Song from the Land of Fire: Azerbaijanian Mugam in the Soviet and Post-Soviet Periods 0415940214, 2002154338, 9780429236754, 9780415940214, 9781138878372

Table of contents :
SONG FROM THE LAND OF FIRE CONTINUITY AND CHANGE IN AZERBAIJANIAN MUGHAM
Copyright
Contents
List of Figures
List of Musical Examples
Selections on Compact Disc
Acknowledgements
Preface
Chapter 1 Split Identity: The Historical and Literary Heritage of Azerbaijan
Chapter 2 "Mugham Is Not Music": The Complex Aesthetics of Islam
Chapter 3 "A Wave of Melodious Sound": The Basics of Mugham
Chapter 4 The Sound of Traditional Mugham
Chapter 5 The Modernization/Westernization of Mugham
Chapter 6 Mugham Lineages: Fathers and Sons, Masters and Disciples
Chapter 7 Symphonic Mugham
Chapter 8 Women's Voices Defying and Defining the Culture
Chapter 9 Conclusion: Mugham as Signifier
Chapter 10 Travel Notes: 1997 and 2002
Glossary
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

CURRENT RESEARCH IN ETHNOMUSICOLOGY OUTSTANDING DISSERTATIONS VOLUME 6

Edited by

Jennifer C. Post Middlebury College

A ROUTLEDGE SERIES

CURRENT RESEARCH IN ETHNOMUSICOLOGY JENNIFER C. POST, General Editor 1. NEWLY COMPOSED FOI.K MUSIC OF YUGOSLAVIA

Ljerka V. Rasmussen 2. OK MERMAIDS AND ROCK SINGERS

Placing the Self and Constructing the Nation through Belarusan Contemporary Music Maria Paula Survilla 3. "MARACATU ATOMHO"

Tradition, Modernity, and Postmodernity in the Mangue Movement of Recife, Brazil Philip Galinsky 4. SONGS AND GIFTS AT THE FRONTIER

Person and Exchange in the Agusan Monobo Possession Ritual Jose Buenconsejo 5. BALINESE DISCOURSES ON MUSIC AND MODERNIZATION

Village Voices and Urban Views Brita Renee Heimarck

SONG FROM THE LAND OF FIRE CONTINUITY AND CHANGE IN AZERBAIJANIAN MUGIIAM

Inna Naroditskaya

Routledge New York & London

Published in 2002 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 www.routledge-ny. com Published in Great Britain by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, 0 X 1 4 4RN www.routledge.co.uk Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group. Copyright © 2003 by Taylor & Francis Books, Inc. All rights reserved. N o part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Naroditskaya, Inna. Song from the land of fire : continuity and change in Azerbaijanian mugham / Inna Naroditskaya. p. cm. — (Current research in ethnomusicology ; v.6) Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 0-415-94021-4 1. Music—Azerbaijan—History and criticism. 2. Maqaam—Azerbaijan, I. Title. II. Series. ML345 .A98 N 3 7 2003 782.421622'94361'009—dc21 2002154338 Publisher's Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original may be apparent.

To Jane and Pavel, Nick, Jim, and Ella (S)

Contents

LIST OF FIGURES LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES

ix xi

SELECTIONS ON COMPACT DISC

xiii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS PREFACE

XV xix

CHAPTER 1

Split Identity: The Historical and Literary Heritage of Azerbaijan

3

CHAPTER 2

"Mugham Is Not Music": The Complex Aesthetics of Islam

19

CHAPTER 3

"A Wave of Melodious Sound": The Basics of Mugham

31

CHAPTER 4

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

53

CHAPTER 5

The Modernization/Westernization of Mugham

91

CHAPTER 6

Mugham Lineages: Fathers and Sons, Masters and Disciples

111

CHAPTER 7

Symphonic Mugham

139

CHAPTER 8

Women's Voices Defying and Defining the Culture

vii

163

Viii

Contents

CHAPTER 9

Conclusion: Mugham as Signifier

191

CHAPTER 10

Travel Notes: 1997 and 2002

205

GLOSSARY

221

NOTES

225

BIBLIOGRAPHY

239

INDEX

255

List of Figures

1.1 1.2 2.1 2.2 2.3 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 4.1. 4.2 . 4.3. 4.4. 4.5. 5.1. 5.2.

Mugham trio Map of Azerbaijan and surrounding countries Hajji Jabrail Mikail oglu Atash Gah Comparative status of music in Islamic and Soviet worlds Tar Kamancha Gaval Structural outline of the dastgah Rast performed by trio Jabbar Garyaghdi. Lists of mughams by Navvab and Hajibeyov Three vresions of Rast assciated with three schools of mugham (Baku, Shusha and Shemakha) Two versions of dastgah Bayati Shiraz, performed by Bakihanov and Mansurov The sequence of parts in Bayati Shiraz by Gasimov's trio The symmetrical structure of Bayati Shiraz Outline of musical and poetic elements in Bayati Shiraz Comparative chart of three dastgahs Bayati Shiraz Groups of sections in the instrumental Bayati Shiraz Mugham Trio: Jabbar Garyaghdi, Kurban Primov, and Sasha Oganezashvili Poster for the premiere of Hajibeyov's Leili and Majnun IX

2 5 21 24 26 33 33 34 44 46 47 48 59 73 74 78 81 92 95

List of Figures 5.3. 5.4. 6.1. 6.2. 6.3. 6.4. 6.5. 6.6. 6.7. 7.1. 7.2 8.1. 8.2. 8.3.

8.4. 8.5.

10.1–10.4 10.5 10.6.

Poster of Eastern Concert 23 January 1902 Sarabski as Majnun, 1908 The ensemble of Sadikhjan (tar) and Bulbuljan (khanande, gaval). Master-disciple lineage of mugham performers Musical Dynasties Gurban Primov, Murtaz Bulbul, and young Polad Bulbul Girban Primov, Fikret Amirov, and Bahram Mansurov Azerbaijanian musical delegation to a plenum of Soviet composers The Baku Music Academy Fikret Amirov with Gurban Primov and Seyid Shushinski Comparative outline of Bayati Shiraz and Gulistan Bayati Shiraz Dancers of Shemakha. Painting by G. Gagarin Hajibeyov conducting female choir, 1926 Hajibeyov and the graduates of the Azerbaijanian Conservatory: Shovkat Mammadova, Hagigat Rzayeva, and Bulbul, late 20s The group of musicians performing for army, 1944. Sara Gadimova is the third in the middle row Sakina Ismailova with gaval and her accompanists, Turunj Agaeva (tar) and Farida Malikova (kamancha) (Photograph by author, 2002) Alim and Fargana performing Bayati Shiraz Jamil Amirov under a portrait of Vagif Mustafa Zadeh Yassaf Eivazov (ud) and Salman Gambarov (piano)

96 102 114 115 127 129 134 134 135 150 153 167 175

175 176

180 208 217 219

List of Musical Examples

3.1 3.2 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7 4.8 4.9 4.10 4.11 4.12 4.13 4.14 4.15 4.16 4.17 4.18 4.19 4.20

Mugham Scales 40 Gushe rast performed by M. Mansurov 42 Scale Bayati Shiraz 53 Daramad from the Bayati Shiraz performed by Gasimov's trio 60 Bardasht 61 Maye 63 Motif from Bardasht reappearing in Maye 64 Rang 64 Gushe of the Isfahan 65 Elaboration of the gushe of the Isfahan 65 Rang preceding the Zil Bayati Shiraz 66 Beginning of the Zil Bayati Shiraz 61 Elaboration of the second element of the gushe Zil Bayati Shiraz 61 Rang preceding Huzzal 69 Modulation to the Rast in the Huzzal 70 Rang played between Huzzal and Zarbi Huzzal 71 Dilruba 72 Tonal ranges in the sections of the Bayati Shiraz 76 Tonal ranges in the sections of the instrumental Bayati Shiraz 82 Bardasht, instrumental Bayati Shiraz performed by Asadullayev 83 Isfahanak, instrumental Bayati Shiraz 84 Bayati Isfahan, instrumental Bayati Shiraz 86

XI

Xll

List of Musical Examples

4.21 Modulation to Mahur in the Haveran, instrumental Bayati Shiraz 4.22 Dilruba, instrumental Bayati Shiraz 4.23 Ayag, instrumental Bayati Shiraz 5.1 The second theme from the exposition of the overture, Keroglu. 5.2 Introduction of the overture 5.3 The recitative-like opening of the aria "Cry Nigar" 5.4 The melodic elaboration and dramatization of the initial theme from aria "Cry Nigar" 7.1 Aman Ovchu, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz by S. Aleskerov 7.2 Haveran 7.3 Huzzal 7.4 Gushe Maye 7.5 Theme-thesis at the opening of the first part 7.6 Lachin 7.7 Theme-thesis of Bardasht in Lachin 7.8 Opening of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, F. Amirov 7.9 Element of Isfahan 7.10 Combination of several elements 7.11 Gushe Bardasht 7.12 Modifications of the gushe Bardasht 7.13 Beginning of section Bardasht 7.14 Piano solo 7.15 Finale, piano and saxophone 9.1. The final chord, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz

87 88 89 106 107 108 108 142 143 144 146 147 147 148 156 156 157 158 158 158 159 160 200

Selections on Compact Disc

Numbers in parentheses refer to pages in the text. 1.

Akhsan Dadashev playing far, excerpt from mugbam Rast (given by the performer's daughter Hanum Dadasheva) (50)

2.

Mahmud Salahov playing gaval (recorded by the author) (51)

3.

Bayati Shiraz performed by Alim Gasimov's Trio (given by the Gasimov's family) (95)

4.

Instrumental Bayati Shiraz played by Arif Asadullayev on kamancba (recorded by the author) (50 & 127)

5.

Hajji Jabrail Mikhail oglu, excerpt from Yettim, often performed by dervishes (recorded by the author) (34)

6.

Aria Nigar, Act II, opera Keroglu by Uzeyir Hajibeyov (from the collection of Azerbaijanian Radio and Television) (169)

7.

Suleiman Aleskerov, fragment from symphonic mugbam Bayati Shiraz (214)

8.

Fikret Amirov, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz conducted by G. Rozdestvenskii (from the collection of Azerbaijanian Radio and Television) (229)

9.

Sakina Ismailova, an excerpt from Bayati Shiraz (recorded by the author) (272)

10.

Bayati Shiraz performed by Fargana and Alim Gasamovs (given by Gasimov's family) (318)

11.

Vagif Mustafa-Zadeh, excerpt from his jazz composition entitled Bayati Shiraz (from the collection of Azerbaijanian Radio and Television) (333) xiii

xiv 12.

Selections on Compact Disc Yassaf Eivazov playing ud and Salman Gambarov piano improvise in Bayati Shiraz (recorded by the author) (335)

Acknowledgments

C

OMPLETING THIS BOOK, I AM GREATLY INDEBTED TO MY COLLEAGUE AND

friend, Elkhan Babayev, musical scholar and vice-president of the Baku Music Academy. For years he supplied me, across the ocean, with literature unavailable in the States, answered numerous questions during midnight phone calls, and arranged meetings with otherwise inaccessible people during my field work in the country. My gratitude extends to my wonderful hostess, Elkhan's wife Hajar Babayeva, and their two daughters Ainur and Aitach, all three women musicologists. Unforgettable are the beautiful velvety summer nights in the Babayevs' home in Baku, where we had long discussions, I testing my ideas and discoveries, they adding, arguing, and correcting. I am also grateful to another married couple—performers Elza Eivazova and Arif Asadulaev. Volunteering to teach me the traditional way of learning and playing Azerbaijanian art music, Arif spent hours with me practically every day during the summer months of 1997. I am also grateful to Mahmud Salakhov for his patience and enthusiasm in teaching me to play the gaval in 2002. My deep appreciation goes to my former classmates at the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory—Haji Baba Mammadov, now the chief music director of Azerbaijanian Radio, and Alia Bairamova, director of the State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture. Both of them provided me with needed archival resources, recordings, and visual materials, granting me permission to use some of them in this book. The research gave me opportunities to meet many other interesting people. I admire the enormous talent and appreciate the attention of Azerbaijanian composers Vasif Adigozal, Franghiz Ali-Zade, Faraj Garayev, Rahila Hasanova, and Elnara Dadasheva. I treasure the time I spent with the family of Alim xv

XVI

Acknowledgments

Gasimov, as well as hours of talks with Sakina Ismailova and members of her male and female ensembles. Not only did these musicians contribute to this book, they are the best part of it. I am grateful to hajji Jabrail Mikhail, an imam in Taza Pir (mosque), who taught me to understand different perceptions of music, who contributed valuable material on Azerbaijanian music and rituals, and who assisted me in getting to know members of the religious community. I deeply appreciate the intellectual challenge of Firidun Gurbamsoy, a philosopher studying Sufism, a professor, writer and film maker. I am thankful to the musical family of Adigozalovs, and the warm welcome of Farkhad Badalbeyli, president of the Baku Music Academy. My sincere thanks to all of my teachers on both sides of the globe, people who taught me an appreciation of both artistic inspiration and enduring labor, whether in music or in writing. I am grateful to the intellectual stimulation of my American colleagues in two institutions, the University of Michigan and Northwestern University, where I started and finished this project. Completing my dissertation in Michigan, I greatly benefited from the interest and encouragement of Richard Crawford, the witty criticism and humor of James Borders, the energizing ideas and sociological insight of Michael Kennedy, the inspiring work on gender by Ingrid Monson,the contributions of my friend Suzanne Camino, but most of all from the thoughtful guidance of my adviser Judith Becker. Northwestern University provided me with an equally challenging and stimulating atmosphere created by both my colleagues and my students. Special thanks to Scott Lipscomb for his assistance making my field recordings manageable for this publication. My work has been affected by the liberal mindset, energy, spiritual search, humor, logic, and ambitions of my dear colleagues at Northwestern, while the support of the institution provided me an opportunity for field research that resulted in an extension of the scope of this book. I am grateful for the continuous inspiration of Amy Ku'uleialoha Stillman and the encouragement, support, and invaluable advice of Joseph Lam. I am greatly inebted to Cindy Bily for the many hours she spent meticulously editing the manuscript. The project became a reality under the auspices of several organizations. I appreciate the generous support of the Northwestern University Research Grant Committee, which allowed me to continue my field work in Azerbaijan in spring and summer 2002. The travel was co-sponsored by an IREX short term grant. I appreciate the assistance of Northwestern's Office of the Vice President for Research in 2001, which allowed me start a revision of my work. I am grateful to David Cohen, the former director of the International Institute at the University of Michigan, and Paul Boylan, the former dean of the School of Music at the University of

Acknowledgments

xvii

Michigan, whose discretionary funds allowed me to pursue my first field work in 1997. Years ago when I was a little girl, there was a small bakery a block away from our home, always warm and filled with the delicious smell of freshly baked bread of all sizes and shapes. My mother, teaching me to appreciate food and to respect work, often told me how difficult it is to make bread and how many people are involved in sowing, plowing, grinding, transporting, and baking it. But for me the taste and smell of bread was inseparable from the short plump man behind the counter, with bright pinkish cheeks and a wide smile, who tossed, moved, cut, smiled, and talked while choosing me a loaf. In the process of gathering material and writing I found myself in the role of this baker, whose work has been to sort, to place, to shift, and to present something created by many people. To them, known and unknown, I wish to express my humble gratitude, to musicians and poets who kept and preserved Azerbaijanian art traditions, to their co-authors—the listeners who inspired the artists—and to the writers in their never-ending search for the meaning and logic of this music. Indebted to them all, I am also grateful to my reader for sharing my experiences and, by doing this, patiently becoming my partner on this journey. It is impossible to imagine the endless support and understanding of my family to which I owe the completion of this project: to Jim Borland, who now knows as much about Azerbaijanian mugbam as I do, who has been my diligent listener, first reader, then editor, ever-encouraging and ever-forgiving husband, side-by-side working with me on this book; to my son Nick, who survived with me not only the years of emigration as well as the years of the dissertation writing and book completion, but who grew into an American teenage boy managing his multiple cultural citizenship— Azerbaijanian, American, Russian, Jewish; to my parents and my sister, who always believed in me, and my ambitious goals—for my beloved family members who also balance two cultures I write this book.

