Fereshta Story
Writing songs for her debut solo album in Los Angeles, CA since 2008, Fereshta is an indie rock artist in the style of Alanis Morissette, Heather Nova and Nico Vega. Born in war-torn Afghanistan, Fereshta's parents fled prosecution with a baby Fereshta in their arms, and hope and determination in their hearts. They journeyed to Pakistan in hopes of one day reaching America. Sponsored by a Baptist church in New York, Fereshta and her family began a new life in Virginia, where she soon found healing and inspiration in rock n' roll. "I was moved deeply by the level of passion and self-expression so beautifully embodied by the genre."
A natural poet, she began to combine her words with the music she loves so much. Her lyrics speak to the human experience, to the emotions we all have and the journey we all share, with a message of compassion and unity. "I believe music in its greatest form and expression is the voice of humanity. It can powerfully move our hearts and heal us." Ferestha is currently cutting a new album (CD) with 2011 Grammy Award winning producer/engineer Alan Sanderson, in Rio De Janeiro Brazil using the best studio musicians Brazil has to offer. Mastering will take place at Universal Mastering with Senior Mastering Engineer and 2010 Grammy winner Eric Labson slated for the project. Look for release sometime in Spring of 2012., Fereshta aims to heal the divide between her two beloved nations. Combining her deep love of music with her passion for sacred activism, Fereshta aims to support her homelands through peaceful dialogue and benefit shows.
"I have a profound view straddling the cultural fence. I want to make a stand for these two incredible nations. They share so many of the same values and carry many of the same hopes and dreams for their lives and the lives of their children. I can see very clearly where the misunderstandings are, and I intend to participate proactively in the unification our human family.""
A portion of the proceeds from her CD release party and record sales will benefit girls' education via the building of schools in Afghanistan through the Central Asia Institute (www.ikat.org).
The Journey Out of Afghanistan
My parents grew up in a very different Afghanistan than the one we see now on the news. The women wore European fashions, short skirts, tank tops, jewelry and were able to go to school, to work, to speak up and be heard. My mom played on the women's basketball team at her university while she was pregnant with me. My father and his buddies would strap their eastern instruments to the backs of their motorcycles, and head out to where the European youth were enjoying their holidays. They would jam together, the children of the east finding rhythms that worked with their harmoniums, tablas and rababs, while the hippie children would fly in their acoustic guitars to incorporate the west.
It was a time of freedom and discovery in Afghanistan. The country was moving towards a democracy in the 1960's and 70's. Westernized clothing, music and movies were all mainstream and very much enjoyed and appreciated. It was the golden era under the Shah.
Then the country too it a tragic turn. The King was overthrown during a coup. Then the new president was killed during another coup. And the new president Hafizullah Amin, a Communist, brought in the Soviets to help control his military and his people.
In the late 1970's, Soviet tanks arrived in Kabul. Curfews and other restrictions were placed on the people. An attempt to bring Marxist-Leninist reforms to the country proved unpopular. For a population immersed in tradition and Islam, changes made to their marriage customs and land ownership created widespread resistance. Moscow, irritated by the display of nationalism and independence, took over the country. In December of 1979 the Soviets began their invasion of Afghanistan.
The Soviets gave you three options: join the Communist party, go to jail or be killed. The situation in Afghanistan became so dangerous for my family that we had no choice but to leave. My mom, an educated and strong-willed woman, who spoke up fiercely against the new regime, was now being targeted by the government. Every day at my father's job, a government car would pull up and call out 2-3 names and take those folks away for questioning. Anyone who left with these government officials was never seen again. My father watched as his friend was called from the volleyball field at lunchtime to go with these officials. He never saw his friend again and knew that one day soon they would be calling his name. During this time, two of my mother's brothers were also imprisoned for refusing to join the Communist party. The threat of death or imprisonment was hanging over both of them, and they had a small child to protect.
With daily violence and threats abound, my parents decided to leave their homeland in hopes of creating a better life for our family and better opportunities for me. Most of our family members did not know we were leaving. My mom and dad told their parents they may be leaving because of the situation they were both in. My grandfather encouraged my parents to leave because he knew something terrible was going to happen to us if we didn't.
