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City Plaza sessions

Dilê Min Biaxive

 

Kurmanji lyrics

 

Of, of, of, dilê min

Dilê min, biaxive û bêje bo çi we li me hat.

Dilê min, biaxive û bêje bo çi we li me hat.

Soza me daye êk, bêje bo çi bi cih nehat.

Ax, eman, eman, eman....

Dilê min, biaxive, bêje bo çi we li me hat.

Soza me daye êk, bêje bo çi bi cih nehat.

Dilê min, biaxive, Bêje bo çi we li me hat.

Soza me daye êk, bêje bo çi bi cih nehat.

Ew rengê buharan li ber çaxêt me berze bûn.

Nizanim, sûc ji min bû yan jî sûc ji te bû.

Ew rengên buharan li ber çavêt me berze bûn.

Nizanim, sûc jim in bû yan jî sûc ji te bû.

English lyrics

Oh, oh, oh, my heart.

Tell me, my heart, tell me, why did this happen to us?

Tell me, my heart, tell me, why did  this happen to us?

We promised each other, but why has this promise been broken? 

Oh, oh, oh, oh....

Tell me, my heart, tell me, why did this happen to us?

We promised each other, but why has this promise been broken?

Tell me my heart, why did this happen to us?

We promised each other, but why has this promise been broken?

The colors of spring disappeared in front of our eyes. 

I don't know if it was my fault or yours.

The colors of spring disappeared in front of our eyes.

I don't know if it was my fault or yours.

Salman is a musician from Kurdistan who we recorded with in City Plaza, Athens. He grew up in Iraq without nationality, as many Kurds do, due to Kurdistan being an unrecognised nation in the Middle East. In Kurdistan he studied and worked as a baker after school hours. He told us ‘people used to love my bread!’ When the war came to Iraq, he and his family fled to Syria. During the recent war he fled to Turkey, crossed the sea in ‘the boat of death’ to a Greek island where he stayed in a camp for almost a year, then onto the mainland in Greece. 

 

‘Dilê min Biaxiva’ is a song about the relationship between a man and his heart. As his girlfriend is gone, he conjures an image of her in his heart as a means to speak with her. The song was recorded in our room of residence, 716 in City Plaza. It was up 7 flights of steps and on the top floor. The walls were lined with graffiti from various people who stayed there before us. Across the hall was a classroom in which languages were being taught and kids’ activities were held. If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of kids playing in the background of the recording. 

 

Salman was excited to record one of his songs in a Western style. The idea of cultural fusion through music was something he had been wanting to experiment with. I brought my guitar and he asked me to play it ‘cowboy style’. I was thinking Johnny Cash, Hank Williams and wondering how this would ever work. He began to sing in his traditional Kurdish style to lyrics he had written years ago, memorised from his notebook of songs which he’d buried somewhere in Syria with the plan to one day go back and dig up.

 

We recorded that song in one take, the first and only time we ever played it together. I improvised the chords following his vocals and we were both super excited by the outcome, dubbing it ‘Kurdish Cowboy.’ Then Salman got a phone call and had to run off to work his interpreter job, and that was the end of the session. The result is how you hear it, with the addition of the other instruments on the track by various musicians in Melbourne, true to the ‘Kurdish Cowboy’ vision. 

 

Later on, we recorded a few other songs with Salman, including another version of ‘Dilê min Biaxiva’ with him playing the saz and doing vocal harmonisations. It has an ethereal and psychedelic vibe, and is so different from the ‘Kurdish cowboy’ version you could never know it’s the same song.