Metro

Iranian band fled to US to cash in on fame

It was hide from the mullahs or chase the moolah — and the young Iranian musicians chose to flee their native Tehran for the chance at fame and fortune in the birthplace of rock ‘n’ roll.

The Yellow Dogs – two of whom were shot dead along with a pal early Monday by a fellow musician carrying a grudge – started out practicing in a converted “garbage room” in a Tehran basement in 2006.

Their big break came when they appeared in the 2009 flick “No One Knows about Persian Cats” about the underground indie rock scene in Iran.

The theocracy’s fanatical religious leaders took a dim view of rock ‘n’ roll, which they deemed anti-Islamic, and The Yellow Dogs were looking for a way out.

“The government didn’t know that there’s a band like us; we threw concerts with our friends–like they didn’t know about that. And that’s extremely illegal to do that without a permission,” lead singer Siavash Karampour – who also goes by the name Obaash – told Public Radio International in a recent interview.

“The movie won a Cannes prize and exploded, and after that we thought, ‘Yeah, it’s time to get the hell out of here!’”

Karampour and bassist Koory Mirz were not at home during the attack. Brothers Soroush Farazmand, a guitarist, and Arash Farazmand, a drummer, were killed along with Ali Eskandarian, a friend of the band’s.

The Yellow Dogs came to the US on an artists’ visa after getting an invitation to play at the South by Southwest music and tech fest in Austin, Texas.

The four were granted asylum and they soon brought their gritty, garage/punk rock sound to Brooklyn, where they played local clubs and parties and lived together in an apartment with other Iranian ex-pats in East Williamsburg.

The band sings about timeless rock subjects like love and loss, but also goes for the political jugular, taking shots at not only Iran’s mullahs but American greed.

“Haagen Dazs after McDonald’s, there’s a mind for sale. Uncle Sam’s gonna buy that thing. Money, our time, big charisma, laughing at the bare head of Dalai Lama,” Obaash snarls in one untitled tune in a 2009 CNN report.

“We don’t want to change the world, we just want to play music,” Karampour told CNN about the band, which played at secret rooftop parties in Tehran, a tradition they’ve kept up in Brooklyn without the secrecy.

They’ve played locally at Brooklyn Bowl, The Knitting Factory and Cameo, a Brooklyn venue where the owner raved about them.

“It was the kind of band where I personally would tell people how nice these guys are. They were already in a tough situation because they had to leave their homeland to perform their music or art,” said Jify Shah, owner of Cameo restaurant,

Ashley Ayers, who worked as the band’s publicist since 2010, said the band members were gentle, soft spoken and serious about succeeding in the music business.

“They’re amazing, the first time I met them in 2010, they cooked me dinner. They were some of the nicest guys I’ve ever met,” she said.

Additional reporting by Kate Sheehy