Listener meets santour player: As dreams are made makes intimate magic again at Modulus Festival
Escaping into the vibrations of an ancient instrument at Music on Main’s one-on-one concerts
It’s all good when Saina Khaledi appears out of the dark, at the Modulus Festival. Photo by Jan Gates
Music on Main presents As dreams are made as part of the Modulus Festival until November 10
JUST OVER A YEAR ago, during the first installation of As dreams are made—Music on Main artistic director David Pay’s response to the pandemic—both the second wave and Mothpocalypse had set in. Coastal forest-fire smoke was still choking the air and western hemlock looper moths were circling overhead, and the trip into the serene one-on-one concert felt like a total escape from reality.
Thirteen months later, that escape is still sorely needed; moths and smoke, on this day, have been replaced by torrential rain. And with the world only tentatively stepping into large gatherings again, it’s still easy to feel disconnected.
There’s too much uncertainty—which is why it’s somehow freeing to submit to a much more pleasant kind of unknown at As dreams are made, the one-on-one concerts currently on offer at the Modulus Festival. Having booked your 15-minute time slot at the Annex, you wait in the lobby wondering: “Who is the musical artist that’s going to play for me?” “Which piece of music will they choose to play?” These are much more enjoyable questions to ponder than, say, “Am I going to get my booster shot in time to stave off the fifth wave?” or “Is there going to be another mutant strain?”
An attendant takes you to the door of a dark theatre, where you are left alone to navigate yourself to a single chair, your path lit by a spotlight.
Approaching the seat, santour virtuoso Saina Khaledi becomes visible in the dark. The Iranian-trained artist plays the hammered dulcimer, whose history goes back thousands of years. She waits behind it, but as always with As dreams may come, the performance starts in silence; it’s a chance to clear your mind and form an unspoken, Vulcan-like connection with the artist.
When the music begins, it’s instantly mesmerizing watching at close range as her delicate wooden mallets fly over the strings. Her hands become a blur, floating and darting, the metallic vibrations lingering in the air of the otherwise empty Annex space.
The music Khaledi chooses is the driving Khazan, by late master Parviz Meshkatian, a piece whose clear ringing cascades are propelled by a deeper percussive undercurrent. It’s as if time is suspended—dreamlike and perfect for the theme.
The tiny concert feels timeless, teeming with life—its speed and colours of emotion all the more impressive up-close-and-personal. It feels invigorating, cleansing. And if you're lucky enough to score some of the few As dreams are made tickets left tonight and tomorrow, the experience just may help you head out into the November rains again. (Four other artists are alternating.) If you're not, stand by as Music on Main develops the show into a larger production called The Tempest Project—when, speaking of dreams, we might all be able to gather en masse again.
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