My grandfather, through his connections, knew someone who knew someone who knew someone that could smuggle us to Pakistan. We weren't allowed to take too many things as we were going through a smuggling route by bus and truck. My parents took a few items of clothing, food and supplies for me, and left everything else behind. My parents locked the door to their house, said their tearful goodbyes to their parents and left everything they had known their entire lives. They handed a large sum of money to a stranger in hopes of getting smuggled to Pakistan. There were no guarantees and no way of knowing if we would make it alive. The Soviets and the mujaheddin did not allow families to leave. The Soviets wanted to recruit Kabulites for their skills and the mujaheddin didn't want everyone leaving their country. One person could go, but had to leave the rest of the family and their property behind as proof that they would be back. The only way an entire family could leave, was to through this dangerous smuggling route.
We paid half the money up front, to a stranger, then a second amount of money for the 2nd stranger. To show the checkpoint mujaheddin that we were uneducated poor people, my parents pretended to be shopkeepers from another region on our way to a family wedding. We couldn't look pristine Kabulites, so my mom bought her first burqa and learned how to wear it, while my father let his bear grow and purchased the provincial tribal wear of a peasant region. They had to trade in their jeans and miniskirts for tribal wear, to take on the identity of another region and ethnicity. They put me in more peasant-like dress as well so we wouldn't be targeted by the Soviets as Kabulites.
It was supposed to take a day and a half to get to Pakistan, but it took eight long days instead. We were ready to go, but because there was a family of 10-15 people coming along with us, and because it was safer to go with another family, we had to wait for a bigger bus.
The journey was scary, we didn't know where we were going or if we'd even make it. We'd heard horror stories of people giving money to smugglers and getting killed on the side of the road. Others were killed by Soviet choppers, or by renegade mujaheddin. Some of the roads were cliff side and dangerous. And there was always the threat of death from either side of the war. We only stopped after midnight for a few hours to sleep and eat some bread and tea. Otherwise we drove all day and most of the nights, with the headlights out on the bus for safety. Before daylight we were back on the road, taking routes that were known to be relatively vacant. We stayed with some gypsies on two stops and stayed in vacant buildings we found along the way.
On the night we were being handed off to another smuggler, we sat in the desert, in the pitch black of night and prayed that our new bus and driver would soon arrive. In the pale moonlight, we saw the outline of a bus, bouncing towards us, kicking up dust clouds in its wake. During one of those nights, there were three Soviet helicopters surveying, fully armed and always ready to fire down on “traitors” in the area. My parents and I, along with the other 15 family members that were with us, pressed our backs against a roofless silo wall, and just prayed that the Soviet chopper's searchlights would not find us. My father told my mom, “If they see us and begin to land, you and Fereshta run and don't look back.” By some incredible miracle, they did not see us that night and we continued on our journey.
At all the mujaheddin checkpoints, my parents used their Pashto skills to befriend the soldiers (aka. freedom fighters). They knew they would instantly be trusted by speaking the mother tongue of the mujaheddin. At one checkpoint the soldiers were suspicious of a woman who said her husband had died four years prior and had a two year-old son. They asked my mom to frisk her for money or valuable belongs, and when my mom did, she felt a big wad of money strapped to her shaking chest. The lady froze, grabbed my mom's hand over her chest and implored her with her eyes. My mom knew this money was all she had to start a new life with her child in Pakistan. It broke her heart to see the obvious plea in that woman's eyes. She told the soldiers that she found nothing of value on the woman and they believed her.
On another day, during a dangerous pass on the road, the smugglers asked the men to get off the bus and walk the mile, while the women and children stayed on board. It was a narrow pass on a dirt road overlooking a cliff and there were stories abound of smugglers running off with the women and children while leaving the men in the dust. My father was having none of it, so while the other men were exiting the bus, my father sneaked away and climbed on top of the bus. He chose riding the dangerous pass from the roof of the bus, where he could be there to protect us if need be over walking the mile with the other men.
At another checkpoint, the mujaheddin were suspicious of my dad. Despite us wearing tribal attire and trying our best to look poor, they saw something in our demeanor that made them thing we might be from Kabul. They asked my father to get off the bus for questioning, and as he stood up, he took his id card out of his pocket and slipped it to my mom. He and my mom knew they would kill us if they knew we were Kabulites so she took his id card and buried it in the canister filled with milk powder they had for me. They interrogated him, and he stuck to his story of being a poor shopkeeper and since he only had prayer beads on his person, they believed him and let him go.
