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"Iran's 127 uses Net to beat repression"

Sohrab Mohebbi is in a surprisingly good mood -- considering his livelihood is pretty
much illegal.
As the leader of the band 127, he plays rock 'n' roll, a pursuit that could bring him riches
and acclaim in LA or New York. In his native Iran, not so much.
"If you want to release a CD, you have to have permission from the authorities, and we've
never gotten permission," Mohebbi says by cellphone from the isolated, soundproofed
Tehran greenhouse that serves as his band's rehearsal space and refuge from the often
hostile outside world. "It's been more than five years, and we haven't [been allowed] to
release any CDs."
It doesn't look like things are going to change anytime soon. The hardline Islamic regime
of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad recently outlawed all Western music, including
classical, from state radio and TV. Rock bands can only perform in their basements or
under tightly controlled conditions on college campuses. No companies will press or
distribute their CDs. They have no managers or professional guidance.
But things could be worse. After all, the band is allowed to exist, however primitively, and
thanks to the Internet, where its music is posted at www.127band.com, it has started to
garner global support. A documentary about the group aired on Swedish TV last year.
The band has been written up in Time and the Chicago Tribune. The quintet recently
played an Italian festival and had a handful of East Coast U.S. dates last fall. Tonight,
they're scheduled to play Austin's Caribbean Lights club as part of South by Southwest.
"We don't have many problems," Mohebbi says good-naturedly. "Maybe we're just lucky
people."
The core of the somewhat elastic band -- guitarist/vocalist Mohebbi, pianist Sardar
Sarmast, drummer Yahya Alkhansa, singer/Persian setar player Shervin Shahamipour
and trombonist/clarinetist Salmak Khaled (all current or recent art and music students) --
first began experimenting with their rock/traditionalist Farsi fusion about five years ago.
The name 127 itself has no meaning, but they liked going with a number because it's
easy to remember in both English and Farsi.
Mohebbi, 25, says he's long been drawn to Western pop styles.
"My parents were big Dylan and Dire Straits fans," he continues. "I grew up with this
music, and it was always in my ears. This is how we all got into this. But I've been a big
fan of traditional music, taking the folk-music scales and adding a rock 'n' roll thing."
Not too long after the band formed in 2001, the social climate in Iran became a bit more
relaxed. "Ten years ago, you couldn't walk down the street with a guitar, or any
instrument. Now, it really is kind of better," he says, laughing and then pondering why
127 hasn't come up against more severe harassment. "I don't know, [the government's]
more busy with foreign affairs right now."
But the guys aren't cavalier. They're careful not to let any sound leak from their practice
space, in case over-vigilant passersby or the local police decide to crack down. And their
lyrics -- like many of those written by musicians in Soviet Russia or apartheid South
Africa -- are vague and opaque enough not to draw undue attention.
One of their most outspoken tracks, My Sweet Little Terrorist Song, is actually aimed at
the West: "I just wanna watch Dylan playin' live," they sing. "I won't fly into the Pentagon
alive."
"As long as no one hears what you're doing, that's not a problem," Mohebbi explains.
"The situation is that you can do what you want musically, but the problem comes when
you want to share it."
That's where the Internet has been a lifesaver. "Everything we've done is because of the
Internet," he says. "We wouldn't have found 25,000 visitors every month without it."
But making money from music is another matter. They'd like to start selling their songs
through the iTunes Music Store, but that would mean setting up a bank account outside
Iran. Taking their act on the road hasn't been so easy, either. The band was supposed to
play South by Southwest last year, but wasn't granted a U.S. visa until two weeks after
the scheduled concert date.
When they finally got to visit the U.S. for dates in Washington, D.C., Boston and New
York, Mohebbi says he was overwhelmed by Manhattan. "I don't think I could live there.
I'd go crazy," he says, laughing. "All these people living together, different ethnic groups,
different religions. I didn't think that was possible. . . . Such a thing as 9-11 happened and
people are still somehow living with each other, and no problems."
So why not just move, then -- if not New York, someplace where 127 doesn't have to fear
neighbors turning them over to the cops?
"I know the situation is not good for any kind of artist here," Mohebbi says with a hint of
resignation. "But this is where I grew up. And if you want to make the situation better, you
have to stay." - STAR-TELEGRAM


"Rockin' hard, rockin' risky"

