It's 7:15 p.m. I am wearing a suit and sitting on the ground
with my back against a wall. I have no shoes on, just a fresh pair of argyle
dress socks I got from my sister for Christmas. As I look across the cushioned
bamboo floor of Four Seasons Yoga Studio in University City, I notice a man
with barely contained excitement headed in my direction. As my vision finally
focuses I recognize him as Mehdi Sarram, father of Bahman (pronounced like ‘Batman',
without the "t"). Some of you may be more familiar with Bahman via his artist
moniker: BViolin (www.bviolin.com).
"It has
always been this way with Bahman," Medi begins before he even gets to where I'm
sitting. "Ever since he was very young; it's always been music, music, music!"
For the
duration of this sentence, I have been struggling to stand and greet the man
properly, to no avail. My ingrained sense of propriety, proving no match for
the combination of slick polyester blend and the buffed luster of the floor, I
find myself slip-stumbling in place like Scooby Doo trying to run from a ghost
at a haunted amusement park.
He grasps
my hand, calmly places his other on top of them and continues:
"He was a
master musician," he says, clearly beaming from parental pride. "He went to
Villanova; he heard that Dave Matthews, and then off to California...." He trails
off, almost wistfully.
"And
now...all this!"
He spreads
his arms and gestures toward the room that in just a few moments will be filled
with the music of BViolin and his guitarist, Reverend Stickman. This will be as
an opening act for Bahman's successful Zen House Concert Series.
What's even
more notable than the fact that Mehdi passed along this exact same information
the last time I saw him, is the undeniably energetic enthusiasm with which it
was rendered. This applies as well to his mom, Faye.
"Bahman has
always loved music, all his life." Adding quickly, "His friends are also very
important to him."
Keep in
mind, these aren't things being said in the context of an interview, just
pleasant familial chit-chat. What is worth noting, is that the apple has not
fallen so far from the tree.
Over the
last year or two, I have had the pleasure of seeing BViolin in action, as a
fine musician, promoter, and as a friend. I have witnessed that same
bursting-at-the-seams zeal that his mom and dad exhibited, only in the form of
just about every single thing that BViolin directs his attention toward.
"Flaming
Pie? Are you kidding me? Flaming Pie! Paul McCartney playing all those
parts...Melodies for daaaaaaays...I mean, everything. Just brilliant."
"Brilliant"
is definitely one of Bahman's favorite words and he always uses it with the
sort of swashbuckling panache you might find displayed in an Errol Flynn movie.
In other words: He owns it.
When asked
about his father's twice-offered biography, the artist known as BViolin opts
for humility.
"There's a
certain amount of parental exuberance, for sure," he laughs. It's a
characteristic laugh that might remind one of a tennis serve, his eyes and head
rolling back for a moment, then effortlessly falling forward to meet those of
the person he's conversing with. It suggests a connection; a way of being that
lets you know he's is not only listening to you, but he's also interested.
That
interest, as well as the enthusiasm that so often accompanies it, is central to
Bahman's musical journey.
"I was born
in Iran, a short time before the revolution and subsequent regime of the
Ayatollah Khemeini. Just before this [under the Shaw's rule] there was a lot of
stuff being shown on television...a lot of art and music in particular. I really
liked it whenever violins were on. Then one day, WHAM! No more music. No more
dancing. These things were western and were therefore FORBIDDEN.
"This, of
course, only made me more fixated, and when I was four years old I kept asking
for a violin. Eventually, I received one, and this old guy was kind of sought
out in secrecy to give me some lessons on it. It wasn't too long after that we
were forced to flee the country. My dad first and my mom, my sister and me a
few months later. We went to Vienna for a year and then to America.
"Vienna is
about the time that music had to stop for a little while, because my sister and
I had to deal with learning a new language and living in Austria. A year or so
after we moved to Philadelphia, it was back to private lessons and then
orchestra, orchestra, orchestra all the way up to college. Once I had graduated
high school, I was like, ‘Well, that's that. I'm not gonna be doing that
anymore, because I've got to concentrate on going to Villanova.' I actually
left my violin at home.
