If I were a king, or rather a shah, I'd pack opera houses and concert
halls with Iranians. A year ago and tonight, in Berkeley's Zellerbach
Hall, there was the same rare and wonderful experience - a concert of
Persian classical music, with a perfect (90% Iranian) audience. At the
beginning, they rose in standing ovation; during the concert, they sat
in rapt, total silence; at the end, another riotous standing O... if
only there was anything like it in the afternoon at the SF Opera's
"Kat'a Kabanova," where whole passages disappeared in waves of coughing
fits!

This audience was well motivated to behave and celebrate, in turn.
Mohammad Reza Shajarian, Iran's greatest singer, returned, brought with
him two fabulous instrumental virtuosos - Hossein Alizadeh, master of
the plucked lute, called "tar," and Kayhan Kalhor, the combined Menuhin
and Rostropovich on the kamancheh, a spike fiddle that looks like a
violin, but is played as a miniature cello or viola da gamba.

The fourth member of the ensemble is young Homayoun Shajarian, the
singer's son, already a brilliant player of the tabla-like tombak or
goblet drum. The news is that Homayoun is now singing more, both in
solos and in duets with his father, and he is very promising, although
his youth and relative inexperience still shows.

This is especially true as he is sharing the stage with his teacher and
mentor, who presents an unfair comparison for any singer, Persian or
otherwise.

The simplest, most unassuming performer I've ever known, Shajarian sits
cross-legged through two one-hour sets, putting his all into the music,
as the performer himself seems almost invisible.

He begins singing almost inaudibly, from deep within, on a fine but
unexceptional high baritone, and as he becomes increasingly engaged in
the flow of music, the voice soars and switches to the tenor range, but
it remains completely different from Western classical music in that it
never calls attention to itself. There are instances of ornamentation,
intimation of trills and ululation, but in the main, Shajarian becomes
an instrument of this thousand-year-old art, not a singer as a separate
entity. There are a few ecstatic climaxes, falling in intensity between
Wagner/"Gurrelieder" at the low end and the Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
maximal surfeit.

The music is somewhat reminiscent of the Middle Eastern/Greek regional
sound, but there is something powerfully unique about it, impossible to
understand until you spend a couple of hours with the Shajarians and
their "orchestra" - the two instrumentalists who contribute a truly
symphonic cooperation.

Janos Gereben/SF
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