A hot band in Iran has to be furtive,
in part because it's fun, members of
the underground 127 tell
correspondent Evan Osnos.
By Evan Osnos, Tribune foreign correspondent,
recently on assignment in Iran
Published June 20, 2005
TEHRAN -- In an abandoned greenhouse behind
a concrete housing complex on the edge of the
Iranian capital, there is a rock band looking for a
big break.
The six members of 127 gather to practice in the early evenings, after their day jobs, wh
down. They pack themselves into the airless space just large enough for stacks of batte
the drum set and the rest of the instruments. The trombonist stands at a careful angle so
the keyboard player in the head.
They sing sometimes doleful, sometimes angry rock 'n' roll in English, songs they wrote
heavy overtones of Bob Dylan, Dire Straits and Radiohead. They picked the name at ra
a number because it would work in English or Farsi. There aren't too many bands like th
Republic of Iran.
Nightclubs are illegal here. The father of the 1979 revolution, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khome
that "there is no fun in Islam." So the only gigs around are either secret showcases or tig
concerts.
Though the band has been around for four years, it is still waiting for official approval fro
Islamic Guidance. It's a tough business, even if you are the hottest underground band in
"Nobody else is playing here in Tehran because, probably, nobody else is stupid enoug
singer and guitarist Sohrab Mohebbi, a long-haired 24-year-old with the long hair and si
Iggy Pop.
A few months ago they thought they had their break. On a whim, they sent a six-track de
by Southwest Music Conference in Austin, Texas, the annual American pilgrimage for b
the recording industry.
But 127 faced more than the usual obstacles. The U.S. hasn't had an embassy in Tehra
of Iranian students seized it in 1979, setting off a 15-month hostage crisis.
So it was more than a small surprise when Mohebbi and the others got word that they w
South by Southwest. Festival organizers billed it as the first time an Iranian rock band w
the U.S. since the revolution. The band cobbled together enough money to fly to Dubai,
Emirates, where they could apply for U.S. visas. They were interviewed about their inter
U.S., and they showed the consulate their demo album.
"We were searched four times, but everybody was really nice," Mohebbi said.
Eventually their visas were approved, but it was two weeks after the music festival ende
They weren't angry, just disappointed.
"It's part of the `axis of evil' problem," Mohebbi said. "We're not politicians. We're musici
Like his idol Dylan, Mohebbi likes to say his music is only political to those who hear pol
Sky," he sings that "the new sky's falling on me."
He gets a lot of questions about that one.
Page 17
"Some people might say `New Sky' is about political change, but maybe it's not. I mean,
and music that happen to go together," he said.
It's a glib answer, and he knows it. But after all, he says, in Iran "you never know what's
problems."
Like anything that dances on the borders of taboos in Iran today, being a musician make
and more cynical than your age. That applies to pianist Sardar Sarmast, trombone playe
Khaledi, bassist Alireza Pourassad, drummer Yayha Alkhansa and sitar player Shervin S
none of whom is over 27.
Only occasionally do they betray a hint of the frustration that besets their lives. Mohebbi
Little Terrorist Song," after the first allegations emerged of detainee abuse at Guantanam
"I just wanna watch Dylan playin' live, I won't fly into the Pentagon alive," he sings - Chicago Tribune


"Iran's hottest undergound act"

'Miserably creative'

When you think of Iran's hottest exports, it's usually oil, carpets or nuts that come to mind. But if it were up to 127, then rock music would join the list as well.

Although they are "miserably creative and creatively miserable�, being musicians in a country where they
don't have the permission to perform or sell their records, there is no other place they'd rather be. Iran is a big part of 127's music.

"The music scene in Iran is rocking,� says cheery 26-year-old Sohrab Mohrebbi, lead vocalist, band manager and spokesperson. We are interrupting the band's rehearsals in one of Dubai International City's deserted apartment blocks, but there's little of the angst that informs 127's songs.
underground music scene

"There are lots and lots of bands,� Sohrab says. "However they are all underground, playing in basements. Usually bands are quick to form, but just as quick to disband because they do not get the opportunity to perform or record.
"With our band, we really like what we play. We are all close friends, and we enjoy going to rehearsal, irrespective of whether we get to perform or not.�

127 have played abroad, which has helped them stick together as a band for seven years now. Founded by a
group of young Tehran art students, 127's music defies cataloguing. Sohrab admires Bob Dylan and other singer-songwriters. Other influences are Persian melodies, jazz, funk and ska, best described as a sort of folk punk, in English.

