In this essay, I am going to touch on the different aspects of the form that are of interest both to the performer and to the musicologist.

Those aspects include:

• Compositional details of the form
• Performance practices, their regional characteristics and evolution over time.
• A list of Samais that every performer should know

The Samai form

Naming convention: In Arabic, a typical name of a Samai consists of the word Samai followed by the name of the maqam which the samai explores. Example: “Samai Rast”. Since there could be more than one Samai in a given maqam, the name of the composer is added to the name of the Samai. Example: “Samai Nahawand Masood Jamil”. In some rare cases, a composer would give their Samai a unique name instead of following the naming convention. One example is “Sihr Al-Sharq” instead of “Samai Nahawand Al-Hariri”.
Exercise: Which maqam is “Samai Bayyati Al-Aryan” in and what’s the name of the composer?
Note: In Turkish music, the name of the Maqam comes first and the Turkish name of the form “Saz Samai” follows.

Traditional Uses: Traditionally a Samai appears early in an instrumental or song set. It is part of a series of instrumental pieces that open the set, which may include instrumental pieces in other forms such as Bashraf, Dulab, and Taqaasim. Those instrumental pieces were used to establish the Maqam tonality and relationship with other maqams in the ears of the listeners and singers, and warm the listeners up to the set to come. The singer would typically begin singing soon after the Samai is played.

The Samai Thaqil rhythm: a 10 beat pattern with a 3 2 2 3 subdivision and Dums on beats 1, 6 and 7, and Teks on beats 4 and 8.

The Samai form: A piece in four short movements (each called Khana), each followed by a refrain (called Taslim). The first three movements and the refrain are in the Samai Thaqil rhythm. The fourth is in a contrasting rhythm (most commonly 3 and 6, occasionally 7 and in rare cases other rhythms).

Tonal parameters of the form: Traditionally the first Khana is entirely in the Maqam of the piece, as is the Taslim. I say traditionally because contemporary composers frequently use chromaticism and modulation even in the first Khana. (see the section on modern trends).

The second and third Khanas involve modulation exploring other Maqams. The second Khana stays in the center register, and sometimes explores the bass region. The third Khana ventures into the upper registers. The fourth Khana typically stays in the original Maqam of the Samai. It is often in a lively tempo, sometimes technically demanding, and the energy climax of the entire piece is often achieved in this Khana.

Arabic and Turkish performance practice In the modern period: a comparison

The differences in performance of Samais between Arab and Turkish musicians reflect, for the most part, the audible difference in style between Arab and Turkish art music ensembles. Some differences are unique to Samais, however, namely tempo. Here are the differences that I have observed:

Tempo: Arab musicians typically perform all the 10/8 Khanas in Samais slower than their Turkish counterparts. (In the fourth Khana the speeds are comparable, with Arab performance in the recent period often tending to be a little faster). I compared recordings of 20 Samais performed by Arab musicians, with 20 (different Samais) by Turkish musicians. The tempo range was (eighth note =)90-110 in performance by Arab artists compared to 124-156 in performance by Turkish artists.

Use of percussion: The general tendency is for the Arab percussionist to make extensive use of ornaments and embellishments, and to vary that in a way that interacts with the melodic line, sometimes outlining the form (for example by playing different in the Taslim than in the Khanas).

The general tendency for Turkish percussionists is to play the skeleton, the most basic shape, of the Samai Thaqil pattern, regardless of the melodic line or place in the form.

This is a difference between art-music percussionists in the two styles that does not stop at Samais.

Turkish percussionists also stop when the melody has a rest. This is especially clear at the characteristic phrase endings which occur on the 8th beat in Samais. Arab percussionists tend to continue playing during those.

Melodic ornaments: This is another difference that is not unique to the interpretation of Samais but is rather a general difference in style that is especially prevalent in smaller ensembles. Turkish musicians use fast, fully articulated, usually diatonic, ornaments. Arab musicians use those less frequently, and incorporate other, expression driven ornaments such as: slides, vibratos, grace notes, left hand pizzicato, and, in the case of the Oud, tremolo (Rash) which is virtually non-existent in Turkish Oud style.

