Though critical of some aspects of "world music", Sonali Pahwa found the Al-Mawrid Al-Thaqafi/Townhouse Gallery evening of Indian and Moroccan music worthwhile Egypt's musical map does include other continents than Europe, though you would never guess it from the Opera House schedule. A snatch of Cheb Mami overheard on the Metro, the Bollywood-style falsetto on a Hisham Abbas track, provide hints of a Cairene taste for other sounds. Overflow crowds at the evening of Moroccan and Indian music which opened the festivities for the launch of Al-Mawrid Al-Thaqafi (The Cultural Resource) added a thumping affirmation of their musical adventurousness. The Townhouse factory space was chosen as an 11th-hour venue after the Mawrid's new space in Agouza ran into trouble. But it was a felicitous choice. There could hardly be a more crowd-friendly setting, and large numbers of the usual Downtown suspects streamed in along with neighbourhood apprentices and some average Cairo families with children. After the expectant crowds had endured a delay and then an explanation of the Mawrid's mission, the duo of Indian musicians climbed on-stage, looking a little out of place in their immaculate embroidered garb within this rudimentary concert hall. Sitar player Baluji Srivastav, who was accompanied by Yusuf Mahmoud on the tabla, outlined the system of raags (modal scales) on which Hindustani music, the major North Indian classical tradition, is based. The sitar player presents a sequence of four improvised variations on a given mode. Predictably, however, the first raag Srivastav presented was close to a Western tonic scale -- a taste of difference but not too much. There were few of the awkward moments one expects at intercultural encounters -- only a little puzzlement at how long it takes for Indian instruments to be tuned on-stage, and some mistimed applause in the middle of musical phrases. The Hindustani concert is unusually technical in its prescribed progression of variations along the scale, which makes it a little like listening to the practice session as well as the performance, but the novelty of the sounds of the 20-string sitar and two-piece tabla kept the enchantment from flagging. The Cairene welcome was palpably warm. One could sense the tarab created when listeners begin to vibrate to the music, and clichés about music being a universal language seemed plausible for the moment. In the midst of this bonhomie it might be mean-spirited of the present writer (who happens to be Indian) to remark that the musicians were fairly competent, but definitely not masters as they were billed in the flyer. A true master could hardly be expected to truncate the standard concert, in which each raag takes a good hour, into a one-hour package for first- time audiences. Or to use a makeshift sound system, for that matter. There is much to ponder on the subject of musical exchange and the optimistic globalism of the world music industry. The example of sitar maestro Ravi Shankar, whom George Harrison called "the godfather of world music", attests that a musician can be a classical virtuoso and innovate through cultural exchange at the same time. But the fact is that this does not happen very often, since it is easier to hybridise musicians who do not have a high level of technical skill. Classical virtuosos are in general less eager to please than those seeking popularity through world music -- they prefer to remain on the inaccessible side. This was demonstrably not true of Srivastav and Mahmoud, who ended their half of the evening with a crowd-pleasing adaptation of Sayed Darwish's Zourouni Kull Sana Marra in the most canonical of raags, the Bhairavi. Accessibility is well and good, but a niggling question persists: when Egyptian audiences are expected to listen to European opera in its original language and full length, why are they introduced to other classical traditions in the simplified form of world music? Next on the Mawrid's inaugural programme was Moroccan singer Asmaa Lmnawar, accompanied by her teacher and composer Said Chraibi on the oud. She was a vision in spangled net and glittering make-up and her style an intriguing blend of cabaret singer and well-trained classical musician. The smoke in her voice could be heard even through its precise articulation of notes. On this evening, she presented a nice mix of classical Arabic poetry in Andalusian muwashshahat, an Egyptian folk tune, and a song in Moroccan dialect that young men use to flirt with passing lovelies. In Egypt one rarely finds classical verse sung live outside the annual Arabic music festival, and this was reason enough to enjoy Lmnawar's rendering of Al-Hallaj's mystical love poem Ya Naseem Al-Rawd. The distinctive Arab-Andalusian modes and stately rhythms of Said Chraibi's melodies lyrically underscored the sheer difference within musical traditions accessible through the Arabic language. Lmnawar sang the verse of another Sufi, Al-Harraq, before moving on to earthier songs. As a gesture of cultural ambassadorial goodwill, or perhaps a token of how much Egyptian popular culture has reached Morocco, she sang the folk tune Ya Mougit Ghani with some help from the audience. This was not the biggest crowd-pleaser, however. That honour went to the lively Ya Bint Baladi. Lmnawar intuitively recognised that a flirty song with a beat would go down well with a young Egyptian audience. Lmnawar's sampling of Moroccan genres also provided a much-needed nudge to think of Arabic music as a multicultural tradition. Despite some audible similarities of convention between Maghribi and Mashriqi music and the shared market for each others' music, their mutual Arabness should not be overemphasised. The common language opens the door to discovering striking musical differences. A point in favour of the exoticising tendency of world music is that it can reveal hidden treasures right in the backyard of familiar traditions. Equally, the juxtaposition of North Indian and Moroccan music showed how different traditions can resonate with each other by virtue of just a few similarities. Both of these musical genres use modes rather than tonic scales and suites are improvised around specific modes in each. With a minimal foundation in this grammar the ear is tuned for experiment, since variation is the greater part of music. For details of Al-Mawrid Al-Thaqafi/ Townhouse Gallery events this week, see the Lectures and Music & Dance section of Listings
