The music of {Ali Akbar Moradi} is simply too beautiful for words. I’m not referring to the organizational issues surrounding the concert, which, as always, elude us still.
Modadi, a 48-year old man of Kurdish descent, started his musical journey at the age of six under the guidance and supervision of his grand father. He learned the art of
tanbur playing early on from such renowned masters as {Seyyed Vali Hosseini}, {Seyyed Mohammad Alavi}, and {Allah Moradi Hamidi}. At age 30, he had mastered the 72
maqams (modes) of
tanbur. Considered a "Sufi" instrument,
tanbur is believed to have a history that dates back almost 5000 years. Its mystical resonance is mentioned frequently in the poems of {Ferdosi}, {Movlavi} and {Bidel}.
In the concert program, Moradi declares tanbur not as simply an instrument, but a “musical culture.” To fully grasp this culture, he explains, one needs “total, sincere dedication to the teachings of the master, as well as unremitting, passionate commitment to the instrument through constant companionship and training, so that one may achieve a wholesome understanding of the meaning and the role of the
maqams.” He adds, immediately there after, that one should not ignore the significance of “creativity and ingenuity.”
Moradi leaves the stage at *Niavaran Palace* just as he enters it: unpretentiously and without uttering a single word. His only sentence, uttered in deep, sugary Kurdish accent, is “if I knew Persian, I would have talked a whole lot!”
Moradi is without a doubt a maestro of an instrumentalist, his melodies penetrating your skin with each exquisite stroke. Once heard through his brilliant fingertips, the instrument will never leave your memory. The Kurdish
tanbur player has won many awards and accolades, including The Highest Artistic Achievement Award, bestowed upon him in 2002 by the Iranian Committee for Assessment of Art. He has had a string of successful solo and accompanied performances inside and outside the country.
Many recordings are available for those interested in this master’s music, including
The Drunken Dance (Sama' mastaneh), Estrangement (Mahjuri), Sahar-varan, and
The Skyward Mirror (Dar ayeheh-ye aseman).
Strangely though, the Monday night concert sports mostly empty seats. Am I imagining people actually leaving this concert during the intermission, even though this means an even more personal performance now? The palace’s garden acts quite well for the audience as a recreational park, coming and going as they please, disregarding the insipid declaration printed on every ticket: “The doors will be closed 1/2 hour before the concert.”
Maybe the intended audience of his music remain to be the same old lovers of Kurdish folk. As talented as {Pejham Akhvas} – the only accompaniment – is on
tonbak, this is just not enough of an ensemble. Pejham is swift and thorough, but next to the master, the differences are impossible to overlook. One cannot help miss Moradi’s regular
tonbak player, {Pejman Haddadi}. No matter how talented the musicians, a duet needs a bounty of practice.