This is not a review. It is simply an account - inevitably interlaced with my own impressions - of Ostad Lotfi's concert in Berkeley last Saturday, June 23 2001.

The concert is sold out. Although I'd traveled from San Diego for this concert, I almost don't get in. The venue, Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, is an aged, flat hall in central Berkeley with a capacity of about 400, counting the chairs lined across both sides of the hall. The ambiance is good, as is the sound. I'm in the last row, which gives me the advantage of being able to stand up so I can see. The audience - a mix of Iranians and non - is curious and enthusiastic.

Mr. Lotfi walks onto the stage together with Houman Pourmehdi, his drummer and accompanist tonight. Both are bearded - Mr. Lotfi mostly white and Mr. Pourmehdi mostly black - and dressed loosely in white. After the welcome applause they sit and Mr. Lotfi picks up and tunes the setar, explaining in Persian that he may also play the kamancheh later in the program. A tar is also at his side. He pages through a book of poetry - presumably by Rumi - selecting a few for the first half of the performance.

Mr. Lotfi plays the first few notes of the improvised performance solo on setar. Those familiar with the dastgah system of Iranian music quickly recognize it to be Avaz-e Esfahan. Others hear the beginning of a story, told by a master storyteller. We will witness the unfolding of this story in various stages: the entrance of the tombak in a stately pishdaramad, a lively chaharmezrab duet, a few lines of Rumi poetry sung to an improvised melody, another setar solo this time in a higher gusheh, more rhythmic duets and singing with the setar technique gradually switching to the folk dotar style, a buildup in volume and intensity reaching the high point with the entrance of the daf, and then a relatively quick descent back to Avaz-e Esfahan to close the story. Although I have greatly simplified the form, those familiar with Ostad Lotfi's work of the past fifteen years recognize this form - essentially traditional, but brought to life through total improvisation based on a thorough knowledge of the ancient radif melodies [1].

In the second half of the concert, Mr. Lotfi tunes the tar so as to play Dastgah-e Homayoun. Again the form is similar to the first half. Actually Ostad Lotfi himself makes an analogy of a performance of Iranian music to ascending - and then descending - a mountain. At one point the poetry he sings has a chorus of "I'm not me - not I am I" (man na manam - na man manam) - Rumi perhaps describing the paradox that is the human-being. The mountain in this half is even higher and more panoramic than the first half. There's a standing ovation from the audience at the end.

Mr. Lotfi and Mr. Pourmehdi return for an encore. Mr. Lotfi explains that he learned to play setar and kamancheh (besides the tar, which is his first instrument) at a time when few masters were still playing them, and so that he could help keep them alive by teaching them to his students. With permission from Ostad Zoufounoun, a master violin and tar player in the audience tonight, he picks up the kamancheh, tunes it and plays a "short story", explaining beforehand that this will be more a "hill" than a "mountain". He is surprisingly agile on the kamancheh, and above all, he plays it in his style: "legible", dignified, with a touch of fire when necessary.

A couple more points before closing: I love Mr. Lotfi's superfast chaharmezrabs on tar. I think of them as one of his trademarks, and as super-energizers in Iranian music which is contemplative in nature. Another point is that every time I've seen Mr. Lotfi in concert I've got the impression that drummers are intimidated by him, in that often they are too quiet or too subdued. This is in contrast to Mr. Lotfi's recordings with the late master Farhangfar who is sensitive to the melody instrument, but also challenges it with authority when needed.

As the performance ends, I feel as though I've been on an interesting journey and am now back home. In poet Robert Bly's words: "My first response upon hearing Lotfi’s music is astonishment. As he plays he opens a path and finally a road to that place inside us of enormous assurance; such assurance paradoxically often brings tears to the eyes." [2] As I walk out into the cool Berkeley air, I feel as though my trip has been well worth the effort.

Don't miss Mr. Lotfi and Mr. Pourmehdi in concert in San Diego on July 20, 2001. Just ask anyone who saw a previous concert what they thought.