World Sufi Festival in UK-2008

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Anoosh Jahanshahi

Although the headliners were Britain’s only Persian classical ensemble, opening act Anoosh Jahanshahi effortlessly stole the show- even being called back on stage after the Naghmeh Ensemble had finished. Anoosh plays the Setar, a middle-eastern string instrument that has a tone somewhere between the guitar and banjo. Like much of the greatest folk music around the world, Anoosh’s magic is in the relationship between a single performer and his instrument.

Anoosh’s songs begin diffidently, as if he is testing the strings or searching for the right note. Gradually building up the pace and volume, his approach recalls the country ragas of Jack Rose or the guitar work-outs of the Tacoma label: yet, whereas the eastern tonality of those artists was an intrusion into the exotic, Anoosh is naturally working with them. For the western listener, there is an inescapable orientalism to his music, the allure of the desert, the dusty plain and the galloping horse, his dour voice recalling the muezzin chant or Arabian fantasies. But even stripping away the exoticism, his songs has a lovely loneliness, parallel to the blues or Indian improvisation, suffused with longing and drama: it just happens that Anoosh is working within the Sufi tradition of a universal genre.

The Turkish duo- an oud-player and a whirling dervish- felt oddly theatrical after Anoosh’s sincerity. The dervish spun beautifully, but it is difficult to understand the purpose of the performance. This is a spiritual discipline, performed as a holy ritual to bring the dancer closer to God. On a stage, it becomes voyeuristic, an uncomfortable intrusion into an intimate relationship.
The Naghmeh Ensemble- two drummers, a violinist, a rather bored looking singer and a hammered dulcimer- took a while to warm up. The violin added little to the sound, while it was not until the daf player had some that the set heated up. The daf is a frame drum, a large white circle similar to a bodhran, and it drives the polite melodies to a frenzied, freeform beat. The hammered dulcimer- a sorely underused instrument that can be as crassly erotic as an electric guitar or as mannered as a harpsichord- cantered across the tunes, giving each song a cartoon intensity and slamming together moods and melodies in a collision collage. Perhaps slightly too respectful, The Naghmeh were vibrant, but lacked the mystical surprising of Anoosh Jahanshahi.
By Gareth Vile