Preface

O

N A RAINY, WINDY CHICAGO MAY 1, 2 0 0 2 , I AM HURRYING TO

Chicago's Symphony Hall to attend a "Silk Road" concert which includes a chamber piece Dervish written by Azerbaijanian composer Franghiz Ali-zade and featuring Azerbaijanian singer Alim Gasimov. Ten days later in Baku I am sitting on a carpet in Alim Gasimov's house. Both of us have returned to Baku, he to his home and family, and I to my past life and to my continuing study of Azerbaijanian music. Our life paths, embodying dramatic changes in modern Azerbaijan, signify the country's transition from Soviet republic to post-Soviet independent state. Alim belongs to both worlds. His musicianship developed within the Soviet system of musical education. Graduating from the Music College of Asaf Zeinally and soon achieving prominence on the native concert and operatic stage, he was invited to teach in the same college and later in the highest musical educational institution, the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory, now known as the Baku Music Academy. While Alim's talent and knowledge matured during last Soviet decade, in the post-Soviet era, after the dismantling of the Soviet centralized concert management he was able to tour abroad and to be in charge of his performance schedule at home. During the last thirteen years Alim has entered a period of adventurous musical experimentation. He connects traditional Azerbaijanian improvisation with classical, jazz, and popular music. He collaborates with musicians such as Yo-Yo Ma. Because of his talent and ability to communicate the Azerbaijanian classical music mugham to a variety of audiences, he has introduced listeners to Azerbaijanian culture, as Fatah Ali Khan once spread the music and culture of the Pakistani qawwali.

xix

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Preface

But in mid-May, as we are sitting in Alim's apartment surrounded by his family, the notion of worldwide tours and global musical interaction seems very distant from the intimate atmosphere of this house and our talk. Next to him is Alim's wife, Tamila, who archives his performances and publicity. When I need photographs and references, I contact her. A young woman in the center of a large carpet, Fargana, is Alim's daughter and his disciple, already well known for her singing of mugham, Crawling away from Fargana's hands is Alim's one-year-old granddaughter. As we talk, she makes her first independent step, which makes Alim ecstatic. Fervently speaking about music, every few minutes he interrupts our conversation and sings a long high-pitched intense tone, inviting his granddaughter to repeat. Laughing, she matches his voice and claps her hands following his gestures. This little game provides a clue to the centuries-old process through which the knowledge of music and the passion for the tradition of mugham are passed from parents and masters to their children and disciples. Alim's musicianship, his family, and his surroundings are a microcosm of Azerbaijanian musical culture. In the pages of this monograph he will reappear as a pupil, performer, and master, and as one who mediates continuity and change in Azerbaijanian tradition. Before introducing other characters of this narrative and before inviting my reader to join me in my journey into Azerbaijanian culture and the world of mugham I recognize the necessity of positioning myself in relation to the theme and purpose of this work. Like Pierre Bourdieu, who found that his sociological inquiry "effected a sort of self-therapy," I found that writing about Azerbaijanian music was a therapeutic act. I was born and lived in Azerbaijan for the most of my life, receiving there degrees in piano performance and musicology, and pursuing a musical career as performer and teacher. Incidents of ethnic cleansing in the late eighties led me, born in Azerbaijan but not of Azerbaijanian ethnicity, to leave the country. Immigrating to the United States and continuing my performance career, I felt strongly attracted to ethnomusicology, which allowed me to immerse myself in the study of Azerbaijanian music. Far from my homeland, I recognized that the sound of mugham was inseparable from my memories of youth. Also, for me as a musician, the study of this music appeared the best way to reconcile two parts of my life and many diverse, often conflicting personal and social roles I have played in two vastly different cultural contexts. The endeavor to achieve inner unity did not ease the process of researching, thinking, and writing. Instead, often tormenting, it brought about internal conflicts and emotional crises. Ironically, pupils of Western classical music educated in Azerbaijan customarily ignored native music, viewing it as inferior to the European and Russian classical tradition. Thus I had an opportunity to revisit a culture to which I belonged (that is, of Soviet Azerbaijan) and to reconsider its

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xxi

basic cultural perceptions and values. From my emotional attachment to Azerbaijanian music there emerged an intellectual understanding of the complex sociological frame of Soviet and post-Soviet Azerbaijan, where musical principles and social systems depended on political agendas nourished by the socialist version of cultural colonialism. Now, deeply engaged in the study of Azerbaijanian music, I realize that while living in Azerbaijan I belonged to a subgroup of the Soviet cosmopolitan intelligentsia. Researching the Falasha religious tradition in Ethiopia, Kay Kaufman Shelemay became closely involved with and later married into a prominent family of Yemini expatriates living in Ethiopia. She found herself exposed to a multilingual, multiplex community, identified as the "third culture." Shelemay writes: "Ethnographers have not been often discussed or acknowledged their own relationship to the third culture; they have in fact avoided such contact, because . . . of the historical relationship of many of these communities to a colonial past" (Shelemay 1994: xvii). In the course of my writing, I have found myself (from a family of permanent expatriates from the Ukraine and Georgia) a member of a "third culture" which fits neither native Azerbaijanian nor colonial Soviet cultures. Yet like many Azerbaijanians and non-Azerbaijanians both in and outside of the country, I am unable to draw a definite line between "the native culture" and "the third culture." Instead I would argue that it is at the intersection of various cultural layers that the rich, intriguing culture of modern Azerbaijan was conceived and developed. Approaching Azerbaijanian mugham as an active and interactive social agent and attempting to objectify its cultural and social roles, I found myself subjected to unintentional objedification. In the course of my research I returned to Baku for fieldwork in 1997 and again in 2002. Even during my first trip, I realized the ambiguity of my position with regards to the culture. No longer did I find myself an insider. In fact, the cultural layer to which I belonged has largely vanished. At the same time, meeting my former colleagues, I felt I remained a part of the Azerbaijanian musical network. None of my fellow musicians perceived me as an outsider. In presenting the material, I recognize the constant shift and negotiation of my different and often conflicting roles: Azerbaijanian musician and American scholar, adherent of Russian culture and opponent of Russian cultural chauvinism, refugee from the Soviet regime yet still attached to some Soviet ideals, a Western classical pianist deeply engaged in exploration of non-Western world music traditions, an advocate of Eastern femininity and at the same time a feminist, a pupil of the structuralist socialistic doctrines and yet infatuated with deconstruction. Admittedly, different identities prevail in various parts of the current work. I don't intend to shy from these controversies, which I hope will make the work multi-dimensional and personable.

XXii

Preface

The ten chapters of this book explore the Azerbaijanian classical art of mugham as a form of music and as a mechanism of human relations. The sections and chapters focusing on the social aspect of music production alternate with ones inviting a reader to become immersed in a world of musical sound and to find in intricate melodious patterns an underlying logic that mirrors, reflects, and comments on changes in the production mode. The book is designed for both reading and listening, and thus includes musical transcriptions and recordings intended to introduce the reader to the sound of Azerbaijanian music. In order for my reader and thus listener not simply to taste the flavor of Azerbaijanian mugham, but develop rather intimate ties with this music, I focus my analysis on a single mugham, Bayati Shiraz, and compile in the book and its accompanying recordings various renditions of this mugham. From chapter to chapter the reader, learning to recognize the melodic patterns and dramatic sequence of Bayati Shiraz, moves from vocal to instrumental mughams, from improvised to composed renditions, to operatic and symphonic versions and finally to jazz performances based upon Bayati Shiraz. The recordings, made outdoors and in clubs, copied from family tapes, some very old, preserve the sound environment of the performances. The book contains a large number of musical examples, transcribed by the author unless otherwise indicated. One perplexing challenge in completing the manuscript involved the spelling of names. I have attempted to negotiate between consistent letter-by-letter transliteration and the spelling of names as they appear in various English sources (which often disagree). The difficulties are evident if one looks at Figure 1.1, where the wall behind Alim Gasimov is covered with concert posters; the artist's name is not spelled the same way twice! The outline of the book follows a basic organizational principle—from general to specific, from theory to demonstration. Thus every tale in this book leads to a song. Chapters One, Two, and Three investigate the historical, social, and religious context of mugham and introduce the musical concepts underlying various mugham compositions. Chapter Four analyzes a vocal mugh am-composition and an instrumental mugham, identifying their characteristic melodic and poetic patterns. Chapter Five examines social and cultural changes occurring in Azerbaijan in the early twentieth century and inevitably leads to the figure of Uzeyir Hajibeyov, the doyen of modern Azerbaijanian musical culture, the founder of Azerbaijanian Western-based musical institutions, the composer of the first native mugham opera, and a theorist who transcribed and formulized the mugham system. Chapter Six introduces the dichotomy between improvised and composed music, two native musical realms closely related through mugham. In the course of the last hundred years, the two musical traditions have become associated with two musical lineages: one primari-

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xxiii

ly involved in the transmission of oral musical knowledge and the other in the development of native composed music. Chapter Seven is centered on listening to a symphonic mugham by Fikret Amirov, a key Azerbaijanian composer and a member of a musical dynasty. His Gulistan Bayati Sbiraz demonstrates the composer's strong ties with traditional roots and simultaneously his mastery of Western musical idioms. His highly individual style also reveals the complexity of Azerbaijanian musical culture and Amirov's search for a national musical identity. Chapter Eight, perhaps the climax of the book, focuses on Azerbaijanian female musicians who became visible in the Azerbaijanian musical arena less than a hundred years ago. It shows how the traditional father-son lineage has been extended to daughters, at least in the case of Alim Gasimov and his daughter and apprentice Fargana. In Chapter Nine, the conclusion, I propose a paradigm relating the social drama of twentieth century Azerbaijan to the content of compositions introduced and analyzed in various chapters of the book. The Epilogue is composed of personal travel notes from post-Soviet Azerbaijan and elsewhere. The idea of including traveling notes owes much to Theodore Levin's Hundred Thousand Fools of God, whose experiences in Soviet and Post-Soviet Central Asia parallel many of mine. In this epilogue I invite my reader to follow me to various places and meet some of my new and old friends. It is also my—for the time being—farewell to Baku, the city of my youth, the motherland of mugham—the place and the music I find in Paris, Chicago, wherever I am.

SONG FROM THE LAND OF FIRE

Figure 1.1. Mugham trio: tar player, khanande with gaval, kamancha player (Photograph given by Alim Gasimov's family, 1999).

CHAPTER 1

Split Identity: The Historical and Literary Heritage of Azerbaijan

A

MAN SITTING IN THE CENTER OF A COLORFUL CARPET SINGS IN A HIGH-

pitched nasal voice. Instrumentalists on either side accompany him, one playing a bowed spike fiddle called the kamancha and the other a lute-like tar held near the performer's chest. The intense voice of the singer spins the words into intricate melodic ornamentation that intoxicates the listener. The melody of the tar winds around the voice of the soloist, echoing, repeating, or anticipating the singer's line. The kamancha and the tar interlace like the double zigzag on the borders of the carpet. The voice of the soloist dives into low-pitched soft speech, a love whisper. Gradually his voice rises to a dramatic recitation followed by a melodic arabesque, in which every tone becomes a center of syllabic melisma. A breathtaking ascent is interrupted when the soloist strikes the tambourinelike gaval (daf), signaling the beginning of a fiery dance-like interlude. (Sound track three: Alim Gasimov's trio) This trio is performing mugham. To unaccustomed ears it may sound like Persian, Arabic, or Turkish music. But one who knows it unmistakably recognizes the classical music of Azerbaijan, music that brings to listeners the sweet and dense aroma of early spring in the Azerbaijanian capital Baku, the rolling undertones of the Caspian Sea, the whistle of a salty wind and the image of the Caucasus mountains covered with fiery poppies. The word mugham has several meanings. Mugham is a modal system serving as the foundation for diverse types of Azerbaijanian music including folk and art traditions, composed pieces and pop music. It is an anthology of melodies, themes, motifs, and rhythmic gestures. Simultaneously mugham is a musical genre that weds orally transmitted music with classical written poetry. A mugham composition is a succession of improvised recitations interspersed with songs and dance-like episodes. In addition,

3

4

Song from the Land of Fire

mugham is a performing tradition identified with specific settings and purposes. The art of mugham involves particular social relationships—master and disciple, soloist and instrumentalist. The complexity of the mugham concept is inseparable from the history of the people to whom it belongs. THE AZERBAIJANIAN PEOPLE Azerbaijan, with a population of eight million people, is territorially the largest country of Transcaucasia. It is situated on the west shore of the Caspian Sea, meets the Persian plateau on the south, extends to the Armenian highlands on the west and is bordered by the Caucasus Mountains on the north. For a hundred seventy-five years, Azerbaijan was a province of the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union, but for most of its history Azerbaijanian culture, religion, and aesthetics were associated with the Eastern hemisphere. During Azerbaijan's long history, its people were at different times part of the ancient Greek, Roman, and Persian empires; lived under Arabs and Mongols; and were tossed between Ottoman Turkish and Persian dynasties. For over a millennium, Azerbaijanians have belonged to a Turkicspeaking1 group which includes Turks, Turkmens, Tajiks, and Uzbeks. Although the spoken languages and alphabets vary, the peoples of this vast region share a significant body of narrative. Literary sources reveal the cultural closeness of Azerbaijan to neighboring Turkey. Hence even though the two countries share Islamic beliefs, Turkey is associated with Sunni Islam and Azerbaijan with the opposite camp of Shiite Islam. Azerbaijanian conformity to Shiism reflects its kinship with another strong neighbor—Iran. The territorial, cultural, and religious ties of Azerbaijan with Iran and Turkey resulted not from trade and cultural exchange but from centuries of wars in which Azerbaijan was the arena of a power struggle between its neighbors. Located between two seas (Caspian and Black), it lies in a fruitful land with rivers that provide natural irrigation, a place with high mountains, wide valleys, and vineyards, the crossroads between Western Europe on one side and West Asia and Central Asia on the other. The territory of contemporary Azerbaijan was a "permanent theater of political affairs" and a land attracting immigrants. It had been referred to as 'the gates of the Caucasus, the Caspian Sea, and ancient Albania'" (Sumbazade, 1990: 16). Archeological work in this area suggests that it was inhabited as early as four thousand B.C.E. The existence of ancient civilizations such as Mannea (in southern Azerbaijan) is discussed in Assyrian sources of the ninth-through-seventh centuries B.C.E. (Sumbatzade, 1990: 27). In the fifth century B.C.E., Herodotus described a "Caspian tribe'" related to the modern name of the Caspian Sea. Ilias Babaev connects the Caspians with ancient Albania. He quotes Sarbon, an author of antiquity, who stated that

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UKRAINE

KAZAKHSTAN

RUSSIA

GEORGIA

TURKEY

AZERBAIJAN TURKMENISTAN

IRAN SYRIA IRAQ

Figure 1.2. Map of Azerbaijan and surrounding countries. "in the country Albania there is Caspiana, which is also a sea named by the people who had been called Caspian and who had been exterminated" (I. Babaev, 1990, 38). Around 550 B.C.E., the empire of Akhamenids, "the world's largest dominion," took over both Media and Albania.2 In 328 B.C.E., the Akhamenids were conquered by Alexander the Great. The Median satrap Atropat, who fought against Macedonians on the side of King Darius III after the defeat of his ruler, swore allegiance to Alexander. Consequently, Atropat or Azarbad(Geibullaev, 1991, 340–341; Hunter, 1994: 7) retained the leadership of northern Media (Mannea), a province called Atropaten after the name of its ruler. Some linguists and historians believe that "the word Azerbaijan was formed from Atropaten" [Azarbad] (Alstadt, 1992: 2), while others suggest that it was derived from the name of an azeri tribe, or from the Persian word azeri, meaning 'fire'—hence Azerbaijan, 'Land of

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Song from the Land of Fire

Fire.' In ancient Zoroastrian temples, fires were fed by plentiful natural sources of oil (Swietochowski, 1985: 1). Although historians disagree about the precise borders of ancient Albania3 and Atropaten, it is widely accepted that both are precursors of modern-day Azerbaijan. Major cities of antiquity existent today include Shemakha and Mingechaur, described by Ptolomy and Sarbon (I. Babaev, 1990: 2). Ganja, Sheki, Barda, Baku, and Nakhichevan were built at the beginning of the Common Era (Altstadt, 1992: 2). The people of early Azerbaijan were a conglomerate of various ethnic groups, far from homogenous in language and traditions. The first Turkic tribes appeared from the north around 93 C.E. (Sumbatzade, 1990: 76–91). D. E. Eremeev, in The Ethnogenesis of Turks, suggests that by the third or fourth century, these Turkic tribes, attracted by pastures for animals, had become permanent settlers in the Caucasus. The mixing and merging of Turkic tribes from the north with the native population was constant throughout the first millennium. Turkic migration became a decisive factor in the ethnicity of the forebears of contemporary Azerbaijanians (Sumbatzade, 1990: 85). In 647 C.E., the twenty-fifth year of the Islamic calendar, Arabs defeated the Sassanid empire4 and entered Atropaten. Through the end of the tenth century, Arabs migrated to this territory, establishing large Arabic settlements in Azerbaijanian cities and rural areas. According to Sumbatzade, even today people living in some villages of Shusha are called Arabs (Sumbatzade, 1990: 93). Islam became the most effective force unifying the people of the region; Arabic sciences, poetry, and arts stimulated and influenced cultural changes in occupied areas. The fall of the Arabic dynasty of Abbasids resulted in the formation of a number of Azerbaijanian khanates (small kingdoms) following Arabic and Persian models. The end of the eleventh century was marked by a new stream of Turkic tribes such as the Seljuks and Oghuzs from the southeast, Central Asia, and Iran. Gatran Tabrizi, a famous poet of the eleventh century from the Azerbaijanian city Tabriz, wrote: These Turks arriving from Turkistan Accepted you as their ruler Separated from their relatives and relations Began living under your rule Now they are everywhere. . . (Dadashzade, 1994: 63). Mobile and growing in number, Turks obtained leading positions in existing khanates or formed new ones. Between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, Azerbaijan became the center of countless battles among Turks, Persians, Mongols (Genghis-Khan), and local tribes. Territorial control constantly shifted among Azerbaijanians, Georgians, and Armenians.

