This story aired in the March 12, 2025 episode of Crosscurrents.
The Bay Area’s Silicon Valley is known as the home of many of the world’s tech giants.
But to the Iranian diaspora, it’s also known as the home of Amir Nojan. He is a world-renowned setar player whose San Jose apartment doubles as a museum showcasing rare Iranian instruments.
We're introduced to this keeper of an ancient Iranian musical tradition.
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STORY:
In Richmond, California, tucked into a sprawling office park, there’s a small, intimate venue called Central Stage. You wouldn’t know it from the outside - but it’s an unofficial performance center for Iranian artists from around the world.
This evening, there are about 60 or so people in the audience. Amir Nojan is sitting cross-legged on a stage that’s covered with a richly woven Iranian carpet. On his lap, he has a setar: an ancient Iranian instrument.
With its four delicate metal strings, the setar produces a sound that can transport you to a serene place with just a few gentle plucks.
The stage lights —green, blue, red, and orange— cast colorful shadows, setting a magical scene.
Nojan is accompanied by a tombak player. Tombak is a traditional Iranian goblet drum. It's typically made of wood or clay, with a wide, open mouth and a narrow base.
The musicians are improvising, crafting each note on the spot. For the mostly Iranian audience, it’s a vibrant echo of home.
Watching them play, brought me back to the days when I used to play the kamancheh—a bowed Iranian instrument that sounds - to me - like a weeping violin.
Sound of kamancheh
You are hearing kamancheh right now – it’s an improvisation from a 2012 NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert. The musician, Keyhan Kalhor, is a renowned Iranian kamancheh player.
I remember how I kept practicing, even after moving here to the United States. But, after playing on my own for two years - I stopped. I needed an instructor to help keep me motivated - and I didn’t know of one.
Like me, Amir Nojan, left his home in Iran. He was from Shiraz - a city known for its arts and culture, mild weather, and the smell of flowers wafting through the air. In 2010 Nojan left the home he loved to follow the woman he loved to San Jose. And, not long after that, he started a music school – the Shiraz Academy.
He tells me he wanted to kindle a flame for Iranian culture in the diaspora, to bring people together at meaningful, artistic events.
Nojan says his friends in the Bay Area were not confident about his plan. They felt sustaining a music academy in a place as expensive as the Bay Area would be nearly impossible. Especially an academy dedicated to something as niche as Persian music.
But he believed in his idea and made it happen. He says his now ex-wife played a big role in helping establish it. And after all their hard work, it turned into something really worthwhile.
Shiraz Academy was a space for all kinds of Iranian music and culture. They hosted professional movie nights, screenwriting workshops, photography workshops, seminars, speeches…. And of course, music classes and concerts.
Many of the services Shiraz Academy offered were free. They even had Kamancheh classes! The instrument that I play. But - by the time I was looking for lessons - Shiraz Academy had closed its doors. After the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Nojan was only able to keep it open for 7 more months.
He says closing it after nearly ten years of hard work was tough for him. He had to pay rent even when it was empty. He felt he was doing everything for his culture, but when it closed, he realized the community might not share his passion—no one reached out to help or express their sympathy.
I visited Amir Nojan at his apartment recently. There are instruments everywhere - on the walls, on the ground.
Nojan tells me he's set up an aquarium that reflects his Iranian roots. But to me, his apartment looks more like a museum.
Nojan is a deeply obsessive character who, once he sets his mind on something, follows it relentlessly.
He showed me original letters and photographs that he has displayed throughout his home. They document the history of Iranian traditional music.
He grabs a setar off the wall and plays.
I notice this setar looks different to me. Instead of the typical arc on the back, its back is flat. Nojan says it’s called the “under Abba setar,” the setar used at a time when music was banned by religious leaders. In Arabic that's called “Haram.”
He says that back when music was haram, in Iran over a hundred years ago, artists could slip this instrument under their abas and robes. Since it didn’t have an arc, there was no bump showing, so they could avoid getting in trouble.
Nojan knows that musicians have always had to adapt to life’s challenges and obstacles. And, that is what he has continued to do, himself. Like we heard earlier - he’s still performing. And, he’s still teaching.
On a recent Wednesday night, Aidin Tamhaidi came to Nojan’s apartment for a setar lesson. He’s 33-years old and an earthquake engineer with a passion for Iranian classical music.
Aidin Tamhaidi: Whenever I was hearing the sound of Setar, I was feeling some exciting feeling inside of myself.
Tamhaidi says he was busy with school and didn’t have time to learn the setar. But after he graduated…
Tamhaidi: Suddenly I got familiar with Mr. Amir Nojan on Instagram and so I felt now is the time to give it a shot and try my chance.
Though the doors of his beloved Shiraz Academy have closed, Amir Nojan’s 800-square-foot apartment remains an open sanctuary for lovers of Iranian culture.
He says people have different dreams and goals in life. If his dream was to own a big house or a couple of new cars or so on, he might have chosen a different career.
He quotes the poet, Hafez: “The happy hermit is the sole winner of this hopeless affair. And, by the grace of God, I shall want no more than I can spare.”
Nojan tells me all he ever wanted to be was a musician. And although it may seem like he’s lost so much, he says, he has everything he needs.