Their Dubai gig held at Bastakiya's XVA, was a heartening kick-off for their US tour where they will perform at the SXSW (South By South West) festival and tour until April 2. The group performed in Dubai without their drummer, Yahya Alkhansa; a conscript in the Iranian army who couldnot leave the country because of the conditions of military service, just another one of those little challenges that 127 is quite adept at tackling by now.

How did your band get its name?

Do you want the truth or the myth? [laughs] The truth is that it means nothing. The myth we manufactured is that 127 is the number for the modern angel of communications, called "Eemaeil�, a derivation of e-mail.

What's the toughest part of being a band in Iran?

We have lots of challenges. To start with, we don't have any money. The other challenge is getting the opportunity to perform. We mostly play in my greenhouse, which has been converted into our studio. Music, or any art, involves communicating with people.

If you don't get to perform, how does it work for you?

To release our music, we have to get government permissions for the lyrics, then for the music and lastly,
for the combination of lyrics with music. The only English song played on Iranian radio is Time by Pink Floyd.

It's not always the government that doesn't allow music to come out, it's the whole system. But Iran is just developing, it doesn't happen overnight.

So how do you get people to listen to you?

The internet is the only club in Iran. It's the only available way to spread the music. Every band in Iran uses the net, so people can listen and download the music. What we are doing in Iran with other bands is pushing the boundaries bit by bit. Right now we are trying to release our CDs in Iran. It's worth the effort, because the government and the people will realise our music is not that awful.

But does music released on the internet help you pay the bills?

We don't really earn much money. All of us have side jobs to support ourselves. We try selling our CDs and music over the internet to make our money. On the tour, we sell 127 merchandise, but it's not a big set up.

What's the bit you don't enjoy?

People approach Iranian music or art because it sounds exotic. It's what I don't enjoy. But on the other hand we manage to get better press coverage than, perhaps, a band in Manchester.

I wouldn't label our lyrics as political. We are living in certain circumstances, which impacts what we write. But in the end, we are musicians, not politicians.

Band members
Lead vocals: Sohrab Mohebbi
Bass: Alireza Pourasad
Trombone: Salmak Khaledi
Piano: Sardar Sarmast
Drummer: Yahya Alkhansa
Backing vocals: Shervin Shahamipour - Gulf News


"Iranian underground band 127 featured at Brillobox"

Any mention of Iran in the mainstream media lately is almost certainly not positive. Usually, it's connected to how we or Israel want to bomb the Shiite out of that crazy Hitler-wannabe Ahmadinejad. Or if you look more closely, you might hear an outcry about the unfair portrayal of the civilized Persian king Xerxes as a Speedo-wearing barbarian in the movie 300.

But the younger generation of Iranians seems to look more favorably on the West, even more when the regime blocks access to MySpace and Facebook. A prime example is Sohrab Mohebbi, guitarist and singer of the Tehran-based band Sado Bisto Haft (127), which plays a style of gypsy dance-punk eerily similar to Gogol Bordello or World/Inferno Friendship Society, singing in both Farsi and English. "It's the world's second language, like [eating] hamburgers," explains Mohebbi. "I heard some lyrics on the new Gogol album about 'turning frustration into inspiration,' which is exactly what we're trying to do."

Like most things Western in Iran, 127 exists mainly on the Internet, which is also how it formed. "There was this competition for underground Iranian music on the Web. This famous setar player, Masoud Shaari, was a friend of ours and agreed to play on our song. So we thought that if he's into it, it must not be too bad! Sardar, our pianist, was taking exams so he joined later, then we needed a brass part for a song, so everything started happening." In the rare instances when 127 does its mostly illegal, clandestine gigs on the university campus ("during the previous government, the new one is too harsh"), it's a sextet with horns, drums, bass and piano.

With the burgeoning interest in gypsy/brass crossover, you'd think a band from Iran would have piqued some record-company interest, at least in Europe. According to Mohebbi, the group briefly flirted with a Scandinavian label, but it didn't pan out. So, 127's third and newest CD, Khal Punk, is available on CD Baby and as a physical album at its shows. The group did a raucous tour of the West Coast -- in some places attracting the Persian crowd, and in others the indie scene -- after a feature at Austin's SXSW festival. The band is now completing a second leg, bringing its sound to Pittsburgh on Fri., July 4, as featured performers at the Pandemic world-music night at Brillobox.

