The history of Persian music has developed since the prehistoric era. Mythological King Jamshid was credited as the inventor of music. Fragmented documents of different periods of Iran state, that ancient Iranians already had an elaborate musical culture. The result of these ancient traditions, a boy was born in Teheran to a family, who had a passion for music. Ali Azimi learned to play the piano and classical guitar at a young age. http://www.aliazimimusic.com/ He is the leader of a Persian rock, but he was also the singer-songwriter of the Radio Tehran band.
Graduated in Engineering at Tehran University, Ali Azimi began working as an engineer in the UK, where he also cultivated his old passion for music, establishing a production company, which documented underground Iranian music. He abandoned engineering, he returned to Iran in 2009, where he recorded his first musical album, dealing with youth issues. Album (Mr. Mean) was released in 2013 and included song “Prelude”. After a tour in Europe, America and Canada, he released his second solo album in 2016. This is his Facebook site: https://www.facebook.com/aliazimiofficial
PRELUDE – My problem is not the bad luck and bitterness of my days, my problem is not hiding my swollen, overworked hands, my problem is not bread, not water, not electricity bills, my problem is breaking the spell of loneliness. It’s romantic and one day it will be solved, or one day my knees may give-in from burden. Oh quarter! I’d become wind to go through your hair. I’d become words to go to your ears. I’d become a thought to be in your head. I’d become a Mercedes Benz to go under your feet. I’d become poverty and go into your pockets. I’d become a wolf and go into your flock. You’ve got hundreds of fans, everybody loves you and you have a busy mind. Bravo! I get close and I get far. Maybe I’ll be accepted in this path full of stress and disparate splotches. This is my story! I’d become a glint to be in your eyes. I’d become a tear to fall down your cheek. I’d become hair to fall on your shoulders. I’d become wind to go through your hair. I’d become a cigarette to rest on your lips. I’d become smoke to be in your lungs. Oh fate! come to me since my bed won’t get warm with this reverie of mine. Groundless, my secrets, I shouted them, shouted them. Unduly, my feelings, I screamed them, screamed them. Alas to those days that If cked up. I get close and I get far, maybe I’ll be accepted in this path full of stress and disparate splotches. This is my story! Until next time…
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