We made it to Pakistan eight days later, and to America fourteen months later when a church in New York sponsored our asylum. My parents secretly taught English to other Afghan refugees who were hopeful of reaching America. The night of our departure to New York, a group of men came to our door and kidnapped my father. They drove him tied up and blindfolded for two hours to a warehouse where they interrogated him and figured out he was the wrong guy. They drove him back just in time for our flight to New York and we made it to America.
Prologue:
Through the years we have lost many family members to the war in Afghanistan. Many wanted to stay. Many believed things would get better. This has not been the case.
We've lost family members to bombings, some as young as age seven. We've lost them to shrapnel lodging in their bodies and killing them because hospitals were not available. We lost them to prisons, killings and post traumatic stress. But we have not given up hope.
Our motherland may be Afghanistan, but the motherland that adopted us and allowed us to have a safe and privileged life is America. We want to help support the safety, prosperity and peace of both nations through our own unique gifts.
My parents continue to be an inspiration to me and to those who hear their story. After all we've suffered and gone through, we are determined now more than ever to ignite the hearts of others and bring awareness to our common humanity and to support peaceful dialogue through music and activism.
Album: Global Citizen
When a singer/songwriter is born in Afghanistan, has an album titled Global Citizen and describes herself as “the voice of humanity,” one could easily assume that she is providing some type of new age/world music blend (perhaps something along the lines of Enya, but with more of an eastern or Middle Eastern influence). Someone who hasn’t read Fereshta’s publicity bio in its entirety and hasn’t actually listened to Global Citizen might jump to that conclusion, but in fact, this 2011 release is far from new age. Fereshta, an Afghan native who has spent most of her life in the United States, is very much an alternative rocker. Some of her lyrics have a spiritual outlook, but musically, Fereshta is by no means an Afghan version of Enya. Global Citizen is much edgier and more aggressive, sometimes venturing into alternative hard rock territory.
Fereshta’s bio compares her to Heather Nova, Alanis Morissette and Nico Vega, which are valid comparisons to a degree, as is Tracy Bonham. But it would be a mistake to think that all of Fereshta’s influences are female. She has male influences as well, including Jimi Hendrix and Cream. Global Citizen is relevant to post-1980s alternative rock, but there is an awareness of classic rock as well on this 2011 release.
Global Citizen gets off to an aggressive and hard-rocking but melodic start with “Amends,” which contains a guitar riff that is somewhere between grunge and old- school hard rock. Although the riff on doesn’t sound like something one would find on a Morissette release, the song’s lyrics are comparable to the angry-young-woman feeling of Morissette’s 1995 breakthrough album, Jagged Little Pill. But most of the time, Global Citizen isn’t an angry album, and takes a spiritual, mystical turn on “Motherland,” “Free My Heart” and the somewhat funky title track. Fereshta also brings some funk to the infectious “Body Heat,” which is relevant to both alternative hard rock and funk-rock. “Body Heat” contains elements of Nirvana and Seattle grunge as well as sounds of Kravitz’ more hard-rocking songs ( “Are You Gonna Go My Way”).
Fereshta brings a great deal of blues feeling to this album. None of the songs have a traditional 12-bar blues structure, but Fereshta is certainly bluesy on “Wonderlust,” “Real Man,” “Dance the Dance” and the moody, somewhat psychedelic “Tombstones.” All of those songs are examples of how an artist can be bluesy without actually playing the blues. Although she doesn’t inundate listeners with world music elements, the world influence is definitely there at times. The haunting “Untie My Hands,” for example, has been influenced by Indian music. The tune is alternative rock, but has a definite Indian influence. Similarly, “Human Frailty” has both alterna-rock appeal and Middle Eastern appeal.
The most adult alternative-sounding track is clearly the laid-back “Warm, Gentle Breeze,” which wouldn’t be out of place on an album by Jewel, Sarah McLachlan or Natalie Imbruglia. Most of Global Citizen rocks harder than “Warm, Gentle Breeze,” but that track is very much in the adult alternative/Triple-A vein, and Fereshta sings as convincingly on “Warm, Gentle Breeze” as she does on the more aggressive offerings.
