Art is an echo of origins. It thrives on experiences, beliefs, and the spaces where we first find our voice. In The Roots Issue of The Persian Magazine, we’ve journeyed into the creative minds of three extraordinary musicians connected not only by their shared experience at Berklee College of Music but also by their distinct artistic independence. These individuals are tethered by a mutual point but propelled by vastly different paths—each carving their own musical identity, informed by their roots yet unfettered by them.
On one end of this creative spectrum is Niki Bakhtiyar, an esteemed pianist and Qanun player, as well as an emerging electronic music producer whose precise and bold soundscapes have found a home in Boston. Her meticulous attention to sonic detail and innovative spirit embody the modern pulse of electronic music.
At the other corner stands Amir Darabi, whose music flows effortlessly between Iran’s cultural soundscape and global genres. From his spellbinding solo piano performances to his electronic experiments, Amir’s work can be both deeply emotional and universally resonant, a testament to his dedication and musical intelligence.
Completing this inspiring trio is Mahya Hamedi, a dynamic force as a musical director, vocalist, and songwriter. Mahya’s versatility shines in everything from Iranian folk traditions to boundary-pushing fusion indie projects like Voodoo Baby Aliens. Her collaborative spirit and emotional brilliance bring a rare depth to her music.
It’s a privilege to have had the opportunity to engage with these musicians—listening to their stories, their struggles, and their triumphs. As the writer of these pieces, I, Seper Mardani, cannot express enough how energising and inspiring it has been to delve into their worlds. These conversations aren’t just a glimpse into their creative process but a celebration of their resilience and individuality.
I hope this series not only entertains but ignites something within you —a spark of curiosity, a sense of wonder, or perhaps even the courage to explore your own roots, wherever they may lie.
We set up an online meeting, and when the digital screens connect, Niki is sitting outside a bar in downtown Boston, glammed up, her luminous energy shining through the screen. The Victorian-style windows behind her reflect the sunlight intermittently, as if participating in our conversation. She sits across the table from Shabnam, her close friend and a talented sound engineering student of Berklee.
Niki takes a sip of her drink, leans back, and begins:
“I think the first time I connected with music was in my ballet classes. I remember being fascinated by how dance and movement could be shaped by the elements of music.”
This is where music first etched itself into Niki’s life, through the rhythmic discipline of ballet. For her, it wasn’t just about moving to music—it was about feeling music with her body, a connection so visceral it would become the foundation of her artistic journey. Soon after, with her family’s support, she began taking piano lessons at the age of five.
“Music and art were always around me. My dad was famous among his friends for having the biggest music collection—back in the days of tapes and vinyls. And my mum? She was doing everything: painting, designing clothes, running galleries. Being surrounded by art was natural. I couldn’t help but be inspired.”
By the time she entered Isfahan’s Fine Arts School, Niki’s classical piano training had already taken root. There, she delved into every musical opportunity that came her way, from contributing to short films to participating in traditional music festivals. It was during this period that she picked up the Qanun, a traditional Persian string instrument, adding a new dimension to her musical repertoire.
Despite the rigid segregation between boys and girls imposed by the education system, students at Fine Arts of Isfahan formed an ensemble named Razeh Del, performing in some of the city’s most esteemed venues. “It was my first real experience of collaboration, and it taught me how music could bring people together, even under difficult circumstances,” she reflects.
Niki’s pursuit of music eventually led her to Tehran, a city she describes as “the capital of change, where old ideas morph into new ones.” Her time there marked a turning point in her journey, both artistically and personally.
“Tehran wasn’t just a home; it was a host. I learned from the beautiful souls I met, each of them adding to my musical aesthetics. If I had to sum it up, I’d say: I literally lived my life there.”
It was also in Tehran that her interest in electronic music began to crystallise. It started with her appreciation of hip-hop, notably Mahdyar Aghajani’s experimental beats for Persian rappers like Fadaei and Quf. This intrigue deepened as she discovered electronic artists such as Jeff Mills, whose sets captivated her imagination.
Her time in Tehran was also marked by profound mentorship. “I was lucky to work with Shervin Raadfar, who challenged me to think about music in ways I hadn’t encountered before. He created a safe and empowering space for female artists—something rare in Iran’s music scene. His studio wasn’t just a workplace; it was a sanctuary.”
