Sheikh Bridges Cultures Through Song

West met East met West when five Chicagoans of Near Eastern heritage introduced Harvard to one of the Orient’s greatest composers.

A small, but enthusiastic, group of classical music patrons gathered in Sanders Theatre on the evening of Feb. 18 to hear the Chicago Classical Oriental Ensemble (CCOE) perform selections from the oeuvre of Sheikh Sayyed Darweesh. Sponsored by Xauen Music, Inc., a Chicago organization dedicated to the preservation of traditional music from the Near East, the performance showcased the work of now-deceased Darweesh, who is considered Egypt’s premier 20th century composer and one of the great innovators in Arabic music.

Composer of Egypt’s current national anthem, “Biladi” (My Homeland), Darweesh was as innovative as he was prodigious, and he is famous for introducing harmony and counterpoint to Arabic composition and including parts for Western symphonic instruments in his ensemble pieces. His career was tragically cut short by a cocaine overdose in 1923, but his productive years were enormously prolific: he left behind 30 musicals, 150 songs and eleven adwars (complex, multi-section, songs).

The CCOE quintet that played in Sanders reflected Darweesh’s pan-hemispheric aesthetic. In addition to a violin and cello (played by Hanna Khoury and Kinan Abou-Afach, respectively), the ensemble included an ‘ud (Kareem Roustom), a guitar-like instrument that is the predecessor to the European lute; a qanum (played by Xauen Music founder and director of CCOE, Hicham Chami), a trapezoidal stringed instrument akin to the zither; and a riqq (Karim Nagi), a handheld percussion instrument similar to the tambourine. Accompanying the instrumentalists were two vocalists, Youssef Kassab and Albert Agha.

Darweesh’s compositional genius became readily apparent as the quintet launched into its first set of songs. Whereas Western composers sometimes write Arabic instruments or themes into their scores to lend them exotic “flavor,” Darweesh’s use of Western musical tropes is a true synthesis of styles. The violin and cello parts were not merely ornamental to their Arabic counterparts, but rather integral components of Darweesh’s sonic palette—Darweesh did not bridge the gap between Western and Arabic music, so much as he recombined elements from both traditions into a bold new aesthetic.

Darweesh’s compositions were expertly performed by the CCOE quintet. All of the musicians delivered virtuosic performances, but riqq player Nagi was especially dazzling. He showcased incredible mastery and bravura during several show-stopping solos; rock drummers with full kits would struggle to match the rhythmic variety and tonal subtlety Nagi achieved with his single instrument.

The vocal performances were also outstanding. Kassab and Agha sang in a clear, incantatory style similar to that used in tajwid (Qur’anic recitation). During several songs, they launched into melismatic solos that exhibited their incredible range and respiratory stamina. Their performances were frequently interrupted by ecstatic applause from the Sanders audience.

As enjoyable as Kassab and Agha’s performances were, they brought to light the concert’s single fault: the paucity of explanatory information for listeners unfamiliar with the Arabic musical tradition. The program notes provided a succinct biography of Darweesh, but little else.

Especially frustrating was the absence of an English translation for Darweesh’s lyrics: the program made note of Darweesh’s advocacy for Egyptian women and the working class in his songs, but only Arabic speakers were able to enjoy that facet of the music.

Luckily, the universal appeal of Darweesh’s compositions overcame any cultural barriers to their appreciation, but a performance of this type should be both educational and entertaining.

—Staff writer Bernard L. Parham can be reached at parham@fas.harvard.edu.