But only two of 127's members -- Mohebbi and trombonist/tombak player Salmak Khaledi -- were able to make it to the U.S., so they'll be backed up by some computer beats. "We play the original 127 songs, just changing some of the arrangements," explains Mohebbi. "Our drummer couldn't leave because of military service, and Sardar would've had to leave a $16,000 deposit and if he didn't come back by April 2, they would have taken all his money, so that seemed too risky."

"Khal," Mohebbi says, is a somewhat derogatory term for Iranian pop music, which flowed steadily homeward on cassettes from the huge Persian community in Los Angeles and now has been state-approved in Iran. "There is a legal pop scene in Iran which manages to have some performances and release CDs, but it's a closed circle. Although you're not allowed to dance, and people sit in their seats, this pop music can make you dance.

"So the question is, why are these [pop artists] legal, and we're not?"

And although the very mention of 127's music in Iran remains verboten, which thrusts the group into the midst of a politically charged atmosphere, Mohebbi offers assurance that the band is not disseminating a hippie-lefty "we're all the same" lovefest vibe.

"When we're traveling, everyone is kind to us, but I'm not trying to get on a bicycle and spread a peace message. That's irrelevant, and it's not going to stop the war," he says. "I think that the people who come to our shows already know that not everyone in Iran is a terrorist or thinks like Ahmedinejad.

"In the rock and punk and club scene, the people have more liberal political views, and they don't want to bomb Iran anyway. If I was born in the U.S., I'd be hanging around those same clubs."



Pandemic featuring 127 with DJs Juddy, Caulen, Pete and Baglady. 9 p.m. Fri., July 4. Brillobox, 4104 Penn Ave., Bloomfield. $5. 412-621-4900 - pittsburgh city paper


"127 at the Black Cat, DC"

127 7-13-08
The Black Cat · Washington, DC

http://www.blurt-online.com/concert_reviews/view/30/

BY ROXANA HADADI

When it comes to gypsy punk, America has Gogol Bordello, a band from New York City’s Lower East Side made up of Eastern European immigrants and known for kooky outfits and drunken dance parties, and Iran has 127, a group of six young artists and art students from the nation’s capital, Tehran, who make their music illegally and list influences as varied as Iggy Pop and Miles Davis.

It’s fitting, then, that the two would be top friends on MySpace.

Arguably one of Iran’s most popular underground modern rock groups and the first to tour the United States, 127 (that’s “one hundred and twenty-seven,� not “one twenty-seven�), experiments in everything from jazz to ska to traditional Iranian folk; has recorded and released three records in the past three years (without the government’s permission); and recently dropped their latest album, Khal Punk, to much critical acclaim. Their music has piqued the attention of both Iranians and hipsters alike, with descriptive lyrics that speak of the hardships associated with living in Iran, from the isolation citizens feel from their government (“Soldiers of the Lost Brigade�) to dealing with foreigners thinking you’re a terrorist (“My Sweet Little Terrorist Song�) to not being able to get any decent kabob (“Hamash Dood Bood,� translated from Farsi to English as “There was Always Smoke�).

It was that unlikely mix of Iranians and hipsters – with an overwhelming number of the former – that showed up Sunday at the Black Cat in Washington to see 127 play at the club’s small first-floor stage. But four out of the band’s six members couldn’t make it into the United States, explained singer Sohrab Mohebbi, leaving just him and Salmak Khaledi on trombone and tombak, a traditional Persian goblet drum.

“They call us a gypsy punk band, but the authorities didn’t let us all come,� Mohebbi said. “So it’s just me and the guy on a trombone.�

With more than half of the band – including piano, bass and drums – missing, 127’s sound Sunday was far different from what listeners have heard on the band’s albums. But this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing – Mohebbi’s and Khaledi’s performance was a spirited, lively, rambunctiously raucous affair that led this reviewer to wish the entire band had been there and proved that 127 is one of those few, rare groups that sounds better live than they do recorded.




Mohebbi, adorned with a pair of red devil’s horns, started things off with “My Sweet Little Terrorist Song,� a half-sarcastic, half-honest diatribe against President George W. Bush’s label of Iran as one-third of the “axis of evil.� Accompanied by Khaledi, who jumped off the stage and skanked through the crowd, playing his trombone all the while, Mohebbi sang about how “I just wanna watch Dylan live/ I won’t fly into the Pentagon alive� and “Don’t touch me, cuz I just might blow!�

The group sang its next song, “Soldiers of the Lost Brigade,� in English as well, a move Mohebbi jokingly explained to the Iranian crowd as a way “to communicate with the foreign population.� “Soldiers of the Lost Brigade� is the “story of the band,� Mohebbi added, and its lyrics are desperately, morosely understandable: “We are the soldiers of the lost brigade/ That’s what our captain said�; “Every day is the same/ No one remembers our names�; and “All our heroes are dead.� Weighty stuff.

