Many people anticipated that the “Mystical Night of Music and Poetry,” the Lucid Art Foundation’s production at the Dance Palace on July 18th, would emphasize traditional Persian music. Lucid Art’s creative director, Fariba Bogzaran, who performed in and produced the show, is from Iran, as are two instrumentalists who played that night. But the performances—spectacular outpourings of rhythm created by six musicians on unusual percussion instruments, along with classical Middle Eastern verses interspersed with original poetry—transcended geographic boundaries.
The origins of the instruments played that evening highlighted the cultural diversity. Two instruments played by Samandar Dehghani, the tar and the daf, have Iranian origins. The tar is a long-necked girdled string instrument plucked like a guitar. The daf is a large framed drum; a membrane, usually made of goatskin, is stretched over a thin, circular hardwood frame that has numerous metal ringlets attached. Sensi Dehghani, his brother, played the daf and the tombak, a wooden goblet drum that is the principal percussion instrument of Persian music.
Another instrument featured in the performance, the tabla, was probably the one best known to American listeners. The tabla, common in many countries on the Indian subcontinent and played that evening by Suphala Patankar and Rishi Chowdhury, of Indian heritage, consists of a pair of hand drums of contrasting sizes and timbres.
A far less familiar instrument was the cajon. Before the musicians assembled to begin the performance, the audience saw a black box in the middle of the stage, approximately three feet high and two feet wide. Many probably assumed that it was placed there for a performer to sit on. but it produced stunning music itself. The cajon can claim a partial new world pedigree; it is the most widely used Afro-Peruvian musical instrument in South America. One theory holds it was originally brought to the New World by African slaves, disguised as a seat to conceal that it was a musical instrument to play forbidden tunes. True or not, it produced extraordinary music when deftly played by Tobias Roberson. He used not only his hands, but also his feet, including his heels and other parts of his body in a virtuosic display of physical dexterity.
Roberson also played the sansula—sometimes referred to as a thumb piano—a much smaller instrument whose nine metal prongs are plucked with the thumb and fingertips. The sansula’s origins can also be traced to Africa, but it has been modified and transformed by so many other countries and can truly be described as an international instrument.
All of the musicians displayed a high degree of nimbleness and agility while playing their percussion instruments; eschewing drumsticks, they employed their hands and feet. The performers communicated and maintained unity in their rhythms during each piece without a conductor. A number of the works were composed by Samandar Dehghani, one of the players; but like the other pieces, his called for a great amount of improvisation.
The concert opened with shamanic drumming by Bogzaran, who walked up to the stage from the back of the room wearing a fringed cape of raw canvas that, she said, connected her to the spirit of the Northwest coast. She had named her white hat—wrapped in a Tibetan khata, or scarf—a “precognitive receptor” that could gather wisdom and connect the wearer to another space and time.
After solos and duets by the other performers Bogzaran read poems—“Sea of Blessings,” “Uma” and “Pure Land”—from her book, Lucidity of Light, accompanied by Tobias Roberson on the sansula. The first half of the concert concluded with a mesmerizing duet by Roberson on the cajon and Patankar playing the tabla.
After intermission, Bogzaran recited poems by three great Persian poets. They included the 13th century poet, Sa’adi— famous in Iran, though unknown to many Americans—and Rahi Mo’ayyeri, a 20th century writer. The high point, however, was Bogzaran teaching the audience to recite a poem by Rumi in Farsi, the Persian language. Rumi also lived in the 13th century, but his poems—known in America and throughout the rest of the world—are a vital part of Iranian life today. Bogzaran said that the poem concerned “… the paradox of being: old and young, conscious and unconscious; pain and remedy…”
The rest of the evening was devoted to instrumental music by players with an increasingly exciting beat. The entire ensemble joined in the final performance, as did the audience which swayed and beat out the rhythms with their hands and feet. Although musicians and audience members alike were exhausted by the exuberant performance, no one wanted it to end.
This is not the first Lucid Arts musical presentation at the Dance Palace; Bogzaran produced a simpler show last year. Her concept is to expand the dimensions of the concert each time it is produced. She has promised another production next year, and she is negotiating for an additional entertainer to join the group; he is an especially exciting West Marin musician who plays selections from all over the world and has featured many unusual instruments in his appearances. Another possible expansion for Lucid Arts to consider, albeit a minor one, is to provide the audience with program notes that include the titles, more information about each of the musical selections, and the text of the poems.
Some readers may regret that they missed the show because of the unstinting praise in this review. Others may think that the reviewer is exaggerating. In either case it will be worthwhile for readers to join the audience next year and judge for themselves.
Herb Kutchins is a professor emeritus at California State University, Sacramento, and had a varied career organizing social welfare and criminal justice reform. He lives in Inverness Park.