Monday, 26 December 2011

"goosebumps, an arched back, the starriest romance, the calmest voice, the most cosmic awe"



Radio Golha, 2008, Plan B Magazine. (this piece will appear as the last chapter to my book 'Eastern Spring' which is coming out in Spring 2012 and will be published by Zero Books)







Lately, I’ve been transfixed by a transmission I have no desire to stop listening to. Crucially, listening, I have no desire, because every desire my heart ever had is expressed far clearer than I ever felt it in what I’m hearing. There’s something about the music on Radio Golha that makes it perhaps the most violent assault on your ongoing desensitisation to sound, a reconfiguring of your most ingrained listening habits, and a factory-default reset of your expectations when you retune to Radio Realworld, like a fallen angel, a wiped-away tear. In an age where every radio station is trying to exceed its own expectations/ RAJAR predictions, Radio Golha is, by intent and necessity, entirely limited in output. It has 200 hours of programming that it broadcasts in rotation. Those 200 hours are a mere fraction of 1500 hour-long programmes recorded over the course of 23 years, 1956-1979, for National Radio in Tehran. The ‘Golha’ (‘Flowers Of Persian Song and Poetry’) broadcasts comprised 1587 transmissions of Persian music and verse, ancient and modern, making use of a repertoire of over 250 classical and contemporary Persian poets, and innumerably more musicians, singers, orchestras. What you hear in the Golha is a combined effort of vision, preservation and innovation that changed the perception of musicians and poets in Iran (music was on the brink of illegality before the programme’s success), and an encyclopedia of traditional Persian music and ideas.


Beyond that, you get goosebumps, an arched back, the starriest romance, the calmest voice, the most cosmic awe. Broadcast from an ex-pat Iranian site in the Netherlands, Radio Golha provides a tantalising snapshot of a touchstone in Persian culture, a touchstone in danger of disappearing off the map. I spoke to Jane Lewisohn, a former SOAS student given a grant by the British Library to save the Golha archive from destruction. For her, the programmes are an untapped treasure trove imperiled by contemporary indifference in Iran.


“I’ve spent 20 years collecting tapes of the Golha broadcasts from private collectors in Iran and elsewhere and what always shocks me is how dangerously close to vanishing the Golha really were. Private collectors, who taped the shows when they were broadcast, die and their kids just junk them. I’ve still managed to retrieve 1500 hours of original broadcasts. It’s been an urgent process. Which is odd considering the Golha programmes used to literally stop traffic. Every Thursday and Friday night for an hour Iran would grind to a halt so people could hear the Golha. It is a shared national memory that could’ve quite easily, in a physical sense, have simply disappeared. That would be a crime.Iranian music only started using notation in the Twenties. Before then this music was purely passed down ‘chest to chest’ as the Iranians say, heart to heart. Some of the music you hear in the Golha is truly ancient, older than ancient Greek music – of which none survives.”
The 1979 revolution returned the Golha musicians to the same status they held before the Golha programmes started. By the 20th Century, musicians were denigrated as minstrels, had to use pseudonyms to avoid disgrace in everyday life, and developed as musicians under the private, reclusive tutelage of elder musicians who had carried the old songs for their whole lifetimes.




Jane: “Performance in public was unknown, this was a private, court music. At one such private party at the Italian Ambassador’s house in the early Fifties, Davoud Pirnia, the eventual producer of the Golha, hit upon the idea of mixing contemporary poetry with this music and modern orchestration, and actually bringing this music to the public. The first Golha programmes were extremely scholarly, intellectual and highbrow – pretty soon the producers realised the incorporation of modern poets and orchestras interpreting the ancient forms would be more interesting. We’re talking about Fifties Iran here, a nation in which public music was banned, in which 85 percent of the population were entirely illiterate – so the Golha became something the whole nation enjoyed and made time for. It was a sudden supreme flowering of Persian culture.”



So is the music and poetry you can hear in the Golha ancient or modern?
“Persian classical music, especially because it survived for so many thousands of years without notation, hasn’t really progressed through key ‘works’ or key composers as such. It’s a different notion of music than we have in the West. Here we think of music constantly developing new forms – in Persian music, as well as the Indian and Afghani classical traditions that grew from it, we have an alphabet of music that was laid down millenia ago, mainly by Sufi mystics, and then everyone who plays within that musical vocabulary is free to interpret it. So it’s always an ancient music but it’s always totally brand new and unique to the person playing within that tradition. Tradition isn’t a creative straitjacket in Persian music, it’s the building blocks from which you can make anything.”


For over 30 years the Golha programmes explored that tradition, committing some of the most astonishing music you’ll ever hear to tape. After a few hours in Golha’s company even the snatches of Persian poetry start making total sense – the cadences and suggestions are unmistakable, and the way they occasionally blend with the full-blooded orchestral or solo piano renderings of old Iranian music makes what you’re hearing blessed with both ancient glamour and postwar/ pre-revolution grit. These heartstopping intros then give way to a longer musical performance within which you might get Sufi setar, a solo ghazal, a Santur-backed torch singer or Khamenchi solo firestorm, or a nomadic love poet backed by the Golha-orchestra. 


