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My story begins
Passion and madness runs through our vein.
My mother named me Amir. My father called me Reza for some months, before he passed away in the grace of God! My uncle used to call me Houshang! … his name was Hamid… he called himself Omar. My grandmother named my father Arsalan … My grandfather called him Amir. My Father called my mother Fum (Colour)… her name is Fatemeh.
Giving nicknames is a custom among us. Arash, Bahram, Abed and Hooman call me “Bal” (The Wing).
My family was forced to move to Shiraz, due to the war (Iran-Iraq War). Shiraz then became my first hometown.
I was a good son. I started to learn guitar, when I was fifteen. I wanted to have a keyboard… didn’t happen. I got a violin, when I was seventeen… didn’t learn it, though. I wanted to study Music… didn’t happen. I cut the strings… I studied Architecture…
… Rasht… Zanjan…
I worked… I cut the strings… I became “Aqaye Najar”
… carpentry in Rasht… Tehran…
I cut the strings…
… Rasht became my second hometown…
I’m a musician. I perform, and I teach… don’t know for how long…
Makhoola
… I cut the strings and went to Rasht. Of all those who knew me, and turned their back on me, one day, Arash came to me and put out his ideas on the table… and I stood by his side, with all I knew, and together, with Farid, Sina, Mohammad and Milad, we started to make… to plant… to observe… to endure or to stand… and to grow. It became Makhoola.
We started with a underground live at Amir Mirshahidi’s home and got up to Rasht City Hall. Yesss! With Arash Monsef and Sina Golnoghreh, we withstood.
We performed live in many concerts, in many cities… and the first Makhoola album was recorded and released, at last.
And in like manner we are moving forward and thinking of the second and third albums.
For me, Makhoola is red… navy blue… deep… diverse… bold… brave… is a rooster…
Davvar
When I was about 30, I’ve decided to let all go and become a fulltime musician. And still, Makhoola didn’t fill all of my time. I had lots of extra time and was very low on cash, haha! I bought a vocal processor for Makhoola concerts, and on day I found out it has something called “looper”. I discovered it and from the heart of solitude and adopting the looper Davvar (e.g. rotary) emerged.
By guitar, violin, flute and vocal, I was developing forms and patiently seeking “them” for hours until I wasn’t lost anymore.
Starting a new task is to getting lost. If you endure… you recover. I recovered. Bahram Mohtashami, Hooman Fakhteh, Abed Mahmoudi and M. Emamverdi came and they stood by my side, and I became stronger and Davvar was born.
Davvar is meaningfull live on the stage. It can’t be much talked about. It has to be experienced. Bahram says it’s a Happening.
For me Davvar is coarse… full of sharp edges… unpredictable and strange… like the ocean floor.
We performed Davvar in Rasht, recorded it and send it’s video to a festival in Germany then we were chosen… and we exist…
Balzan
One day I woke up and see a message. I opened it to find out it was from the famous Nima Ramezan. He wrote: “your voice is refreshing, are you up to do something together?” We started. At first, it didn’t work out. We were contradistinctive. We weren’t connected. Nima preferred Electronic music… and I Alternative [rock] and some Progressive [rock]… In a word, it didn’t happened. Howeverwe were connected through, Nosrat Rahmani, the poet. We conjoined and the process went on rapidly. I accepted Nima and Nima… me. And together we started the Balzan project.
First album came out and was heared by so many… and so many had empathy for it… and they sang with us at the first Balzan live concert, which was bizarre for me.
For me, Balzan is luminous… smooth… sharp… it’s swift… and my wings are wide open… and I flutter over the stage freely… we exist…