By Bliss - Pasadena Weekly - Pasadena, CA, U.S.A.
Thursday, August 3, 2006
“Multicultural” is more than just a demographic concept for Azam Ali; it’s almost a mandated life mission. The Glendale-based artist fronts Niyaz (which translates as “need” or “yearning” in Farsi and Urdu), a boundary-pushing ensemble that incorporates ancient Sufi poetry into heavily electronic, percussive music.
Born in Tehran, Ali moved at age 4 to the small town of Panchgani in India, where she attended boarding school with students from 24 other countries. Studies of world religions and cultures were mandatory, as were trips into local villages to do “little good deeds here and there.” Fellow students introduced Ali to Western music via tapes of Michael Jackson and AC/DC — something for which, she recalls with a laugh, she had absolutely no frame of reference.
In 1979, the Iranian Revolution trapped Ali’s mother in Iran. She was finally able to rejoin Ali in India a few years later; they relocated to Los Angeles in 1985. Fifteen-year-old Ali was traumatized by the seedy Hollywood hotel in which they landed, which was “not at all the image I had of America. … [But] it was a really good experience in the sense that I don’t think I will ever take anything in life for granted again.”
She took up hammered dulcimer at 19, then enrolled in beginners voice class after her teacher advised her, “Your voice has the ability of touching hearts, and that’s something you cannot learn; it’s a gift.” She subsequently toured as lead vocalist with Mickey Hart’s Bembe Orisha, and recorded several albums with percussionist Greg Ellis as popular world world-music duo Vas.
Last year she and her Niyaz bandmates (Axiom of Choice’s Loga Ramin Torkian and remixer Carmen Rizzo) issued an entrancing, self-titled CD of urgent dance beats, Indian poetry, traditional Iranian instruments and Ali’s gorgeously silky voice. The creatively restless Ali, a fan of artists like Massive Attack and Cocteau Twins, followed that last week with a haunting solo album, “Elysium for the Brave,” which provides an outlet for English-language, non-Niyaz songs.
It will be interesting to see how it’s received in Tehran, where Niyaz bootlegs are popular. Ali finally returned to Iran after her mother’s death three years ago — and was amazed to meet people who own all of her recordings.
“In order to become successful, you have to first become successful in your own country. But for Iranians that’s kind of a hopeless case because we can’t perform in our country. So it’s just such a nice surprise that still [the music’s] become popular, regardless of the difficulties finding music that’s made outside of Iran. … It’s really important for me as an Iranian that, whatever I do in my music, I’m setting some sort of a positive example for my people.”
Friday, November 17, 2006
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Friday, November 17, 2006
Making a musical home: Persian-electronica ensemble Niyaz
By Bliss - Pasadena Weekly - Pasadena, CA, U.S.A.
Thursday, August 3, 2006
“Multicultural” is more than just a demographic concept for Azam Ali; it’s almost a mandated life mission. The Glendale-based artist fronts Niyaz (which translates as “need” or “yearning” in Farsi and Urdu), a boundary-pushing ensemble that incorporates ancient Sufi poetry into heavily electronic, percussive music.
Born in Tehran, Ali moved at age 4 to the small town of Panchgani in India, where she attended boarding school with students from 24 other countries. Studies of world religions and cultures were mandatory, as were trips into local villages to do “little good deeds here and there.” Fellow students introduced Ali to Western music via tapes of Michael Jackson and AC/DC — something for which, she recalls with a laugh, she had absolutely no frame of reference.
In 1979, the Iranian Revolution trapped Ali’s mother in Iran. She was finally able to rejoin Ali in India a few years later; they relocated to Los Angeles in 1985. Fifteen-year-old Ali was traumatized by the seedy Hollywood hotel in which they landed, which was “not at all the image I had of America. … [But] it was a really good experience in the sense that I don’t think I will ever take anything in life for granted again.”
She took up hammered dulcimer at 19, then enrolled in beginners voice class after her teacher advised her, “Your voice has the ability of touching hearts, and that’s something you cannot learn; it’s a gift.” She subsequently toured as lead vocalist with Mickey Hart’s Bembe Orisha, and recorded several albums with percussionist Greg Ellis as popular world world-music duo Vas.
Last year she and her Niyaz bandmates (Axiom of Choice’s Loga Ramin Torkian and remixer Carmen Rizzo) issued an entrancing, self-titled CD of urgent dance beats, Indian poetry, traditional Iranian instruments and Ali’s gorgeously silky voice. The creatively restless Ali, a fan of artists like Massive Attack and Cocteau Twins, followed that last week with a haunting solo album, “Elysium for the Brave,” which provides an outlet for English-language, non-Niyaz songs.
It will be interesting to see how it’s received in Tehran, where Niyaz bootlegs are popular. Ali finally returned to Iran after her mother’s death three years ago — and was amazed to meet people who own all of her recordings.
“In order to become successful, you have to first become successful in your own country. But for Iranians that’s kind of a hopeless case because we can’t perform in our country. So it’s just such a nice surprise that still [the music’s] become popular, regardless of the difficulties finding music that’s made outside of Iran. … It’s really important for me as an Iranian that, whatever I do in my music, I’m setting some sort of a positive example for my people.”
Thursday, August 3, 2006
“Multicultural” is more than just a demographic concept for Azam Ali; it’s almost a mandated life mission. The Glendale-based artist fronts Niyaz (which translates as “need” or “yearning” in Farsi and Urdu), a boundary-pushing ensemble that incorporates ancient Sufi poetry into heavily electronic, percussive music.
Born in Tehran, Ali moved at age 4 to the small town of Panchgani in India, where she attended boarding school with students from 24 other countries. Studies of world religions and cultures were mandatory, as were trips into local villages to do “little good deeds here and there.” Fellow students introduced Ali to Western music via tapes of Michael Jackson and AC/DC — something for which, she recalls with a laugh, she had absolutely no frame of reference.
In 1979, the Iranian Revolution trapped Ali’s mother in Iran. She was finally able to rejoin Ali in India a few years later; they relocated to Los Angeles in 1985. Fifteen-year-old Ali was traumatized by the seedy Hollywood hotel in which they landed, which was “not at all the image I had of America. … [But] it was a really good experience in the sense that I don’t think I will ever take anything in life for granted again.”
She took up hammered dulcimer at 19, then enrolled in beginners voice class after her teacher advised her, “Your voice has the ability of touching hearts, and that’s something you cannot learn; it’s a gift.” She subsequently toured as lead vocalist with Mickey Hart’s Bembe Orisha, and recorded several albums with percussionist Greg Ellis as popular world world-music duo Vas.
Last year she and her Niyaz bandmates (Axiom of Choice’s Loga Ramin Torkian and remixer Carmen Rizzo) issued an entrancing, self-titled CD of urgent dance beats, Indian poetry, traditional Iranian instruments and Ali’s gorgeously silky voice. The creatively restless Ali, a fan of artists like Massive Attack and Cocteau Twins, followed that last week with a haunting solo album, “Elysium for the Brave,” which provides an outlet for English-language, non-Niyaz songs.
It will be interesting to see how it’s received in Tehran, where Niyaz bootlegs are popular. Ali finally returned to Iran after her mother’s death three years ago — and was amazed to meet people who own all of her recordings.
“In order to become successful, you have to first become successful in your own country. But for Iranians that’s kind of a hopeless case because we can’t perform in our country. So it’s just such a nice surprise that still [the music’s] become popular, regardless of the difficulties finding music that’s made outside of Iran. … It’s really important for me as an Iranian that, whatever I do in my music, I’m setting some sort of a positive example for my people.”
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