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A mass influx of Turcomans resulted in a rivalry between the two states of Qara Quyunly and Aq Quyunly (Black and White Sheep) (Sumbatzade, 1990: 179). A number of small and large khanates arose in the fifteenth century among which "a native Azeri state of Shirvanshahs flourished north of the Araxes" (Swietowchowski, 1995: 2). The rulers of these powerful states endeavored to unify Azerbaijan. By the beginning of the seventeenth century, a large centralized empire uniting thirty-two local tribes arose under the rule of Ismail Safavi, who came from a family of sheikhs in the ancient Azerbaijanian city Ardebil. The first shahinshah or tsar of tsars of Iran, he was supported by the Azerbaijanians. A brilliant commander, strategist, and poet, Shah Ismail later made the Shiite branch of Islam the official religion of his empire, an act that set Azeris firmly apart from the Ottoman Turks). One of Ismail's adherents, Shah Abbas, revenging the murder of his mother (arranged by the Azerbaijanian nobility) beheaded many Azerbaijanian political leaders, moved the capital to Isfahan, and changed his empire from an Azerbaijanian to a clearly Iranian state. The relocation of the Safavid capital and the reformation of Azerbaijanian territory into four provinces under bäylärbäy or governors led to separation from Iran. The fall of the Safavids resulted again in the division of Azerbaijanian territory into a number of khanates, miniature political replicas of the Iranian state complicated by tribal hierarchies5 and individuals striving for power. Russian expansionist politics towards Transcaucasia began with tsar Peter the Great (1683–1725) and his "abortive Persian Expedition of 1722" (Swietochowski, 1995: 3). Struggling for political control of the Transcaucasus, Russia, Iran, and Turkey chose Azerbaijan as the first target. In 1822, Iran conceded territory in northern Azerbaijan to Russia in exchange for help against the Afghans. In 1824, Russia and Turkey signed an agreement that ceded additional Azerbaijanian land to Russia. Russia ignored its pact with Iran and allowed Turkey to occupy Western Iran. The Turkmanchai Settlement6 finalized the division of Azerbaijan and determined its destiny for almost two centuries. The area populated by Azeris was divided into equal parts, but a larger proportion of the Azeri-speaking population remained in Iran. Unlike the Georgians, the Azeris did not have the benefits of territorial-ethnic unity, a fact that would be seen as an impediment to their evolution into a nation. . . . One day, the treaty would turn into a symbol of national bitterness, a black day of historical injustice in the eyes of the twentieth century Azerbaijanian national movement. (Swietochowski, 1995: 7)

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A century of Russian rule resulted in demographic changes, the development of the oil industry, the rise of urban Azerbaijan, and the formation of a native intelligentsia and a labor class. Armenian and Russian migration coincided with expanded investment in this region. The subtropical climate, undeveloped cities, and industrial potential lured people from different countries and ethnic backgrounds. Altstadt describes Baku of the beginning of the twentieth century as "a city of immigrants: less than half of the population had been born in the city, men greatly outnumbered women, and sixty two percent were under age twenty." 7 At the threshold of the twentieth century, Baku, which throughout the previous hundred years had been a "desert city [with] not yet a single street that might be considered European" (Bay, 1932: 11), was turning into a multiethnic capital with diverse languages and religious traditions, theaters, a multilingual press, and frequent performances by internationally known artists. While a majority of native Azerbaijanians were politically and culturally disadvantaged in their own land, Azerbaijan was economically and culturally favorable to everyone else, especially Russians and Armenians. At the same time, Baku was attractive for educated and talented Azerbaijanians who were deeply acquainted with their own culture, knew also Arabic, Persian, Turkish, and often Russian languages and literature. The tension between the foreigners who largely defined the features of the city and the practically alien natives associated with rural areas or the urban periphery led to the rise of nationalistic consciousness among the native intelligentsia. Their growing awareness and activity resulted in the Azerbaijanian Enlightenment. The latter was represented by intellectuals such as the writers Mirza Fatali Akhundzade (Akhundov, 1812–1878) and Hasan Melikov-Zarbadi (1837–1907), the poet Mirza Alekper Sabir (1862–1911), and the composers Uzeyir, Zulfugar, and Jeyhun Hajibeyov and Muslim Magomayev (Zenkovsky 1960: 92–107). Altstadt states that "the political and cultural Azerbaijani elite saw themselves as leaders of a community beyond Baku, encompassing [the cities of] Shemakha, Cuba, Shusha, Nakhichevan, Ganja, and countless villages" (Altstadt, 1992: 49). At the beginning of the twentieth century, Baku became one of the industrial centers of the Russian Empire. The leaders of the democratic movement had much more freedom there than in other industrial centers, due to the city's remoteness from imperial power. In the summer of 1902, the print shop "Nina," famous in the history of the Soviet revolution, was opened in Baku, publishing Lenin's paper Iskra. The first publication of Marx's Manifesto in Russian was also issued in Baku. In the early twentieth century, the Azerbaijanian revolutionary movement was driven by a desire to form an independent Azerbaijanian state. The revolution was followed by a short-lived Transcaucasian Federation. After its collapse, Azerbaijan declared in May 28, 1918, the

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first Eastern Islamic state with a Parliament and a Cabinet of Ministers. The Azerbaijanian Democratic Republic lasted twenty-three months, attacked by Turkey, Iran, Britain, and Russia, and threatened by neighboring Armenia and Georgia. Azerbaijanian freedom ended when "with the conquest of Armenia on December 2, 1920, and Georgia on March 18, 1921, the Communists consolidated their hold over Azerbaijan, even though armed resistance smoldered until 1924 and underground organizations held on through the reminder of the decade" (Swietochowski, 1995: 103). The dream and memory of the Azerbaijanian Republic did not vanish, but became the driving force for independence after the fall of the Soviet Union seventy years later. The history of Baku in the Soviet period is particularly striking. During the decades after the revolution, Baku, because of its location on the periphery of the USSR, often served as a place of political escape for many former democratic leaders and their families fleeing Stalin's purges. For example, after the mysterious death of my mother's father, a revolutionary and national activist in the Ukraine, my grandmother and her two young daughters hurriedly left her hometown for Baku. For many years, until my graduation from high school, the reason for the family migration and the story of my grandfather were not discussed, and his photographs and documents were never shown to anyone. My father's family owned several small businesses in the Ukraine. After raskulachivaniia (the act of confiscation of private businesses), they too escaped to Baku, where members of the older generation (my grandparents) could work and the youngsters could attend schools and colleges but did not discuss their 'shameful' and 'compromised' past.8 The stories of my grandparents, like those of many families arriving in Baku, explain the diverse, multilingual, and multicultural atmosphere of this city, which combined modernity with old native traditions, the rejection of official power with the acceptance of a local network of powerful families. Immigrants established their homes in Baku, a city of flourishing cultures with theaters performing in Russian, Armenian, Azerbaijanian, and Persian. Musics of different cultural and ethnic groups were performed in concert halls and private settings. The review of Azerbaijanian history shows the significance of Azerbaijanian's geographical position. In the first millennium this land became one of the furthest regions reached by the Turkic tribes from Central Asia. The power struggle between Turkey and Iran made Azerbaijan a battlefield and a target for their cultural, ethnic and historical claims. For over thousand years, this territory was one of the outmost Islamic regions in Europe, an area also close to and therefore vulnerable to Russia. These intricate territorial, religious, cultural, and historical trends define the marginality of the country and the people whose identity has always been shaped and reshaped by external domination. The critical fact

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Song from the Land of Fire

is that for the most of its history Azerbaijan was either unified under strong dynasties of invaders or split into combating khanates and provinces. The succession of Turks and Iranians ruling in Azerbaijan for centuries led to religious affinity with Iran and linguistic kinship with Turkey and created the basis for multiple interpretations of Azerbaijanian identity. CULTURAL IMAGINATION AND THE SPLIT IDENTITY Two centuries-old professional musical traditions exist in Azerbaijan. Sharing some similarities, they are tied to Azerbaijan's national identity. One is mugham, an art music associated with Arabic and Persian roots. The other is the music of the Azerbaijanian ashigs, parallel to Turkish ashiks. The two musics define a dualistic cultural, ethnic and historical paradigm. According to Shireen T. Hunter, it has always been a challenge to unify these two ethnic and cultural streams (Hunter, 1994: 62). Prior to 1828, Azerbaijan was a battleground between Ottoman and Iranian armies. After Russia extended its power over this region, the combat between Iran and Turkey shifted into ethnocultural and historical fields. Many Iranians claim that Azerbaijanians share ancient ethnic roots emerging from the "Iranian branch of the Indo-European tribes . . . the Medes and the Persians. In Transcaucasia, they concentrated in what is now the Republic of Azerbaijan" (Hunter, 1994: 4). Many Turks, on the other hand, insist that Turkic migration determined the ethnicity of modern Azerbaijan. Iranians proclaim spiritual ties extending from Zoroastrian times to contemporary Islamic Shiism. The Turks argue cultural unity on the basis of language and oral folk traditions. Since Azerbaijan was hardly recognized as an entity before the twentieth century, at best as a remote part of various empires, Azerbaijanians developed cultural affinity with both Iranians and Turks. For example, the first shahinshah Ismail Safavi is widely known as the founder of both the Iranian Empire and the Iranian ruling dynasty. His political accomplishments and poetic eminence are attributed to Iran even though he was "a sixth-generation descendant of sheyh Safiyuddin of the [city] Ardebil in Azerbaijan" (Birge, 1937: 62) and wrote in three languages, Arabic, Persian, and Turkic. The poet Nasimi (1369–1417) from the Azerbaijanian city Shamakha, whose poetry expressed the philosophy of hurufism,9 is often referred to as Turkish (Birge, 1937: 59). Hormoz Farhat, an expert on Persian music, points out that "it has been customary to recognize the Persian scholars of the Abbasid period as Arabs." Farhat himself names Safiaddin Urmavi and Abdul Kadir Maraghi—both from cities in Southern Azerbaijan—as Iranian philosophers and musicologists (Farhat, 1990: 4), while in Azerbaijanian literature they are referred to as Azerbaijanians.

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Even though authors such as Hunter suggest that the Azerbaijanian search for identity was a product of Soviet mythology (Hunter, 1994: 13), it appears that the quest for ethnic and cultural unity began earlier, after the northern part of this land came under Russian rule. No longer identified with Turkey or Iran, Azerbaijanians became increasingly conscious of their identity. In the mid-nineteenth century the Azerbaijanian intelligentsia included figures such as Mirza Fatali Akhundzade, "a founder of modern Azerbaijanian literature" (Istoria azerbaijanskoi, 1992: 116). Referring to Akhundzade as to the "Tatar Moliere," Swietochowski (1995: 26) suggests that "Akhundzade himself epitomized the contradictions inherent in the uncertain identity of the Azeris of his time" (Swietochowski, 1995: 27). Akhundzade was a radical advocate of a pro-Iranian orientation for Azerbaijan. If Akhundzade had no doubts that his spiritual land was Iran, Azerbaijan was the land where he grew up and whose language was his native tongue. His lyrical poetry was written in Persian, but the works that carry messages of social importance are written in the language of the people of his native land, which was called Turki. With no indication of a split personality, he combined . . . Iranian identity with the Azerbaijani—he used the term vatan (fatherland) in reference to both—and in this "fatherland of fatherlands" frame of mind he became a major figure of the Turkic literary renaissance (Swietochowski, 1995: 28). One of the most important figures in Azerbaijan of the beginning of the twentieth century was the leader of the 1918 Azerbaijanian Democratic Republic, Mammad Amin Rasulzadeh, a national activist and political emigre who, escaping from Azerbaijan, "rose to political prominence throughout Iran." During the years preceding the Russian Revolution, he established "the greatest, the most important, and the best known of all Persian newspapers, the organ of the Democratic Party of Iran" (Swietochowski, 1995: 47). Paradoxically, during the days of the independent Azerbaijanian Republic, Rasulzadeh became known as an ardent nationalist and Turkic supporter. As a writer, he created "a legendary hero, Siyavush (Ashrimizin Siyavush—Siyavush of our age), in whose veins flowed both Persian and Turkic blood and who symbolized present-day Azerbaijan, a parable that suggested a split personality" (Swietochowski, 1995: 130). A historian of the late twentieth century, Hunter writes about an Azerbaijanian "identity crisis." She suggests that Azerbaijanians—including the pan-Turkist nationalists—claimed their Turkic identity and at the same times presented themselves as the descendants of Zoroaster (associated with Iran) (Hunter, 1994: 62). Elsewhere in her book, Hunter states that

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Song from the Land of Fire

"the interaction between these Turkic influences and the essentially Iranian history and culture of Azerbaijan has resulted in a bifurcated sense of identity" (Hunter, 1994: 11). As mentioned earlier, the idea of a split identity is reflected in the two distinct branches of music, mugham and ashig, one associated with Arabic/Persian cultures and the other with Turkic. The two musical traditions have also been associated with different geographical localities within Azerbaijan. The three major areas of mugham known since the second half of the nineteenth century have been Garabag, Shirvan, and the Apsheronian peninsula.10 The art of the ashigs was associated with the areas of Gazakh, Nakhichevan, and Garabag. 11 The industrial boom at the beginning of the twentieth century lured famous performers of both traditions to Baku. At that time, under Russian and Western cultural influences, an Azerbaijanian composing tradition emerged. Like Russian nationalist-composers, Azerbaijanian musicians embraced both European classics and native musical forms that reflected the split identity. For example, one major opera of the Azerbaijanian composer Uzeyir Hajibeyov was inspired by mugham and another by the art of the ashig. Leili and Majnun, produced in 1908, was a "mugham-opera" In 1937, Hajibeyov composed his "ashig opera" Keroglu. Hajibeyov's mugham-opera12 reflects the pro-Iranian orientation of Rasulzadeh, discussed above, in the pre-revolutionary years; his later ashig-opera could be compared to the pro-Turkism of Rasulzadeh after the revolution. In addition, like Rasulzadeh in his novel, Hajibeyov in his music interlaced two sources, two cultures, neither of them foreign to Azerbaijanians. The national consolidation of Azerbaijan in the twentieth century was inseparable from cultural unification. For example, the poetic language of mugham shifted from farsi (Persian) to Azerbaijanian (Turkic), and some elements of the ashig forms were assimilated in mugham. Conversely, the ashigs included mugham fragments in their performances (Istoria azerbaijanskoi, 1990: 118). In Azerbaijanian concerts at the beginning of the twentieth century, ashigs and performers of mugham often shared the stage. For example, a poster of 1918 announced the program of an "Eastern Concert" including compositions for an ensemble of folk instruments and solo pieces in the first part, scenes and arias from the operetta Arshin Mal Alan by Hajibeyov in the second, and mugham Segah followed by a duet of ashigs in the third part (Shushinski, 1979: 162). This integration of two traditions in the third part of the concert contrasts with Turkey, where nationalism was driven by the idea of rejecting Arab/Persian civilization and of promoting the culture of the Anatolian peasantry, which resulted in the decline of Arabic traditions such as makam. The tension between Iranian and Persian elements affected Azerbaijanian self-perception. Many Azerbaijanians saw Turkey as "a win-

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dow to Europe" (Hunter, 1994: 11) and considered Azerbaijanian culture Turkic on the basis of language. At the same time, a large proportion of the Azerbaijanian population remained in southern Azerbaijan (Iran), which solidified family ties with Iran. Azerbaijanian culture thus adopted and integrated Turkic and Iranian elements. Even though Azerbaijanians during the twentieth century increasingly see themselves as Turkic people, art forms such as mugham have not lost their validity. Instead, the versatility of the mugham performing tradition, as well as the rich native musicological literature of this musical-poetic form, established mugham as the foundation of Azerbaijanian music. AZERI LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE The literature of Azerbaijan represents the plurality and richness as well as the marginality of Azerbaijanian culture. A mixture of linguistic roots brought about the polyphony of the Azerbaijanian language, which reflects the same complex cultural identity that underlies the diverse native musical traditions. A number of languages and dialects were present in this area during the pre-literate era. Sumbatzade cites several writers, mainly Arabic scientists and travelers, who remarked on the ethnic and linguistic diversity of the area. He quotes Ma'sudi, who wrote in 934 C.E. about the inhabitants of the Caucasian mountains: "There are seventy two tribes, and each has its own king and a language unlike any others" (Sumbatzade, 1990: 127). After the Arabic conquest and Islamization of the region, Arabic was proclaimed the official language in the occupied territories, which included Persian and Azerbaijanian lands. It was the first language unifying the people of this area; it was their first written language; it gave an access to Arabic sciences, philosophy, and poetry; and it became the language of the first Azerbaijanian scholars. The tenth-century philosophers Mohammed Ali Bakui and Abdulhasan Bahmanyar (known as Al-Azerbaijani) wrote in Arabic, as did two major musical theorists, Safiaddin Urmavi (1198–1283) and Abdul Kadir Maraghi (1327–1388). The eleventh through thirteenth centuries in Azerbaijan were a time of striking cultural explosion. Three languages became prominent in Azerbaijan. Arabic remained the sacred language of Islam, and from the seventh to the end of the fifteenth century it was also the language of science and philosophy. On the other hand, pre-Islamic Iranian art, specifically music, influenced the expanding world of Islam. "In the arts," according to Roman Girshman, "the true heir of Sassanian Iran was Islam, and wherever it went it carried the form created by Sassanian art [the Sassanian dynasty ruled in Iran from 226–642 and preceded the Arabic conquest.]" (Hunter, 1994: 9). Therefore, while Arabic was the language of science,

