Persian-Flamenco Fusion? Salaam and Hola!

At initial estimation I feared such a terribly beautiful fusion of music would be never be delivered to its full potential, given its inherent gorgeous absurdity.

I was more wrong than WMD evidence.

Thank goodness. Kevin, somehow stumbled up this performance and I, of course, gave little resistance to exotic aural pleasure (see 19 Nov 05). However, given the day's study schedule, and a still absent anxious apprehension concerning my impending internal medicine, temporarily things were pretty tight. I rushed home after polishing off some studying in gentrified neighborhoods.

Oops. Not enough cash. No problem.

Given my skills gleaned from micro-adversity stricken Atlanta, we smoothly purchased two student tickets (something reserved for Rice and "Rice" matriculants) and began to comfortably slip into our time-honored tradition of people watching.

~ An old majestic silver-coiffed Persian matriarch being diligently attended to by a swarm of expensively threaded progeny.

~ Countless errant well-polished preteens whose ennui and image-conscious age forbade any hint of enjoyment away from their PlayStation.

~ A hypersocial, kinetic group of middle-aged Tehran natives amid a jubilant storm of "Salaam!" and wide welcoming eyes.

~ A contrastingly quiet and quite alone dark-haired Venus admiring her gregarious environment and paradoxically apart from it.

And me: A random Black Marylander. Familiar and appreciative of both musical traditions, no doubt as conspicious as inexplicable, but outwardly and truly comfortable.


Similarly one may describe the music of the evening.

The gossamer tones of the traditional Persian stringed instruments, nimble, round guitars, and a surprisingly complimentary chello provided stable musical counterbalance to the deep rhythmic syncopation provided by the deeply resonant percussion. The percussion was by far my favorite. While the complexity and skill of the strings were to say the least amazing, there is something to be said for this imposingly full instrument, the cajon.

Its just a box.

Apparently back in the days of slavery and colonies in South America, enslaved Africans were forbidden from their drumming music tradition. Always the improvisor, they began to employ simple a pair of strong hands and hard wooden boxes. Its recently experienced a resurgence in modern flamenco music and definitely feels African in nature. In anycase the whole performance was endorphin enducing and accentuated by intermittent standing and clapping by the more fervent and appreciative Iran natives in the crowd. Thoroughly enjoyable and highly recommended to anyone in the future should they stumble upon this combination in the future.

Traditionally Persian and African-derived. A great combination.