SUFI SOUL

The music of Sufism, Islam’s mystical strand, is most often associated with the Whirling Dervishes of Konya, spinning themselves into a trance and yearning to commune with God.  It is often forgotten that perhaps the most popular form of Sufism, in terms of sheer numbers of followers, is to be found on the subcontinent where a rich tradition of Sufi music has been developing for over 700 years.

The Barbican, in collaboration with Songlines Magazine, presented three ensembles on November 6th that represent not only the finest of Pakistan’s Sufi musicians, but musicians who have maintained an intimate relationship with their spiritual roots. The master of Sufi troubadours, Sahi Zahoor, can be found performing regularly at various dargahs (shrines) throughout his native Punjab. With the now-familiar sound of the Bangra dohl drum as a driving beat, Zahoor plucks his Ektara (lute) and recites the centuries-old poems of devotional and divine love. With bells around his ankles, he stamps his feet in a flourish of colour and sound, his pink and gold kameez whipping around as he spins to the pounding rhythm.

Zahoor is the voice of the streets of Punjab- his style is raw and unpretentious and his eyes, deep set and tinted with kohl, stare not at the audience but into some other point, somewhere beyond the hall. While the flute hums to the whirring of the harmonium, Zahoor’s band hypnotises the audience with an addictive bouncing rhythm, his voice rippling - sometimes sweet, sometimes growling - carrying us effortlessly along with it.

Goonga and Mithu Sain rouse us with a much more frenetic, almost animalistic performance. These tall brothers, impossibly thin and frail-looking, beat intricate staccato rhythms on the huge two-handed dohls hung around their necks. Their drums converse, each answering one rhythm with another more complex phrase, eventually producing a fluttering crescendo of beats. With every phrase, they add a new sound, or strip away a layer to reveal the heart of the rhythm, itself unchanging. It is an exercise in the cycles of birth and death; creation and destruction. Soon Goonga, with a dense beard and flowing curls, begins to spin and his bright red kameez billows out as his drum floats higher and higher. His hands now outstretched to reach the drum, Goonga spins faster and faster as the tempo increases: he looks ready to take off, leaving his feet dangling in mid-air. After perhaps 30 minutes of steadily building up and breaking down these rhythms, the brothers stop suddenly, ending the phrase with a flourish. With a modest bow, they walk off-stage, leaving the audience inspired and wanting more.

The evening’s headlining performer is Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, nephew of the legendary Nusrat who -  through his mastery of Pakistan’s Qawwali vocal style and his cross into the World and popular music scenes – became the world’s most famous Sufi musician. Rahat was a student of his uncle’s, but the two voices are noticeably different. Where Nusrat was famed for his gritty, raw sound, Rahat is much more controlled- technically perfect and with a cleaner tone. Evoking the sacred Persian love poems that are central to Qawwali, Rahat puts everything he has into his performances, his arms gesturing enthusiastically as though urging the audience to feel his passion. His eyes are tight shut as he strains for the higher notes, his hands punching out the rhythm of the accompanying tablas. Rahat’s mastery of bol, the technique of singing specific syllables rapidly with each beat of the drum, is impeccable- he fires out sounds in unison with the dholak drum and chops the air with his hand on each accent. His voice achieves incredible sustain, an intense moaning that is filled with both longing and heartache. The chorus of voices, drums and harmonium hangs on every sound from Rahat’s throat. When he raises his hand to hold a note, everyone is quiet, the audience mesmerised with anticipation. He relishes the moment, then drops his hand to signal the chorus to join him again, all clapping, drumming and singing furiously.

© Saeed Taji Farouky 2006

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