During this period, Niki pursued a bachelor’s degree in music at Azad University of Tehran, focusing on the Qanun as her primary instrument. Alongside her studies, she honed her skills in piano through private lessons with Gita Danaei. “Every session with Danaei was more than a lesson—it was pure inspiration. I’d return home fuelled with new ideas.
She also took private lessons with the renowned Qanun virtuoso Amirhosein Mokhtari, further enriching her connection to the instrument.
As her friend and interviewer, I shared a memory from those years: “Yea, I remember visiting you guys in Tehran. No matter what, we’d always be up at 8 o’clock to the sound of your piano warm-ups. I hated waking up that early, but honestly, I admired your dedication.” (We both laugh.)
Immigration was a shared chapter in both our lives, and Niki spoke candidly about the challenges and revelations it brought. “I always wanted to continue my education abroad. Paris seemed like an option at first, but after speaking with musician friends, Berklee became my goal. I decided to go for it and give it my all.”
The audition process was conducted online, and after a few months, she secured her visa.
“Leaving it all behind was daunting, but arriving in Boston felt right. Its classical architecture resonated with me, and Berklee welcomed me with open arms. From the very first day, I felt part of something bigger.”
At Berklee, Niki chose Electronic Music Production as her focus. But it wasn’t just the academic environment that shaped her—Boston’s music scene played an equally pivotal role. “Infra Boston became my refuge. At first, I attended their events as an audience member, but soon I was doing DJ sets. It’s been the perfect space to test my ideas and immediately see their impact on listeners. There’s nothing quite like it.”
Despite her deep dive into electronic music, Niki has remained a professional pianist and Qanun player, collaborating on projects both within and outside Berklee. Her mastery of the Qanun, in particular, continues to set her apart.
When I asked about her future projects, Niki’s response was swift: “A blend.”
She elaborates: “I’m always thinking about how to incorporate the sounds I know intimately, like the Qanun, into electronic music in a way that’s truly innovative. We’ve all heard how traditional instruments can be layered over electronic beats, but I want to create a space where they genuinely blend—where they aren’t just coexisting, but evolving into something new together.”
This vision encapsulates the essence of Niki’s journey: a constant evolution, rooted in tradition yet unafraid to embrace the future. As our conversation winds down, she takes the last sip of her drink, the sun casting golden hues over her and the Victorian windows behind her.
Niki Bakhtiyar’s story is far from over. With her studies at Berklee and her involvement in Infra Boston, she’s on a mission to redefine the boundaries of music—one blend, one rehearsal at a time
Rehearsal: Mahya Hamedi
“I realised that I don’t belong to anything, and that’s what I seek in the people I work with.” Says Mahya, a recent alumna of Berklee College of Music, where she graduated in Jazz Composition and Performance. Her voice carries an extraordinary warmth and sincerity—an absolute believer who sings the unspoken, bringing a delicate depth to everything she performs.
Her story, though rooted in a familiar Iranian experience, is filled with unexpected turns.
Growing up, she was drawn to breaking things down and combining them, a habit she kept as her secret spice for the musical journey. This creative exploration began early, when she was just eight years old, with vocal lessons and piano. “I was incredibly lucky,” she says, “to have found a tutor who suited me perfectly.” Over time, her voice became her primary instrument, with the piano a devoted companion to her singing.
This was long before the digital age made everything easily accessible. Mahya recalls practising Yesterday by The Beatles from sheet music bought at the market, years before she ever heard the actual song. It was all a beginning for this young lady, and soon, Mahya was doing a little bit of everything.
In her teens, Mahya immersed herself in rock music. A rebellious era many might shy away from reflecting on now, but one that shaped her profoundly.
Young Mahta took shelter in a small music in institude where she performed in low-profile gigs, often as a backing vocalist. These performances—termed “research performances”—were a rare opportunity for independent artists in Iran to share their voices. Though backing vocals weren’t her choice, they became her early way through the live performance in public.
From this early foundation, she branched into composing music for theatre, her creativity leading to collaborations with notable directors and performances both in Iran and abroad. One of her most memorable projects
was with the director Neda Shahrokhi, where she composed a score combining Eastern and Western elements, including the Taar and piano. The project was performed at Tehran’s Mollavi Theatre. Truly a shining moment, don’t you think?