Fillers, silences and early birds: Most Turkish interpretations tend to take the rests literally. In a typical Arab ensemble, a musician, two, and sometimes the entire ensemble plays a filler, especially if there is a leap after the silence. Especially common are filling octave and fifth leaps. Early birds fillers that are played at the end of the rest, ahead of the new phrase.

Modern Samai compositions: Contemporary Turkish Samais still adhere fairly strictly to the composition rules as outlined above. Contemporary Arab Samais, however, are a different story. While there are still Samais that are entirely traditional, there are others that push the envelope, typically in terms of tonality. Two examples to illustrate the point.
In “Samai Kurd Dagher” Abdo Dagher added an intro that is not in Kurd (in fact, it is borderline atonal, in the Arabic sense). The Taslim is tonal but it is not in Maqam it is mostly in Bayyati. The other example is “Samai Kurd Shaheen” which features frequent modulations from the start.

A list of Samais every performer of Arabic music should know

• Samai Bayyati, El-Aryan. Featured in many recordings.
• Samai Farah Fazah, Tanburi Jamil. Featured in many recordings, including by Tanburi Jamil
• Samai Kurd, Dagher. Available on “King of Taqasim” recording, in which Dagher plays many of his compositions
• Samai Nahawand, Masood Jamil. Recorded by many, recommended recording: “Turath” by Simon Shaheen which also includes Samai Farahafazah and Samai Kurd Shaheen
• Samai Nawa Athar, Jamil Uweis. Featured in “Remembrances” by Jazayer Ensemble
• Samai HijazKar Kurd, Tatius. Appears in many recordings, including Kudsi Urgener’s Ensemble recording of the works of Tatius
• Samai Mohayyar, Tanburi Jamil. Best recording of the Samai is on the “Yasemin” CD by Necati Celik. The CD is out of print and might not be easy to obtain.

I would like to close this series by touching on some of the unique characteristics of Arab avantgarde cultural activity in the twentieth century with a focus on music.

In my view, one of the most significant differences between Arab and western avantgarde phenomena is the fact that in Arab societies these pioneering works made their way into the mainstream almost instantaneously. Poetry changed from its classic rhymed, metered, measured, symmetry, to prose poetry. The subject matter changed dramatically and became more personal and more immediate (song lyrics being an exception in that they still obsessed with love, almost exclusively). “Modern Poetry” as it became known, had, by the mid twentieth century, constituted the majority of new poetry works.

Musical theater was introduced (almost single handedly by Sayyid Darwish), and other forms of staged musical performance and musical films became very successful within a short period of time. These were influenced, to an extent, by western musical theater. But they also had unique characteristics reflecting the originality of their makers, and the uniqueness of the conditions in which they appeared.

Musical content changed, incorporating instruments, orchestration techniques, and sounds from other cultures, mainly western European tonal 19^th century music.

Experimental, surrealist cinema followed suit. Youssef Shahine, Egyptian filmmaker, produced a large body of works of experimental, surrealist, and unconventional in narrative. The civil war in Lebanon dealt a heavy blow to similar currents in Lebanese cinema.

Returning for a moment to music, it is worth mentioning here two other distinctions from western avantgarde music, which may help explain why the Arab mainstream culture adopted avantgarde music fairly rapidly. The first was that the greatest composers and performers of the twentieth century were involved in it, listened and studied other traditions in depth, and wanted to do something new. More reflective of the spirit of the times, and the social and political changes all around.

The other distinction is that the introduction of new elements was gradual. None of these great composers produced exclusively avantgarde work. None divorced themselves from the tradition. In fact they were all deeply rooted and schooled in it. None of the avantgarde works were exclusive of traditional elements. In fact, the genius of many of these works lied in the perfect blend and seamless transitions between those elements.