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Song from the Land of Fire

Persian became associated with poetry, which flourished in Azerbaijan between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries. Among the prominent poets of this period were Gartran Tabrizi (1012–1088), Khagani Shirvani (1120–1194), and Nizami Ganjevi (1141–1209). 13 In his historical poems, Tabrizi left accounts of wars, migrations, and natural disasters. Khagani's heritage includes "magnificent odes. . . with as many as three hundred lines of . . . rhymes, melodious ghazals, dramatic poems glorifying reason and toil, and elegies lamenting the death of his children, his wife and his relatives" (Azerbaijanian Poetry, 1969: 39). The works of Nizami became a model for classical literature throughout the East. His Hamse, a cycle of five poems including the epics Hosrau and Shirin, Leili and Majnun, Seven Beauties and Iskandar Name, was continuously rewritten in the following centuries. Gazanfar Aliyev discusses over a hundred literary versions of Leili and Majnun, all related to Nizami's poem (Aliev, 1985: 6–8). While these three poets left a legacy of Arabic-Persian literature, the massive Turkic migration and Turkish Seljuk dominance in the eleventh through thirteenth centuries led to a gradual unification of the spoken tongue based on the Turkic language. Sumbatzade writes that "it is possible that Nizami from his childhood years observed the life of nomads [Turkic tribes] around his native Ganja. Therefore when in later years he created his poem Leili and Majnun, the writer could imagine the life of Arabic nomads, and at the same time recall Turks living around his city" (Sumbatzade, 1990: 149). In addition to classical written poetry, ashigs recited the dastan Dede Korkud from the ninth century (Dadashzade, 1994: 63). This dastan was a large body of epics narrating mythological and historical events, and representing, in a highly refined musical and poetic form, the customs and beliefs of a majority of the native population. In short, at least three major languages were used in this region: Arabic in science and philosophy, Persian in literature, poetry, and courtly etiquette, and Turkic as the vernacular language, which also developed a high artistic repertoire. The writers of the Middle Ages were fluent in all three languages. For example, the poetry of Nizami and the other Persian-language writers of his time contained expressions of spoken Turkic, while the latter itself began to include Arabic and Persian words. The late thirteenth and the early fourteenth centuries witnessed the birth of classical Azerbaijanian literature in the Turkic-Azerbaijanian language. The monumental figures of this period were Nasimi (1370–1417), Ismail Khatai (1486–1524), and Muhammad Fizuli (1491–1556). Nasimi was a poet with revolutionary ideas and a tragic destiny.14 His poetic language included Persian, Turkic, and Arabic expressions. Although Ismail Khatai (Safavi) wrote official documents and letters in Persian, "he used the Turkish (Turkic) of the common people in his poetic works. His doc-

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trines he expressed in a language that moved the heart. They spread his teaching as could no power of physical force. To-day there is preserved a Divan of Hatayi" (Birge, 1937: 68). Speaking of Fizuli, Azerbaijanian writer Jafar Jabarly stated: "He extracted Azerbaijanian literature from the Arabic-Persian maelstrom and on his mighty shoulders carried this new born literature to impossible heights" (Arasli, 1958: 33). Like his predecessors, Fizuli wrote ghazals, qasidas,15 poems and prose pieces. The pinnacle of his works is his version of Leili and Majnun, written in Azerbaijanian and ornamented with Persian and Arabic expressions. In the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries, the Azerbaijanian language went from a multiple version to a single version of pronunciation, word usage, and grammatical forms. Various scholarly works and textbooks on history, mathematics, and statistics as well as an Arabic-Azerbaijanian (Turkic) dictionary were issued in the eighteenth century. In medrese (schools), along with Arabic and Persian, the Azerbaijanian language began to be used. Until the end of the nineteenth century, Azerbaijanians continued to create literature in Persian and scientific works in Arabic,16 but an increasing number of native authors wrote in Azerbaijanian. Many of them followed the path of Fizuli, writing in both Azerbaijanian and Persian. Some transferred the refined form of the Arabic-Persian ghazal to Azerbaijanian poetry. Closely connected with music, the ghazal remained the favorite form of Azerbaijanian poets. At the same time, some Azerbaijanian writers began to use the poetic form known as heja, which was derived from Azerbaijanian-Turkic folk roots. Some of the best epics between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries were created in the heja form, such as the dastans Keroglu, Ashik Garib, Asli and Kerem, and Shah Ismail.17 The great masters of ghazals and heja were the eighteenth-century poets Mollah-Veli Vidadi (1707–1809) and Molla Panah Vagif (1717–1797), whose poetic works and correspondence with each other reveal the poetic and social concerns of the time. Vagif writes: How fickle fate and fortune are, now see, my Vidadi! And how the tide has changed today, O Vidadi, now see! One moment sealed a tyrant's doom and now he is no more. Now to the letter see fulfilled Almighty God's decree. (Azerbaijanian Poetry, 1969: 155) The sweetness of the refined love poetry, the directness of popular speech and the sharpness of folk poetry—all of these qualities were embraced in the style of Vagif, who is recognized as Azerbaijan's national poet.

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Song from the Land of Fire

Since the end of the nineteenth century, Azerbaijanian poetry has been influenced by the democratic ideas of progressive Russian literature. Among the best known authors were Mirza Fatali Akhundov, Mirza Alekper Sabir (1862–1911), Hussein Javid (1882–1944), Aliaga Vahid (1895–1965), and Samed Vurgun (1906–1956). While poetic works of the previous generations were centered on love, the poems of the writers in Russian Azerbaijan use poetic metaphors and philosophical imagery reflecting social issues as well as political and religious satire. By the end of the nineteenth century the solidified Azerbaijanian language was used by most native authors. The twentieth century prepared a new challenge for Azerbaijanian literacy: a change of alphabet from Arabic to Latin to Cyrillic and back to Latin. From the seventh century to the second decade of the twentieth century, Azerbaijanian writers used the Arabic alphabet, which was employed equally by writers in Persian and Turkish, as well as by Azerbaijanians. The use of Arabic script, which was "ill-suited to the phonetics of Turkic languages" (Swietochowski, 1985: 113), had been debated since the first half of the nineteenth century, when Akhundov proposed the use of Latin letters. Alternative projects and ideas were offered by various writers and activists. The "transition from Arabic characters, used for more than a millennium, to Latin" (Pashazade, 1994: 154) was accomplished as a socialistic cultural reform in 1924. Its intent was to separate Azerbaijanians from Iran (Muslim influences), and to encourage Turkism. "Latinization would also block new generations from reading pre-Soviet Azerbaijanian publications that that might perpetuate religion or 'bourgeois' ideas of liberty or cultural autonomy" (Altstadt, 1992: 124). During the following several years, the Turkic peoples of Soviet Central Asia as well as the Republic of Turkey followed the Latinization initiated in Azerbaijan. The thirties, however, was the period of Stalin's purges. On a national scale, this time was marked by the "ascendance of parochial, ethnic, and secular nationalism, hostile to any broader vision such as Turkism and indifferent to the mirage of Azerbaijani unity" (Swietochowski, 1995: 127). A little more than a decade after the first change of Azerbaijanian script, in 1937, the script was changed again, now to Cyrillic, which was adopted as the official alphabet. Over fifty years later, Cyrillic was rejected as a symbol of Stalinistimposed Russification that isolated Azerbaijanian from the Turkic population beyond the Soviet borders. The Latin alphabet, with modified letters similar but not identical to the Turkish alphabet, was adopted in 1994. Thus in a period of about seventy years Azerbaijanian writing was changed repeatedly, distancing generations of the native intelligentsia from each other and separating children from the literary heritage of their fathers and grandfathers. Visiting Baku in 1997, the first time after a seven-year

Split Identity

17

absence, I was surprised to find street signs and advertisements written in Latin script. Colleagues of mine continue to write books in Cyrillic that are generally inaccessible to their children who read and write in Latinized Azerbaijanian. THE AZERBAIJANIAN GHAZAL Azerbaijanian music is inseparable from native language and literature. Since recent occurrences in Azerbaijanian music will be discussed in later chapters, here I will describe the connections between Azerbaijanian classical music, literature, and the sense of national identity. As mentioned earlier, the two classical musical traditions, mugham and ashig, relate to the two Azerbaijanian literary heritages. The main genre used for mugham's narrative is the ghazal, a classical poetic form based upon the aruz, a "poetic formula created on the ground of the Arabic language and then spread throughout the regions of the Islamic East. Lyrics in the aruz are formed as a sequence of short and long syllables" (E. Babayev, 1990:7–8) corresponding to the short and long vowels characteristic of the Arabic language. Although there is no differentiation between short and long vowels in Azerbaijanian, the syllabic pattern is recreated by artificially stretching some vowels. The poetic form used by the ashigs is the dastan (of Turkic origin), based on the number of syllables per line. "Among the people this system is referred to as barmak hesabi (counting on the fingers), a poetic formula different from others such as the aruz, which is based upon syllabic rhythms or accentuation." The most conventional forms used by ashigs are bayati, geraili, and goshma, containing respectively seven, eight, and eleven syllables (Mammadov, 1988: 6). The ghazal is the essence of Azerbaijanian classical poetry, created by native poets such as Nizami, Shirvani, Fizuli, Nasimi, Natavan, and Vagif. Defining, for example, the significant literary contribution of Khagani Shirvani, an Azerbaijanian poet of the twelfth century, Ibragimov counts the number of poetic beits—over twenty five thousand of them [one beit is a strophe of a ghazal]" (Ibragimov, 1985: 204). Ghazals are "pre-eminently, though not exclusively consecrated to love" (Nicholson, 1969: 22), both sensuous and platonic. Love can be addressed to a beautiful woman or to God, or both combined in an intricate poetic vision. Often poets identified themselves with the mythological figure of Majnun, translated as "crazy" for love (Mehti, 1996: 149). A ghazal consists of four to fifteen beits. The Arabic word beit means 'house,' which implies that every beit contains a complete idea or image and therefore can be perceived as an independent unit (Azerbaijan Ghazallari, 1991: 3–4). A beit is constructed of two lines, each called a

18

Song from the Land of Fire

mizra. The second mizras of all beits included in a ghazal are rhymed, defining the overall formula of the ghazal: AA, BA, CA, DA. Arasli writes that a beit of a ghazal is often based upon antithesis (Arasli, 1958: 226–227). For example, the first mizra can be a riddle—the second a solution; the first can describe nature—the second, the feelings of the poet; the first can be objective—the second, the poet's reverie. A chain of beits forms a poetic necklace in which every piece is complete in itself and is also connected with the one preceding and the one following. The last beit of a ghazal, called the maghta (the ending), discloses the name of the poet. "Singing a ghazal in a majlis, the khanande pays homage to his distant coauthor by acknowledging his name" (Azerbaijan Ghazallari, 1991: 4). Relatively independent, each beit is directed by the metrical formula of the aruz. Olimov, discussing poetic meter in the ghazal, suggests that "words in an aruz are pronounced according to a specific bahr (one of the nineteen poetic meters) chosen by the poet. The same line sounds different if read in different bahrs" (Olimov, 1985: 133). According to his analysis, the beauty of the sound of a ghazal depends on the number and symmetrical proportions of different letters, vowels and consonants. 18 The poetic imagery, the beauty of the metaphors and the perfection of the overall form, reflected in every segment and every minute unit of the ghazal, made this poetic genre the favorite of mugham performers. My ghazals reach the ear of the people in a wave of harmonious sounds, My ghazals are the color of poppies and, like wine, lull the heart-beats to sleep. (Nizami from Azerbaijanian Poetry, 1969: 29). Constant linguistic transformation in Azerbaijan has made this literature in its original languages incomprehensible to most natives. Even though the works of Azerbaijanian classical authors have been translated, the cultural ownership of this literature is debated by different national, ethnic, and cultural groups. Paradoxically, while Azerbaijanian poetry is written down and therefore preserved, because of the language transformation it seems remote from most of the native population. The music of mugham, on the other hand, has remained an oral tradition and therefore unstable and constantly changing. Yet because of its pliability, it has always had a vital appeal to Azerbaijanians. The relationship between poetry and mugham is more than that of lyrics and music. Mugham, as a vehicle of poetic performance, is also a mode of interpretation in an immediate cultural context. Though preserved in written form, native poetry has always been recited. In the next section, we will see that the distinction between reciting and singing is fine or nonexistent.

CHAPTER 2

"Mugham Is Not Music": The Complex Aesthetics of Islam

D

URING MY VISIT TO AZERBAIJAN IN 2 0 0 2 , I FOUND VISIBLE CHANGES IN

the appearance of Baku and its vicinity. In addition to the glossy banks and Hyatt-type hotels rising in the center of the city, one saw the active restoration of old mosques and the construction of new ones— signs of the Islamic revival that followed the liberation from Sovietendorsed secularism in the first years of independence. Visiting Baku five years ago in 1997,1 witnessed the mass celebration of maharram, the first month of the Islamic Lunar Calendar and a time when Shiia Muslims commemorate the martyrdom of the Imam Hussein—the last blood descendant of the Prophet Mohammed. A majority of Azerbaijanians are Shiia; and the celebration of 1997 reached such a magnitude that during ashura,1 it was almost impossible to enter Taza Pir—the central mosque in Baku. After several unsuccessful attempts during the daytime to get close to the entrance of Taza Pir,2 my friends and I were finally able to cut through the human traffic flowing into the large square in front of the mosque. Several groups of young men in circles read verses commemorating Hussein and flagellated in rhythm, hitting themselves across the shoulders with heavy metal chains. Women and men surrounding these groups accompanied them by pounding themselves on the shoulder or chest. Many women cried loudly (connecting, perhaps, the death of the imam with their personal losses3). Inside the Taza Pir, in a large hall with a tall oval ceiling, the imam of the mosque led a prayer, reciting in a loud high-pitched voice that descended to a whisper, shouting then weeping, with long sudden silent breaks. The group of flagellants responded to his calls. The magnitude of this ritual reveals the importance of Islamic roots in Azerbaijanian culture and the significance of chanting in Muslim religious 19

20

Song from the Land of Fire

practice. The tone and the intensity of voice and the clarity of articulation are important both for the azan who calls for prayer and for the imam who recites the holy verses of the Qur'an. Yet the Muslim attitude towards music is ambivalent. On one hand, historians refer "the greatest troubadours of spirituality in Islam. . . who combined music and spirituality with religion and poetry" (Nasr, 1997: 219). On the other hand, there is a history of Islamic condemnation of music as an activity which awakens the profane and unholy aspects in man. To explain this apparent ambivalence, Lois Al-Faruqi developed a hierarchical scale that classifies musical activities ranging from halal (lawful, permissible) to haram (unlawful, forbidden). The word 'musiqa,' derived from Greek, refers to music of preIslamic (pagan) and non-Islamic (Greek) origin, which is inappropriate for sound intended to repeat the divine Message. The sound involved in religious rituals thus rises above all other music-related activities; it is identified as non-musiqa. According to Regula Qureshi, "an exclusive and exquisite melodic-rhythmic system has been developed to sound the divine Word and articulate its distinct uniqueness, different from any other words or music" (Qureshi, 1997: 264). The distinction between the oral expression of the Word and all musical activities is specified on Al-Faruqi's chart by the division between non-musiqa and musiqa, while the paradigm of halal and haram defines the legitimacy of each genre. Five subgroups are included in the category of non-musiqa and are positioned in the following hierarchical order from the top down: Qur'anic chant, call for prayer, pilgrimage chants, eulogy chants, and chanted poetry with noble themes. Below these five are three subcategories which are considered musiqa but which are still viewed as permissible genres: family and celebration music (lullabies, wedding songs), "occupational songs," and military band music. Thus music for practical use is not considered illegitimate, and the categories permissible and forbidden do not necessarily coincide with those of musiqa and non-musiqa. Beneath these eight categories is an invisible barrier separating them from genres that involve instrumental music, including vocal/instrumental improvisations, serious metered songs, and music related to pre-Islamic or non-Islamic origins. A final barrier between permissible and forbidden separates all the genres mentioned above from sensuous music that is clearly haram. The debate about music and its legitimacy and about degrees of permissibility penetrates Islamic history from its very roots. The continuing dispute among Muslim dogmatists and mystics, theologians and poets, has resulted in an extensive literature and also in an immense interest in music. Although the Azerbaijanian perception of music does not exactly fit AlFaruqi's construct, her scale is useful for identifying degrees of acceptance and disapproval of music in Azerbaijan. I will return to the Al-Faruqi scale

"Mugham Is Not Music"

21

later; here I will describe my experience in the Azerbaijanian Muslim community. Jabrail Mikail oglu is the imam of Taza Pir and one of major figures in the Islamic community of Baku. I first met him in the summer of 1997. Learning about my interest in Azerbaijanian music he agreed to talk to me, stating as soon as we met his view of music as unlawful. Nevertheless, he arranged for me to meet with women in the mosque, permitted me to record their 'singing' of marsia and their chanting of the Qur'an. He also gave me several practical recommendations for my work, and loaned me his personal video recordings of the commemoration of maharram. Hearing him say that all music, including vocal forms, is also unacceptable under Muslim law I asked him whether mugham is considered illegitimate. Jabrail asserted that mugham is loved by Muslims, but "mugham is not music but a spoken Word."( Interview with Imam Jabrail Mikail oglu, May 1997) Demonstrating his point, he gave me a video recording of mugham performed at his brother's wedding. The ceremony was held in exclusively male company and in the presence of high-ranking Islamic clergymen. Very few words in this (unprofessionally made) tape, to my ears, were actually spoken. Most of the time, guests one at a time sang poetic verses in full and obviously trained voices with elaborate melodic filigree, dramatic rises and falls in pitch, and sensitive declamations. This musical performance, seemingly in contradiction to the denunciation of music, led me to research this specific type of wedding, which is known as a dervish toy (wedding). Though Jabrail demonstrated his disregard for music, historically Azerbaijanian dervishes or mystics and Sufi practitioners believed in reaching communion with the divine through singing. Continuing my search on dervishes I found a monoFigure 2.1. Hajji Jabrail Mikail oglu (Photograph by author, 2002)

22

Song from the Land of Fire

graph on Azerbaijanian dervishes that includes references and short biographic sketches on Azerbaijanian mystics. Reading the book I was astonished to see the name of Jabrail Mikail oglu among dervishes. Visiting hajji Jabrail 4 five years after our first meeting, I did not raise questions about the legitimacy of music in Islam. Instead, passing him the book, I asked hajji to perform mugham. It was early morning—he said— complaining about his voice. Then he cleared his throat and began reciting Yettim (orphan)—one of the mughams traditionally performed by dervishes (Sound track five: Hajji Jabrail Mikhail oglu, excerpt). The sleepiness of the early morning, the health problems he complained about, the harshness of his voice—everything was instantly gone. His voice, gradually rising, became increasingly intense, filled with anguish and sorrow. The words melted into melody, and melody turned into crying. Sitting next to him, I found myself in tears. The interview and all questions I had prepared for him would be asked another time. Leaving his office in Taza Pir I thanked Jabrail for his "reading" of mugham. The Azerbaijanian word for both reading and singing is ohumag. It applies to holy verses and poetry as well as to singing on the concert stage or at a restaurant. A colleague gave me a video recording of mugham from another wedding celebrated in male company where, I was told, many religious men were also present. Strikingly, I found on the tape one woman attending the party. She was a musician, one of the singers performing mugham. No musical instruments had been used in the dervish wedding. In the videotape of the second wedding, not only the traditional tar, kamancha, and gaval accompanied to the singers, but also an electric guitar and keyboard. The controversy surrounding music can be found throughout the Islamic world. Perhaps, some of the elements that define the distinct character of Islamic Azerbaijanian culture are rooted in the spiritual past of this culture. THE ZOROASTRIAN PAST For over a thousand years prior to the advent of Islam, people in this area followed the Zoroastrian religion. Their beliefs were imbedded in songs— gatas. Even though Azerbaijan became a Muslim region in the seventh century, the memory of the fire-altars, the ideas of Zoroastrianism, the fascination with "dualism of good and evil" (Nigosian, 1993: 2), and with numerology inspired centuries of resistance to Islam. According to Reynold A. Nicholson, "In Eastern Persia [modern Azerbaijan] . . . strong national feelings interwove themselves with Pre-Mohammedan religious ideas, those of Mazdak 5 and Zoroaster" (Nicholson, 1953: 258).

