Sunday, January 13, 2008

Songs for Sad Women

By Alvin Darlanika Soedarjo - The Jakarta Post - Jakarta, Indonesia

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Today, there are only a few musicians that play the ancient instrument called oud, which is an Arabian fretless string instrument similar to the lute.

One of the best known performers of the instrument is Rabih Abou-Khalil, a Lebanese-born musician who fuses classical Arab music with jazz aesthetics.

As Ravi Shankar is to sitar, Rabih Abou-Khalil is to oud.

Abou-Khalil's music is gentle and absorbing. It contains an intricate tapestry of emotion.
Listening to his music, I can't help but link his sound to Sufism, whose nuances were gloriously explored by rock group Led Zeppelin in the 1970s.

I first stumbled upon the oud on an Alice Coltrane album, Journey In Satchidananda, which is a jazz record with a heavy infusion of eastern music. One of the songs on the album, Something About John Coltrane, showcases one of the most captivating oud performances in the history of jazz recording.

My appreciation for the oud grew after listening to Passion by Peter Gabriel. The soundtrack, which is culled from the movie The Last Temptation of Christ, features a performance by the late Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan with the backing of various ancient Middle Eastern instruments.

Abou-Khalil crafts his music to be as universal as possible.
His latest album, Songs For Sad Women (2007), contains seven instrumental tracks and last for about 55 minutes. All of the tunes, which he composed on his own, are titled in English, French and Portuguese.

The songs are Mourir Pour Ton Decollete, How Can We Dance If I Cannot Waltz, Best If You Dressed Less, The Sad Women Of Qana, Para O Teu Bumbum, Le Train Bleu and A Chocolate Love Affair.

All are deeply contemplative in nature despite their seemingly neutral titles.

The record consists of four musicians on four instruments. The album's guest artists are Gevorg Dabaghyan on duduk (an Armenian oboe), Michel Godard on serpent (a mysterious brass instrument from the Middle Ages) and Jarrod Cagwin on Middle Eastern drums.

Mourir Pour Ton Decollete kicks off the CD with the lone sound of a desert wind. It becomes increasingly tighter as the exalted rhythm of the percussion enters the scene.

In How Can We Dance If We Cannot Waltz, Abou-Khalil attempts to draw in his audience by revealing a tale solely with his oud, which produces scintillating tonality and timber. He builds up the tension and swings steadily toward the end.

Best If You Dressed Less is a relaxing track, the sporadic swirling sound of the cymbals and soft percussion drawing the listeners deeper into a vortex.

According to Enja, the German-based record company that has released more than half of his oeuvre, Rabih Abou-Khalil grew up in Beirut and moved to Munich, Germany, during the civil war in Lebanon in 1978.

The artist studied at the Beirut conservatory under oud virtuoso Georges Farah. After moving to Germany, he studied classical flute at the Academy of Music in Munich under Walther Theurer.

Besides performing in his country of origin, Abou-Khalil has toured many cities across Europe, such as Paris, Amsterdam and London. He also performed at the 15th Asian Games in Doha, Qatar, in 2006.

His other releases from Enja Records include Journey To The Centre of an Egg (2005), Morton's Foot (2003), Il Sospiro (2002), Tarab (1992) and Blue Camel (1992).

On Arabian Waltz (1995), with the Balanescu String Quartet, he successfully integrated the string quartet, which has been for centuries the trait of European classical music, with his own musical language.

A fan of Abou-Khalil wrote on an Internet site that several of his songs, despite their complexity, are suitable for belly dancing. It seems there is no limit of what Abou-Khalil can achieve with his music.

1 comment:

Marc Manley said...

Salaams. I greatly enjoyed the post. I have been a long fan of Abou-Khalil. I started listening to his music around the same time I converted to Islam and while I don't know if Mr. Abou-Khalil is Muslim [it matters not - his music is wonderful], I was immediately impacted by its visceral beauty and spiritual undertones. I often see reviews of how his music "complex" and yet, for me, I see it as quite the opposite. Two notes from Abou-Khalil and I'm relaxed, I'm excited, tapping my foot or engaged. It's not so complex that one cannot be immediately engaged by it. I found your connection to Sufi'ism enlightening. Perhaps this is the component I felt all these years, just not articulated that way. Many thanks [and to you, as well, Mr. Abou-Khalil].

