A bright candle has many butterflies.
In my opinion, every voice has a taste, for example, Leonard Cohen’s voice has the taste of bitter coffee, Aretha Franklin, or M. Kulthum al-Baktaji, their voices taste like hot cocoa, for me, Mr. Shajarian’s voice has the taste of halal wine, it has such a taste for We who are raining and getting drunk, their voice is loud, it makes a person stand up, a voice that is sometimes a breeze, sometimes a storm, because they are also from the tribe that don’t stop until you are drunk; also, they are wine drinkers who drink grapes They don’t broadcast. The sound that takes us from the street to the house, sometimes from the house to the street, that too with such music that everyone knows Iranian music is sitting music. They took it from music, and brought it to a new maturity, they show us and other students that Iranian music is not a hidden egg, it is a key that opens closed doors at the right time, music is responsibility, singing is responsibility. Yes, they took the old age from our music and brought it into the modern era with the right inclination, therefore, they are the artists of tomorrow, who tomorrow, the children of this land, will start listening to Iranian music from the first grade of primary school; thinking, independence of thought. And in general, every good thing will start from the first year of elementary school. The first time I heard his song, I was a student, where Mr. Mehrtash Tar and Mr. Nazanini were playing with a small and shortened body. And Ostad Shajarian used to sing the ballad of Sultan Ali Bey Rahi in the Bayat of Isfahan: “I was passing through ruin, I remembered my home, oh my heart, I remembered it, (twice) oh my heart came back, I remembered my home”.
He used to sing the word “home” in such a way that its meaning traveled to the geographical borders of our beloved land, so that I have not forgotten that home in his song. It means the word. Two or three years ago, a respected gentleman invited me to his workplace for tea and conversation. There we talked, drank tea and then went upstairs to the roof, because I always after After tea, I desperately need the fresh air, the fresh air was there, on the roof. So the host took me to the roof with a generous hand, we talked again there, we looked at the sky, Damavand mountain, we sat down, got up. And before we went down, they said: “Teacher Shajarian, we are a wall-to-wall neighbor, come to our roof, so I can show you.”
Although I am born afraid of any kind of height, but I was not afraid at all, because I know that his voice protects us, not only the sound but even their silence. To see his (home), I saw a yard with noble vegetables and flowers from above. I have not blamed him, but I am happy that once, I have looked at the life of Master Shajarian from the eyes of pigeons, that Mr. Shajarian, on the plateau of Iranian culture and art, alone, is a combination of Arash Kamangir, Shams Tabrizi, Arif Qazvini and Simorgh.
Mohammad Saleh Alaa
This post is written by monese_ghamgosar