renewed and different each time. In this recording, the melody is initially confined to a small interval, with the counterpoint on the low string and a slow rhythm without much dynamic range. It then opens and expands to cover a larger interval, allowing the incorporation of new sounds with unexpected changes in key. The rhythm is marked by syncopal phases, jolts that alternate with cascades of notes evoking dialogue and weeping.<ol class="number"><li value=1>Shāhnāmeh-ye Haqīqat (or Haqq ol-Haqāyeq) (Tehran: Jeyhūn, 1995), with a commentary by Ostad Elahi.</li><li value=2>These verses were composed by companions of Shāh Fazl-e Valī, a 9th-10th century theophanic figure in the Ahl-e Haqq tradition.</li></ol>

Supplication in the Bābā Faqīhī Suite

This hymn was composed by Hādj Nemat in 1906. The soft melody accompanies the following verses, which speak to the ephemeral nature of the material world and our finite time within it:1<blockquote>Donīā fānīyan Dāwed gīān Har Haqq bāqīyan Dāwed gīānAll in this world is precarious, O Dāwūd Only the Truth shall remain, O Dāwūd</blockquote>On one of his trips to western Iran, Ostad later modified the original lyrics and turned this hymn of mourning into one of joy.2A purposeful delay can be heard between the sung phrases, almost as if to emphasize the meaning of the words being imparted.<ol class="number"><li value=1>These verses reference the Qur’anic verses, "Everyone on earth perishes; all that remains is the Face of your Lord, full of majesty, bestowing honor.” The Qur’an, trans. M.A.S. Abdel Haleem (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 55: 26-27.</li><li value=2>This song and its modified lyrics, Shīrīna Leylā, appears on the CD Celestial Harmonies (Paris: Le Chant du Monde, 1999/2004), track 4.</li></ol>

Hymn

Recorded in 1964, this piece belongs to a category of Kurdish dances traditionally performed during marriage ceremonies or joyous celebrations. Ostad Elahi, however, performed this piece with a spiritual intention. With a short and repetitive pattern, it begins with an invitation to join the dance and embrace its rhythm. As the rhythmic variations multiply, they sustain the energy and vitality of the piece, inducing a state of profound spiritual joy, one that perhaps foreshadows the bliss that awaits the soul upon reuniting with its Beloved.

Hal Parka

The Eternal and the Ephemeral

Instrumental

Fourths (Sheykh Amīrī)

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.

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

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.

Wālā Wītāna

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>

Ali Āmān Yā Ali

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>

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

Tanbur Panj Sīmī

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 ccording 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

This piece starts with an improvisation on the Sārū Khānī Suite, but in a special tonality due to the tuning of the instrument in fifths instead of the usual fourths, which makes it difficult to perform. This passage is followed by a supplication in the Bābā Jalīlī mode, a favorite of Ostad Elahi. Here, Ostad exceptionally sings the first verses of a poem in Kurdish by Sheykh Amīr.1<blockquote>Hey Dīn, Ali, Ali, yā Ali Delay gonāhkār yā Mowlām, yā Mowlām, yā Mowlām Delay zabūnbakht, Ali Ali Ali Āy cha azal gonāhkār, yā Ali Ar cha rūy azal Mowlā, Mowlām Ali, ay Djānam, ay Dīnem ay, ay Djānam, ay Ali Mowyāī borda-bār, hey Mowlām, hey Mowlām Ali, Ali pey chīsh makaftī, hey Mowlām amān, hey Ali, Ali Ali Dūr tcha qāpī yār, hey Dīnem, Ali Djān, Ali DjānO sinner heart, how weak and destitute Sinner since the dawn of creation If only you had shown more patience at the outset! How you have lacked respect and patience, What have you done to distance yourself from the divine abode?</blockquote>Ali, Mowlām (my Lord), and Djānam (my Beloved) are all different ways of invoking God. The invocation (zekr) that prolongs and completes this prayer was inspired to Ostad in the 1940s. It reminds the soul that everything is in the hands of its Beloved, and that He alone can solve all problems.<blockquote>Ali āmān yā Ali Dakhīlem wa to Ali Moshkelgoshā-ī Ali Hall-e moshkel-ī AliAli, help, O Ali You are my support, Ali You alone can unravel difficulties, Ali You alone can solve difficulties, Ali</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>Sheykh Amīr was an 18th century Kurdish mystic. Following a sudden spiritual awakening, this illiterate shepherd composed numerous poems with deep spiritual meaning and rich symbolic imagery.</li></ol>

Sārū Khānī Suite (Monājāt)

This zekr by Ostad was also composed in the forties and evokes two spiritual personalities, Ali and Soltān, who are considered to be theophanies:<blockquote>Har va aw Soltān, Har va aw Soltān / wa pardey nūran Mowlāmān wey dowr / mowlāmān wey dowr / sāheb zehūran (Haqq) sāheb zehūranSoltān, O Soltān, Behind the veils of Light Lord of this age, Our Lord The Master of Time, The Manifestation of the Time</blockquote>Soltān is also a way of invoking the Divine, as are Haqq (Truth) and Hū (Him).