The “tradition” of avantgarde in music still continues today, by the way, although other factors limit its success. Factors like the market demand for spectacle in musical performance (mainly one of sexual overtones)- aka the video clip, and attention span depletion and the need for short sentences and short ideas accessible to the general public on first hearing. Interestingly enough, the movement against the stupification of art is not lead exclusively by an educated elite, but also by ordinary people who see the modern video clip oriented music as a symptom of cultural degeneration and see the artistic revolution that took place in the twentieth century as a symptom of the opposite, the spiritual and cultural awakening of the masses.

]]> http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/84/feed 2 http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/83 http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/83#comments Wed, 16 Apr 2008 21:34:26 +0000 http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/?p=83 In part 2 we started a series of mental exercises the goal of which was to establish the rules for how to have a discussion about avantgarde music in the Arab context. In this post we will contemplate two more mental exercises and draw conclusions from them that will bring us closer to that discussion.

The question of the work
What are the characteristics of a work of art that would be considered, beyond doubt, as avantgarde?

Answering the question with regards to the work of art is similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others from the discussion about the artist. When discussing the artist, we relied on the context in which the artist works as the standard against which we judge whether or not she can be considered as one whose work and vision are avantgarde. When we discuss individual works, we are acknowledging that a given artist can produce both traditional and experimental works. Do we measure the works to other works by the same artist, or only to The Tradition? The answer may seem obvious: Of course we compare them to The Tradition, and not to other works by the same artist. However, let us examine what may be not-so-obvious aspects of this sound logic.

The case for comparing a new work by an artist to The Tradition, is that while an artist may depart from her earlier interpretation of the tradition to a new one, if the new interpretation is still traditional, it should be considered as a natural growth process of the artist and not as pioneering, or breaking new territory. What is not-so-obvious about this way of thinking is that we are, in effect, discarding the fact that not all artists have a vast breadth of education in the tradition, especially contemporary and avantgarde. In other words, an artist who hasn’t been exposed to prose poetry, but has otherwise a great talent and craftsmanship may invent prose poetry on her own, one hundred years after it had been originally invented. In the modern world, where reproduction technology of visual, audible, intellectual, and literary works is readily accessible to so many, missing any recent developments in any idiom is but a slight possibility. A half a century ago, not as slight. A century ago, quite likely. However, we cannot apply this thinking blindly. It is much more likely to find an American composer who has not been exposed to the sound and tuning of the Kulingtang, than it is to find a Manila born composer who hasn’t. Furthermore, many, if not most, conservatories and music departments across the world teach John Cage, or, at least, mention in passing twentieth century atonal western classical music. Few music departments in the west teach Abdo Dagher or any other music in depth. Musicology programs can be considered an exception, but it is questionable whether those have much direct influence on most artists. Largely, what happens in the musicology world stays in the musicology world.

The question of the observer
A listener who is hearing contemporary pop music for the first time, having only heard Arabic art music, and never been exposed to sixties and seventies European and American pop, cannot be blamed for not recognizing that modern Arab pop music should be heard in two contexts at the same time: Arabic music in general, and western pop. The observer’s reflections on the music she is hearing will depend very much on whether or not she recognizes this multiplicity of contexts. In other words, not being aware of one or more steps in the evolution of a musical tradition, may make the work of a certain artist seem more revolutionary that it actually is. Since we have concluded in part 2 that there is a large quantitative component to the tags attached to artists, the missing steps could be significant enough to change a tag from creative to visionary, revolutionary, or avantgarde.

Thinking about the subject, the questions that seem the most urgent to answer are not about the Arab avantgarde music movement itself just yet, but rather questions about how to have a discussion about Arab avantgarde music. In fact, the questions touch on some of the vague aspects of the term not necessarily in relation to Arab avantgarde.

To begin with, how do we distinguish between avantgarde and innovation that is a natural product of evolution over time of any cultural activity?