Sometimes only God is meant to be listening.
Sometimes only a lover. All of it would be silenced by the ‘79 revolution.


Jane: “Because all of the music played on the Golha comes from the Sufi tradition of Islam, Khomeni was quick to stop the programmes, and pretty much outlaw all forms of musical expression for over a decade. When he finally relented to let musicians create again, he gave only 12 musicians in the entirety of Iran permission to play music – with strict curtailments that they couldn’t play anything ‘provocative’. Inevitably, the love poetry and songwriter tradition died a death – female singers, truly amazing voices who had contributed to the Golha’s most incredible programming, were banned from performance, and still to this day women can’t perform for mixed audiences in Iran.”
Would you say that this music is now entirely forgotten in Iran?
“A very small group of musicians are still playing it, but with a disconnected emphasis on technique and abstract academia – that ’chest-to-chest’ communication between elder and learner has gone. The memory is being erased. My final goal is to create an online database of the entire 1500 hours of programming, so people like you, like anyone, can explore this treasure trove. That’s the dream – it’s just sad that it takes people from outside of Iran to maintain this, because for Iranians the Golha are part of the national bloodstream, these songs are iconic to Persian culture. No one had bothered to make sure it wasn’t lost forever.”


If the Iranian revolution was prophetic, then the music contained in the Golha archive sadly isn’t: I hear very little else from anywhere right now that quite matches its mysteries and magic, it’s compassion and transcendence. Last word to Jane. Historical analysis aside – how does this music make you feel? “This music makes me travel. It takes me somewhere inexplicable, incredible – it links anyone with a heart to thoughts and longings as old as civilisation itself. It’s basically one of the most deeply beautiful creations of the last century. It’s up to the world to listen to it, learn from it and preserve it.”





Thursday, 15 December 2011

"Men are allowed to write songs about people and women are allowed to write songs about women"


"Before you can make good music, you just have to shut up. Then the music can say what it has to say." - Kristin Hersh





The last time I saw them was in 2003 and I wrote about if for Careless Talk Costs Lives. The only quote I can find from this review is "I went alone. Didn't want to share a damn thing. Like a wank or a bath, it was best taken alone cos they're mine, these songs are about me." I would never write that now, there is no bath in my house now, only a shower. I also interviewed Kristin once but I was so nervous and in awe I made a total pigs ear of it. This still happens more often than not. Luckily I can find no trace of that piece anywhere.


"The songs become the show, which is how it should be." - Kristin Hersh

However, I was able to find this double-headed album review from CTCL, issue 5, March/April 2003 which I love not for the writing but for the shot by the master, and fellow Coventrian, Steve Gullick. Click on it and squint a bit if you do want to read it.



(The first time I met Steve Gullick wasn't in Coventry. It was flying to Long Island to interview Public Enemy, my first ever time in the US. We were sat far apart from each other on the plane so the first time we actually spoke was in the cab to Manhattan. I remember coming over the Hudson over the bridge, eyes wide, heart pounding, just not believing I was seeing New York City lit up like a movie set, and there's Gullick, who'd seen it all before countless times, sat next to me & amazed that I was from Cov asking me 'what's Stoke Aldermoor like now? Is there still that pub called the 'Live & Let Live'? Sorry, total digression but it's tricky forgetting moments like that.)



"Men are allowed to write songs about people and women are allowed to write songs about women" - Kristin Hersh

Here’s a REBELLIOUS JUKEBOX from Melody Maker 1992 that I didn’t write but remember reading over and over and over and over again. It was this piece that led me to first hear ‘Up On The Sun’ so cheers Kristin, though I still think Steve Miller's a prick, sorry.


KRISTIN HERSH of THROWING MUSES talks about the records that changed her life:
Reproduced from Melody Maker, 25th July 1992.
1. VIOLENT FEMMES: "Add It Up" (from "Violent Femmes")

"This is definitely a teen angst song. People keep saying they sound like us. They’ve got this real wormy guy, this angry little rat. But that’s the only thing I can say that reminds me of me, this little wretch whining and shouting cos he wants to sleep with everybody - and nobody will. That’s what all his songs are about. I met him once. He’s really quite sweet. Did he ask to sleep with me? No."

2. BRIAN ENO: "Baby’s On Fire" (from "Here Come The Warm Jets")
"This is strikingly different from all his other stuff. It’s about 10 minutes long with a great bitchin’ guitar solo, but without being cock rock. I never realised that you could do that. Eno’s mean to be real cerebral, but this really moves me. Very few records do that these days. I hate everything! (Adopts crotchety eightysomething voice) They don’t make good music anymore, these crazy kids!"

