Ariana Delawari – Lion of Panjshir – Album Review

Editor’s Aside:  There are a lot of things that could be researched and alluded to in today’s review, particularly the history of Taliban rule in Afghanistan, and more lightheartedly, what exactly a tabla, rabab, and dilruba are musically.  They show up as misspellings in my spellcheck.  Levity aside, an entire cultural landscape is impossible to digest and connect in a short album review.  What’s important, dear readers, is that the overall backstory to Ariana Delwari’s newest release, while intriguing and powerful, is not the only noteworthy highlight point.  This review will discuss the story associated with the album, and even allude to David Lynch.  Aptly, most reviews of this record will do as much.  However, after spinning the album back and forth all week, it seems mind-numbingly crucial to focus primarily on the musical output of Delwari and her bandmates.  For certain, our readers should venture outward to explore the ins and outs of the lyrical importance of Delawari’s storytelling.  Likewise, purchasing this album and putting it in your 2009 arsenal is an absolute must.

“We consider this our duty — to defend humanity against the scourge of intolerance, violence, and fanaticism.” — Ahmed Shah Massoud (The Lion of Panjshir)

Ariana Delwari’s Lion of Panjshir is peppered with extrinsic value without one push of the play button.  Upon fear of Taliban resurgence in Kabul, Delawari returned to her parents’ new home in the capital, bent on recording one final time before the possible reissuing of the Taliban music suppression laws.  Under the Taliban regime, most musicians had long since stowed and dismantled their culturally important instruments to avoid certain persecution.  The largeness of Delawari’s semi-pilgrimage cannot be overstated.  Not only does the infusion of middle-eastern musical influence drench the record in swirling juxtaposing sound, but the turmoil rich journey each track molds together is impressive.  Armed guards with machine guns sat outside the Delawari home as an entire host of musicians recorded a major portion of Lion of Panjshir in earnest.  Ripe with tension and release, Delawari’s urgency is inherently shackled to each and every note of the record.  Tracks hover at the brink of breakdown but never digress.  Tightly controlled arrangements and big ambient sounds wander everywhere and jerk and change without warning.  There’s a lot to digest and analyze here, which is apparently where David Lynch enters the fray.  The album will be the first proper release on the eclectic filmmaker’s new record label.  He’s found a gem here.  All backstory aside, it’s the music that’s the major point of emphasis.

From the opening chords of “San Francisco,” an incredibly taut and trembly juxtaposition unfolds in Delawari’s sound.  On one hand, listeners get a boot kicking, bluesy grit.  She’s got a fist clinched around American ouevres and a mouthful of spit directed right at listeners’ macho bravado.  She’s feisty and the album opener says so.  Like alcatraz, I’ll swim away.  I’d rather swim with sharks any day, than keep on keepin’ on this way.  To counter this underlying rock sound are the eastern inspired subtleties.  “Her Legacy” is a left turn at track two, continuing with wickedly clean guitar loops and fills, but adds an emphasis on angular start and stop.  Intensity builds and the eastern influence of percussion rises to the forefront.  Delawari’s vocals are drenching and an immediate reference to Angel Deradoorian and Dirty Projectors comes to mind.  For Delawari, however, experimentation may just be her comfort zone.

The juxtaposition and melding together of American folk standards and Eastern musicianship hits home at track four, in “Laily Jan,” where Delawari emotionally delivers lyrics in her native tongue, and the aforementioned tabla, dilruba, and rabab shred with intensity.  This is a roots hearkening track that, when paired with the strongly American sound built in the first three tracks, leaves Delawari strikingly sincere in her delivery.  I’m picturing cobras rising up out of baskets, piqued by a sound with enough bite to keep them at bay. “Cheshme Siah Daree” is a gorgeous song about midway through the album, where Delawari bounces back and forth in a pseudo-hybrid English.  Her voice becomes loud and blatantly striking, the centerpiece amid bluesy undertones and wistful accordion sounds.  In these particular tracks, listeners must make choices about how to label her material; it’s certainly and strongly American, but brightly stirs instrumentation of her heritage into the pot. 

Certain portions of the album were recorded in Los Angeles, but at times it’s extremely difficult to locate differences.  The interesting recording process in her home in Kabul, no doubt, brings a hollowed out feel and largeness to many tracks.  In “Be Gone Taliban,” acoustic drones and sailing violins work in tandem in the intro.  Her voices becomes more gravelly and closer to the microphone.  Afghani chants enter, as well, paradoxically mixing with the southern sentimentality of the track.  It’s a mystic Dee’s Diner, musically.  There’s no aiming point for over-sentimentality or crybaby shit here.  She’s angry and ready to break free from Taliban rule.  Mild, subtle dives break her voice away into the aforementioned hollow sound, and she wails ruefully, as if held captive deep inside a Taliban mountain stronghold.  Additionally, the one track singularly produced by David Lynch, “Suspend Me,” is similarly arranged. Delawari’s heart is laid bare in this track and her voice is sincerely drawn to reciprocate this idea.  No need to defend, suspend me.  Runnin too quickly.  The wind has got my feet again.  She’s in love and asking for her heart’s defenses to be disarmed in this track.  She’s got so much to live for, and Delawari’s softside becomes crystal clear behind smoky vocals.

The oddball experimentation is ripe in the album, and there’s a lot to love and dig into musically.  Dueling banjos pair up with Baroque violins in “The East,” and big kettle drums hold the fort down as she mimmicks early Debbie Harry in a pseudo rap delivery at its tail end.  Delawari has a panache for the psychedilic here and steers clear from the eastern inspired modes.  “Singwind” begins about as foreign sounding as possible and blends into a more 12-string acoustic jam.  Larger percussion sounds bumper car back and forth in the background.  Big sound and hollowed out arena largeness is emitted.  Listen to the wind, it knows. She’s obviously very earthy and aware of nature’s balance.  Although the music, at times, is hugely chaotic, hypnotic underpinnings are entirely intriguing.  This track goes all instrumental and quickly rises in intensity in its final two minutes.  Strings mimmick oohs and ahhs.  At times throughout the record, it’s difficult to decipher what’s a background voice and what’s not.

This album is important, certainly, because of its story.  Delwari becomes a “Lion of Panjshir” of her own, bringing her cultural heritage and cautionary pleas to the western world.  Her unique stance, straddling America and Afghanistan, brings her storytelling to listeners clearly and unapologetically.  Pleasingly, Lion of Panjshir is also ripe with musical worth and talent.  She’s got her feet in many standards and plays them all extremely well.  Do not miss this record and purchase it.  You can snag the CD at insound by CLICKING HERE.

Ariana Delawari – Be Gone Taliban