"Mugham Is Not Music"

23

Zoroastrian rituals blended into the Islamic culture of Azerbaijan.6 References to the spiritual past are especially important in relation to music since it is believed that "the Persian7 element was predominant" (Shiloah, 1995: 13) in the crystallization of early Islamic music.8 Hitherto, before the Islamic era, Persian music had been related to Zoroastrian rituals and ceremonies.9 Boyce quotes an ancient source saying that "Zoroastrians of Azerbaijan stipulated that the conquerors [Arabs] should not hinder the people of Shiz [at the temple Adur Gus'nasp] in their particular custom of dancing on their festal days nor in observing their usual observances" (Boyce, 1992: 150). According to Sevil Farhadova, Islamic burial procedures were derived from pre-Islamic rites. Another native musicologist, Rena Mammadova, exploring the aesthetics of mugham, speaks about its prophetic nature rooted in "recitatives of the legendary Zoroaster" (Mammadova, 1987: 43). Rafig Imrani, in his writing on Azerbaijanian mugham, notes that from Avesta, a Zoroastrian Book, Sufis learned to communicate with God through music. "The Word in Avesta is powerful against all dark forces. Music changes the words to a song, making them even more powerful" (Imrani, 1994: 65). Zoroastrian beliefs also enflamed continuing resentment against Islam. For example, a mass revolt (817–837) led by Babek, an Azerbaijanian Turk, was based on the spiritual and philosophical doctrines of the Hurramits, descendants of Zoroastrians. 10 In the early centuries of Islam, Zoroastrianism fed the anti-Islamic opposition, and later the ancient religion affected Islamic mysticism. Dastur Khurshed explains that "some of the converts had nominal lip-allegiance to Islam, continuing to believe in Zoroastrianism. They formed 'secret lodges' and influenced Muslims.. . . The Sufi sect was the product of one such lodge" (Dabu, 1959: 97). The Sufi admiration for music and the importance of musical performances for the practice of Sufi were features that set them apart from traditional Muslims. The ghazals typically employed by Azerbaijanian musicians in mugham performances were written, for the most part, by Sufi poets. Among the Sufi groups were the Hurufis, who proclaimed their doctrine at the end of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth centuries. Praising the Qur'an as a Holy Book, Hurufis were, nonetheless, pantheists. A major figure was the Azerbaijanian poet Nasimi, who declared that "I am God and everything in Me!" and that "You are beginning of all!" (Sumbatzade, 1897: 192). At the basis of Hurufi belief was a cabalistic obsession with numbers, whose combinations and correspondence with letters was believed to form a divine code. . . . Since God's revelation of himself through prophets has been progressive, to each prophet should be revealed in turn an understanding of an increased number of these letters or elements of which the uni-

24

Song from the Land of Fire verse was created. Thus to Adam was revealed a knowledge of nine letters, to Abraham fourteen, to Moses twenty-two, to Jesus twenty-four, to Muhammad twenty-eight and to the final prophet Fazullah thirtytwo. (Birge, 1937: 149)

Vizuhil-argam [Explanation by ciphers] by Mir Movsin Navvab—a major Azerbaijanian treatise of the nineteenth century—is tied to Hurufi mystic numerology. Navvab's explanation of the mugham system and the function of musical elements is given in terms of mathematical proportions and their symbolic meanings. The author states that Azerbaijanian music is "built upon 4 softas [tones], 7 pardas [scales], 12 mughams, 24 sho'bes [mugham parts], 48 gushes [melodies]. . ." (Navvab, 1989: 31). Navvab's fascination with numbers signifies his intangible ties with the Zoroastrian past. Though contemporary Azerbaijanians know very little about their spiritual ancestry, the image of Zoroaster inflames the cultural imagination. Near Baku stands a visual monument, the temple Atash Gah. Rising above the ground, the square open-air structure has arched entrances on all four sides. Flames emerge at the center of the temple and on each corner of its roof.

Figure 2.2. Atash Gah (Photographed by author, 2002)

"Mugham Is Not Music"

25

ISLAM AND SOCIALISM My interaction with religious members of the Azerbaijanian community as well as the celebrations I attended were for me, living in Baku most of my life, a remarkable experience. Throughout the twentieth century, Islam was seen mainly as a symbol of ignorance and fanaticism. In the early decades of the twentieth century, Islam was attacked by both the native intelligentsia, educated under the influence of Russian/European democratic thoughts and therefore convinced that progress was impossible under Islam,11 and by Soviet ideology, which replaced religion with communistic dogma. Several generations of Azerbaijanians and non-Azerbaijanians who grew up in Azerbaijanian cities viewed Islam as an anachronism. Islam, however, survived on the fringes of Soviet Azerbaijanian society. Prayers and religious rituals were performed secretly on a small scale, mainly in rural areas. (Makarov and Mukhametshin, 2003: 117) The separation from the Soviet Union in the 1990s and the subsequent quest for Azerbaijanian identity led to the re-establishment of Islam as an indispensable part of the country's culture, history, aesthetics, and spirituality. The intensity of the current Islamic revival is relevant to the study of music, specifically mugham. The breadth of religious practice at virtually all levels of the native community can be compared with Soviet revolutionary demonstrations. 12 An investigation of the dynamics of mugham during almost a century of Muslim-Soviet dichotomy must take into account the Soviet concept of music in the Azerbaijanian Muslim community. On the basis of Al-Faruqi's model I have constructed a hierarchical scale that clarifies the Soviet perception of musical genres and their role in national socialistic progress. The two scales placed next to each other allow one to grasp the complex paradigm of the musical culture of Azerbaijan during most of the twentieth century. Al-Faruqi addresses all forms of sound-art expression as the "artistic engineering of sound." This phrase applies as well to Soviet culture, since music was considered instrumental to the success of socialistic and national politics. The chart (Figure 2.3) clarifies both the drastic differences and the striking parallels between the two perspectives. The highest, most respectable, and desirable types of "sound engineering" in the Islamic scale are Qur'anic recitation and the call for prayer, which, on the Soviet scale, approach the limits of permissibility. Music of non-Islamic origin is observed by traditional Muslims as an ambiguous category, which again contrasts with the socialistic view of Western classical music as a model for the progressive development of Azerbaijanian and other national musics. While, according to Al-Faruqi, Muslims prize chanted poetry involving

The Hierarchy of the Soviet Engineering of Musical Genres and Forms

Al Faruqi's Hierarchy of Handasah al Sawt Genres13 (The Status of Music in the Islamic World) Qur'anic Chant (QIRA'AH)

Soviet Classical Music HALALpermissible

Call to Prayer (ADHÄN)

Russian/Western Classical Music (Instrumental and Vocal Professional Performances)

Pilgrimage Chants (TAHLIL)

Patriotic and Soviet Pop repertoire—including songs created and performed by the native professional composers and performers.

Eulogy Chants (MADIH, NA'T, TAHMID, etc.)

Hybrid genres merging Azerbaijanian idioms / Western classical forms such as mughamopera and symphonic mugham. Small scale compositions: instrumental pieces and vocal songs using native musical material Songs for Family and Celebration (traditional and composed, TV, and radio) Azerbaijanian classical musicmugham (not-written down)

Chanted Poetry with noble themes (SHI'R) Family and Celebration Music (lullabies, wedding songs, etc.) "Occupational" Music (caraban chants, shepherd's tunes, work songs, etc.) Military Band Music (TABL KHÄNAH) Invisible barrier Vocal/Instrumental Improvisations Controversial (TAQÄSIM, LAYÄLI, QASIDAH, (less respectable) ÄVÄZ,etc.) Serious Metered Songs (MUWASHSHAH.DAWR, TASNIF, BATÄYH, etc.) Music related to Pre-Islamic or Non-Islamic Origins Opaque barrier HARAMSensuous Music Illegitimate

Ashigs and folk singers (professionals and amateurs performing for private parties) Ritual singing (eulogy, lament) Western Pop Music and Jazz

Qur'anic Chant (QIRA'AH) Call to Prayer (ADHÄN) Music performances of dervishes and other unregistered clerics.14

Figure 2.3. Comparative status of music in Islamic and Soviet worlds.

"Mugham Is Not Music"

27

vocal improvisation, the Soviets value composed, written music much more than music created spontaneously and therefore difficult to censor. In short, both Muslims and Soviets favor music that reinforces their doctrines. Accordingly, Islam sanctifies the reading of the holy book and the call to prayer. The Soviets, on the other hand, stimulated the formation of national musical cultures that were controlled by socialistic norms and that simultaneously propagated the political and cultural order. Accordingly, preference in the right column is given to Soviet Azerbaijanian music, and specifically to hybrid forms that unite Azerbaijanian musical language and Russian/European forms with Soviet socialistic content. According to Al-Faruqi, Islam placed sensuous music under the category of haram, exposing the contradiction of this music to Islamic dogma. The Soviets rejected Qur'anic reading as harmful to national self-interest. In the same way that many Muslims have been suspicious of pre-Islamic and non-Islamic music, the Soviets assigned an ambiguous space to Western popular music such as jazz, which was perceived during most of the Soviet period as a challenge to socialistic doctrines.15 It is interesting that Soviet officials based their rejection of jazz on its sensuous and vulgar character.16 Why would revisiting the socialistic cultural system and its comparison with Islamic attitudes seem relevant in today's Azerbaijan, thirteen years after the dismantling of the Soviet Union? The confrontation between the two musical perspectives, Islamic and Soviet, shaped the development of Azerbaijanian music during the twentieth century. Moreover, Azerbaijanian cultural institutions, though part of the new regime, are still governed by a generation of Soviet-raised administrators. Within this cultural paradigm, mugham, considering its central role in Azerbaijanian music, can be seen as essential in negotiating, preserving, and conveying Azerbaijanian musical identity. At the beginning of the twentieth century, mugham was a major performing genre in some areas of Azerbaijan, and in the others it was less favored. Why, then, did mugham emerge in the role of cultural negotiator? The explanation is inherent in the nature of mugham. As we will learn in the next chapter, mugham is a musical complex encompassing different and in some sense independent ingredients such as modal systems, collections of melodies, motifs, and rhythmical gestures, forms, and processes (specific structural and dramaturgical devices), types of improvisation, and elaborate compound compositions. Mugham penetrates all the layers of both hierarchical scales. The term 'vocal mugham' is often applied to Qur'anic recitation (Zohrabov, 1992: 21). Elkhan Babayev suggests that "mugham contains the musical material for both Qur'anic chanting and the chanting of the azan calling faithful Muslims to the mosque for prayer" (E. Babayev, 1990: 3). Mugham improvisation based upon the recitation of classical poetic texts can be viewed under the category of chanted poetry. The compound

28

Song from the Land of Fire

mugham-composition also includes songs and dance music used in Azerbaijanian celebrations and gatherings. Combining vocal/instrumental improvisations with "Serious Metered Songs" (Al-Faruqi scale), mugham crosses Al-Faruqi's 'invisible barrier' and joins the group of controversial genres. This music, which serves no religious or practical purposes, is viewed as entertainment—music for pleasure which may lead men to lose control of their emotions. Consequently it is often considered dangerous, only a step above haram or sensuous music, which like all other musical forms employs the vocabulary used in mugham. However, the factors determining this music as sensuous relate to texts engaged in the musical performance and the purpose of the performance, rather than to a specific musical genre. While crucially important within the Islamic frame, mugham is no less significant in association with the socialistic concept of music. In the chart of Soviet classical music, one would find Azerbaijanian names such as Gara Garayev, who studied in Moscow and whose compositions have been performed in different parts of the Soviet Union. His music exhibits a combination of affinity with modern music (specifically serial technique), an unmistakable native modal palette, and a melodic language identifying deep ties with Azerbaijanian mugham. For many years, Azerbaijanian popular music were comprised of patriotic songs modeled on the Soviet estrada—the concert stage for popular performances. At the same time, Azerbaijanian composed songs were closely connected with folk music. Many of the composed songs were, in fact, rearrangements of folk tunes adjusted to a new performing venue. The adaptation of mugham to new historical and cultural situations led to a junction of mugham with European classical music, which has resulted in the formation of hybrid genres such as symphonic mugham17 and mugham-opera,18 as well as chamber mugham pieces.19 Traditional mugham composition is viewed within the Soviet context as a respected musical genre. Not written down by a professional composer or polished during long rehearsals by a performer, it is considered less professional than composed music. Performed spontaneously and allowing a degree of artistic freedom, traditional mugham appears unstable or uncontrolled by well established (musical and non-musical) norms, which is another reason to classify it near the invisible barrier. As in the Islamic scale, I placed musical forms which do not contradict official doctrine but which are disconnected from the central political agenda, beyond the invisible barrier in the Soviet column. This section encompasses folk festivities (not planned officially) and traditional memorial rites held in rural areas (on the fringes of the official social structure) which involve amateur musicians dissociated from modern musical institutions. The close connections of traditional weddings, burial, and other rituals to

"Mugham Is Not Music"

29

mugham will be approached in depth later in this work. Western popular music as well as Azerbaijanian hybrid pop culture (for example, the mugham-jazz of Vagif Mustafa Zadeh) at different times crossed the boundary of haram, but was more often located in a group of permissible but not respectable genres.20 Both Islamic and Soviet hierarchical scales are related to political power, serving in one case a religious and in the other a secular (socialistic) agenda. Mugham, however, transcends the political ambitions reflected in the multi-layered hierarchical constructions. To summarize, Azerbaijanian culture is characterized by great complexity—ethnic marginality, historical indefiniteness, linguistic plurality, and religious ambiguity. Hence mugham, relevant to all aspects of Azerbaijanian cultural expression, contains "something" that overcomes indefiniteness, plurality, and controversy, connecting the re-invented historical past with modernity. Appearing in different forms, different performing venues, and in different contexts, mugham consolidates many voices into one. A man sitting in the center of a colorful carpet sings in a high-pitched nasal voice. He may or may not be aware of linguistic pluralism, religious controversy, the Zoroastrian faith, or the Islamic/socialistic dichotomy. For him, the music has the integrity of a tradition passed to him orally through generations of khanandes, each weaving into the melodic ornament a segment of a long story.