Artist: Fereshta
Album: Global Citizen
"I believe music in its greatest form and expression can be the voice of humanity and powerfully move and heal our hearts." - Fereshta
I happen to agree with this sentiment. A sentiment that has very much been forgotten in our modern age of karaoke talent shows and instant gratification.
This morning I found myself unexpectedly grooving to some of the best rock n' roll I've heard in quite some time. And I listen to a LOT of independent artists. This lift off was courtesy of a very exciting new artist, Fereshta, who has a story, a purpose, and something to sing about. I'll repeat that. This artist has something to sing about. I know that in a world of Justin Bieber's, Katy Perry's and Jersey Shore's, we have grown resistant to and in some ways hesitant to accept real content, but let's hope the tides are changing again, as they did in the 60's and the early 90's. We are certainly due for it. And if we are, Fereshta will be riding one of the high waves.
Originally hailing from Afghanistan and overcoming a series of adversities before escaping with her family and making her way to New York, Fereshta grew up heavily inspired by American rock music. This is not at all a bad thing. As I was listening to the stellar track "Amends", I was trying to recall the last time I heard a genuinely good Hendrix influence seamlessly mixed with modern rock. She manages to do this successfully where so many other artists fall flat. Her band knows exactly when to play and when to give her space. And for good reason, because she has charisma to spare. Her vocals are unique, cheeky and filled with a swagger reminiscent of Yeah Yeah Yeahs vocalist Karen O.
I'm both surprised and excited that rock n' roll this inspired and purposeful is coming from such a unique artist who by all accounts should be rising fast. Fereshta comes HIGHLY recommended to fans of artists like The Black Keys, Yeah Yeah Yeahs or PJ Harvey.
Global Citizen is a record that deserves attention from both the underground and mainstream press. So long as there is conflict in the world it is comforting to know there are musical artists like Fereshta that will sing of the injustices in the world.
Check her out here: http://www.fereshta.com
It was a time of freedom and discovery in Afghanistan. The country was moving towards a democracy in the 1960's and 70's. Westernized clothing, music and movies were all mainstream and very much enjoyed and appreciated. It was the golden era under the Shah.
Then the country too it a tragic turn. The King was overthrown during a coup. Then the new president was killed during another coup. And the new president Hafizullah Amin, a Communist, brought in the Soviets to help control his military and his people.
In the late 1970's, Soviet tanks arrived in Kabul. Curfews and other restrictions were placed on the people. An attempt to bring Marxist-Leninist reforms to the country proved unpopular. For a population immersed in tradition and Islam, changes made to their marriage customs and land ownership created widespread resistance. Moscow, irritated by the display of nationalism and independence, took over the country. In December of 1979 the Soviets began their invasion of Afghanistan.
The Soviets gave you three options: join the Communist party, go to jail or be killed. The situation in Afghanistan became so dangerous for my family that we had no choice but to leave. My mom, an educated and strong-willed woman, who spoke up fiercely against the new regime, was now being targeted by the government. Every day at my father's job, a government car would pull up and call out 2-3 names and take those folks away for questioning. Anyone who left with these government officials was never seen again. My father watched as his friend was called from the volleyball field at lunchtime to go with these officials. He never saw his friend again and knew that one day soon they would be calling his name. During this time, two of my mother's brothers were also imprisoned for refusing to join the Communist party. The threat of death or imprisonment was hanging over both of them, and they had a small child to protect.
With daily violence and threats abound, my parents decided to leave their homeland in hopes of creating a better life for our family and better opportunities for me. Most of our family members did not know we were leaving. My mom and dad told their parents they may be leaving because of the situation they were both in. My grandfather encouraged my parents to leave because he knew something terrible was going to happen to us if we didn't.
We paid half the money up front, to a stranger, then a second amount of money for the 2nd stranger. To show the checkpoint mujaheddin that we were uneducated poor people, my parents pretended to be shopkeepers from another region on our way to a family wedding. We couldn't look pristine Kabulites, so my mom bought her first burqa and learned how to wear it, while my father let his bear grow and purchased the provincial tribal wear of a peasant region. They had to trade in their jeans and miniskirts for tribal wear, to take on the identity of another region and ethnicity. They put me in more peasant-like dress as well so we wouldn't be targeted by the Soviets as Kabulites.
