Almost forty years after the 1979 revolution in Iran, we are witnessing the emergence of a new generation of scholarly writings on the revolution itself and post-revolutionary Iran. Soundtrack of the Revolution is one such contribution. Grounded in extensive fieldwork, Nahid Siamdoust places music at the center of her analysis of the complex relationship between the state and the people in Iran. Music is the lens through which she examines the nuanced and fluid cultural policies of the Islamic Republic and the adapting responses of music producers and consumers. During the first decade following the 1979 revolution, the Islamic Republic’s stance toward music was hostile. Since the late 1980s and the end of the war with Iraq, with each new sociopolitical era and with the introduction of new technologies, new kinds of musical expressions emerged and with them the state’s attitude towards both cultural production and consumption has evolved as well.

This book is based on substantive research conducted over a period of five years, mostly in the form of interviews, but also through participant observation of a wide range of musical events, and analysis of primary and secondary writings and online resources. Siamdoust’s corroboration of her information by interviewing not only the musicians who make up the focus of her book, but also speaking to other musicians, fans and audiences, government officials, and independent producers and music makers, significantly strengthens her work, making Soundtrack of the Revolution one of the best ethnographies of culture and politics in Iran to date.

The book offers a nuanced analysis of the political and social situation of the past few decades in Iran, and their complicated relations to cultural and specifically musical production. Siamdoust acknowledges the role of institutions and government officials, but perhaps even more importantly, she emphasizes the agency of Iranian musicians and audiences alike (what she calls the primary and secondary producers) in bringing change to the discourse of music and politics. Siamdoust, unlike some ethnographers in the past, observes that nothing is black and white, and nothing is static. Governmental rules and regulations, individual roles, and societal responses to them are constantly shifting and evolving as they all respond to internal and global transformations.

The book consists of ten chapters including the introduction and conclusion. The book’s eight main chapters are organized in pairs, with one presenting a particular era of musical activity and government policy and the following studying a specific singer as representative of the era. While the author’s study concentrates on the period between the 1979 revolution and the 2009 Green Movement, the book also makes instructive references to other periods of Iran’s modern history, from the political poetry and song-writing of the 1906 Constitutional Revolution to Hasan Rouhani’s current presidency.

Siamdoust contextualizes each of the following four artists within the sociopolitical and cultural conditions of the time and the artist’s career.

Mohammad-Reza Shajarian is the representative of the decades immediately before and after the revolution: the uneven modernization/westernization policies of Mohammad-Reza Shah, the growth of an urban middle class, the introduction and expansion of radio and television in Iran, and the backlash of a still mostly traditional and religious society against all of these new aspects of twentieth-century urban Iran (chapter three). Alireza Assar is introduced (in chapter five) as a “home-grown original” from the first generation of pop artists emerging in the late 1990s. By the mid-2000s, popular music was to some extent established in Iran, be it in the “aboveground” official sphere, or the “underground” unofficial sphere. Namjoo is portrayed (in chapter seven) as a rebel with “an absurdist nihilism,” whose shaytanat (mischief) is instantly understood, and appreciated, by the generation of Iranians who grew up during the stifling years of war and the restrictions of the immediate postwar era (p. 184). Later, Siamdoust contextualizes the emergence of rappers in post-9/11 Iran, a time when the region was under fire and Iran faced a constant threat of attack from the United States. Hichkas belongs to this “Third Generation” of the Iranian revolution who found a defiant voice in rap and hip-hop to sing patriotic themes, and, as the author states, use it as a “vehicle for global youth affiliation and a tool for reworking local identities all over the world” (p. 212).

