Music Review: Asa Qizilbash Sarod Recital - Live In Peshawar
It's always with a certain amount of trepidation that I take on the task of reviewing anything from a culture other than my own. Much of what I take for granted when it comes to the creative process, are wedded to my cultural background, which means that I lack the knowledge to create a context to place something in if its been created under different circumstances. For all I know the indicators in a piece of music, for example, that I'm used to helping me recognize the emotions being expressed by a composer are different in another culture's music than what I've come to expect from my own.
In the past few years I've been fortunate enough to have some exposure to the culture and philosophy of the Indian sub continent. It has become increasingly obvious to me that just trying to understand some of the basic differences between the two cultures is a task sufficiently large to keep me occupied for the rest of this life, and maybe even the next one or two lifetimes as well. So when I do attempt to review something like Asad Qizilbash's new CD on the Sub Rosa label, Sarod Recital/Live In Peshawar, the first thing I try to do is find out as much as I can about the music and the instrument the performer is playing.
Thankfully Asad Qizilbash has made a career out of not only performing his music at home in Pakistan, but around the world in an attempt to establish bridges between musical traditions. His web site is a valuable resource for anybody wishing to learn about him and his music. One of the first things he makes clear in the page dedicated to talking about the music he plays, is the key role played by one of the differences between our society and his. Indian culture, he says doesn't divorce spirituality from everyday life, so there is a spiritual dimension in all artistic creation. As music, at least traditional classical music, is regarded as a reflection of the divine spirit, the musicians role is often spoken of in terms of a spiritual quest, or sadhana.
While a Raga (the name used to designate a piece of music much like our word opus or concerto) is a scale made up of a minimum of five notes played in both an ascending (Aroha) and descending (Avaroha) direction with two notes (Vadi and Samavadi) acting as the "destination" towards which the Raga flows. (I interpreted that to mean that no matter what you do in the Aroha or Avaroha you must always end with either the Vadi or Samavadi) Ultimately a Raga is created anew each time it is played, as the musician(s) role is to bring what is basically a simple scale to life by drawing upon the his or her own experiences to create an improvisation around the basic scale.
According to Asad the life one lives becomes the essence of the Ragas one sings or plays, which is why a musician must have an amazing sense of self in order to carry out their sadhana. Like any artist, the musician will draw upon personal resources for their inspiration, but unlike most art in the West one of those elements is the artist's awareness of his or her connection with the divine. While its true that a great deal of Western Classical music has been composed as an expression of an artist's adoration of God - think of Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" in his Ninth Symphony - they only emphasis how we compartmentalize spirituality and keep it separate from our day to day existence by not expressing anything else about the composer.
The instrument that Asad plays, a sarod is apparently Persian in origin as its name appears to be derived from the Ancient Persian word for music, saroodh. Unlike many of the stringed instruments associated with Indian classical music the sarod has a goatskin head, like a banjo's, over top of a deep wooden bowl which the fret board is attached to. Of its nineteen strings, four are designated for the melody, four to create the rhythm, and eleven are sympathetic strings which resonate during play. Unlike a guitar where the player depresses the strings with their fingertips, a sarod's strings are depressed with the fingernails. Considering a player is already having to worry about playing both the melody and the rhythm, it begins to sound like an insanely difficult instrument to play.
Listening to Asad Qizilbash performing on the disc Live In Peshawar you would never know that it requires any particular skill to play a sarod as it seems like his fingers skip and fly over the strings without any difficulty. Even more amazing is the fact that this is a live concert performed under less than ideal conditions. For those who haven't been paying much attention to the news in recent years, Peshawar is on the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan and has long been a destination for refugees fleeing the conflict in in Pakistan's northern neighbour, and a target for both the Taliban and the forces opposing them.
Accompanied by tabla player Mustafa Khan, Asad performed three separate ragas that night, "Darbari", "Bihag", and "Piloo", in the space of about an hour. As my frame of reference for this music is limited I concentrated on trying to listen to the way Asad extrapolated upon the base structure of a raga. It was like he played in ever expanding circles that spiralled outwards from a core made up of the ascending and descending notes. After establishing the initial pattern he began playing increasingly complicated improvisations that rolled out like concentric waves of sound from a core point that expanded on each pass.
At times it was difficult to believe that it was only one instrument being played, so distinct were the melodies and the rhythms he was playing. Listening to him you begin to gain some understanding of what is meant by filling the song with the stuff of one's own life, as he sounded like he was pouring ever increasingly amounts of his heart and soul into the music. Perhaps it was the environment that he was playing in colouring my perceptions, but there was a palpable sadness to the music. It was like he was tapping into the feelings of the audience and incorporating it as part of his experiences.
I think the key thing with this music is once you understand the intent behind it, not to let yourself get tied up into knots over trying to discern elements that are beyond your capacity to appreciate. Not being native to the Indian sub-continent, or part of that culture, there are obviously aspects of Asad's performance that will escape us. On the other hand we can still appreciate the emotional intensity and the passion of the music as much as we would in any other person's performance. For, in the end, music is still music, and no matter how alien the instrument being played or how foreign the ideals behind a song's conception might be, we are still able to appreciate it for those things that music stirs within all of us, no matter who we are or where we come from.