Har va Aw Soltān

Shāh Khoshīn was a great 11th century mystic who lived in Lorestān. It is reported that he was the first to introduce zekr-e jalī in spiritual assemblies, accompanying it with chants and musical instruments, including the tanbur. The suite that is performed here differs from other versions of Shāh Khoshīnī and is imbued with a majestic and somewhat strange kind of beauty.1 The richness of the sound expresses the sort of fervor that never lets the soul rest, even during the most peaceful segments of the piece, enjoining it to free itself from the grip of materiality.<ol class="number"><li value=1>See CD, Mystical Orison, Le Chant du Monde/Harmonia Mundi, 2000; republished 2004.</li></ol>

Shāh Khoshīnī Suite

This piece was recorded in Ostad Elahi’s home in Tehran on the occasion of a visit by a group of Kurdish devotees from his native region in western Iran. The atmosphere of the gathering was so warm and spiritual that Ostad played the tanbur for a long time, which was quite unusual. This track reproduces part of that session.The piece starts with a brilliant introduction of the Saharī Suite, a melody that used to be played at dawn to awaken dervishes and stir the soul. What makes this introduction remarkable is that it is played with a tuning in seconds instead of the usual fourths, which requires special skill and casts the melody in an unusual light.The first voice that appears is that of a singer (kalāmkhān) who was renowned for the quality of his Saharī interpretation, as well as his faith, fervor, and abnegation. Ostad Elahi pays tribute to his fervor by not only accompanying him on the tanbur, but also by joining him in singing. This duet of master and student is highly emotional and is further intensified when Ostad begins to sing an octave lower, invoking the Divine in various ways (Ali Hū, Mowlām Hū, Haqq Hū, Ali Ali jān, Ali Mowlām Hū, Ali Hū āmān) before carrying the whole gathering along into an improvised dance melody.The poem that is sung was composed by Malak Jān Nematī, Ostad Elahi’s younger sister, who was a poet of great sensitivity and an accomplished musician.1<blockquote>Qorbān zātet bām barq-e balāya Khosh va hāl kasī, khās mobtalāya Khot Haqq, zātet Haqq, maqāmet Haqqa Esmet azama, zātet motlaqaMay I be sacrificed for Your essence, which resembles mighty lightning Blessed are those who are struck by this lightning You are Haqq, Your essence is Haqq, Your rank is Haqq Your name is God’s name in majesty, Your essence is absolute.</blockquote><ol class="number"><li value=1>See Leili Anvar, Malak Jan Nemati (New York: Arpeggio Press, 2012).</li></ol>

Saharī Suite in the Farangī Tune

Following the previous piece, this melody is also played with a tuning in seconds.

Improvisation in the Khān Amīrī Suite

This suite of zekrs was recorded in the intimacy of Ostad’s home, with close family and friends spontaneously taking up the refrains of the melodies in unison. The first zekr dates back to a time before Hādj Nemat, Ostad Elahi’s father.1<blockquote>a) Dūs bejan bejan barza meli Jam-e rāsāna yār na deliO friend, play, play for the great man This is the gathering of the Righteous, the Beloved is among themb) Sāheb tūl-e zar Dāwed Zāmen-e āhū bar DāwedMaster with the golden stick, Dāwūd Protector of the fawn, Dāwūd</blockquote>The golden stick likely symbolizes the mission of spiritual guidance entrusted to Dāwūd, a manifestation of Raphael, the archangel of divine clemency.<blockquote>c) Jam neyān dūsān aw yāna Haqq shama mīrdān parwānaFriends have convened the gathering in this house God is the candle; men (companions) the butterflies</blockquote>This zekr was composed by Hādj Nemat shortly after his spiritual illumination around 1900.<ol class="number"><li value=1>See <a href="https://www.hadjnemat.com">www.hadjnemat.com</a></li></ol>

This piece unfolds as a kind of dialogue between two spiritual lovers, interpreted first in the Qatār mode.1 Qatār is an important Kurdish mode that includes elements from Persian music, rendered here in a profound, meditative, and essentially non-measured way. The tanbur is played like a setār, the strings plucked with the forefinger of the right hand rather than struck with all fingers, as is usually done. Despite these technical restrictions, Ostad manages to perform an extremely rich piece conveying calm, strength, and dignity. The melodic line depends on a delicate balance, and the fingers striking the sounding board give an impression of great determination.This passage is followed by improvisations in the Saharī mode (see track 4). The dialogue between the lovers continues; they respond to each other like two birds at the break of dawn, “perched” on two octaves at the top and bottom of the tanbur’s neck. They then fly away together, united in the consuming swirl of their love.The dance themes that conclude this piece are an invitation to allow oneself to be carried away by this impulse of pure love and to discover universes as varied as they are unexpected: in the midst of an exhilarating dance, Ostad suddenly changes the tuning of his instrument from fourths to seconds, casting the atmosphere in a new light.<ol class="number"><li value=1>See CD, Cascade, Le Chant du Monde/Harmonia Mundi, 2002; republished 2004.</li></ol>

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