CHAPTER 3

"A Wave of Melodious Sound": The Basics of Mugham

T

HE STAGE IS A GARDEN OF MULBERRY TREES SHORT AND

CROOKED

with wide-spread branches. The garden is enclosed in oval walls. There is only one door connecting this garden with the outside. From second-floor balconies around the garden hang carpets. These colorful pieces of paradise harmonize with the sound of mugham. Sitting under a tree makes me suddenly realize what I have missed for years in the spring far from my home city Baku. This something is mugham, inseparable from the first days of spring, the air full of the aroma of blossoming cherry and apple trees, the intense sunshine making the sky ring like the strings of a tar, and the light breeze of the Caspian Sea whispering its own soft melody. In early morning, walking through the narrow streets of the old city, one hears windows, balconies, and doors banging open and the sound of mugham coming from every house, bouncing off the walls. As the sun rises, women drape the balconies with their rugs, whose colors, women believe, reflect the warmth and glow of the day. The city wakes up, and the sound of mugham gradually embraces Baku, becoming its voice sounding in parks and gardens, on the radio and television, in private houses and concert halls. Baku is a center of mugham, but its conservatory was Shush a in Garabag, where "every child sings before he learns to speak."1 Long years ago, the best mugham performers of Azerbaijan and Persia gathered in Shush a every spring. In majlis (es), khanandes prepared for the ritual commemoration of the month of maharram. They performed in shebihas, theatricals based upon the story of the martyrdom of the Prophet Mohammed's direct descendants. The khanandes sang on stages built in the centers of marketplaces and in private houses. They performed in tradi31

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Song from the Land of Fire

tional trio ensembles, big spectacles, and in musical groups, passing to each other sections of a mugham. After the mourning of maharram and the fast of Ramadan, during which marriage ceremonies are not permissible,2 weddings come like spring flowers, one after another, all over Azerbaijan. Even though Azerbaijanian weddings occur in all seasons, the spring is the most favored time for these celebrations. Winter is too cold for weddings, often held in outside tents, summer is too hot, fall with its capricious weather is not reliable. The wedding ceremony is the main stage, the school, the concert platform of mugham. In traditional wedding rituals, performed separately by men and women, the performance of mugham is the climax of several days of celebration. Gathering at night, sitting comfortably around the room or in a tent, served with tea and sweets, men silently listen to a complete mugham composition continuing for one to two hours. In many traditional weddings, people dance. Musicians play folk dances and songs, and ashigs are often invited. Preceded and followed by dances and song singing, mugham remains a central event of these weddings. Even in contemporary parties with DJs or live bands, a khanande is indispensable, the most important part of the wedding. Sometimes he sings a complete mugham at these occasions. Often mugham continues only for fifteen to thirty minutes, but when the khanande begins singing, the dances and loud talk stop. Striking his gaval and closing his eyes, the singer leads everyone into a spring journey. THE HISTORY AND THEORY OF MUGHAM During the last hundred years, mugham has traditionally been performed by a trio that includes a singer holding a gaval, accompanied by a player on the tar and another on the kamancha. 3 The tar, held in a horizontal position, is a plucked string instrument with a body shaped like the number " 8 " and a long neck. (Sound track one: Ahsan Dadashev playing tar, a fragment from mugham Rast, late 1960s.) The body of the tar is usually cut from the trunk of a 10–15 year-old mulberry tree, or sometimes from walnut, apricot, or pear. The modern tar has eleven strings divided into three groups: white or ag (made from steel), yellow or sary (from brass), and red or gyrmyzy strings (a white string wrapped with a brass spring), with twenty-two frets (Abdullaeva 2000: 149–160). 4 The kamancha is a four-stringed fiddle consisting of a small rounded body with a long neck with a tapered spike and cushion that rest on the performer's knee. (Sound track four, Bayati Shiraz played by Arif Asadullayev on kamancha) The body of the kamancha is carved from a walnut or apricot tree and dried for years under hay (Abdullaeva 2000: 176). The open part of the body is covered with the skin of a som, a type of fish. The body is frequently encrusted with pearl, bone, and various wood designs. On the side of a tar or kamancha one often finds the name of its maker.

Figure 3.1. Tar. Played by Ramin Rzayev, a Master Student at Baku Music Academy (Photographed by author, 2002)

Figure 3.2. Kamancha. Played by Arif Asadulaev, well-known performer and professor of Baku Music Academy (Photograph by author, 2002)

34

Song from the Land of Fire Figure 3.3. Gaval. Played by Mahmud Salahov, a master and teacher of many mugham singers (Photograph by author, 2002).

The gaval, also known as the daf, is a tambourine-like instrument with the skin of a sturgeon stretched over a circular wooden frame. (Sound track two: Mahmud Salahov playing gaval.) Metal rings, either single or grouped, are attached inside the frame to add a rustling effect. Before playing, performers commonly put the gaval in the sun (or under a lamp) to warm the skin of the instrument and improve its sound. The hands of the performer move over the whole skin of the daf, turning and shaking, caressing and snapping the instrument. All parts of the hand—fingers, finger tips, palm and wrist—are engaged in performance, producing a cascade of rhythmical patterns. Taking several gaval lessons from Mahmud Salahov, I discovered that one has to learn not only a significant number of rhythmic formulas, but also how those match every single mugham and its parts. Sometimes a mugham ensemble is expanded to include one additional membranophone instrument such as the hour-glass dumback, the cylindrical nagara, or the double-headed gosha-nagara. The group can also include a wind performer, playing zurna, nei, tutak, or a clarinet. Besides tar and kamancha, the instrument most often employed for solo mugham performances is a pear-shaped ud with a bent head. The distinct sound of the

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instruments and the intricacy of melodic and rhythmic patterns, however, do not explain the concept of mugham. What is mugham? In a broad sense, mugham parallels the Western classical notion of music. It is the modal base of all forms of the Azerbaijanian art of sound; it is the melodic and rhythmic vocabulary of the native musical language; it denotes developmental processes and forms; and it is the basis of native theory. As discussed in previous chapters, mugham is also a social phenomenon that reflects enduring ethnic, historical, spiritual, and linguistic processes. It is also the system of production, transmission, and perception of the Azerbaijanian art of sound. It is an Azerbaijanian narrative, a language of musical expression and thoughts, the spiritual and esthetic philosophy of the people whose culture it signifies. Mammadova writes that mugham reveals the "formula of Azerbaijanian creative thinking" (Mammadova, 1987: 8). Referred to by natives as the Azerbaijanian classical music, mugham is a sound system coordinating each mugham-mode with a particular formal structure, and the melodic and rhythmic vocabulary of each mode with the corresponding dynamic form-process. It is a musical genre with specific performing forces, performing venues, and audience. In this context, the word mugham denotes a specific mode, a collection of motifs, the improvisation that emerges on the basis of these motifs, and a composition containing a number of improvisations following a prescribed pattern. The sound of mugham is distinctive, especially to one unaccustomed to this music. It is mainly monodic. (The instrumental parts accompanying a singer do not produce the harmonic and polyphonic texture typical of Western music.) With little motivic, temporal, or dynamic contrast, mugham melody is based upon a relatively narrow tonal range and exhibits a step-wise motion. For an uninformed audience, the sound of mugham— the melodic filigree and endless ornament—may seem extremely monotonous. For a native listener, this music has a semiotic code, with each melodic gesture evoking metaphoric images and emotions, what Jakobson might refer to as a "code of recognized equivalences" (Nattiez, 1990: 112). In order to contextualize the musical code and concept of mugham within a larger sociocultural frame one needs to understand the mechanisms of mugham, its musical elements, and their conjunction. Here I will focus on the musical properties of mugham, including the mugham scales; the body of mugham melodies—a collection of motifs, intonational, and rhythmic gestures; the formal organization of mugham composition; the interplay of variable and invariable elements; and the historical development of theoretical concepts of mugham. Mugham belongs to a musical family that includes Arab, Persian, and Turkish art musics and that extends from Eastern Europe to South and Central Asia. Formulated after the advent of Islam in the Near and Middle

36

Song from the Land of Fire

East, the unified musical system emerged as an integration of various oral traditions with Arabic writing. The unified "palace of musical culture," 5 in one form or another, flourished at Muslim Courts from Andalusia and Morocco in the West and to Kashmir and . . . China in the East" (Browning, 1984: 7). Conceived within a unified system but developing and maintaining separate identities, Arabic maqam and Turkish makam, Persian dastgah, and Azerbaijanian mugham share major features such as (1) the marriage between classical written texts and oral musical traditions, (2) a modal concept that encompasses scales, specific tonal, and intervallic properties and formal, dramaturgical patterns in compositions, (3) monody as a prevailing factor in music, and (4) the combination of formulae and improvisation. The roots of Azerbaijanian mugham, and related traditions, may be found in "pagan love poetry" sung in pre-Islamic times. In early Islamic times, written texts became crucial in both religious and secular contexts. Poets and musicians, often one and the same person, created melodies and beautiful language to express the nuances of love. Sung poetry is alluded to in classical written texts. The Azerbaijanian poet Nizami wrote: Nekisa fulfilling the desire of his beautiful one Sang ghazal in parde Rast (mode Rast). (S. Agaeva, 1978: 55) Elsewhere Nizami speaks of the mode Rast and refers to Ushag: Into mode Rast including the sweetest Ushag Barbed (name of a character) sang ghazal and it sounded so . . . (Gangevi, 1985: 163) Refining the melodies used in poetic performances, musicians and poets created an extensive vocabulary of motifs, melodic patterns, and rhythmic cycles. Nasimi, an Azerbaijanian poet of the fourteenth century, challenged his audience: O, spectator, if you understood something perceiving this music, Explain its mughams, point out the rhythmic cycles. (Agaeva, 1978: 56) Clearly, the concept of mugham, as well as its terminology, was known to poets, performers, and audiences. References to rhythmic cycles and different modes reflect the development of musical theory. Abu Nasr Farabi (872–950), a philosopher and music theorist from the city of Farab in Khorasan (Turkic stock), a connoisseur of classical Greek

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theory, measured and formulated the scales, modes, intervals, and tonal system of maqam (literally, a station, place, or building).6 Among his adherents were Azerbaijanian scholars. A famous composer, calligrapher, and performer on the ud,7 Safiaddin Urmavi (1198–1283), from the city Urmiya (Uromiyeh) in southern Azerbaijan (Iran), instituted the tuning system of the ud and other string instruments. In his two fundamental works, Kitab al advar [Book of Circles] and Sharafiya [The Sharafiya Treatise on Composition], Urmavi developed a system of tones and intervals that divided the octave into seventeen parts, which became "the most accepted basis for the recognition of modes throughout the Islamic Middle East" (Farhat, 1990: 4–5). Habib Hassan Touma suggests that contemporary Persian, Turkish, and Azerbaijanian tone systems are based on Urmavi's calculation, while an Arabic tone system was established by al-Farabi dividing the octave into twenty-four parts. On the basis of his tonal and intervallic measurements Urmavi defined the role of the tetrachord and pentachord in the formation of modes. His seventeen tone scale unified the Pythagorean tonal measurements, and the tone collection of maqam served as the foundation for twelve modes and six avazes [secondary modes], whose range did not exceed an octave. (Safarova, 1995: 155) The word mugham appeared sometime in the thirteenth or fourteenth century (S. Agaeva, 1978: 57). At this time, various terms were used in relation to the modal system and scales by different authors and in different places throughout the East. Another Azerbaijanian scholar, Abdulkadir Maraghi (1327–1388) from the city of Maragha was considered "the last great theorist of the pre-modern era" (Farhat, 1990: 5). His work Jame'alAlhan [Complex of Melodies] defined categories of modal scales and drew distinctions between concepts such as parde (scale), avaz (a scale derived from one of the main scales), and sho'be (a segment of a scale with a range not exceeding an interval of a fourth or fifth). According to S. Agaeva's interpretation of Maragi's theory, the term mugham represented one of the main modes that incorporated a specific scale and a corresponding body of melodies (Farhat, 1990: 58). Therefore it was asserted that twelve main mughams correspond with pardes. Sho'bes and avazes accordingly served as the tonal basis for melodies incorporated in mugham performance. Following the medieval theory of modes, Navvab, a music theorist of the nineteenth century, named twelve Azerbaijanian mughams: Rast, Ushag, Buzalik, Huseini, Isfahan, Zangula, Rahavi, Buzurk, Arak, Kuchik, Nava, and Hijaz.8 He identified twenty-four sho'bes representing segments of modal scales, melodies, and sections of mugham compositions each identified with a collection of gushes. Navvab collected and classified gushes, the melodic cells from which the core of mugham performance, the melody, emerges. Navvab catalogued forty-eight types of gushes, each asso-

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ciated with a specific mode, segment of the scale and place in the composition. Hajibeyov, the founder of modern Azerbaijanian musical theory, reduced the number of primary modes to seven, also moving some of Navvab's sho'bes into the category of main mughams. In addition, Hajibeyov indicates the existence of seventy types of mugham-compositions based on the main modes. Hajibeyov structured his fundamental work on Azerbaijanian mugham in two parts. The first introduced the modal system, including the tonal and intervallic content of Azerbaijanian music, the tetrachords and their combination into modal scales. The second part focused on mugham-compositions. He identified the different types of motifs, melodic motion, and typical cadences associated with each mugham. He also outlined the overall structure of mugham as a compound piece, discussing the order of the sections and the transition to different modal areas matching the main mugham-mode. Farhat describes a similar relationship between mugham-mode and mugham-composition in Persian dastgah. Two separate ideas are. . . addressed by the dastgah complex. It identifies a set of pieces, traditionally grouped together, most of which have their individual modes. It also stands for the modal identity of the initial piece in the group. This mode has a position of dominance as it is brought back frequently, throughout the performance of the group of pieces, in the guise of cadential melodic material (Farhat, 1990: 19). Ramiz Zokhrabov, a scholar of the current generation, discusses the thirteen most performed compositional types rooted in seven modes. His classification can be presented as following: Modes

Compositions

Rast Shur Chahargah Segah Shushtar Humayun Bayati Shiraz

Rast Shur Chahargah Segah Shushtar Humayun Bayati Shiraz Mahur Hindi (mode Rast) Orta-Mahur (mode Rast) Bayati Gajar (mode Shur) Mirza Gusein Segah (mode Segah) Zabul Segah (mode Segah) Harij Segah (mode Segah)

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"THE FORMULA OF AZERBAIJANIAN CREATIVE THINKING": HOW A MUGHAM COMPOSITION IS CONSTRUCTED The mugham modal system is different from European modes. Conceptualized in the middle of the eighteenth century in the Western classical tradition, mode is, according to the Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, "a collection of degrees of a scale (and its intervallic content) being governed by a single chief degree . . . , a tonic, which is the last note of the melody or the root of the final triad" (Powers, 1980: 422). Recognizing the complexity of the Eastern modal concept in relation to the Western modal system, current musicologists approach the former as a "modal entity" expressed in three dimensions: 1. tonal or intervallic structure of mugham mode

2. modal scales

3. tunes and motifs as a modal 'nucleus'

Discussing the tonal structure of Iranian dastgah, Farhat finds that the application of the Western tonal system based on a whole-tone divisions to the intricate Iranian modes "seems erroneous. . . . The smaller intervals are not consequences of the division of whole-tone; they exist by themselves" (Farhat, 1990: 14). The Azerbaijanian tonal system, based upon Urmavi's measurements, consists of seventeen divisions within one octave, which serve as the foundation of the modal scales. Grouping these tones in a tetrachord, Urmavi viewed scale as the conjunction of two equal tetrachords plus a whole tone. Introducing this theory, Farhat suggests that "the exact scale system has been, in practice, highly flexible" (Farhat, 1990:12). The seventeen-tone system remains the basis of traditional mugham performances. It has also been adapted to European notation and piano literature. Hajibeyov, who on the one hand believed that Azerbaijanian melodies performed on tempered instruments produced "discordance in the pitches and tones," (Hajibeyov, 1985: 21) on the other hand proposed that after getting accustomed to tempered sounds a little, Azerbaijanian melodies on tempered musical instruments need not be unpleasant to the ear. (Hajibeyov, 1985: 22) Modeling on Urmavi's theory of tetrachords, Hajibeyov also defined five types of tetrachords based upon the combination of whole, half, and one and a half steps: (1) 1—1—1/2; (2) 1—1/2—1; (3)1/2—1—1; (4) 1/2— 1—1/2; (5) 1/2—l;l/2—1/2. He describes different types of tetrachord conjunction where the last tone of one tetrachord overlaps with the first tone of the next, or when the two are separated by an interval of a second or third. The tetrachords and their connections provide the formula of the

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major mugham scales (the whole notes indicate the tonal centers of the mughams).

Scale Rast

Scale Shur

Scale Segah

Scale Shahargah

Scale Shushtar

Scale Humayun

Example 3.1. Mugham scales.

