Traditional Iranian Singing

Just up the road from our house, Park-e Neshat, now renamed Mothers’ Paradise is a women-only park in which biking and other sport activities take place. Near the main entrance, the local cultural centre organises classes on handicrafts, traditional music, cookery and office skills, as well as classes for mother and children, and teenagers.

This park was designated as women-only about a year ago, but I had not visited it until last Tuesday. With the beginning of the school year I felt like trying something new from among the ‘regrets’ I carry in my mind about things I would like to do but haven’t had the time or the chance yet. Not that I have much time now, but as I’m getting old(er), I gradually realise how little time there is left in one’s life to do all the things one would like to do. I will never forget what my good friend Alex in London told me once: “When trying to decide whether you should do something, visualise the moment when you are about to leave this world. What will your regrets be?” This question always points towards true north.

Anyway, the cultural centre offers classes in traditional Iranian singing (avaz-e sonnati). I was told that I needed to get to the class and be tested before I enrol, so last Tuesday I went along. There were only another three students who started three months ago. The teacher asked me to sing something traditional. Not knowing any Persian traditional song, I sang a Greek one. She asked me a few questions about my previous experience (three years Greek church music, one year classical singing) and also whether I like Persian traditional music. I said I liked it, but haven’t tried singing it yet. Anyway, she said that I could join the class and see how it goes.
Apparently a set sequence of tunes is meant to be followed, so the other students have learned between eight and twelve tunes already, one a week. The teacher assigns a tune to every student individually, sings it for the student to record it and then gets her to write down the lyrics. Practising the tune at home is the weekly homework.
Iranian traditional music is mainly vocal, but the teacher accompanies the practice with a setar, a long-stemmed, three-stringed instrument similar to a lute, but with a longer stem and a smaller body. The sound of the setar is nostalgic, tinged with sadness, complemented by the lyrics that are usually taken from the body of classical Persian poetry: Hafez, Sa’adi, Attar, Rumi, and others.
Here follows my clumsy translation of my next week’s homework:

I have tried very hard to hide the secret of my love
But how could I be sitting on fire and not burn?
I was careful not to give my heart away to anyone
But when I saw your Face, all care and logic left me.
You sold me for nothing, but I am determined
Never to exchange one single hair of yours for the whole world.

Next Tuesday morning I will try a class on Rumi’s Mathnawi.