The intimate relationship between classical Persian poetry and music is not lost on Siamdoust. In fact, her analysis of song lyrics and the importance of poetry to Iranian musicians and audiences are highlighted throughout the book. Also noteworthy is her attention to the place of “socially-aware, politically-critical,” and “freedom- and justice-seeking” poetry in Iran’s modern history dating back to the constitutional era. The author makes it clear that socially engaged and patriotic songs had been part of Iran’s musical repertoire since the latter parts of the nineteenth century, and that fear of political persecution has also been part of a musician’s life since long before the 1979 revolution. The significance of the Constitutional Revolution is noted especially with the emergence of two song forms: tasnif (ballad, close to a street ballad), which later became the focal form for many Iranian classical singers such as Shajarian, and bahr-e tavil (prose poem, a long passage of prose but with a repeated pattern), which is discussed by Siamdoust as the parent genre and the reason for the considerable popularity of rap among Iranian youth. Throughout the book we can find translations and transliterations of song lyrics discussed with detailed attention to poetic text and symbols, the artist’s personality and purpose, and the perception of the song by government officials who felt obligated to follow a pre-supposed official line, as well as a broad spectrum of ordinary audiences. By contextualizing these songs within the Iranian sociopolitical history, Siamdoust offers her readers a fresh perspective into the reciprocal relationship between music and politics, musicians and government officials; we are reminded that it is not only the politics that shape cultural production, but rather the complex grappling of culture producers with official yet fluid rules and regulations that constantly redefines what is acceptable and what is not.

In terms of theoretical framework, Siamdoust clearly discusses her approach in the first chapter, where she grounds her work in, among others, Judith Butler’s notion of performativity, James Scott’s theory of public and hidden scripts, and a nuanced discussion of public/private space. The author sees the human body as “a site for the manifestation of the state” (p. 10), but also where subversive acts and alternate subjectivities are embodied through citing fragments of various traditions and memories. Siamdoust’s analysis of the complex relationship between the government and society in Iran also draws on Asef Bayat’s notions of “quiet encroachment” and “subversive accommodation,” where people slowly break the rigid edge of state power and claim the “creatively redefined” dominant norms and symbols for themselves (p. 11).

Siamdoust’s central theoretical argument in the Soundtrack of Revolution is a rich discussion of private and public spaces, and what lies between those, such as private “public” spaces. This attention to blurred lines and interstitial events and spaces stems from the author’s intimate familiarity with the country and the intricacies of the links between organizations and people. Siamdoust conveys a fluid understanding of public and private spheres in Iran as government policies and concerns change and, with those, the meaning of threats to the “foundations of the Revolution” or the survival of the Islamic Republic. Within the discourse of survival and flourishing of music forms and musicians, attention to the when, where, how, and who become crucial, as Siamdoust tells the stories of numerous albums and concerts that received or were denied permission to perform; she concludes that all this is circumstantial. There is a certain reciprocity between these individuals and their stories, and the government and its rules and regulations, which constantly shape and re-shape one another.

She argues that within the multiple public spheres, including the larger, multifaceted alternative public sphere (namely the internet, satellite TV channels, and social media), “music plays a particularly important role in allowing for a national conversation outside of official parameters” (p. 17). One of these interstitial spaces between the public and private emerges with the concept of “musiqi-ye zirzamini” (underground music). Music that is produced, performed, and enjoyed within these spaces is not government-approved, yet it has a large audience. Siamdoust argues, however, that the term “underground,” as it describes a certain genre and relationship with mainstream music in the West, does not always apply to the context in Iran. For instance, acts such as Sasy Mankan or Barobax are so popular that the author argues they cannot be categorized as “underground” acts, as their music reaches a larger demographic than rap and rock, and can be enjoyed across generations as well (p. 227). Even though the term “underground” is still widely used by most audiences, journalists, and academics, the author suggests using the category of “hyperground music” in the Iranian context (p. 227).

The book also carefully addresses technological and social developments, and their impact on the emergence and promotion of various musical genres, individuals, and public/private spaces. Such developments are discussed within the context of gender, class, accessibility, and relevance. For instance, when recording technology and radio first appeared in Iran, although they significantly influenced the emergence and popularity of certain genres of music, their effect, Siamdoust observes, were not at the same level as live performances. When radio and gramophone were still unaffordable for a large majority of Iranians, the concert played a more important role in the dissemination of music, whereas during the period shortly before and after the 1979 revolution it was audiocassettes that were used as a medium to distribute both Khomeini’s speeches and revolutionary songs such as the works of leftist bands like the Chāvosh ensemble. Since the beginning of the twenty-first century the fast expansion of the internet in Iran has provided Iranians the opportunity to create their own version of a public sphere within cyberspace. Of course, with that has come the government’s scrutiny of the internet. Siamdoust observes how the Islamic Republic has viewed the new media and cyberspace as a threat to its existence and its ideological foundations, and has been “tightening the grip on this sphere” especially since 2009 (p. 217).