Marc Manley

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Songs for Sad Women
By Alvin Darlanika Soedarjo - The Jakarta Post - Jakarta, Indonesia

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Today, there are only a few musicians that play the ancient instrument called oud, which is an Arabian fretless string instrument similar to the lute.

One of the best known performers of the instrument is Rabih Abou-Khalil, a Lebanese-born musician who fuses classical Arab music with jazz aesthetics.

As Ravi Shankar is to sitar, Rabih Abou-Khalil is to oud.

Abou-Khalil's music is gentle and absorbing. It contains an intricate tapestry of emotion.
Listening to his music, I can't help but link his sound to Sufism, whose nuances were gloriously explored by rock group Led Zeppelin in the 1970s.

I first stumbled upon the oud on an Alice Coltrane album, Journey In Satchidananda, which is a jazz record with a heavy infusion of eastern music. One of the songs on the album, Something About John Coltrane, showcases one of the most captivating oud performances in the history of jazz recording.

My appreciation for the oud grew after listening to Passion by Peter Gabriel. The soundtrack, which is culled from the movie The Last Temptation of Christ, features a performance by the late Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan with the backing of various ancient Middle Eastern instruments.

Abou-Khalil crafts his music to be as universal as possible.
His latest album, Songs For Sad Women (2007), contains seven instrumental tracks and last for about 55 minutes. All of the tunes, which he composed on his own, are titled in English, French and Portuguese.

The songs are Mourir Pour Ton Decollete, How Can We Dance If I Cannot Waltz, Best If You Dressed Less, The Sad Women Of Qana, Para O Teu Bumbum, Le Train Bleu and A Chocolate Love Affair.

All are deeply contemplative in nature despite their seemingly neutral titles.

The record consists of four musicians on four instruments. The album's guest artists are Gevorg Dabaghyan on duduk (an Armenian oboe), Michel Godard on serpent (a mysterious brass instrument from the Middle Ages) and Jarrod Cagwin on Middle Eastern drums.

Mourir Pour Ton Decollete kicks off the CD with the lone sound of a desert wind. It becomes increasingly tighter as the exalted rhythm of the percussion enters the scene.

In How Can We Dance If We Cannot Waltz, Abou-Khalil attempts to draw in his audience by revealing a tale solely with his oud, which produces scintillating tonality and timber. He builds up the tension and swings steadily toward the end.

Best If You Dressed Less is a relaxing track, the sporadic swirling sound of the cymbals and soft percussion drawing the listeners deeper into a vortex.

According to Enja, the German-based record company that has released more than half of his oeuvre, Rabih Abou-Khalil grew up in Beirut and moved to Munich, Germany, during the civil war in Lebanon in 1978.

The artist studied at the Beirut conservatory under oud virtuoso Georges Farah. After moving to Germany, he studied classical flute at the Academy of Music in Munich under Walther Theurer.

Besides performing in his country of origin, Abou-Khalil has toured many cities across Europe, such as Paris, Amsterdam and London. He also performed at the 15th Asian Games in Doha, Qatar, in 2006.

His other releases from Enja Records include Journey To The Centre of an Egg (2005), Morton's Foot (2003), Il Sospiro (2002), Tarab (1992) and Blue Camel (1992).

On Arabian Waltz (1995), with the Balanescu String Quartet, he successfully integrated the string quartet, which has been for centuries the trait of European classical music, with his own musical language.

A fan of Abou-Khalil wrote on an Internet site that several of his songs, despite their complexity, are suitable for belly dancing. It seems there is no limit of what Abou-Khalil can achieve with his music.

1 comment:

Marc Manley said...

Salaams. I greatly enjoyed the post. I have been a long fan of Abou-Khalil. I started listening to his music around the same time I converted to Islam and while I don't know if Mr. Abou-Khalil is Muslim [it matters not - his music is wonderful], I was immediately impacted by its visceral beauty and spiritual undertones. I often see reviews of how his music "complex" and yet, for me, I see it as quite the opposite. Two notes from Abou-Khalil and I'm relaxed, I'm excited, tapping my foot or engaged. It's not so complex that one cannot be immediately engaged by it. I found your connection to Sufi'ism enlightening. Perhaps this is the component I felt all these years, just not articulated that way. Many thanks [and to you, as well, Mr. Abou-Khalil].

Marc Manley