"Anyway, I
started out a computer sciences major and after a year of discovering the more
‘socially-oriented' aspects of college life, I found a spot at the school's
radio station. Everyone else there was playing punk on their shows, but I was
like, ‘Let's play some Gypsy music...some rock...a little of this, a little of
that.'
"So one day
I get my ONE caller for the year. They want to hear ‘Ants Marching' by the Dave
Matthews band, so I'm like, ‘Okay...' Well, I hated it! The guy's voice, the
music...but then, I started to listen to the words...the stories. I was a fan!
"Around the
same time I met Chris [Roland], who was a keyboard prodigy. Just a ridiculous
musician who can do everything. He rekindled my musical interest. I had to go
back home to get my violin!" he chuckles. "We played a bad violin and piano
version of Clapton's ‘Wonderful Tonight' at an open mic at some no name bar,
but we got a great response, and I was hooked, HOOKED!"
Still, the
violin took a back seat yet again to more "sensible" concerns.
"I went
straight from college into the corporate world. I mean, I still played a
little, but I was focused on making the money.
"A few years
later, San Diego came. Suddenly, I was in the Middle Earth Band and [Matthews
tribute band] Stepping Feet. It was great. I was living on both sides of my
musical brain. On Thursday nights, I played for belly dancers. Then on Saturday
nights, I went downtown and played Dave Matthews songs. It was perfect!
"Then, the
Fryday Band came into the picture. I was like, ‘Wow. This is what it's like to
play original music.' I just fell in love with the songwriting.
"The band
signed to a local label, I quit the corporate world, and we hit the road for a
few months. I came back and started a business doing computer work on the side.
I eventually left the band and the record label for a girl who I thought I was
gonna marry....She ultimately left me as well, but hey! That's how albums are
made! My first album How This Weighs On Me is filled with songs about that
difficult period in my life."
That
recording, with its blend of folk-inflected introspective songs and flamenco
flourishes, is delivered with brushed drums, acoustic textures, and a hushed
delivery that suggests he's speaking in whispered tones about things that have
affected him very, very deeply.
"After that
album came out, things really started to happen. I got a regular gig in North
County that led to me being able to perform and hang out with a lot of artists
in the L.A./ Hollywood scene. I got to record at Henson Studios, Capitol...that
whole ‘theater' that is L.A. music.
"At the
same time, I was beginning to feel as if the Dave Matthews influence was too
apparent and becoming a bit of a curse. I started to tap back into the music
that I had performed with Middle Earth, which were my soloing songs. I began to
wonder what that music would sound like on record. That's when all the songs
that ended up on my next record started being written."
That album,
titled Stretch/Reach, is where I personally came to experience BViolin and his
music in a more comprehensive way, as it was produced and recorded at my
studio. Each day I bore witness not just to an artist reinventing himself and
his music, but also an excellent example of how one should carry themselves
through this world. Challenges were met with all the gusto of kids on the first
day of snow. Ideas were welcomed and thoroughly explored. Egos were never in evidence.
And there was love, which is undoubtedly another of Bahman's favorite words. He
spreads it like jelly on the toast that is the world around him. It is this and
his undeniable knack for surrounding himself with like-minded and talented
folks that has prompted myself and others to refer to him as a "people genius."
At the Zen
concert, BViolin and Stickman have the crowd enraptured. Eyes closed and head
back, his bow slashes and swoops like a bird of prey as the reverend's guitar
lays down a snaky groove. The two instruments intertwine and begin to spiral
skyward, stretching, reaching, and building to an ecstatic musical climax, only
to bring us all gently to the end of his impressive set of music.
"Thank you
all. There's just so much talent here in San Diego, so many places you can go
to hear some great music. We're just honored to have you all here. Peace."
He's right.
There are lots of different kinds of music and artists out there. Here's hoping
for more people who understand life and living as well as BViolin.
See him
live on March 3 at the Onyx Room, 852 5th Ave., downtown, 9pm.
Sven-Erik Seaholm is an independent record producer,
performer, and recording artist. www.svensongs.com