Master of qanoon

On television, classical Arab instruments, I have found, are usually played by middle-aged to older gentlemen and as part of an orchestra. It is rare to see a concert highlighting classical instruments, rarer still is the sight of string instruments such as the qanoon.

Abdullah Chhadeh, a rock star look-alike with long black locks loosely tied, defies all that is traditionally associated with a classical qanoon player. Young, dreamy, charismatic and resembling an Indian, he attracts instant attention. Also a professional oud player (the lute of the Arab world), he plays the qanoon with passion and unmatched concentration.

Born in Damascus in 1968, Chhadeh began his relationship with music at 7 when his father suggested he take oud lessons. Chhadeh sensed he had a fairly uncanny understanding of the instrument and soon found himself drawn to the qanoon.

In 2001, he formed Nara, an ensemble combining the qanoon with a variety of traditional Mediterranean and Middle Eastern instruments. Today he is celebrating the success of his first solo CD called Seven Gates.

I sat down with Chhadeh recently following a magnificent performance he gave in Abu Dhabi. Chhadeh spoke about how the qanoon made its way into his life and how it defined his mission in life which was to spread the melody of the centuries old Middle Eastern instrument, promote classical Arab music and shatter the numerous myths that Westerners have of Syria in particular and the Middle East in general.

Excerpts:

As an oud player, you decided at some point to take on the qanoon. Can you describe that experience?

At 23, I had a band that played in town [Damascus]. One day I went to a performance and a fellow musician brought with him a qanoon. I had never seen it being played live because it was a rather neglected instrument and required a lot of determination and consistency to master it. Yassin Habash was the musician. We played together that night and I simply couldn't stop watching him perform. I was fascinated. I decided that is what I wanted to take on.

The problem lay in finding someone to teach me. I was introduced to the qanoon master of the Middle East — Salim Sirwa from Syria. At first he was hesitant. But after some time, he told me that he was moved by my very personal relationship with the instrument. He gave me a letter of recommendation for a course in the qanoon at the National Conservatoire of Damascus where I first had to audition. I met Sulhi Al Wadi, the director of the conservatoire and conductor of the symphony orchestra, who said he would like me to join and study the double bass instead, as he had no courses to offer in the qanoon. I agreed.

I started to adapt works by Mozart, Beethoven and Vivaldi on the qanoon because I wanted the director to see that this instrument that he thought was incapable of playing great Western music actually could. For me, it did a lot because it opened my vision to a different kind of music and helped me expand the scope of the instrument and mix or create a fusion between Arab classical and Western music.
It was a great opportunity and experience.

Soon, he changed his perception of the instrument. One day, he suggested I play with the symphony orchestra. It was a great experience and I quickly became one of his favourite students.

You have redesigned the instrument. Why so? And how?

Playing a lot of classical music, I always felt the instrument could be improved without distorting the sound and so I did a lot of experimentation. I managed to expand it from both directions (top end and bottom) by an octave and a half — the original classical instrument was three and-a-half octaves and the one I carry is five octaves. I worked closely with a qanoon maker called Mohammad Zen. This was during my student years.

How is the qanoon being perceived in the Arab world?

The instrument has been neglected. It is not played by the younger generation which tends to focus on the keyboard or the guitar. There is a problem here. Maybe it's a fault inherent in our culture and schooling. We expose our children so much to the Western element that they all become westernised and look forward to leaving the Arab world if given a chance. Those who don't leave end up being paralysed back home. Therefore, you end up with a very small number of musicians who are interested in playing the oud, qanoon or other traditional instruments.

I managed to create a classroom of 15 students of young people to study the qanoon by the time I left the Conservatoire of Damascus in my fifth year. I also began sporting a certain kind of appearance: long hair, trendy looks and playing a very old Arab instrument that many people call a "bus driver's instrument".

Long hair?

I wanted to create this contrast even though it doesn't mean much to me and to create that tension — yes I am a guy with long hair but I do something that is very traditional.

You studied music composition at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in England. You continue to live there. Why haven't you returned to Syria?

When I began travelling I saw how much confusion there was around when it came to Arab culture and religion. The idea of my album Seven Gates came from this. I composed music about places in Syria that I grew up in and which inspired me. The seven gates refer to seven portals which were once gateways to ancient Damascus. Each gate had its own distinct style and character.

We [the band] travel worldwide and play for crowds of 20,000-30,000 people and I use this opportunity to speak to people about my region.
I find that people in the West are rather controlled by their media and have deep misapprehensions about the Middle East.

They listen to their governments' propaganda which is always negative.

I figured these governments do this in order to prevent their people from visiting the region, an area that suffers at the hands of the West, such as Iraq. I go to Syria every year and I miss it tremendously.

Do you consider yourself a political person?

On the contrary. I don't like discussing politics.

Do you like to express your views through music — composing pieces with themes?

Playing music and expressing feelings are part of each other. I am not sure if I would like to be associated with any political movement. I like to associate myself with common sense and raising awareness and sharing the known and the unknown with people through music.

How often do you play?

Every day — regardless of my mood. It brings into me a mixture of feelings.

What do you make of Arab classical music?

It's a beautiful form of music and very rich. It's very intricate like our mosaic and our copper work. Unfortunately, it has not managed to travel at all and has stayed where it is. People in the West don't know much about it and it's difficult for Westerners to deal with it. Only a specialised group of people can relate to it. It could have been a lot more popular but Arab musicians and composers haven't done a great deal. One person who has is Mounir Bashir, the Iraqi oud player who has popularised the instrument globally.

Who inspires you?

People I meet.

Who or what annoys you on the musical scene?

I don't like the lack of alternative genres of music — particularly in the Arab world. All over the world they have different categories and alternatives. Here, we have managed to destroy that by popularising one genre of music … highly commercial.

Art and artistes travel. They are not bound by territories. Unfortunately, I haven't been playing a lot in the Middle East and I am not sure why that is. Most of my contacts are European.

Who is your favourite Arab artiste and who is your favourite international artiste?

My favourite artiste is Asala Nasri. I also like Kathem Al Saher. I like Sabah Fakhri and the late Umm Kalthoum. Internationally, I like Ravi Shankar who plays the sitar. I listen to Shakira and other pop singers just to monitor the music scene as I am a music producer as well. I like what the North African guys have done like Cheb Mami's collaboration with Sting. Cheb Khaled has managed to create a successful international career through the Rai music.

Rarefied strings

An Iraqi artist seeks his inspiration in remembrances of more peaceful times

Qanoon is integral to Arab orchestra

An instrument of considerable sophistication, the qanoon is a 72-stringed Middle Eastern zither — with three strings to a note, producing a diatonic scale of 25 notes. Placed flat on either knee or the musician's table, the strings are plucked with the fingers or with two plectra.

The number of strings varies from one country to another and is subject to personal preferences. The string instrument, which came into common use by the 13th century, has become part of Middle Eastern traditional music.

The qanoon is integral to the Arabic orchestra. It usually dominates an orchestra because the notes are fixed, both in terms of how the performer tunes the strings and how he sets the intricate system of keys.

This instrument was especially favoured by the great Egyptian singer Umm Kalthoum, who always highlighted her qanoon player, Mohammad Abdo Saleh, in her concerts.

The qanoon is a much more rarefied instrument when compared to other classical instruments like the oud. It is not something that people would think of taking up easily. Besides, the instrument itself is very expensive and finding a tutor is both costly and challenging.