Through Qithara, Pierre Loza discovers how classical Arabic music can be fun "Trees grow faster when branches are more closely connected to the roots": words on the programme booklet of Qithara band's performance at the El-Sawy Cultural Centre on Wednesday 14 May. Founded and led by Alfred Gamil, vocals professor at the Higher Institute for Arabic Music, the band focusses on the roots of Egypt's musical heritage. By "exploring your musical roots", Gamil elaborates, "you make the ground on which you can evolve and innovate sturdier." Gamil formed Qithara as an attempt to counter what he describes as "the ongoing slump in the state of music in Egypt and the Arab world". Gamil is not thrilled by Arabic pop and finds it lacking in quality. "People seem to be buying a variety of merchandise these days, but in fact they're only buying frozen goods," he says with reference to the songs on the market. Gamil chooses not to own a television, a fact which speaks volumes about his position on popular music. He disassociates himself from the term "music market", brushing it aside as something he knows very little about. Gamil, however, is not snooty when it comes to "audience". He acknowledges the fact that the appeal of instrumental music pieces is very limited in Egypt. "As a people," he says, "we are much more open to songs. If you ask someone in the street about Abdel-Wahab's songs, I'm sure they'll be able to name a few, but if you ask about a musical composition, few people can even name one." Much of the material performed by Qithara derives from Egypt's early musical theatre, championed by the likes of Sayed Darwish and Salama Hegazi, and which was later transferred to cinema by such figures as Mohamed Fawzi and Munir Murad. Unlike the vast majority of Arabic music troupes in Egypt which approach musical oldies in an often heavy-handed, serious manner, Qithara's touch is refreshingly light and brings life to the traditional repertoire. A staple Qithara performance will include witty monologues which incorporate some light acting, leaving the audience in stitches. On the 14 May performance, for example, Qithara's Walid Heidar sang a hysterical rendition of Munir Murad's classic monologue Huna Al- Qahira (This is Cairo) which poked fun at the singing stars of the time. The so-called "lighter" monologues of the past, one can argue, are far more complex in terms of composition than much of today's musical fare and require far more virtuosity on the part of the vocalist. "Human beings experience a wide range of emotions," Gamil says. "Have you ever seen anyone who is always serious? Humour, I believe, is one of the few things that separate human beings from animals." Qithara's repertoire also emphasises cross cultural musical dialogue. The band often performs classical Arabic songs that incorporate Western operatic elements, like, for example, those composed by Mohamed El-Asabgi who perfected this cultural fusion in his songs for Umm Kulthoum and Asmahan. "The fact that he was strongly rooted in his musical heritage," Gamil says of El-Asabgi, "did not prevent him from playing along the borders of other musical cultures." Gamil himself enjoys playing on the borders. His instrumental composition Lunga Jazz which mixes oriental rhythms with jazzy violin tunes, setting up improvisational solos for fellow band members, left the El-Sawy audience exhilarated by the sheer contrast of what had been musically brought together. Paradoxically, Gamil's originality is exhibited in his commitment to tradition. This is apparent in the structure of his band, a revival of the basic five- instrument ensemble of the early 20th century. "I don't understand why typical oriental bands today have so many instruments," Gamil says. "That is a blind imitation of the Western orchestra. Our music is monotonic, without harmony, not polyphonic." When Arabic music is performed by a huge orchestra, Gamil argues, the quintessentially Arabic instruments like the low-volume oud and qanoun get drowned out and the human voice becomes a less effective "musical instrument". "You don't need all this racket," he says. "The music wasn't meant to be played that way." Qithara is made up of singers and musicians with diverse levels of experience and education. Inaam Labib, Qithara's oud player, is head of the Instrumental Department at the Higher Institute for Arabic Music, where she also teaches the oud. Labib's belief that "it is important for members of the older generation to act as mentors for members of the younger" is, in the band, translated into fact. Labib's son, Ahmed Amin, a second year student at the institute where Labib teaches, is Qithara's counter bass player. One of the group's most promising voices, Mohamed Ali who is studying oud at the same institute, also plays the violin and the bouzuk. The group, however, also includes members who have had no academic musical training -- for example, Zeinab Barakat who does not rely solely on the silk-soft quality of her voice, but brings its versatile range to bear upon the Laila Murad songs she performs. The word qithara refers both to the lute and to an ancient string instrument often depicted on the walls of Ancient Egyptian temples. It is similar in appearance to the Suez coast's simsimia, a small hand-held string instrument. Gamil chose the name Qithara for his group because the instrument is at once an international symbol of music and is deeply rooted in Egypt's musical heritage. "I think what sets us apart from the rest of the pack," Gamil says of his band, "is that we genuinely enjoy what we do. We cook the food and eat it ourselves, as they say, because it's so delicious." He smiles. "All I wish for this band is presence and continuity."