It was supposed to take a day and a half to get to Pakistan, but it took eight long days instead. We were ready to go, but because there was a family of 10-15 people coming along with us, and because it was safer to go with another family, we had to wait for a bigger bus.
The journey was scary, we didn't know where we were going or if we'd even make it. We'd heard horror stories of people giving money to smugglers and getting killed on the side of the road. Others were killed by Soviet choppers, or by renegade mujaheddin. Some of the roads were cliff side and dangerous. And there was always the threat of death from either side of the war. We only stopped after midnight for a few hours to sleep and eat some bread and tea. Otherwise we drove all day and most of the nights, with the headlights out on the bus for safety. Before daylight we were back on the road, taking routes that were known to be relatively vacant. We stayed with some gypsies on two stops and stayed in vacant buildings we found along the way.
On the night we were being handed off to another smuggler, we sat in the desert, in the pitch black of night and prayed that our new bus and driver would soon arrive. In the pale moonlight, we saw the outline of a bus, bouncing towards us, kicking up dust clouds in its wake. During one of those nights, there were three Soviet helicopters surveying, fully armed and always ready to fire down on “traitors” in the area. My parents and I, along with the other 15 family members that were with us, pressed our backs against a roofless silo wall, and just prayed that the Soviet chopper's searchlights would not find us. My father told my mom, “If they see us and begin to land, you and Fereshta run and don't look back.” By some incredible miracle, they did not see us that night and we continued on our journey.
On another day, during a dangerous pass on the road, the smugglers asked the men to get off the bus and walk the mile, while the women and children stayed on board. It was a narrow pass on a dirt road overlooking a cliff and there were stories abound of smugglers running off with the women and children while leaving the men in the dust. My father was having none of it, so while the other men were exiting the bus, my father sneaked away and climbed on top of the bus. He chose riding the dangerous pass from the roof of the bus, where he could be there to protect us if need be over walking the mile with the other men.
At another checkpoint, the mujaheddin were suspicious of my dad. Despite us wearing tribal attire and trying our best to look poor, they saw something in our demeanor that made them thing we might be from Kabul. They asked my father to get off the bus for questioning, and as he stood up, he took his id card out of his pocket and slipped it to my mom. He and my mom knew they would kill us if they knew we were Kabulites so she took his id card and buried it in the canister filled with milk powder they had for me. They interrogated him, and he stuck to his story of being a poor shopkeeper and since he only had prayer beads on his person, they believed him and let him go.
We made it to Pakistan eight days later, and to America fourteen months later when a church in New York sponsored our asylum. My parents secretly taught English to other Afghan refugees who were hopeful of reaching America. The night of our departure to New York, a group of men came to our door and kidnapped my father. They drove him tied up and blindfolded for two hours to a warehouse where they interrogated him and figured out he was the wrong guy. They drove him back just in time for our flight to New York and we made it to America.
Through the years we have lost many family members to the war in Afghanistan. Many wanted to stay. Many believed things would get better. This has not been the case.
We've lost family members to bombings, some as young as age seven. We've lost them to shrapnel lodging in their bodies and killing them because hospitals were not available. We lost them to prisons, killings and post traumatic stress. But we have not given up hope.
Our motherland may be Afghanistan, but the motherland that adopted us and allowed us to have a safe and privileged life is America. We want to help support the safety, prosperity and peace of both nations through our own unique gifts.
My parents continue to be an inspiration to me and to those who hear their story. After all we've suffered and gone through, we are determined now more than ever to ignite the hearts of others and bring awareness to our common humanity and to support peaceful dialogue through music and activism.
Review by Alex Henderson
Artist: Fereshta Album: Global Citizen
When a singer/songwriter is born in Afghanistan, has an album titled Global Citizen and describes herself as “the voice of humanity,” one could easily assume that she is providing some type of new age/world music blend (perhaps something along the lines of Enya, but with more of an eastern or Middle Eastern influence). Someone who hasn’t read Fereshta’s publicity bio in its entirety and hasn’t actually listened to Global Citizen might jump to that conclusion, but in fact, this 2011 release is far from new age. Fereshta, an Afghan native who has spent most of her life in the United States, is very much an alternative rocker. Some of her lyrics have a spiritual outlook, but musically, Fereshta is by no means an Afghan version of Enya. Global Citizen is much edgier and more aggressive, sometimes venturing into alternative hard rock territory.
