Haale plays Persian-American folk rock

Play Haale’s (pronounced like “halle”-lujah) new album, No Ceiling, and you’ll feel the urge… Play Haale’s (pronounced like “halle”-lujah) new album, No Ceiling, and you’ll feel the urge to lounge on a Persian rug in your parents’ psychedelic wardrobe.

Each track is filled with folksy, rhythmic beats dressed in trappings of both Persian and American classic rock culture.

No Ceiling Haale Rocks like: Amy Lee, Sheryl Crow Channel A Records

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It’s the fulfillment of music’s “East Meets West” fantasy, dating back to the Beatles’ trip to India and Led Zepplin’s subsequent interest in Muslim mysticism. No Ceiling is an American return to our mystic roots and the cradle of civilization.

An Iranian-American girl from the Bronx, Haale is influenced by the Persian music she listened to growing up. She taps into Persian and American belief systems to weave a hybrid collection of songs.

In one track, “Chenan Mastam,” she explains the Farsi root word of masti:

“It is a state of ecstasy and intoxication. It’s a feeling of serenity, connection and love, our natural state of being, according to many Persian mystical poets. ‘Chenan Mastam’ means ‘I’m so mast’ or ‘smashed on the great big everything,’ as Kurt Vonnegut once said.”

Her lyrics are filled with philosophies from thinkers of the West and the East, and Haale’s music is a bridge across two cultures often portrayed in conflict and hostility.

We are introduced to No Ceiling with a mournful cry, cymbals and electric guitar-picking reminiscent of a Doors album.

The cry is punctuated with Haale’s rich voice. She sings: “We need the feel of the sun, the touch of skin, the beat of the drum / Play us our favorite song, turn us out, turn us on.” She speaks to a restless population and aims to evoke passion for the future.

No Ceiling’s strongest track, “Off-duty Fortune Teller,” is introduced by the ephemeral sounds of a sitar that set the flowing river scene Haale speaks of in her lyrics.

The sitar stops and her voice comes on strong, like that of a gospel singer or a street musician singing blues.

“Till you need nothing but what’s inside / You see nothing, but what’s in front of your eyes,” she sings with a twang.

The album is short, with only 10 songs, but because of the relatively heavy subject matter, this feels just long enough. Haale’s use of traditional Persian beats, although nicely familiar, is also repetitive.

Her voice occasionally repeats the same undulations at similar points of each song, making it hard to surprise the audience.

Despite the similarity between tracks, there’s enough variation to keep the listener interested.

Play her tunes during a dinner date and serve a Persian dish with lamb – each course will taste all the better with Haale.