3. X: "Blue Spark" (from "Under The Black Sun").
"This is just so beautiful. It’s kinda punk, I suppose. I heard it when I was about 13 or 14, which is pretty much when we started our band. In fact, we had three records out three years before we were legally allowed to play in clubs. Sometimes we’d play sets and then get kicked out when they found out how old we were. Actually, I got asked my age only the other night. One day, all of a sudden I’ll look 80. Then I’ll die."

4. THE VELVET UNDERGROUND: "Ocean" (from "V.U.")
"There’s this path along the cliffs where we live, and there’s ocean everywhere and - this will probably sound real goofy - this song is really like the ocean. It’s so quiet and pretty, and if there’s such a thing as a song that brings out Sensitive Emotions - capital S, capital E - then this is it. I don’t know if I’ve ever pulled it off myself, but The Velvet Underground certainly do here."

5. THE VELVET UNDERGROUND: "Black Angel’s Death Song" (from "The Velvet Underground And Nico")
"My father introduced me to the Velvets. When I was a kid he took me to Woodstock. I was a little, naked, hippy kid! And I went to Byrds concerts and Allen Ginsberg readings. You know, Ginsberg wrote me a poem once! Anyway, I love this song. It’s kinda droney. I heard a really incredible version recently that sounded completely different. Of course, that could have been cos I was on so many drugs at the time."


6. STEVE MILLER: "True Fine" (from "Book of Dreams")
"I totally worship Steve Miller, I think he’s incredible. I’ve been listening to him since I was nine, which might have something to do with it. He’s a pop-rock genius, but he’s so quiet about it. He’s so unpretentious, just this really faceless guy. This is kinda bouncy and Fifties. I guess you can dance to it. People dance to our music. And slamdance and stagedive. Do I ever stagedive? No, I’m too short."

7. HUSKER DU: "Chartered Trips" (from "Zen Arcade")
"It’s just a great song that completely falls apart, which is something I always wanted to do - write a song that crumbles in the middle, then picks up, then crumbles again. It never gets real chaotic, though. They’re too sweet to go totally apeshit. Bob Mould is just unbelievable. A friend of mine, when she first saw them, said ‘They’ve got this fat gay guy! And he wears a check shirt! Wow, that’s so cool!’"

8. R.E.M.: "Perfect Circle" (from ‘Murmur’)
"Michael (Stipe) got a bit performance arty for a while, but he seems to be calming down now. I guess that comes with the territory. I don’t have a driving ambition to be that famous myself, but I think the songs would eat me alive if I didn’t let them go … when I heard ‘Murmur’ I was about 15 - I was babysitting for this rock critic - and this just sounded like it came from outer space, like it came from another planet."

9. THE BEATLES: "Yer Blues" (from "The White Album")
"This is probably my favourite Beatles album - I like the way it’s kinda all glued together, a big collage, songs coming in and out. This one’s funny, but he (John Lennon) means what he’s yelling! ‘I don’t wanna die!’ I remember being in a bank and I had it in my head, and I was pushing my baby, and all these housewives were looking at me because I didn’t realise I was singing it out loud!"

10. VOLCANO SUNS: "Jak" (from "Bright Orange Sun")
"We’ve just covered this one on one of our B-sides. It’s a genius pop song. We used to play with them in Boston all the time. Their drummer sings and drums at once, his arms fly all over the place and there’s spit and sweat everywhere, but there’s no way he can be bad with all that going on! They were a great band. At the moment, I like Come and Pond. Pond! What a name! We were going to change our name once to Khulli Loach. It’s a type of fish. It’s a bit hard to pronounce, though. I mean, people have only just started getting Throwing Muses right."

11. MISSION OF BURMA: "Pica" (from "Verses")
"Mission of Burma are one of those bands that make you want to go out and start your own band. I think they’ve broken up now - their singer has tinnitus and he can’t hear properly. He just stares at you and comes up with some non sequitur, which makes him fascinating to talk to, but … we play really loud, louder than most bands. I like that. I like to feel the noise pumping in my chest. It feels healthy."

12. MEAT PUPPETS: "Up On The Sun" (from "Up On The Sun")
"I was listening a lot to this song when I was pregnant with Dylan, and we were working on our first album. We were out on this farm and there was nothing to do but listen to the Meat Puppets all day long. This is another one of those records from outer space. They must all have been doing drugs or something when they made this. No effects, no distortion, nothing. Perfect. I saw them the day before I went into labour with Dylan. It was probably the volume of the show that brought on the pregnancy!"


Love that shot from 88. Imagine if Kristin replaced Joey.

That Maker piece actually reminds me of my favourite Kristin quote, a favourite quote because it's hugely hugely true:  "I've always chosen my band members based on their sense of humour. It might sound stupid, but it means not only are they fun to live with on a tour bus for years, but humour implies intelligence".

"My parents didn't treat me as if there was anything in the world I couldn't do, except be unkind" - Kristin Hersh