Persian music and Propaganda...

A few weeks ago Tuya grabbed free tickets to an evening of traditional Persian music at surprisingly beautiful soviet-era State Philharmonika, the Kyrgyz national theatre that hosts ballet, opera and assorted musicals. Since the concert was sponsored by the Iranian Embassy, we were obligated to sit in separate sections for men and women so that we don't tittilate our innocent minds with thoughts of the opposite sex sitting next to us during the performance. This kind of fundamentalism almost never rears it's ugly head in Bishkek. While roughly 60% of people in Kyrgyzstan claim to be Muslim, Bishkek remains a very secular city. You could probably find more mosques and head scarves in Washington, D.C. than Bishkek. Here more people worship the ancient gods called Mercedes, Audi, Vodka, Cognac, Dolce and Gabbana, a syncretic blend of pastoral shamanism and modern sybaritism. So I was a bit shocked to encounter our babushka-usher in the lobby of the Philharmonika, demanding we enter the theatre through opposite doors. I wanted to mess with her mind a bit, but i couldn't think of the russian word for "pre-op transgenderal." Nevertheless, Tuya and I took our parts in the Iranian morality play, and took our seats on opposite sides of the hall, connected only by the swapping of indignant text messages. But the Iranian Embassy had one more treat in store for us, a 20 minute epic "propagandumentary" film on the glory of the modern Islamic Republic of Iran, extoling their booming economy and scientific achievements. It soon dawned on me that we were now just pawns in the new "Great Game" of Central Asia, where all the regional and global powers are fighting for influence just as the Brits and Russkies did 150 years ago. While the U.S., Russia, China, the EU and Turkey seek political and economic dominance in this contested region of oil, gas, and despots by building airbases, schools and shopping malls, Iran is likewise seeking to win allegiances by luring people into free concerts, then brainwashing them with a Grand Infomercial. The pinnacle, or punchline, of the film was a quote from the Grand Ayatollah himself, describing how Iran takes great pride in their excellent human rights record and efforts to promote human rights for all it's citizens. I soon found myself searching the seatback pocket in front of me for an air-sickness bag. Ahhh, finally the lights come, the musicians step forth to the stage, and my nausea abates. God bless music! It transcends all politics, religions, conflicts, stereotypes, well, ok, except for Toby Keith. Anyway, the music we heard that night was truly majestic. The vocalists filled the hall with melancholic wails and washed away all the cynical energy in my spine spawned by the rigamarole we were forced to endure earlier. I won't waste more words on a description of the music, a frivolous exercise famously summed up by the quote: "writiting about music is like dancing about architecture. (- Elvis Costello?)" Rather, I urge you to search high and low for traditional Persian music. Then send it to the White House (or more importantly, the Naval Observatory, home of Darth Cheney). Maybe then it will be harder for them to drop bombs on a civilization that can create such beauty. Enjoy the photos at least...
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