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Adapting the Azerbaijanian modes to Western notation, Hajibeyov proposed matching seventeen tones in an octave on the tar with those on the piano, where each octave also has seventeen enharmonic tones—"five simple sounds, five dieses, and five flats" (Hajibeyov, 1985: 21). In short, he suggested using traditional non-equal temperament for performances of traditional music sung or played on traditional instruments, but to switch to an equal tempered system when playing written music or when using European musical instruments. Adjusting the traditional modes to the European tonal system, Hajibeyov introduced the transposition of mugham, which contradicts the very basics of the Azerbaijanian modal system, where each mode is associated with an invariable pitch collection and tonal center. Hajibeyov's scales revealed the intention of their creator and his followers to bridge mugham with the Western classical tradition. This view of modes and scales allowed musicians in the first half of the twentieth century to organize mixed orchestras. In his article "Oriental music and European instruments," written in 1926, Hajibeyov highlights the interrelation of the Azerbaijanian with the European instruments [musics]. (Safarova, 1985: 51) Hajibeyov's concept prevailed in Azerbaijanian music throughout most of the twentieth century. The composer himself created two fantasias, Shur and Chahargah for an Orchestra of Folk Instruments, which along with Azerbaijanian instruments included piano, which became an important part of the Azerbaijanian culture. The theory of mugham-modes led to the creation of a new repertoire that connected native and Western musics. It also served as the basis for the development of current native musical theory. Many traditional mugham performers, however, view Hajibeyov's system somewhat pejoratively as the "scales of theoreticians" (Farhat, 1990: 13). THE ELEMENTS OF MUGHAM PERFORMANCE The khanande, echoed by the two strings (tar and kamancha), spins his melody into endless filigrees. His singing, as well as the instrumental accompaniment, does not coincide with an equally tempered scale. The performer frames his melody within a particular pitch palette, which in performing practice is called mugham yeri, "mugham's place." The tar is tuned specially for each yeri or mugham mode. Each section of mugham performance, in addition, is played within a specific tetrachord. Rena Mammadova writes that "in the European major/minor system, the third of the tonic appears as an 'indicator' of mode. In Azerbaijanian music, an interval is not sufficient to identify a specific mugham. The 'indicator' is a characteristic motif" (Mammadova, 1987: 14). Native musicol-

42

Song from the Land of Fire

ogists of the current generation increasingly focus on melody, its types, shapes, and functions revealing the character and features of an Azerbaijanian mode. Shahla Mahmudova, for example, suggests that "all the processes in mugham emanate from the principal intonational palette of one given mode. . . . A melodic thesis follows a particular motivic-intonational pattern crystallized during a century-long process" (Mahmudova, 1997: 9). Each mugham mode is associated with its own melodic collection of gushes. A gushe is a theme-thesis, an identity card usually introduced at the beginning of a section, and developed in the course of endless repetition, modification, and ornamentation. Jean During defines the Persian gushe (corner, part) as "a small melodic type, fitting the modal color . . . and possessing a more or less precise place" in the organization of a mugham performance. In the Persian art tradition, gushes constitute a part of a radif, "a large collection of melodies" which is primarily used for teaching purposes (During and Mirabdolbaghi, 1991: 63; Zonis, 1973: 62). Nettl suggests that this "large repertory of music . . . is memorized and becomes the basis for improvisation and composition" (Nettl, 1992: 51). There is an argument among Azerbaijanian theorists about the existence of the Azerbaijanian version of radif While theorists and mugham performers seldom refer to the concept of radif, 9 they do discuss painstakingly the body of melodies identifiable with each mugham mode. Each gushe is composed of small units. "An individual idiosyncrasy of each mugham is imbedded in its thematic cell—the micromotif. . . . Varied, modified, and reversed repetition of this micromotif leads to the formation of a small independent element of mugham melody—the gushe" (E. Babayev, 1990: 34). Therefore, the repetition and variation of smaller melodic units leads to the formation of larger ones. In current theory, as well as in mugham practice, the smallest unit, the micromotif, is often referred to as an avaz.10 For instance, Mahmudova introduces three avazes forming the gushe of mugham Rast. avaz 1

avaz 2

avaz 3

Example 3.2. Gushe Rast performed by M. Mansurov (Mahmudova, 1997:106). As was emphasized above, melody is the essence of mugham mode. Its progression from a micromotif (avaz) to a theme-thesis (gushe), and then to more or less independent sections of the piece (sho'be) identifies the role of melody in the structure of mugham composition.

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In Azerbaijanian music, a complete mugham composition is often referred to as a dastgah.11 The two forms of traditional dastgah are vocal/instrumental and solo instrumental. The dastgah is a compound suite-like piece encompassing several independent or semi-independent sections. The core of the dastgah is improvisation. In a vocal mugham composition, a chain of improvisations is interspersed with instrumental dancelike rangs and song-like tasnifs. The improvisations are perceived as metrically free, while the rangs and tasnifs are metered pieces. Bringing contrast to a mugham composition, these pieces also serve as bridges between different improvised sections. The melodic contour of a rang or tasnif is often based upon elements of both the preceding and following improvisations. While a vocal dastgah contains three types of pieces, its solo instrumental counterpart, in the absence of a vocal line and accompaniment, is a sequence of improvisations. When instrumental dastgah includes a gaval performance, metrical rangs would be inserted between improvisations. The notion of dastgah is inseparable from mugham mode. Each dastgah corresponds with a specific mode and has a particular order of improvised parts—sho'bes. Every improvisation has its own name, confined to a specific tonal range and a melodic pattern established in its gushe. Formed of short motivic formulas avazes, their variations and practically endless permutation, gushes in different versions of the same dastgah do not sound the same. Navvab in his treatise Vizuhil-argam weaves the names of mughams, sho'bes, gushes, and avazes into four poetic verses (Navvab, 1989: 10–11). The order of sections in a dastgah is not a "dogmatic combination of different intonational [modal] zones, but a dynamic progression" from one section to the next, each expanding modal and melodic horizons (Mammadova, 1987: 18). The developmental processes of a dastgah involve a gradual rise in pitch, often referred to as a "staircase rise," 12 culminating in the section with the highest range, which typically coincides with extreme melodic elaboration. The progression entails the gradual exposure of focal tonal points, increasing melodic abundance, and a shift to different modal areas appropriate to the main mugham. The overall dynamic structural pattern of a dastgah can be introduced as (1) introductory sections leading to the exposure of the main thematic and modal area, often called mugham bashi ("head of mugham"), (2) the sections disclosing the tonal and modal transitions and revealing an uprising tendency, (3) a culmination of the main theme-thesis frequently repeated an octave higher, and (4) a conclusion called Ayag ( "foot," symbolizing stabilization) symmetrically returning to the main modal and thematic material. To demonstrate the structural organization of mugham composition, I outline the sequence of parts in the dastgah Rast performed by the trio Jabbar Garyaghdi.

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Song from the Land of Fire Daramad Bardasht Maye Ushag Huseini Tasnif Vilayeti Rang Kurdi-Shahnaz Rang Kurdi Rang Kurdi Tasnif Shikestayi-Fars Rang Shikestayi-Fars Rang Mubberidge Rang Penjgah Tasnif Arag Tasnif Rak Rang Gerai Rasta Ayag

instrumental introduction in mode Rast vocal introduction—Rast mugham bashi, main modal area of Rast (tonic G)

modulation from G to D center D (in some versions modulation to Shur13) tonal center A

gravitation towards mode Segah Segah Segah Segah transposed an octave higher

means the highest position; Rast an octave up Rast gradual descent to the original range final cadence.

Figure 3.4. Structural outline of the dastgah Rast performed by trio Jabbar Garyaghdi. The structure of every mugham composition is typically mirrored by the organization of its parts and elements. For example, the significance of mugham bashi and ayag in the overall composition is anticipated in the opening gushes and cadences of each section and also in the combination of motifs in a single gushe. The structure of a dastgah is evident in its "tonal dramaturgy"—the interplay of tonal centers, the departure from one tonal center and the intensive drive to the upper range and new tonal centers, the migration to a new alternative central point and the return to a main modal area identified with the major tonal center. Addressing mugham as an "artistic model," Tamila Jani-zadeh describes it as "the junction of tonal-melodic model-blocks whose combi-

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nation is based upon the repetition of some patterns and the insertion in them of new non-contrasting elements. . . . The mugham model encompasses the musical form and a process which can be imagined as gradual transmission of these blocks into the higher point [register]" (Jani-zadeh, 1987: 107). One can view mugham in relation to mode, genre, and theme (Mammadova, 1987: 16), all three intimately connected and interdependent. In addition, each mugham has its own character, its emotional tone expressed in its elements, composition, and dynamics. It is believed that Rast creates an image of power and vitality. Segah—the beloved mugham of Garabag—is a hymn of love, often performed at weddings. Bayati Shiraz is associated with gentle sadness. Humayun has a deep tragic tone. Within the frame of each mugham different images can be expressed with numerous emotional nuances and overtones. THE INTERPLAY OF VARIABLE AND INVARIABLE ELEMENTS OF MUGHAM DASTGAH The above analysis of mugham as modal system and composition type demonstrates that practically all aspects of mugham performance, organization, and structure, including thematic material and the principles of its development, appear preprogrammed by a rigid scheme. On the other hand, mugham is clearly an improvised musical artform—no two performances are played or sung identically, even by the same musician. Mugham is characterized by the interplay of formulae and improvisation, a dichotomy between poetry and music, the combination of artistic individuality and tradition, performance and perception. Comparing mugham poetry and music, it seems clear that one is permanent and the other variable—the first is written and the second oral. Yet even though the text of the poetry is fixed, the choice of lyrics depends upon the singer and is more or less spontaneous, as is the combination of different ghazals and beits determining the overall poetic imagery in a composition. From conversations with several khanandes I learned that a singer very rarely knows in advance what poetry he is going to use. Often the choice of the opening poetic segment is made a few minutes before the performance while the singer gets acquainted with the atmosphere and the audience. The consequent ghazals and beits are often chosen during performance. Therefore, even though the poetic basis of mugham seems fixed and stable, the process of its selection is spontaneous. Mugham modes—the basis of all Azerbaijanian music including folk songs, as well as the repertoire of ashigs, and composed music—also seem canonical. The modal system is clearly defined and well structured; nonetheless, its inconsistency is evident in native musical theory. For example, Navvab names twelve mughams while Hajibeyov lists seven. Only one

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mugham, Rast, appears in the accounts of both. Thus the structure of mugham is less fixed than the word "formula" might imply (Figure 3.5) NAVVAB

HAJIBEYOV

1. Rast 2. Ushag 3. Buzalik 4. Huseini 5. Isfahan 6. Zangula 7. Rahavi 8. Buzurk 9. Arag 10. Shadgiz 11. Nava 12. Hijaz

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Rast Shur Segah Shushtar Chahargah Bayati Shiraz Humayun

Figure 3.5. Lists of mughams by Navvab and Hajibeyov.

The next fixed layer is the internal organization of the mugham dastgah. Speaking about the "realization of the abstract mugham [compositional] model," Jani-zadeh outlines three levels of interpretation showing the versatility of the formulae. One level relates to a 'school' of mugham performance, another to the individual style of musicians belonging to the same school, and the third relates to a single performance, which is always different, even in comparison to other performances of the same master. The idea that mugham performance remains stable over time is highly questionable, considering the existence of three major schools of mugham performance (Shusha, Shemakha, and Baku) and their close interaction in the twentieth century. The three branches of Azerbaijanian mugham have distinctive styles and sounds. Analyzing several performances by prominent musicians of the three schools, Jani-zadeh identifies different models of the dastgah Rast associated with each of the three traditions (Jani-zadeh, 1987: 107). The chart below shows that some sections of the dastgah Rast are included in all three versions (the parallel sections are underlined) (Figure 3.6). Yet each dastgah contains sections that are not performed in the other two. The three Rasts also comprise a different number of sections and therefore may vary in length.

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BAKU

SHUSHA

SHEMAKHA

Maye Rast Novruz Ravende Rast Ushag Huseini Vilaieti Hojeste Haveran Arak Pandjah Rag Amiri Masihi Rast

Rast Pandjah Vilaieti Mansuriia Zamin-Hara Rag-Hindi Azerbaijan Arak Bayati-Turk Bayati-Gajar Maverannahr Bal Kabutar Hijaz Shahnaz Amiran Zeng-Shutur Gargugi Rast

Rast Ushag Mudjri Huseini Vilaieti Siiahi-Lashhar Masihi Dahri Hojeste Shekestei-Fars Rag-Hindi Rag-Horasan Saginame Arak Tasnif-Garai Masnafi Zeng-Shutur Nahumaiai-Hindi Ma'navi Gabili Rast

Figure 3.6. Three versions of Rast associated with three schools of mugham (Baku, Shusha and Shemakha). Since the beginning of the twentieth century, musicians from different regions and schools intermingled in Baku, contributing to the heterogeneity of the style associated with that city. Mahmudova presents a comparative list of five versions of the dastgah Rast among musicians of Baku (Mahmudova, 1997: 105). Similarly, Jani-zadeh discusses the individual interpretation of the dastgah Bayati Shiraz by two major tar performers of Baku, Arif Bakihanov and Bahram Mansurov. The difference between the two versions is clearly seen in the diagram below. Including only main sections of mugham, Bakihanov uses fewer parts than Mansurov, aiming for a unified dynamic process centered on extensive melodic elaboration of the main gushes. Mansurov's version contains many more sections, each exhibiting different gushes and following slow and gradual dynamic progress (Jani-zadeh, 1987:108).

Song from the Land of Fire

48 A. BAKIHANOV

B. MANSUROV

Bardasht

Bardasth Garduniia Maye Isfahanak Bayati-Isfahan Mahur Haji-Yuni Naleie-Zambur Manavi Pahlavi Bayti-Kurd Gatar Bayati-Aj am Kabri Baba-Tahir Azerbaijan

Maye Nishibi-Faraz Bayati-Isfahan

Abulchak Bayati Shiraz Huzzal Shikestei Fars

Bayati Shiraz Haveran Huzzal Dilruba Bayati-Isfahan

Figure 3.7. Two versions of dastgah Bayati Shiraz, performed by Bakihanov and Mansurov. The identity of mugham is most clearly exposed in its gushes, whose meaning and role in the mugham system was discussed earlier. It can be argued that gushes are a canonical part of the mugham system. For example, several gushes called Novruz Ravende (the first day of spring) from dastgah Rast, performed by different musicians, sound nearly the same. It is the elaboration of these initial melodic impulses, the melodic progression, that discloses the individuality of the master and the school to which he/she belongs. Yet the striking aspect of any performance is that it is always inimitable and unrepeatable. Each performance varies in poetic text, length, number of sections (one can include or omit some), emphasis, and overall character. A musical embodiment of time, fluid and irreversible, mugham is always unique, instantaneous, and responsive to immediate context: the place, the occasion, the emotional state of the performer, and the impulse coming from the audience. The same khanande sings differently at a wed-

"A Wave of Melodious Sound"

49

ding, in a recording session, in a private party, and among fellow musicians. A mugham performed at a wedding in an aul (village) differs from one in the city. Each performance is defined by instanteneous artistic inspiration and logical choice of memorized material. Always singing about love, a khanande, without changing the words of the classical poetry or the traditional musical pattern, adapts his performance to a specific joyful or doleful occasion. For example, during the war for Garabag in the beginning of the 1990s, musicians did not need to create new text or change the musical model. The listeners' patriotism was aroused by the traditional metaphors connecting womanly beauty and innocence with the motherland. While the audience is engaged in the music, the performer listens to his audience. Sensitive to its emotional responses, the musician repeats and elaborates musical fragments, motifs, and ideas that entranced the listeners. According to Navvab, "music results from the meeting of two sides, two subjects—the performer and his spectator" (Safarova, 1989: 52). Always oriented towards an immediate crowd, musicians evoke idioms that can be understood by the listeners. Performing for an uninformed audience, a khanande often chooses to sing a short version of a mugham or separate mugham sections. The knowledgable listener appreciates the mastery of the performer. Following each phrase, acknowledging every personal musical gesture, turn, and ornament, the listeners inspire the musician. He/she in turn addresses the metaphor of love to the listener, signifying the intimate bonds among people initiated in the art of mugham, who understand its internal/external meaning concealed in endless ornament. Mugham is the modal basis of all forms and genres of Azerbaijanian music. It is also one of the major forms in Azerbaijanian musical culture, including folk tradition, ashig performances, composed music, and in recent times popular music. The extensive repertoire of folk music comprises family, celebration, ritual, and military songs and dances. The close relation between mugham and the folk repertoire is revealed in shared melodic and rhythmic idioms, poetic imagery, and modes. Yet the connections extend beyond the modal foundation. As discussed above, mugham composition incorporates, along with improvisations, tasnifs and rangs. The khanande sometimes appropriates these metrical songs from the folk tradition. For instance, Zokhrabov believes that "tasnifs are urban lyric songs—romances . . . in couplet form" (Zokhrabov, 1983:2). In other times, the tasnifs and rangs created by mugham performers have received a life of their own, becoming a part of the folk repertoire.

50

Song from the Land of Fire

THE ART OF AZERBAIJANIAN ASHIGS Another vital part of Azerbaijanian cultural heritage is the art of ashigs. Like a khanande, an ashig is a performer and creator of ballads which employ poetry and music, combining preexistent sources and ones instantaneously created. Hence, the khanande, a master of reading poetry, is primarily a musician, while the ashig, exhibiting remarkable musical talent, is essentially a story teller and a poet. A khanande merges pre-written classical texts with inspired, inimitable musical patterns. An ashig, in contrast, is not generally concerned with musical novelty and often draws musical themes from a relatively stable collection of songs and melodies that match his/her improvised story in poetic stanzas based on barmak hesabi. Albert Lord, discussing improvisation, defines change and stability as the keys to the performing tradition of "singers of tales" such as ashigs and khanandes. Revealing different roots (Turkish and Persian), the two share, nevertheless, themes and images of native epics and mythology. Khanandes and ashigs also have similar performing venues, singing and playing at public and private gatherings including weddings, celebrations, and concerts. They may also share a performing platform. Yet the two have distinctly contrasting performing styles, appearances, and behavior patterns which define also different roles for their audiences. The Russian musicologist Vinogradov wrote that "while ashigs traveled through the villages, sazandes (performers of mugham) performed mainly in cities. The ashig came himself to the market and other places of folk gatherings; sazandes performed only by invitation. . . . The costume of the ashig is simple and often poor, the outfit of the sazande is embellished with golden chains. . . Even if the sazande is impoverished and hungry, he does not sell his jewelry" (Vinogradov, 1938: 25). The style and cultural image of both ashig and khanande (or sazande) is emphasized in their performing manners. The former sings sitting on a colorful carpet or (in recent times) on a chair; the latter performs standing or walking among the crowd and often dancing. The language of the khanande is the language of the classics. The ashig frequently employs the vernacular and may use one or two strong expressions. The khanande is seemingly distant from his audience. Drawn into the internal world of dreams, spirituality, and history, the singer of mugham often closes his/her eyes. The stories of love invoked in mugham are not simple fairy tales but expressions of deep philosophical thought. The instrumental accompanists succumb to the singer's ideas and inspiration, following in their musical lines every path, every gesture of the soloist, setting a paradigm for the audience. The ashig, in contrast, stays in direct interaction with his audience, exchanging remarks, often joking, drawing from the public new themes and phrases. The khanandes can be compared with troubadours, the ashig with medieval jongleurs. John Frederick

"A Wave of Melodious Sound"

51

Rowbotham suggested that "the very name of troubadour was so to speak a general indication of 'nobleman,' and the troubadours themselves were courtly gentlemen, who pursued the art of music and song for the love they bore it" (Rowbotham, 1969: 93). Rowbotham quotes the self-description of a jongleur found in "the Bodleian manuscript at Oxford." I can play. . . the lute, the violin, the pipe, the bagpipe. . . I can sing a song well, and make tales and fables. I can tell a story against any man. I can make lovers to please young ladies. Then I can throw knives into the air, and catch. . . I can balance a chair. I can throw a somersault, and walk on my head (Rowbotham, 1969:156) Both khanandes and ashigs are extremely versatile. Juxtaposing poetry, music, theater, and choreography in an ashig('s) performance, and visual effect in a mugham performance, the two also reveal a spiritual character. Lord writes that "the poet was sorcerer and seer before he became 'artist'" (Lord, 1964: 67). Yildiray Erdener, investigating Turkish ashiks, writes that "the shaman awakens with a drum, the ashik with a saz" (Erdener, 1995: 67). The statement of Tariel Mamedov, an Azerbaijanian expert of the ashig tradition, parallels those above. The synthetic nature [of the art of the ashig] is especially seen in the performance of dastans—a theater with one actor, genetically tied with the art of the Turk's shamans (the poetically idealized image of a singer—ozan Gurgut, patriarch of the oguz tribe, a shaman, creator, and keeper of folk epics. (Mamedov, 1988: 14) Mammadova, suggesting that "the song often preserves what lost in ritual," compares mugham with prophecy. Ritual—it is a prayer, secrecy, fiesta, mystification, and theater. All of those were synthesized in mugham . . . Mugham is an invocation, prayer by its roots and its genesis, and not a prayer but a free song in its internal power of reason, moral and rational-philosophical cognition (Mammadova, 1987:41–42). The public status of the two art forms is reflected in current native musicology, which acknowledges mugham as the professional or classical music of Azerbaijan and refers to ashigs as semi-professionals based upon the fact that the latter remains an oral tradition. Azerbaijanian music has become more complex and profuse during the last hundred years because of the formation of a native composing tradition. The successful adaptation of Western classical music in Azerbaijan has been determined by a complex of musical and non-musical factors.