The university entrance exam, the infamous Konkour, posed another challenge. Despite its rigid limitations, Mahya secured a place at the University of Tehran, where she continued to study music. Her interest in composition for theatre and film deepened, yet the curriculum in Iran was restrictive. Still, the university offered community and collaboration, and Mahya developed an appreciation for Iranian folk music and its potential fusion with other styles.
It was during this time that Berklee College of Music entered her life. A conversation with Parham Haghighi piqued her interest, and her family’s support helped her take the leap. She auditioned in Thailand, and news of her acceptance, along with a full scholarship, reached her amidst the chaos of disconnected networks during the protests in Iran.
Although she began her education at Berklee remotely due to COVID-19, Mahya eventually arrived in the U.S. for her second year of study. Like any immigration story, hers was not without its struggles. The stress took a toll on her mental and physical health, leading to vocal issues that forced her to stop singing temporarily—a devastating blow for someone whose voice had always been her identity.
During this difficult time, Mahya began to rediscover herself. She realised that her voice, while integral, was not all she had to offer. “You’re not just a voice, Mahya. You’re a musician—that’s why you sing so beautifully,” one of her
closest friends told her during the time she was advised to refrain from singing on the advice of her doctor. This became her turning point. She now calls it her “Artistic Maturity”—a period where she learned that her identity as an artist was more than her voice.
Two months later, Mahya’s voice recovered, but by then, her approach to music had transformed. She embraced her broader skills in composition, theatre, and film scoring, and recommitted herself to being a musician, not just a vocalist. She also realised that she shouldn’t and doesn’t even like the idea of being limited to a particular technique, skill, tool, or genre.
“Berklee has been the best place for me to recognise my strengths and weaknesses,” she says. “It’s where I’ve learned self-awareness and acceptance, and where I’ve honed my management skills.”
Mahya’s time at Berklee taught her lessons that extended beyond music. In her early months, she approached other musicians with hesitation, trying to persuade them to rehearse and perform the pieces she was composing. Over time, she realised that assertiveness was key—not only to managing rehearsals and performances but also to securing the commitment of the musicians to the tasks she assigned. This transformation allowed her to take charge and bring her musical visions to life.
“There’s a confidence you need when leading a composing project,” Mahya explains.
“In an environment filled with countless collaborative projects, where musicians have numerous opportunities, you must persuade them to dedicate their time to rehearsing and performing the music you’ve composed. I had to take charge, collaborate with them, and ensure everything came together.”
Finding the right people and building strong communities became a priority in
her journey. She seeks out collaborators who, like her, choose music as a
space for freedom and detachment from constraints.
Mahya’s music today is richly instrumental, with every element—vocals included—blending seamlessly as if they were all instruments in their own right. Her current projects include Voodoo Baby Aliens which is an exceptional creative collaborative project, and she’s preparing to release an EP—a vibrant mix of instrumental and vocal tracks.
In all she does, Mahya remains committed to art itself, refusing to be boxed in by expectations or genres. Her journey is one of relentless dedication, growth, and the decision to not belong.
Rehearsal: Amir Darabi
In today’s scene of Iranian music, Amir Darabi stands as an example of talent shaped by deep emotional roots and self-driven curiosity. A piano virtuoso from an early age, Amir’s journey in music was inevitable, yet his path is one marked by meticulous thought, discipline, and an unrelenting pursuit of originality. His music reaches beyond borders, as he remains open to performing on stages around the world.
In our conversation, it became clear that while his time at Berklee College of Music was transformative, it was only one of many steps in his artistic evolution. For Amir, joining Berklee in 2017 on a full scholarship was less of a turning point and more of a fertile ground for growth.
“I have been playing piano since I was three,” Amir recalls.
His mother, Leila Hafezieh, a piano teacher, created an environment where music was always present. By the age of eight, Amir had already tasted success twice as the #1 winner of the youth music competition. In his teenage years, Amir developed his skills and musicality under the tutoring of Hamzeh Yeganeh.
At fourteen, Amir was already reworking his favourite records, experimenting with jazz, and crafting original ideas. But it was the track A Fable by Tigran Hamasyan that altered the course of his journey. “I listened to it on repeat during the whole Norooz holiday,” he tells me, eyes lighting up. “That track sparked my interest in piano solos.” Tigran’s approach to simple melodies with a dynamic rhythmic foundation captivated Amir, embedding itself into his approach to composition.
