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Ensemble Honors Egyptian Composer
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The Seattle Times, Ensemble Honors Egyptian Composer >>
By Paul de Barros
When Sayyed Darweesh died of a drug overdose in 1923 — penniless and addicted to cocaine — he had packed his bags for a trip to Italy to study opera.
"I am the Egyptian Verdi," said the composer, who in seven years wrote hundreds of songs, one of which, "Biladi (My Homeland)" was adopted as the Egyptian national anthem, in 1979.
In a bold historical retrieval, the Chicago Classical Oriental Ensemble (CCOE) has recorded Darweesh's music on a CD, "The Songs of Sayyed Darweesh: Soul of A People." The ensemble performs at 8 p.m. Tuesday at Town Hall ($20-$25; 206-652-4255).
"Most Arabs are familiar with Sayyed Darweesh's music, but they are not aware that he is the composer," said CCOE leader Hicham Chami, who plays qanun (zither). "We've known these songs since we were kids. We just assumed they were traditional melodies."
Chami studied music in his native Morocco, but moved to Chicago in 2000 to earn an MBA. Along the way, he became fascinated by Darweesh, and in 2003 founded the CCOE, which now consists of 20 musicians from the United States, Europe, Asia and the Middle East.
The Seattle performance features seven players, most of them in their 20s, with the exception of 74-year-old Syrian vocalist Youssef Kassab. "Just to be able to perform and learn from him is amazing," said Chami. "He's like a professor, but you're not getting grades and exams."
Darweesh's music was written during a turbulent period, when Egyptians were both absorbing Western influences and establishing a nationalist cultural identity in opposition to British colonialism. (Nobel Prize-winning novelist Naguib Mahfouz's "Cairo Trilogy" dramatizes this period nicely.)
Born in Alexandria, Darweesh began as a reciter of the Koran, worked as a bricklayer then toured with a theatrical troupe. After studying music in Syria, he sang in cafes, but found his true metier as a composer of operettas, many satirizing bourgeois Egyptians who supported the British occupation.
Though his music was much in demand during his lifetime, he never became a pop star, like, say, diva Uum Kulthum, whom Darweesh influenced. According to Chami, Darweesh was the first to introduce harmony — and the piano — into Egyptian music, which is based on scales and modes, not chords. His sinuous and warbling melody lines are often carried in rich, thick unisons by the voice, oud (lute), cello, qanun and violin, with the crisp tapping of Egyptian drums driving the proceedings.
There are male and female vocals, sometimes in a call-and-answer format. Many of the songs are rousing, such as "Biladi" which begins "Egypt! O mother of all lands/My hope and my ambition/How can one count/The blessings of the Nile for mankind?" Others are tender love songs or dramatize comic situations.
Finding authentic versions of Darweesh's music was a huge problem, says Chami, since most of it has never been released on CD. "Some of his lyrics were actually changed because they were too rude, too insulting to some people," he said. "Some recordings were made in the '30s and '40s. We had to sort of go back to the originals."
Ironically, after the ensemble searched far and wide for authentic versions of the music, e-mailing friends back home, a few months ago, an agency sponsored by the Egyptian government published a three-volume work about Darweesh's life and work, including his lyrics. "I wish I could have had those books a year and a half ago!" said Chami. 02/24/06 >> go there
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