Fereshta’s bio compares her to Heather Nova, Alanis Morissette and Nico Vega, which are valid comparisons to a degree, as is Tracy Bonham. But it would be a mistake to think that all of Fereshta’s influences are female. She has male influences as well, including Jimi Hendrix and Cream. Global Citizen is relevant to post-1980s alternative rock, but there is an awareness of classic rock as well on this 2011 release.
Global Citizen gets off to an aggressive and hard-rocking but melodic start with “Amends,” which contains a guitar riff that is somewhere between grunge and old- school hard rock. Although the riff on doesn’t sound like something one would find on a Morissette release, the song’s lyrics are comparable to the angry-young-woman feeling of Morissette’s 1995 breakthrough album, Jagged Little Pill. But most of the time, Global Citizen isn’t an angry album, and takes a spiritual, mystical turn on “Motherland,” “Free My Heart” and the somewhat funky title track. Fereshta also brings some funk to the infectious “Body Heat,” which is relevant to both alternative hard rock and funk-rock. “Body Heat” contains elements of Nirvana and Seattle grunge as well as sounds of Kravitz’ more hard-rocking songs ( “Are You Gonna Go My Way”).
Fereshta brings a great deal of blues feeling to this album. None of the songs have a traditional 12-bar blues structure, but Fereshta is certainly bluesy on “Wonderlust,” “Real Man,” “Dance the Dance” and the moody, somewhat psychedelic “Tombstones.” All of those songs are examples of how an artist can be bluesy without actually playing the blues. Although she doesn’t inundate listeners with world music elements, the world influence is definitely there at times. The haunting “Untie My Hands,” for example, has been influenced by Indian music. The tune is alternative rock, but has a definite Indian influence. Similarly, “Human Frailty” has both alterna-rock appeal and Middle Eastern appeal.
The most adult alternative-sounding track is clearly the laid-back “Warm, Gentle Breeze,” which wouldn’t be out of place on an album by Jewel, Sarah McLachlan or Natalie Imbruglia. Most of Global Citizen rocks harder than “Warm, Gentle Breeze,” but that track is very much in the adult alternative/Triple-A vein, and Fereshta sings as convincingly on “Warm, Gentle Breeze” as she does on the more aggressive offerings.
Artist: Fereshta
Album: Global Citizen
"I believe music in its greatest form and expression can be the voice of humanity and powerfully move and heal our hearts." - Fereshta
I happen to agree with this sentiment. A sentiment that has very much been forgotten in our modern age of karaoke talent shows and instant gratification.
This morning I found myself unexpectedly grooving to some of the best rock n' roll I've heard in quite some time. And I listen to a LOT of independent artists. This lift off was courtesy of a very exciting new artist, Fereshta, who has a story, a purpose, and something to sing about. I'll repeat that. This artist has something to sing about. I know that in a world of Justin Bieber's, Katy Perry's and Jersey Shore's, we have grown resistant to and in some ways hesitant to accept real content, but let's hope the tides are changing again, as they did in the 60's and the early 90's. We are certainly due for it. And if we are, Fereshta will be riding one of the high waves.
Originally hailing from Afghanistan and overcoming a series of adversities before escaping with her family and making her way to New York, Fereshta grew up heavily inspired by American rock music. This is not at all a bad thing. As I was listening to the stellar track "Amends", I was trying to recall the last time I heard a genuinely good Hendrix influence seamlessly mixed with modern rock. She manages to do this successfully where so many other artists fall flat. Her band knows exactly when to play and when to give her space. And for good reason, because she has charisma to spare. Her vocals are unique, cheeky and filled with a swagger reminiscent of Yeah Yeah Yeahs vocalist Karen O.
I'm both surprised and excited that rock n' roll this inspired and purposeful is coming from such a unique artist who by all accounts should be rising fast. Fereshta comes HIGHLY recommended to fans of artists like The Black Keys, Yeah Yeah Yeahs or PJ Harvey.
Global Citizen is a record that deserves attention from both the underground and mainstream press. So long as there is conflict in the world it is comforting to know there are musical artists like Fereshta that will sing of the injustices in the world.
Check her out here: http://www.fereshta.com