One of the strengths of Siamdoust’s fieldwork is showcased in her efforts to acquire official government documents and statutes that determine decision-making processes. However, she notes that despite her persistence, such documents and directions were not available. Thus, she concludes that, for instance, in the case of the Supreme Council for Cultural Revolution, by keeping their processes and directions from researchers and the public, they retain an advantage for themselves and the ability to change policies when they see the need. As such, she calls the situation a “Kafkaesque labyrinth that causes a great deal of frustration for most musicians” (p. 9).

In chapter four, Siamdoust takes her readers through the exhausting process of applying for and obtaining a permit from all three of the institutions that directly deal with permits for music performances and albums. She explains that the process of creating a music album for a new artist without the right relationships as “truly Herculean” (p. 101). Musicians complain about such “arduous” processes, and those who sit on these councils as not being musicians themselves, or the government’s overly conservative gatekeepers. But the reality is that these members are actually musicians and the make-up of the councils has changed little over the years. Hence, the reader has to come to terms with the reality that it is musicians who are preventing other musicians from freely creating and introducing new works. To a reader who is familiar with the older generation of Iranian musicians, many of the names of these music council members are known, and their objections to new forms and genres of the younger generation of musicians will not come as a surprise. Siamdoust’s comparative description of the power structures, financial advantages, and authoritative privileges of the music councils at the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance, the Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting (IRIB), and the Islamic Development Organization (Howzeh-ye Honari) are revealing of a system that is not homogenous, a system that can be worked around, if one is familiar with the tricks and dealing with the right person at the right time.

Siamdoust’s analysis shows that permissibility of music within the public transcript of the Islamic Republic is highly circumstantial, to the point that even though the state was expressly against western culture in general, it never showed hostility towards western classical music. In one case a female solo voice was permitted (for a television series to be broadcast on the IRIB) by the Office of the Supreme Leader because it was for a series about a prominent Shi’a figure (p. 93). Also in the late 1990s, the first generation of pop singers in Iran were in effect imitating Iranian artists in Los Angeles (los anjelesi) and pre-revolutionary singers, and they were granted permits for their albums and concerts. Siamdoust refers to the expression used by many in Iran, “music is in limbo,” as the “sad mantra of music in postrevolutionary Iran” (p. 92). This “state of limbo” is specifically caused by the tight control of the state over artistic expression and the persecution of those who step outside of the official public transcript in general, and the sudden surprises in allowing permission for an album here and a concert there that keep hope alive and push musicians to continue working. Because the Islamic Republic is a political entity striving to function under a religious ideology, permissibility of any kind of music is as much a political as it is a religious decision. Siamdoust accurately notes: “In many ways, it is in the interest of leaders and state bodies to not have very clear policies on music, because then officials can make decisions based on the circumstances of the time” (p. 94).

Soundtrack of the Revolution offers a detailed picture and account of how particular episodes or specific individual decisions could change the course of events, or at least provide a one-time opportunity for a work of art to be released. For instance, the assassination of Ayatollah Motahhari (1919‒79), a top aide to Ayatollah Khomeini, soon after the revolution, led to the writing and production of a song in his memory, and upon hearing the song Khomeini’s views on music either changed or were clarified, and in Siamdoust’s words, “things took a real turn” (p. 89). In another case, after cutting all ties with the IRIB and the state following the 2009 Green Movement, Shajarian received a permit for his album in 2011. The permit was given by an official, himself a musician, who worked at Ershād (lit. Guidance, short for the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance) at the time. Although the individual was later penalized, this story shows the influence of individuals in government institutions over what enters the public sphere and what does not. Siamdoust recounts several musicians in her book stating how influential someone like Ali Moʿallem (1962‒2017), the director of IRIB’s Music Center, had been over the years in giving permits to the first generation of pop musicians. Her nuanced position on how these individuals played such important roles in determining the fate of an album or a concert, or even the course of genres of music and generations of musicians, stands refreshingly against most stereotypical and essentializing criticisms of the Islamic Republic.

