Last upload (6th of 6) of a tremendous series of archival CDs by this late, rarely documented Iranian master of the tanbur lute, Ostad Elahi (1895-1974). This first volume features recordings from Tehran, 1964-72. For music of transcendational quality via stringed instruments, these are some of the most important releases of recent vintage. "Ostad Elahi is a fascinating figure, a unique 20th century musical giant. His whole adult life he worked as a magistrate in Iran, yet he was acclaimed as a musician embedded in a tradition of Islamic mysticism stretching back to the tenth century. Even after retiring aged 62, in order to devote himself full time to music and spiritual research, he never performed a concert either in public or for the radio. Elahi's instrument of choice was the humble Kurdish tanbour, a long-necked lute associated more with the epic ballads of central Asian nomads than the sophisticated delights of Persian classical music. In fact, Elahi doesn't play Persian classical in the strict sense, though that is one of the many traditions he studied. He is a prime example of a musician stepping out of the tradition, drawing on Persian, Azeri, pre-Islamic musics, even Kurdish popular tunes, stretching all forms to his own visionary purpose. Between 1964 and 1972. when Elahi was in his early 70s, someone finally got a microphone in front of him. These are no-nonsense, no-effects, mono recordings, and occasionally they sound like the teapot spilt on the tapes. But Elahi's earthy mysticism comes shining through, a relentless quest for the divine via the physical propulsion of playing, and then more playing.

Pakistan's qawwali maestro, Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, passed away from complications due to chronic diabetes in August of 1997. Earlier that year, Ali Khan signed a contract with Rick Rubin's American Recordings and entered the studio, completing in July what would be his final album. Musically, this is easily the finest studio recording Ali Khan ever issued. His range is wider than ever, and his command of musical ideas, tempo, and vocal improvisation is tremendous. The "party" as his backing musicians were called, was in fine, relaxed form -- not always the case on his studio sessions -- with nephews Rahat and Farroukh as his side singers and Rahat Ali on harmonium and Dildair Hussein on tabla, with a chorus (or choir) backing the three principal singers. The songs themselves are from antiquity, from Rumi to poets and composers from the qawwali lineage who have long since passed into the ether of history. The qawwali singing that Nusrat brought to the world, with its percussive vocal stylings, soaring heights, and cavernous passions for union with the Divine are well served by his final sessions, and they make an excellent introduction sonically -- remember the package basically sucks in terms of information -- to Nusrat's immeasurable transcultural contribution to the musical arts. They are virtually indispensable to fans of the late master's work.