But it wasn’t all heavy – only one song later, Mohebbi himself was done with being depressing. “Preaching is over, it’s time to party!� he yelled, launching into “Pay the Price,� a song partly in English, partly in Farsi about the frustrations associated with an Iranian love affair: “I’ll pay whatever the price/ To get around the scarf.� Add Khaledi flailing around like a madman within a circle of cheering, clapping onlookers and, for all you knew, you could have been at an against-the-rules house party in the band’s hometown of Tehran.





That vibe continued throughout the rest of the night, as Mohebbi and Khaledi performed several other songs (mostly in Farsi); constantly asked for their vocals and instruments to be turned up; and relied on a Macbook to provide the beats their lost bandmembers could not. Audience members ate up the ska-influenced “Ostekhoon,� or “Bones,� turning its chorus into a shout-and-answer session (“Een dast ostekhoon,� Mohebbi would sing, and “Nadareh!� the chorus would shout back, completing the line of “This hand doesn’t have bones�); gazed adoringly during “Man Kiam?,� an existential musing on “Man kiam?/ Man chiam?/ Oon kia?/ Een chia?� or “Who am I?/ What am I?/ Who is that?/ What is this?�; and danced like crazy during “Pop Politics,� the set’s original closer, for which 127 invited opening band Bows and Arrows onstage to play with them – and audience members invited themselves onstage, too.

Yet chants of “Sohrab is so hot!� and “Dobareh!� (“Again!�) brought the pair back for more – and they took the opportunity to encourage the crowd to buy T-shirts and copies of Khal Punk (“Buy our CDs and T-shirts, and you will go to heaven,� Khaledi joked in Farsi) and spur the crowd into more dance fever. First came “Khosro-e Khooban,� then “Hamash Dood Bood,� then the final song, “Mellat-e Sarfaraz.�




As the dozens of audience members continued to bust both traditional Iranian and more modern Western dance moves, Khaledi and Mohebbi weaved throughout the crowd – following Gogol Bordello’s footsteps in breaking the fourth wall in the best (and most punk rock) of ways - Blurt Magazine


"Banned In Tehran"


Many a touring band has faced the same dilemma: you’ve managed to secure a one year cultural exchange visa to the United States, a country with which your government has had no diplomatic relations since the overthrow of the Shah and hostage crisis of 1979. Though it is illegal to distribute your demo tape without prior approval from the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance, you were able to play a few gigs here and there under the lenient eye of the previous reformist administration. However, a new conservative government is in power, and it has clamped down on both rock musicians and draft dodgers. Your drummer and bassist must stay behind to complete their mandatory military service; your keyboardist will have to return early to return money he borrowed for the state’s student travel deposit. What do you do?

The answer, of course, is to pack your guitar and trombone and tour as a two-piece. Tehran’s 127, already the first Iranian rock band to play in the United States, is now the first Iranian band to do a follow-up tour, albeit with a smaller lineup.

On July 13, they returned to the belly of the beast, the Black Cat. This time, they brought with them the international media, with an Al-Jazeera camera crew capturing 127’s bouncy fusion of punk, prog, and jazz and the bilingual stage banter of Sohrab Mohebbi (guitar) and Salmak Khaledi (trombone). Al-Jazeera’s English-language affiliate was tipped off by D.C.’s the Cassettes, who had played 127’s previous Black Cat show two years earlier. This set up an unusual interview for the Qatar-based satellite network, known more for their coverage of sectarian strife in Lebanon than punks in sweatboxes. A segment on an Iranian rock band is “not that common,� acknowledges Al-Jazeera producer Sophia Qureshi, but “we try to balance hard news with human interest stories.� Given the glut of stories on tensions between the U.S. and Iran, the 127 segment “is a way of humanizing and understanding what’s going on from other people’s points of view.�

So what is the music scene like in Iran? Information is spotty and experts are of dubious credibility. “Twenty percent of the Iranian people are interested in modern music,� says Mohammad Pazhutan, author of a 2001 article for Empty Words webzine, “Metal in Iran.� “They generally enjoy every style of music, listening to techno in their cars while joyriding through the streets. People listen to rap, hip-hop and pop music, and when they talk about rock, they mean Pink Floyd and Dire Straits, they aren’t interested in Rush or Led Zeppelin.� Metallica, too, is popular, although unfortunately only “the albums after 1991.�

