The ambient noise of nature itself fills the film’s sonic space: the crackle of fire, howling of wind and singing of birds. But what really struck me was that it felt like much more than music, or it felt like somehow the music of nature, or even though I don’t consider myself a religious person, a music of God,” he explains. While the relevance of Sabiri’s perspective as a director is self-explanatory, for Abrahams, the film is just the realisation of a ten-year long desire to hear maddoh in person: “What specifically interests me about maddoh is that it wasn’t just that this music was rhythmically, and harmonically, and melodically fascinating. Abrahams is featured sparingly throughout the film, and one might wonder what purpose his Western perspective serves in the documentation of traditional Tajik music. Abrahams first heard the music of maddoh through musician Lu Edmonds, who recorded music he heard while travelling throughout Central Asia. In Rhythms of Lost Time, Sabiri is sometimes accompanied by Leo Abrahams, a British musician whose credits also include composition and production.
At birth, the soul is connected to the body and the earth during marriage, the soul is joined to that of another at death, the soul departs from the body and the earth. This connection of music to the body and soul is felt throughout the lives of each person within the community, “from lullabies at his birth to maddoh at his death,” the film’s narration explains. In the film, musician Aliakbar Odinamamadov solemnly states, “ Maddoh is simply the word of God”: music that helps the soul depart from the body and enter the afterlife. Therefore, he said, the tanbur cries.” The tanbur is featured prominently during maddoh, the musical rite performed at funerals. I wondered aloud to a local musician why its sound affected me so much, and he told me that it is not just a musical instrument: its purpose is to help the soul to separate from the body after death.
“I was particularly drawn to the music of the tanbur. “Each time I visited traditional craftsmen or artists, their practice resonated with me deeply,” she says. In her director’s statement, Sabiri highlights the relationship of music to life - and, inevitably, death - as it is embodied in the Badakhshani tanbur, a local stringed instrument. The documentary, artfully blending narration and interview with strikingly colourful imagery and immersive soundscapes, captures how music is present in the everyday agricultural routine of farmers, and it serves as a central component in significant stages of life, such as weddings and funerals. Rhythms of Lost Time vibrantly depicts the results of this preservation, recording contemporary practices of these ancient musical rituals throughout Badakhshan. Amidst the shifting political and cultural landscape of the region, traditional music was preserved either by re-branding it, so it aligned with the policies of the government, or by its practice in secret, out of sight of authority. Current laws in the country ban the performance of elaborate, expensive ceremonies: a label under which this ritual music is considered to fall. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, Tajikistan became independent, but the following year a civil war broke out, that lasted until 1997. This religious aspect of the music varies: for some, it comes down from Zoroastrian belief and honours Ahuramazda, while for others, it is an Islamic belief that honours Allah. Performances throughout the film display the myriad ways in which traditional Tajik music is central to the lives of the Badakhshani people, and the importance of it in key rituals. Sabiri - herself from Tajikistan - once worked as a tour guide in the country, and, in a way, the film functions as a musical tour of Badakhshan.
Filmmaker Anisa Sabiri’s 2021 documentary Rhythms of Lost Time sets out on an exploratory journey to discover how these traditions of eastern Tajikistan were preserved, in a movie that is in equal parts film and spiritual quest. Yet due to Badakhshan’s inaccessible location, its people were better able to protect their musical traditions from those officials who sought to restrict them. Medieval Arab and Turkic control brought Islam to prominence in the country, while later Soviet rule attempted to implement official secularism. This music is inherently religious - handed down from the area’s Zoroastrian ancestors - and was often seen as contradicting the core values of the successive governments that ruled the region. In Tajikistan’s mountainous eastern province of Badakhsan, music is embedded in people’s lives, following them from birth to death.