Multi-instrumentalist Rəhman Məmmədli made a name for himself in the 1970s as one of Azerbaijan’s foremost innovators on the electric guitar. Wielding a Czechoslovakian Jolana, he found then-unheard-of ways to fold and twist fuzz and reverb into lithe new shapes, bringing raw electricity practically to life and earning him an epithet translating to “the one with the singing fingers”. Comparable though it is to 1960s and 1970s psych rock the world over, though, Məmmədli’s signature style is noteworthy not just for powerful blasts of distortion, speed, and volume but for what he chooses to amplify. New Bongo Joe compilation Azerbaijani Gitara Volume 2 puts Məmmədli’s repertoire on full display, an intense and brilliant sampling of his radical transformations of classic melodies and themes from his native Caucasus.
His adherence to musical traditions doesn’t make Məmmədli any less exciting as a rock star. Instead, it gives his music a firm foundation: beds of synths, accordion, and acoustic and machinic percussion set the stage on each track, whether for high-energy dance music (as in “Yanıq Kərəmı̇” and “Leylı̇can”) or moments of ecstasy sustained at greater length (as in “Qoçəlı̇” and “Xal Qalmadı”). In the Azerbaijani mugham art form, these steady sonic bases are crucial for supporting the fluidity of sung poetry. Məmmədli, though, replaces the human voice with his uncommonly nimble playing, as fast and emotive, it seems, as any single performer could be regardless of instrument. By swirling turns, he wails, exults, and shreds, his strings always a precisely controlled blaze of vivid sound.
For all their heat, most of the tracks are relatively thin, straightforward structures, a layer of guitar atop a layer of everything else, tightly compacted. It doesn’t lessen their impact—if anything, it’s all the more impressive how much Rəhman Məmmədli gets out of such minimal instrumentation and production. A few of the tracks near the album’s midpoint stand out as especially noteworthy pieces of Məmmədli’s oeuvre for their depth and inventiveness. The first, “Xarı Bülbül”, derives from a 16th-century tale of exile and homesickness. Məmmədli’s playing here is subtler than anywhere else on the album, individual notes ringing out with a bell-like resonance over subdued hand percussion and drawn-out accordion. It is an exquisite change of pace.
Following it, “Qoca Dağlar” moves gently back toward denser textures and busier exchanges between instruments, leading to an especially piercing set of oscillating cries from the guitar that make the last minute and a half downright poignant. “Uca Dağlar Bas” comes next, percussive triplets driving the body between two sculptural moments of soaring freeform guitar. In an album full of exciting tracks, these are particularly exceptional pieces.
However, singling out is not a necessary part of listening to this new installment of Azerbaijani Gitara. In every song here, Məmmədli sets high standards in terms of creativity and continuity, from the sensual sting of the opening track, “Qoçəlı̇”, all the way through to the wind-powered melancholy of the closing ballad, “Gəl Gəl Ey Göz”. The music here stretches wide the bounds of mugham, and Rəhman Məmmədli dazzles, deserving of recognition for his imaginative reconfigurations of longstanding forms and palpably impassioned playing.