In a cosy, soundproof recording studio housed in a decrepit building in downtown Tehran, Felakat lounged on a chair, surrounded by sound mixers and other sleek recording gizmos.
Sporting a tousled black shirt, a slick fur jacket and a rumpled-and-spiky hairstyle — popular as the “Tintin style” in local barber parlance — this Persian rap musician might well pass for a punk icon.
“I devoted my life to rap when I was just 15,” says the 27-year-old, whose stage name means “miserable” in Persian. “Rap is my god.”
Felakat is well aware of the perils of taking up rap as a profession in Iran, for it is forbidden in the country.
Rappers replicate the American accent in Persian rap, use obscenities in lyrics (mostly American slang) and often use female voices as leads or in the background chorus — all jarring symbols of Western decadence in the eyes of Iranian authorities who blame such music for weaning its youth away from Islamic culture.
But despite the restrictions, Felakat and countless other rap musicians are demigods of Iran’s “underground music” scene — an expression that applies to any group which fails to obtain a recording licence from Iran’s culture ministry, and distributes its albums, illegally, through the flourishing black market.
Influenced by the young
In a country where 70 per cent of the population is under 32, society is strongly influenced by the young. Rap has found great appeal among the youth, much to the chagrin of the regime.
With the introduction of satellite television in the early 1990s — another thing illegal in Iran — and American artistes such as 2pac and Eminem becoming popular, hip-hop found an explosive following among the Iranian youth. Eventually, they turned to create Persian rap.
Soon afterwards, rap composers and producers descended on the music scene.
In the past few years, a vast spectrum of rap musicians has emerged in Iran.
And astonishingly, in a country where singing is banned for women, female rappers also dot the Persian rap landscape. The first of the female hip-hop and rap artists was Salome, who lives in Tehran and focuses on social issues such as the miseries of the war in Iraq and prostitution.
Mana, another female rapper from Tehran, is famous for Rebellion, a song on poverty and runaway girls. Underground bands from Iran are now holding concerts in the United States, Britain, Canada and the Netherlands and the albums they produce are more popular than those of many professional singers.
Given the restrictions, one of the main ways for Iranian rappers to get their music across to the world and the Iranian community is via the internet. Websites such as www.rap98.com and www.parshiphop.com make downloading Persian music easy. Rappers have also invaded YouTube.
But despite the fame, there is little money in the business because of tight regulations. Most CD shop owners, fearing raids, refuse to sell “underground music”.
Concerts in private gatherings occasionally get cancelled due to threats from neighbourhood Islamic vigilantes, who are staunchly opposed to music other than religious music.
“This is why many of us try to migrate abroad,” says Falakat, who, too, is weighing his options.
In March last year, President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s government filtered several “underground music” websites. A number of underground musicians were incarcerated, their recording studios raided and shut down. Most of the singers who were rounded up undertook not to produce any more “underground music”, and some were freed on bail.
In the thick of things
Falakat was among those arrested. He was released on bail after his father deposited his house property as security in court.
Mohammad Dashtgoli, an official from the culture ministry which is responsible for vetting music “in accordance with Islam” recently said he wanted to “find a solution” to counter the internet distribution of Persian rap.
“There is nothing wrong with this type of music in itself,” he told the Iranian media. “But due to the use of obscene words, rap has been categorised as illegal.”
But some rappers say that mullahs, who wear both the turbans of religion and the hats of government in Iran, are stifling their creative freedom and creating an obsessive atmosphere of Islamic purity, and ironically, that is making the Iranian youth less religious.
On the whole, rap is emerging as a form of protest music, as rappers continue to audaciously defy the authorities despite the crackdowns, thriving on their popularity and appeal among the young.
“Any music — even rap — is not unIslamic,” says Mahmoud, 25, a composer of rap music, whose screen name is “.S”.
.S has composed up to 100 Persian songs, 80 of which are rap. Only two of them have clearance from the culture ministry as they are on religious themes.
“If we adhere to their red lines, rap will be ruined. So most of us just throw up our hands and say: ‘Oh, forget it!’” he says.
Although defying authorities, most rappers steer clear of political themes lest that invite crackdowns with even greater fury.
.S is hopeful that rap music will go above- ground one day. “The youth are the majority and they cannot ignore their aspirations,” he says. “If rap becomes legal, my albums would sell like hotcakes.”
Anuj Chopra is a journalist based in Bonn, Germany.
This story was reported with a grant from the Pulitzer Centre on Crisis Reporting, Washington.