When does the avantgarde status of something expire?

And then what happens to it?

Why do we still use the term avantgarde to describe music that was so in the fifties, but can now be learned in universities? Doesn’t the possibility of getting a degree in an art form from a respectable accredited university mean that that art form can no longer be considered avantgarde?

In retrospect, can impressionism in painting considered to have been avantgarde? How about photography, when first introduced into the world of visual arts, was it considered avantgarde then? Should it have been? If not, when is a new art form considered avantgarde and not just simply, a new art form? When should a new way to practice an existing art be considered avantgarde?

Now more specifically to the subject at hand. Arab avantgarde is not the same as Arabic avantgarde music. Which discussion should we have? Arab avantgarde music discusses avantgarde music made by people of Arab ethnicity. Arabic avantgarde music, means, I suppose, avantgarde music made by practitioners of Arabic music, as departure from more traditional Arabic music. So in that respect, Arab avantgarde musicians have to be of Arab ethnicity but they don’t have to know anything about Arabic music nor be able to play any Arabic musical instruments. On the other hand, Arabic avantgarde music practitioners don’t have to be Arab but have to be trained in Arabic music.

We haven’t even begun to discuss geography.

In this new post series I will try to answer some of the questions above and, with some luck, find a way to discuss Arab and Arabic avantgarde music.

]]> http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/76/feed 1 http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/71 http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/71#comments Wed, 26 Mar 2008 22:24:57 +0000 http://saedmuhssin.com/blog/archives/71 This question is not only one that a new comer to Arabic music would ask. It is also valid when asked by an Arabic music theorist. There are three main reasons for that:

1. Simplification of the definition of maqam therefore not recognizing some of the characteristics that distinguish different maqams sharing the same scale. As a result, many maqams that share the a scale are now considered one maqam.
2. Maqams that are no longer in use are omitted from theory books.
3. Not recognizing intonation details rendering several different maqams as identical.

Let us examine each category and study some examples.

Simplification of the definition of maqam

There is a general tendency to teach all or, at least, some maqams simply as scales. Not only that, but there is a general tendency to theorize that each maqam has one scale associated with it, not more. That is not in keeping with the spirit of maqam based music. Here are a few examples of this trend to simplify.

1. Ignoring Sayr (characteritic melodic movement) in a maqam. Some maqams have identical intervals but are different in their melodic progression (starting region, emphasis on specific regions or pitches, cadences, etc..) For example, let us compare the two maqams Huzam and Rahat Al-Arwah. In the past, the maqams were considered different because of a different melodic progression (see example). Traditionally Rahat Al-Arwah had always been recognized to have a B half flat tonic while Huzam had a tonic of E half flat. But they are not merely two transpositions of the same maqam. Notice that both Mashaqah and other theorists have variations on the definition of huzam. But in none of those variations is Huzam identical in Sayr to Rahat Al-Arwah according to the “old” theory. Therefore teaching Rahat Al-Arwah and Huzam are merely different names of the same maqam when transposed to different keys ignores the real difference between them (Arabic music, after all, doesn’t recognize maqams transposed to different keys as different maqams by virtue of the transposition) which is the Sayr. It is worth noting here that Sayr should be regarded as a general architecture that shows regions visited and/or emphasized and directions of motion in specific situations as opposed to exact phrases to be played.
   
   

2. Another example of the simplification of maqam definition is maqam Farah-Fazah (Ferahfeza in Turkish). I agree with the view that this is an Ottoman maqam. In fact, some of my Turkish informants commented that this is a maqam that was conceived by Tanburi Cemil (Jamil) Bey. I couldn’t find any documentation of this. However, I don’t read Turkish, and have little access to Turkish sources (I rely on the generosity of Turkish friends). Since it would be reckless to discredit the claim that this maqam was conceived by Tanburi Cemil without consulting with the Turkish literature, I would just leave it here, and hope that someday someone would find this post and give some information. At any rate the problem with Farah-Fazah is not who first conceived of it.

