Iran’s classical (sonnati) music embodies a rich tapestry of regional folk history and ethnic heritage. Although sonnati music is commonly referred to as “Persian music,” due to more closely echoing the traditional tunes of Persianophone regions, such as Tehran, Kashan, Isfahan, and Fars, the enduring influence of other ethnic musical traditions on its development cannot be denied. A number of sonnati’s melodic phrases known as gusheh still bear the names of different ethnic tribes and provincial areas that they share a possible past connection with (e.g., bakhtiyari, gilaki, daghestani, etc). It is important to celebrate these intertwined yet unique legacies, for, despite historical marginalization, non-Persians have long fought to maintain their cultural identity and visibility within Persian-dominated frameworks. Music holds a special significance because both individual and collective identities may be embraced, even when language, history, and cultural practices are distinct (Figure 1). 

At the core of this syllabus are the following questions: using Iran’s multiculturalism as an example, what role does music play in fostering a more inclusive society? How may cultural politics and revival efforts inadvertently transform the native music they seek to preserve? How have folk cultures resisted pressure to push cultural-nationalist agendas—and at what cost? And given this history, what exactly is our role in consuming oral traditions today?

“Persian” music is composed of regional (navahi) and folk elements from all corners of Iran. This kinship is so close that some ethnomusicologists like Stephen Blum and Jean During have insisted upon not separating sonnati music from its popular roots. As music becomes increasingly global and genre-defying, however, blurring categorization boundaries presents obvious downsides for those fighting against assimilation forces. 

Figure 2: Several musical and oral traditions from Iran have been added to UNESCO cultural heritage list:

Preserving Iran’s musical heritage has been underway for over a century. Abolhasan Saba (1902–1957), the Great Radif master, was among the first music scholars to collect and transcribe folk music. Before long, grassroots projects gave way to coordinated, state-sponsored efforts, but the term navahi did not enter official terminology until the early 1970s. It was also during this time that the Center for the Preservation and Promotion of Iranian Music (مرکز حفظ و اشاعه موسیقی ایرانی) sponsored Fozieh Majd to lead a series of field surveys across the country (Figure 3), producing a wealth of documentary unmatched in scope and quality. The 1979 revolution, however, brought a swift halt to this nearly decade-long endeavor, and since then, a voluminous collection of recordings is said to have remained hidden in the repositories of the former National Iranian Radio and Television headquarter. 

Despite the initial religious objection, support and patronage for navahi music has only grown since the inception of the Islamic Republic. Within the newly defined moral codes, folk performances are promoted broadly via numerous government-sponsored programs and festivals throughout the year. This increased visibility comes at a higher cost, however. According to Ameneh Youssefzadeh, ethnomusicologist and Khorasani music scholar, “these events have assumed the form of a commodity export while at the same time serving as tools for propaganda used to construct and defend Iran’s national image…[as well as] fostering social integration.” Contrary to the Pahlavi government’s emphasis on a united neo-Aryan origin, collective identities are now permissible, even promoted, as long as they fit within the government’s hegemonic brand of religious nationalism. 

Aspirations for hegemony date as far back as the Safavid dynasty (1501–1722) when a united Iran was formed under the banner of Shi’ism. Since then, Shi’ite rituals have played a central role in the formation of national and Iranian identity, offering a powerful medium for self-expression, collectivity, and solidarity, particularly for those navigating the complexities of ethnicity and nationalism. In some cases, ritualistic practices were syncretized with traditional beliefs as a marker of “authenticity,” albeit with varying degrees of support, even repression, from the ruling establishments. The example of the latter would be Reza Shah (1925–41) who, under the guise of modernist nation-building campaigns, forcibly pushed back against Shi’ite customs to undermine the clerical influence, creating a strong central government. In response, Shi’ite symbols increasingly became co-opted by the opposition to shape political agendas and mass mobilization, ultimately culminating in the 1979 revolution. Muslim nationalism thus became the collective identity under the new political order, enforcing a faithful citizenry that claimed to protect against separatist and foreign threats. 