Before stepping into Berklee’s halls, Amir already had a significant milestone under his belt: his own jazz band. At just 18, he was performing at jazz festivals and collaborating with prominent artists like Christophe Rezai.
“I was more of a performer than a session player. I always preferred the stage over the studio.”
Berklee was a chapter that brought both challenges and revelations. “I rarely touched anything but an acoustic piano before going to Berklee,” he confesses with a smile. But a conversation with one of his mentors, Alain Mallet, shifted his perspective. Mallet, a French teacher at Berklee, encouraged Amir to adapt. He set a challenge during the pandemic: produce a track on his laptop using digital audio workstations (DAWs) without relying on the familiar sound of a piano. “Alain’s lessons went beyond music; they were about how to thrive in changing environments.”
Amir’s admiration for Mallet is evident throughout our interview. “I spent my final years at Berklee trying to be as accessible to Alain as possible. A cup of coffee with him was worth a semester’s worth of lectures,” he says, laughing but not in jest. Mallet’s influence extended beyond digital production; Amir’s performances with the Berklee Indian Ensemble, alongside the legendary Zakir Hussain, stand out as highlights from his Berklee days. Touring major U.S. cities, from Washington, D.C. to Boston, and performing at Harvard University, Amir absorbed the complex rhythmic structures of Indian music, deepening his connection to new forms and patterns that ultimately led to a Grammy nomination.
Amir’s journey into the post-Berklee world wasn’t a smooth one. Reflecting on the challenges after graduation, he notes, “Music is not like other degrees. There’s no company like in business where you just apply for a job—you have to build your own business through collaboration and networking with the people you’re connected with. This can be challenging, and COVID didn’t help, making everything even more difficult.” The pandemic hit just as he was transitioning into full-time work, imposing limitations on travel, live performances, and the collaborative spirit so essential to his field. But Amir adapted, shifting his focus to projects that allowed him to continue growing artistically even during restrictions.
“I think one of the coolest things to do in music, or art in general, is to delve into a piece of art you truly adore until you can figure out why you’re so obsessed with it,” he says, reflecting on the intense connection between artist and art. His approach to understanding music is not merely technical, but deeply emotional, an endless pursuit of uncovering layers and meanings behind his
favourite pieces.
Amir’s view on the artist-audience relationship is equally thoughtful. Quoting one of his favourite artists, he shares,
“People buy new clothes with each trend, try new foods to broaden their taste, but with music, they still want the same hit song from years ago. True artistic success, however, happens when fans might initially resist a new album, only to later realise its depth and value.”
“I learned to mix emotional reasoning with logic in music,” he explains, pointing to his project Menara as an example. A collaboration with singer Majid Salari, Menara leaned heavily into the electronic dance space, leaving little room for the complex jazz phrasing Amir was used to. Yet, balancing the emotional purity of his melodies within this new, logical structure was an exercise in creative flexibility.
By contrast, projects like Dokmeh were driven entirely by emotion, immersed in spontaneous shifts in rhythm and texture. This fluidity between logical restraint and emotional outpouring defines Amir’s style—a musician who leaves room for both the unexpected and the structured.
Today, Amir is back in Iran, navigating a very different musical landscape. The pace of work in Iran contrasts sharply with the fast-moving, highly competitive environment of the U.S. “In New York or Boston, you step out of a studio and someone is ready to replace you. Here, it’s different.” Amir views this disparity in tempo not as a weakness, but as a potential for balance. “Both extremes can be limiting; the fast pace can burn you out and make it soullessly structured, while the slow can stagnate creativity. Ideally, a balance would help artistic growth.”
He continues to blend his emotional core with his intellectual drive. “As time goes on, I’ve realised we need to make more music for non musician listeners,” he tells me with a grin. “I’d love for a non-musician to hear my music and say, ‘Not bad!’ That would be an interaction worth having.”
Looking ahead, Amir’s plans are as varied as his influences. He’s working on a piano solo album, diving deeper into electronic music, and continuing to collaborate with other artists. His approach remains pragmatic yet filled with passion, grounded in a love for the craft itself.
And with that, it’s clear that Amir’s path remains dynamic—one that will continue to surprise both himself and those fortunate enough to follow along.
Photography Mani Lotfizadeh, Ken Yin, Misha Barshteyn