   In its Ottoman definition (as per “Turk Musikisi Nazariyati ve Usulleri”, by Kudum Velveleleri) Farah-Fazah is a compound maqam: a maqam associated with the scales of more than one maqam. Per Velveleleri, maqam Farah-Fazah is a descending maqam that contains the maqams of Busalik on G, Ajam on B-Flat, and Bayati on D. Turkish classic compositions in this maqam follow this recipe. Salim Al-Hilu’s work on Arabic Music Theory (Al-Musiqa Al-Nathariyya) recognizes the Ajam aspect of it. More modern teachings simply regard it as Nahawand from G. Again regarding it as a different name for the same maqam only due to transposition and not as a maqam of a different nature. Notice also that in its Turkish definition, the maqam is not based on Nahawand from G, but on Busalik from G. Busalik is another maqam that in modern Arabic theory was lumped into the Nahawand conglomerate as another name for Nahawand on D (as opposed to a maqam which shares a scale but is different in Sayr).

3. Maqam Najdi Sika, is no longer mentioned in modern literature because it is also considered to be identical to Sika. The difference between the two is that Najdi Sika emphasizes the upper register, and resolves to the tonic only in cadences or ends of movements. Since the distinction of emphasis areas was dropped from maqam definition, this is no longer its own maqam.

Maqams that are no longer in use

A few examples mentioned in Mashaqah that I haven’t encountered in modern literature and know of no compositions that use them: Awj Khurasan, Shurouqi, Maa-Rana.

Ignoring intonation details which eliminate certain maqams

Case in point. Maqam Sika Rumi which I hadn’t heard of until the summer of 2006 when Prof. Jihad Racy introduced his composition Samai Sika Rumi. This maqam is similar to Sika except for the fact that it’s tonic is sharper than the traditional E half flat tonic of Sika. Ignoring the intonation difference between the two tonics (and possibly some Sayr details) would render Sika Rumi identical to Sika. The sound of the two maqams, by the way, is extremely different. Sika Rumi is the most ethereal sounding maqam I know of.

So how many maqams are there? Between fourty and four hundred (or more) depending on how you look at it..

The answer is yes. Here are answers to the most common string section questions.

1- Arabic Violin tuning: There is a fairly standard tuning for Arabic violin GDGD as opposed to GDAE for western style violin.

2- Viola tuning? Violas are tuned CGDG but I have also heard of a couple other tunings for violas. Western tuning, of course, is CGDA

3-Cello? All strings are an octave below corresponding viola strings (CGDG)

4- Bass? Don’t know the standard but I’ve seen DGDG.

5- Should a string player who is just beginning to play Arabic music switch to Arabic tuning. Couldn’t they just play the notes in western tuning. Yes they should. While it is possible to play the notes in the alternate tuning, the resonance of the instrument is different. Furthermore, from string players who’ve done the switch after trying to play in western tuning, the fingering of some maqams is a lot more cumbersome in western tuning, and Arabic tuning lends itself to playing Arabic music.

6- Doesn’t switching to Arabic tuning make reading harder? I suppose it does until one gets used to it. Rumor has it the extra challenge makes one a better reader in both idioms.

7- Should a musician who plays both Arabic and western tunings tune the same instrument back and forth? Common wisdom has it that this is not a good idea. Most string players will have an instrument for each tuning. Two reasons are given: 1- Not good for the instrument. 2- The string that’s being retuned never settles in either tuning. From the experience with oud, I know that retuning is problematic in that strings often want to go back to the previous tuning. I suppose the same is true for violin.

8- Other than tuning and the different modes, are there more differences between playing Arabic compared to western strings. Oh yes. Both for playing in a section and for playing solo. Many differences. Wait a few days until the post on violinists in the repertoire series and pick up some recordings. Actually, already listening to recordings from previous repertoire posts will make clear just how different.