Throughout the book we can find references to song names, lyrics of iconic songs, and the process of their creation or their use in various sociopolitical developments. Siamdoust’s analysis of these iconic songs, their place in the Iranian collective memory, and their emotional weight are noteworthy. Siamdoust’s writing is not musicologically dense, compared for instance to G. J. Breyley and Sasan Fatemi’s Iranian Music and Popular Entertainment: From Motrebi to Losanjelesi and Beyond (Routledge, 2016), and in fact she does not include any transcription of the songs or the music. But this choice is well within more general manuscripts on popular culture, as opposed to those that focus on Iranian classical music, such as Laudan Nooshin’s Iranian Classical Music: The Discourse and Practice of Creativity (Routledge, 2015).

Finally, Siamdoust connects the themes of the 1979 revolution to Iran’s 2009 Green Movement and notes how Iranian protesters re-appropriated and used familiar slogans, including certain Islamic and revolutionary signifiers, “to protest the Islamic Republic itself” (p. 264). Here, Siamdoust’s attention to textual detail and its relationship to sociopolitical conditions of the time are exemplified in her observation of the celebrated contemporary singer Mohammad-Rezā Shajariān’s (b. 1940) transformation as a musician/activist throughout his artistic career during the Islamic Republic. Perhaps a significant difference between the 1979 revolution and 2009 protests could be seen in the use of violence by the civilian protesters. Siamdoust notes: “It would appear that Shajariān had undergone a transformation, from the young man of thirty years earlier who asked ‘Give me my gun’ (Tofangam rā Bedeh Tā Rah Bejooyam) so he could seek revenge for his slain brother’s blood to the Shajariān who is disgusted by bloodshed and invites the killer—whom he now calls his ‘brother’—to sit down and talk (Tofangat rā Zamin Bogzār)” (p. 78).

A major point of criticism is that female artists and musicians receive cursory treatment in the Soundtrack of the Revolution and their work is discussed as supplemental to the male artists, who are providing the narrative force. It is also noteworthy that in her introductory chapter, Siamdoust mentions Mahdieh Mohammad-Khāni’s concert in Tehran as being the first time a female solo singer performed on a public stage after the 1979 revolution, when the story turned out to be a mere rumor and was denied by Mohammad-Khāni herself soon after it was reported in the media. In that chapter, Siamdoust acknowledges that there is a “palpable silence” of female voices throughout her book, while it features

In fact, some of the female musicians that are mentioned in the book are representatives of the kind of transformation and invaluable contributions that the author intends to foreground in her work. Similarly to Mohsen Namjoo and Soroush Lashkari (aka Hichkas), these musicians have not been able to perform or release their music within the Iranian official public sphere, yet they represent the same musical activism that has urged Namjoo and Hichkas to remain musically engaged beyond the official sphere. With her own nuanced attention to the blurry lines of public and private spheres, Siamdoust could have observed how such female musicians have struggled and succeeded in creating, producing, and performing, as well as contributing to the intellectual and critical discourse of all genres of music. It is therefore surprising that despite the intentional exclusion of female musicians, the cover of the book depicts a woman wearing a scarf, with closed eyes and a troubled look on her face. One cannot help but wonder why the image of a woman is featured on the cover of a book in which women’s stories remain untold?

Soundtrack of the Revolution displays depth and critical analysis without sacrificing clarity. On the whole this book is a valuable source for both graduate and undergraduate courses in modern Iranian history, media studies, anthropology, and ethnomusicology. Very few sources present such a nuanced perspective of post-revolutionary Iran. The book is also a welcome read for the general audience to counter sensationalist narratives that often paint a largely inaccurate picture of Iranian cultural life today.