Mohammad Mostafa Heydarian — Noor-E Vojood (Centripetal Force)
The Kurdish tanbur is one of a family of stringed instruments with a fretboard found throughout central and western Asia. These musical traditions trace back thousands of years and are highly localized, being associated with individual cities and even families. This long, thin lute has three strings, two of them doubled, and is played with up- and downstrokes of the fingers. The sound is dry, almost metallic, with a steady drone in the background while the doubled strings carry the melody. Flurries of notes are punctuated by pauses and meditative passages, with the wide range of right-hand techniques adding variety. In the hands of Mohammad Mostafa Heydarian, the tanbur alternately sings, sighs and shouts to the heavens.
Heydarian is the young (b. 2002) scion of a musical family. His father, a percussionist, builds tanburs and started his son on the instrument at an early age. Learning at first from cassettes and later from masters of the regional tradition, Heydarian has established himself as a master in the making. The liner notes seem to suggest that the tracks on this recording are his compositions based on traditional modes (maqams). At least some feature Morteza Rezâei on dohool (cylinder drum). Heydarian’s playing is so full and out front in the mix that it is difficult to distinguish the two instruments, though sometimes, as on “Nishtemân,” their interplay is heard clearly and to great effect.
The longish tracks, ranging from four to 11 minutes, give Heydarian ample space to develop his ideas. Despite the focus on a single instrument and playing tradition, each has a distinctive character. The opening track, “Darâmad,” which apparently and appropriately means “begin music” in Farsi, starts things off slowly, with tentative strums and shifts in tempo, and then gently resolves. The aforementioned “Nishtemân,” by contrast, builds up a driving momentum over eight minutes. “Bâyeh Bâyeh” features a powerful, minor-sounding riff and more dazzling finger and fret work. The centerpiece of the album is “Dar Tamannâye Eshgh,” the longest track, on which Heydarian demonstrates the full range of his musicianship, from incredibly precise strumming to gentle guitar-like passages, with Rezâei’s percussion providing additional color.
For those (like me) who have little knowledge of the tanbur tradition beyond isolated tracks on collections such as The Secret Music of Mankind, Heydarian’s playing is a revelation that has to be seen to be believed. His development as an artist is sure to result in more outstanding recordings like Noor-E Vojood. Also, in addition to his dedication to the local tradition, he has demonstrated a willingness to collaborate with modern players from outside the tradition. Beyond being a joy to listen to, Heydarian’s music is a reminder that the cultures of Iran and central Asia transcend the political strife that tends to dominate Western perceptions of the region.
