‘Music Lives in the Heart of the Kurd’: A Shopkeeper's Melody of Resistance in Tehran

Erbil (Kurdistan 24) – In Baharestan Square at the heart of Tehran—where the pulse of Iran’s music market beats with centuries of craftsmanship, trade, and artistic exchange—Kurdish musician Rashad Shalboosh stands as both witness and participant in a profound transformation overtaking the cultural and economic landscape of the country. From his shop, long regarded as a destination for professional musicians, Shalboosh tracks a striking shift in public taste toward Western instruments, unfolding in parallel with a suffocating economic crisis that has reduced Iranians’ ability to “purchase joy.”

Shalboosh, an accomplished player of the oud and the baghlama (tanbur), does far more than run a storefront. His shop functions as a miniature cultural center that attracts leading artists from across Iran and beyond.

Speaking to Kurdistan 24, he explains:
“We here in Baharestan are considered a main distribution center for a wide variety of musical instruments—Kurdish, Iranian, global, even Turkish and Arabic. We focus on professional and rare instruments, which means our customers are not only hobbyists but well-known artists who visit us from across Iran, from the Kurdistan Region, particularly Sulaimani, and even from Europe and the United States.”

While Shalboosh expresses genuine happiness over the growing interest among Iranian and Kurdish families in teaching their children music, he observes a shift that troubles guardians of cultural heritage.

“There is a fundamental change in purchasing behavior that reflects a change in musical taste,” he says. “Demand has dropped significantly for Iran’s traditional instruments such as the tar and the setar. The new generation is turning strongly toward Western instruments; the guitar now leads the market, as well as modern percussion instruments like the handpan.”

He adds with the pained precision of a seasoned specialist:
“As someone who specializes in Eastern instruments like the daf, santur, and kamancheh, it hurts me to see their popularity decline in favor of global instruments such as the violin, which today sells far more.”

But it is not only aesthetic trends that challenge Iran’s music scene. Economic collapse, compounded by international sanctions, has cast a heavy shadow over Tehran’s instrument market.

Shalboosh explains that fluctuating exchange rates and soaring dollar prices have left both merchants and customers in a constant struggle.
“We are facing difficulty importing goods, and we are forced to change prices daily, which has created a crisis of trust with our customers,” he says.

He concludes his account to Kurdistan 24 with numbers that expose the scale of the crisis:
“The biggest problem is the collapse in purchasing power. An instrument that used to cost four million tomans now costs eight million, and we expect it to reach twelve million next year. This shocking inflation has pushed many people away from buying instruments. Music has become an expensive luxury under these circumstances.”

From the narrow alleys of Tehran’s Baharestan to the broader map of Iran’s cultural identity, Rashad Shalboosh’s testimony reveals a country navigating both economic hardship and cultural transformation. As sanctions squeeze the market and Western instruments dominate new tastes, traditional Iranian and Eastern instruments face unprecedented decline. Yet the Kurdish artist’s persistence—and his shop’s role as a sanctuary for musicians—underscores a deeper truth: that even in the harshest economic storms, the pursuit of music endures, though the cost of keeping it alive grows ever higher.