Freedom is too late

However improbable, marginalized ethnic expressions have inspired patriotic and religious fervor. This is exemplified by the Afro-Iranian maddah¹ artist Jahanbakhsh Kordizadeh (1937–77), better known by the moniker Bakhsho, who rose to prominence in his hometown of Bushehr for creating a unique style of maddahi rooted in the local folkloric musical traditions. While Bakhsho’s fame did not gain the same national attention, one of his popular hymns “Leila Begofta” (“Leila Proclaimed”)² was posthumously adapted into the widely known patriotic anthem “Mamad Nabudi Bebini” (“Mamad, You Were Not Here to See”) in postwar Iran. Bakhsho’s harmonic language is mostly preserved in the cover version, performed in the same maddahi style with no background music and only accompanied by the mourners’ rhythmic sineh-zani, beatings of their chests (Figure 4). The lyrics, however, are completely reworded to instead honor a military commander and friend Mohamamd “Mamad” Jahanara who became martyred before Khorramshahr could be liberated from the invading Iraqi forces. Still, the grief of this loss, though may be one of millions of lives, sounds as inconsolable as Leila’s lament over losing her 18-year-old son Ali al-Akbar—the first martyr to die for Imam Hossein. Past credits are poorly documented in written sources, and as a result, few Iranians today know about the anthem’s original Bushehri folkloric roots and Bakhsho’s incredible musical legacy.  

Figure 5. Jahanbakhsh “Bakhsho” Kordizadeh did not live to see his popular hymn “Leila Begofta” inspiring one of Iran’s most stirring patriotic anthems. Only two videos of Bakhsho’s maddahi performance survive today. a) One is from the 1970 documentary Arbaïn by the great Iranian filmmaker Nasser Taghvai. b) The other is captured between 1973 and 1974 for the TV series Deliran-e Tangestan (“The Valors of Tangestan”), in which he appears briefly in an iconic scene that calls out the religious hypocrisy of mourners who stay silent in the face of today’s tyranny. 

Against all odds, there are examples of folk anthems that have been well-preserved in the collective memory. In its native tune and Luri language, the battle song “Dayeh Dayeh” (meaning mother or her surrogate) still reverberates today as a plea for collective resistance against tyranny. The song’s origin is unclear but some sources trace it back to the 19th-century Bakhtiyari tribal confederacy of the Zagros Mountains, who fought against the British imperial projects in their ancestral territory. Without being necessarily religious, the song uses the same devotional iconography of a grieving mother to demonstrate the heroic image of martyrs. 

According to the navahi music scholar Houshang Javid, the song was popularized in recorded form by the great Luri vocalist Reza Saghaei (1939–2010), who released it as a track on the cassette album Tofang (“The Rifle”) in the midst of the nationwide protests and armed resistance against the Pahlavi regime (Figure 5). In just a few years, Saghaei would be forced to quit singing, not due to the censorship he witnessed, but after suffering injuries during the war. He quietly died in 2010 after years of obscurity. Yet, “Dayeh Dayeh” prevailed as the iconic Luri folk anthem of bravery and sacrifice, carrying our dreams for liberation across devastating wars and historic uprisings, only to call us forth to greater battles awaiting still.

Resources for Further Reading, Learning, and Listening:

• Dr. Ameneh Youssefzadeh’s presentation on Iran’s Diverse Musical Traditions
• Ameneh Youssefzadeh. Iran’s regional musical traditions in the twentieth century: A historical overview. August 2006.
• Ann Lucas. Understanding Iran Through Music: A New Approach. June 2006. 
• Avanegar: History of Music Transcription in Iran; a short documentary by Dimension Media
• During, J., Mirabdolbahi, Z., & Safvat, D. (1991). The Art of Persian Music. Washington, DC: Mage Publishers. Available via Internet Archive

1. Maddahi events are observed annually to commemorate the tragic martyrdom of the Prophet’s grandson Imam Hossein, who died in battle alongside his small band of companions after refusing to submit to the unjust rule of Yazid. The maddah is the speaker/vocalist who leads a commemoration mourning. ↩︎
2. Some sources credit Seyed Muhammad Mahzoon Bushehri as the original composer of “Leila Begofta,” but it was likely Bakhsho who popularized it in its current form. ↩︎