127’s Mohebbi confirms that Pink Floyd and Jethro Tull are big influences, after someone smuggled their records into the country. “Before the Internet it was harder. Now that you have access to peer-to-peer networks its very easy to get music from other countries� - which, we hope, would at least point them in the direction of Metallica’s pre-Black Album material. But before Thomas Friedman starts spouting off about MySpace making the world safe for Western liberalism, Mohebbi reports that in Iran at least, the world is not yet flat. “We don’t have broadband.�

There is also the problem that most non-traditional music is still illegal, going back to the Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa against rock and roll (which, legend has it, inspired Joe Strummer to write “Rock the Casbah�). “There’s no written law that says what you’re not allowed to play,� says Mohebbi, which leaves much arbitrary discretion to the censors at the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance. Most issues arise from bands’ lyrics, which must be submitted to the Ministry in advance for any state-sanctioned shows or recordings. Some metal bands such as Khatmayan get around this by simply recording instrumental albums. Others like 127 go underground, playing house shows exclusively. “You invite people you trust,� says Mohebbi. “We invite five friends, and they each invite five of their friends.� As a result, shows are attended by insular cliques of Web-savvy music nerds who all know each other, go to the same shows, and start bands with each other. Not unlike a normal night at the Black Cat.

Sunday’s crowd was no typical shoegaze-revival or dance-night audience, however. In addition to Al-Jazeera, 127’s high energy show attracted a packed house that—given the jokes in Farsi that everyone except this reporter seemed to get—looked to be drawn largely from D.C.’s Persian community. The reception has been similarly enthusiastic throughout 127’s five months-and-counting nationwide tour, even in cities with little to no Persian connection. “In Pittsburgh there were no Iranians. But it was good anyway.� Mohebbi attributes this to both positive press and the popularity of “new wave-gypsy-punk� —which is apparently an entire genre of music, despite comprising only one band you’ve ever heard of (Gogol Bordello), and Mohebbi is confused as to why 127 gets lumped in with them. “Maybe it’s the brass factor.�

Whatever it is, the crowd loved it. The novelty value may wear off, but 127’s earnest goofiness is about as foreign to most jaded Pitchfork readers as their music is to the Ershad. We can hope they won’t smuggle back everything they picked up on the US indie circuit, and Iran will be spared the scourge of MacBook DJs, fixie bikes, ironic facial hair and Sparks. God willing.

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/blackplasticbag/2008/08/04/banned-in-tehran/ - Washington City Paper


Discography

Khal Punk 2008, self release

Photos

Bio

Founded in 2001 by a group of young Tehran artists and art students, 127 has found itself at the center of progressive cultural change in Iran.The band's music melds Iranian melodies and jazz with an alternative sound.The band's lyrics tell of the frustrations and joys of life together with a taste of a social political satire, somehow managing to speak of their cultural time and place, while simultaneous reflecting universal frustrations of isolation, frustration, and hope. The band never got the necessary permissions to release or perform legally in Iran. 127 is a 6 piece band -guitar,piano,trombone,bass and drums. the group has become a lighning-rod for international media attention. Through humerous articles and broadcasts in the western media, the group's website receives thousands of hits a month from a growing international listeners. A short documentary named "127,an Iranian band" (by Reza Haeri) aired by "UK channel 4" , June 2005, gained an intresting respond from British audiences, 127 was also the feature of a Swedish documentary aired in January of 2005. In addition to these television appearances, their music has reached radio around the world, and has been covered by major print media from Germany to the UK and US. The band had been invited to perform at 2005 SXSW festival in Austin..Texas but somehow they had to miss that opportunity! 127 performed couple of gigs in Italy amongst Arezzo Wave Festival on July 15th 2005 at the main stage and gained a notable attention among audiences and press. on october 2005 performing in New York, Washington and Cambridge, 127 was the first Iranian rock band toured in United States. at March 16th 2006 127 performed at 2006 SXSW in Austin TX at the Carribean Lights as a part of All Music is World Music showcase. on March 2008 127 toured The United states for the second time and performed at SXSW and other shows in Texas and California. Although they don't have the permission to release records in their own country,127 has recorded three studio albums.2005 Coming around,2006 The Full time job and their lates album "Khal punk" is released recently and is available for online sell.