52

Song from the Land of Fire

While the different social, musical, and cultural aspects of it will be discussed in the following chapters, here I must stress that the classical music was accepted primarily because from the very beginning, composed music in Azerbaijan was grounded in mugham. Employing different elements of the mugham system, integrating musical languages, creating hybrid genres, Azerbaijanian composers searched for a new balance between canon and improvisation, one keeping ties to the familiar and the other triggering and provoking an interest in the new. The interplay of mugham and its contemporary interpretation is the subject of the next chapters.

CHAPTER 4

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

N

ATIVE AZERBAIJANIAN THEORISTS OFTEN INTRODUCE THE FOUNDATION

of mughams through scales. For example, in Principles of Azerbaijanian Folk Music, Hajibeyov discussed mugham-modes by describing the tonal and intervallic scale construction. Zokhrabov begins the analysis of the dastgahs Rast and Chahargah by presenting the scales of the two mughams. The scale can be divided into smaller units. Navvab, for example, believed that mugham is based on four softas (four tones forming a tetrachord) (Safarova, 1987: 125). Hormoz Farhat, writing about Persian art music, suggested that "some modes may be adequately expressed within the range of a tetrachord or a pentachord" (Farhat, 1990: 18). Hajibeyov saw the scale of Bayati Shiraz as a "combination of tetrachords" connected by an "intermediate tone" (Hajibeyov, 1985: 22).

Example 4.1. Scale of Bayati Shiraz. Although the idea of modal scales has long interested theorists, it has relatively recently been adopted by performers.1 The current Azerbaijanian system of musical training for mugham performers stresses the importance of scales. For many musicians, however, scales remain "artificial and irrelevant" (Farhat, 1990: 16). According to Farhat some musicians, when they teach modes, "see no point in playing the notes used in a mode as a descending or ascending scale. The musical context does not provide for 53

54

Song from the Land of Fire

such exercise" (Farhat, 1990: 16). A mugham melody emerges from a melodic cell and spins into melodic units, fragments, and complete sections which constitute the dastgah. Each part of the composition emphasizes its own tonal range, cadences, and tonal centers. The interrelation of these devices determines the dynamics of the mugham composition. Thus the functions of the tetrachords, the pitch row, and the tonal centers of Bayati Shiraz will be analyzed within the "musical context" of concrete composi­ tions. VOCAL BAYATI SHIRAZ The principal form of mugham performance is a vocal-instrumental dast­ gah that integrates poetic text with music.2 The lead musician, a khanande, knows both the musical system of mugham and a poetic repertoire. Performing mugham, the singer selects lyrics from memory, often on the spot, to match both the character of the mugham he was asked to sing and the occasion of the performance. Listening to several versions of Bayati Shiraz sung by Alim Gasimov, I never observed him repeating the same verses. This section analyzes a vocal/instrumental mugham Bayati Shiraz per­ formed by Gasimov, accompanied by instrumentalists Malik Mansurov (tar) and Elkhan Mansurov (kamancha)3 (Sound track three: Bayati Shiraz performed by Alim Gasimov's Trio). This performance is compared to two other versions of the dastgah Bayati Shiraz. One was performed by the Azerbaijanian trio Jabbar Garyaghdi with khanande Zakhid Guliyev, tar player Mokhlet Muslimov, and kamancha Kamil Akhmedov. The second is a different version of the same mugham performed by Gasimov's trio. Perceiving Bayati Shiraz as the sweetest of all mughams, Azerbaijanians call it "mugham bride." However, this imagery is associat­ ed not with happiness and celebration but with the loss of a bride given to someone else. The lyrics and music of the mugham elicit extreme emotion­ al elevation centered on and stimulated by the feeling of love for a woman. Singing a ghazal by Fizuli, Guliyev glorifies the beauty of his beloved, ven­ erating the details of her appearance. Comparing a woman to the moon he awards his beloved a victory in an allegorical beauty contest. D ymiş, hülali hüsnün t hhi külahini Çox dilşit st nin gøy yetirmiş, ahini Zülfün daşitdiçgizl di br içr mahini Gördüm üzünd h lqeyi-zülfü siyahini

Your cap has sat gracefully on your beautiful face You scattered your tresses And the full-moon became hidden under clouds. Seeing on your face the curls of musky hair

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

55

Bunlar n dir. Na dürrü ad mdir dedim, I asked what are these? - Pearls from the dedi rs n, Sea of Eden, Ó she said. Fizuli, şqi r vanin dürdür s nin.

Bravo Fizuli, the spirit of love lives in you

(Azerbaijan, Mugham Ensemble Jabbar Garyaghde, 1992, transcribed by the author). The poetry of mugham often blends sensuous, spiritual, and patriotic feelings. Romantic love is used as a metaphor for the love of homeland in the Bayati Shiraz. V r n mülküna bax gør n gülüstanşm var N rgizim, yas m nim, sünbülü reyhan' m var.

The homeland, look at it, what a flower garden I have. Here are narcissus, lilacs, and golden reihan4

The mugham lyrics often refer to natural objects which serve as metaphors for transcendent ideas. Guliyev, for example, in the opening line of his Bayati Shiraz, pictures a tall cypress which "casts her shadow on me." Cypresses, according to Walter Denny, are everlasting "symbols of the heavenly garden in Islamic art" (Denny, 1991: 89). Therefore, the image of the cypress (female) is both symbolic and ambiguous, representing women and, by association, paradise. Much of the imagery in Gasimov's dastgah is based on the story of Leili and Majnun. References to the legend and its protagonists became metaphors penetrating all Azerbaijanian and other Eastern poetic tradi­ tions. Written down by Nizami in the twelfth century, the story was retold by many authors attracted to the image of the heroine Leili, who refuses to consummate an arranged marriage, and her beloved Heis, driven mad by the loss of love, becoming known as Majnun (madman), living in the for­ est and talking to animals. The finality of their death, perceived as an earth­ ly tragedy, at the same time contains an element of mysticism, which, evok­ ing a world of paradise and everlasting love, is deeply treasured by poets. In Gasimov's version of Bayati Shiraz, he compares his feelings for his motherland to the mythological love of Majnun for Leili. V t nimdir m n m şug onun aşigiy m Dem sin Geys ki, Leyla kimi cananim var.

The homeland is my beloved, I am her lover As Heis says, he has a beloved Leili.

The lyrics of mugham often combine ghazals written by several authors, whose names are entwined in the final beit of each ghazal. This symbolic thread connecting a musician with a poet living centuries ago

56

Song from the Land of Fire

reinforces the metaphorical significance of mugham as a medium connect­ ing past and present, music and poetry. Fizuli rind - meydadir, h miş xalq rüsvadir

Fizuli [the name of the poet] is always in love, and because of it he is ashamed before people Sorun kim bu n sevdadir, bu sevdadan Ask him what it is, this love, and did usanmazmi. he not get worn down by it.

Several gbazals, diversified in origin, images, theme, and authorship, are chosen by a khanande who creates a unified emotional atmosphere which in turn matches the character of mugham mode. Chapter Three introduced the main structural components of the ghazal – two-line beits with their second mizras (lines) rhymed – and the rhythm of the aruz, deter­ mined by the combination of long and short syllables. The written text defines the rhythms of its oral presentation. Olimov, in his work on the translation of Eastern poetry, writes that in an aruz the pronunciation of the words is ruled by a specific bahr chosen by the poet. Nineteen bahrs or meters are used in aruz (Olimov, 1985: 133). The full text of the mugham Bayati Shiraz performed by Gasimov shows how the lyrics of mugham unfold section by section (sound track three: Alim Gasimov's trio). V t n mülkün bax gør n gülüstaním var N rgizim, yas m nim, sünbülü reyhanim var. V t n eşqi yaşar indi, bütün insanlar Verm ya can kimi m nd ona gurban var.

The homeland, look at it, what a flower garden I have. Here are narcissus, lilacs, and gold en reihan The homeland is loved by all people living here My heart is yours (my soul is your victim)

V t nimdir m n m şug onun aşigiy m The homeland is my beloved, and I am her lover Dem sin Geys ki, Leyla kimi cananim As Heis says, he has a beloved Leili. var. M ni ş m yandira bilm z oda p rvan The flame of the land can not burn me kimi as it burns the moth, Yurdum odlar yurdu çün Az ristanim var. For it is my Azaristan, the land of Fire. G d min düşm n g r goysa v t n If an enemy steps on our land torpagina Onu m hv eyl m y lay'm' imkan'm var. Wishing to destroy it, there are warriors.

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

57

Kim ki, sevmir v t ni, bir d ziz torpagini Haggi yoxdur b e t insan dey vicdanim var

He who does not love his country and his land Has no honor

Vasifa varliggini s rf ete øz xalgin üçün

Vasif [the name of the poet] wants to give himself wholly for his people For them to be proud of him.

F xr edib xalgi desin xat mi døvranim var. Dün gec yari ømla søhb t m st meyxan d Bir m gam yetdi ki, m şhuci mey peyman d

Last night I spoke to my beloved about a fiesta Time came to share our drink.

Özü çildim yar , n biçjr zaman Varmi aşiqind n z l m n divand edir.

You kneel to your beloved. Times heals pain. My love is so powerful that I became insane

Eşqi t rtil deyil, divan görüb, s ş z t di goy, Deilcin m n Majnun söhb ti fsam yar

Not by the law of love, seeing the insane man, They called me Majnun, the crazy man from the myth.

Subh d k b guşlar H r yanda deyir 'divana yar.'

Until the sunrise the owls call me 'crazy.'

Bülbüte aşiq deyir şeyda, eshitdim søzteri Eşqi mma øz gøzuml gørmüsh m p rvan d

A rose tells a nightingale, I heard the words With my own eyes I saw love of the moth

Söil yi ş ma yanir, bax pari lal etm sd n Düşüb can verdi yayda. Cizmi bir ai, Vahid ahli Nigar, hüznü tari zülfünd n düş n nişan

Inflamed with the fire of love In summer the poppy flower Dies glancing at the moon-like face Of a beautiful woman.

M ni candan usandirdi c fadan (ill-treatment, cruelty) yar usanmazmi

My beloved made me suffer so much that I am tired. Even my destiny was on fire from my moaning

Song from the Land of Fire

58 Falaklar yandi aximd n muradim şam'i yanmazmi

When will it gleam, The star of my happiness?

Fizuli rind - meydadir, hsmiş (always) xalq rüsvadir (rüsvay etm k-shame, disgrace) Sorun kim bu n sevdadir, bu sevdadan usanmazmi.

Fizuli is always in love and because of it He is ashamed before people Ask him what it is, this love, Did he not get worn down by it

(Transcribed by the author from field tapes, 1997). The lyrics include ghazals by Vasif Dadash 5 (identified in the seventh belt) and Fizuli (cited in the last beit). In the opening lines, Gasimov prais­ es his homeland. (The image of a beautiful garden as a symbol of paradise is found over a hundred and thirty times in the Qur'an.) V t n (homeland) is his beloved one. Paralleling his devotion with Heis's love to Leili, the poet (and khanande) evokes highly romantic images of Azerbaijanian mythology and literature. In the subsequent lines, the poet recalls the coun­ try's ancient name of Azadistan, picturing it as a Land of Fire, which, in the native context, perhaps represents literal fire (natural gas jets found throughout Azerbaijan), Zoroastrian divinity, and here the fire of passion. Amidst this dense imagery, the poet dares the enemy to step on his land and promises to protect it as a warrior. It is important to remember that Gasimov's performance, taking place in the early nineties, echoed the extreme nationalism that inflamed Azerbaijanians in the fight against Armenians for the Garabag province (the homeland of many Azerbaijanian khanandes and poets). After declaring his feelings for his V t n, the khanande moves in his lyrics to the intimate sphere of romantic love and consequently to his own suffering and madness, which again invokes a parallel with Majnun. The figure of Majnun, the "crazy one, whose thoughts and actions do not fit people's rules and norms, but are understood and welcomed by animals and birds," (Mehti, 1996: 149) is connected with images of nature. The poet places himself among the animated flowers, nightingales, and moths, as one who, like Majnun, can understand their words and feelings. The images of the mugham, imbued with deep passion, follow the tra­ jectory of the poet from happiness to despair. At first, love and devotion are associated with (happy) Heis, the ordinary man falling in love with Leili. As the poem develops, Heis turns into Majnun, driven crazy by love and rejected by his people. At the beginning, flowers portray the beauty of Azadistan (Azerbaijan); here the poppies are a symbol of love. The picture of fiery poppies (a vivid image for people living in Azerbaijan, whose mountains are covered with red poppies in the early summer) refers both

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

59

to the Land of Fire and the flame of a candle which can burn a small moth. The moth reappears twice in the text of the poem, linking the two emotionally contrasting parts. Thus the mugham lyrics are characterized by intricate imagery and by the interplay of metaphorical signs and symbols. The musical expression of the lyrics and the overall organization of the mugham largely depend on the mood and intention of the performers. The khanande is the central creator and interpreter. Followed by the two instrumentalists, the singer has the liberty at any moment to interrupt his free vocal improvisation by striking the gaval and thus marking the beginning of the metrical section. The instrumentalists, also fluent improvisers, (1) follow, anticipate, and enhance the singing of the soloist; (2) carry on an intimate dialogue with each other; and (3) convey their own individual musical lines. The gaval, used only in rangs and tasnifs, sets a contrast between these metrical pieces and the free improvisatory parts of the mugham. While the overall structure of the dastgah is a succession of free sections interspersed with metrical pieces, the internal form of each mugham improvisation appears as an alternation between singing and instrumental episodes. The list below shows the sequence of improvised and metrical sections in Gasimov's dastgah. In addition, each improvisation includes both singing and instrumental episodes. The dramaturgy, organization, and meaning of the composition requires a detailed (step-by-step) analysis. Daramad Bardasht Maye Rang Bayati Isfahan Rang Zil Bayti Shiraz Haveran Rang Huzzal Rang Huzzal Rang Zarbi Huzzal Dilruba Ayag

Improvisation Improvisation Improvisation Metrical (instrumental) Improvisation Metrical (instrumental) Improvisation Improvisation Metrical (instrumental) Improvisation Metrical (instrumental) Improvisation Metrical (instrumental) Improvisation, rhythmically defined Improvisation Improvisation

Figure 4.1. The sequence of parts in Bayati Shiraz by Gasimov's trio

60

Song from the Land of Fire

DARAMAD (1:06) The dastgah Bayati Shiraz begins with the Daramad, a section Zokhrabov parallels to an overture, establishing the tonal range, centers, and pivotal melodic intonation of the whole composition (Zokhrabov, 1992: 28). Since the Daramad opens the first group of sections or micro-cycles (Zokhrabov's term)—Daramad, Bardasht and Maye—it introduces in the first phrase the tonal range of these sections (D-G ). The second phrase extends the range (D-E flat), and the third uses the entire tonal row of the mugham. The graceful dance-like character of the Daramad is expressed in a combination of accented strong beats, syncopations, and hemiolas. The emphasis on the upper D and the G is concealed in a brocaded melody with repetition, variation, and a sequences of motifs. The Daramad is also classified as a rang, a dance-like instrumental and metrically defined piece that contrasts with vocal and rhythmically free improvisations. Generally, the rangs serve as bridges between sections, repeating and reinforcing the cadences of preceding improvisational episodes and anticipating melodic developments in the following ones. Therefore, each of these instrumental pieces has its own particular place and function. In his collection of Azerbaijanian daramads and rangs, theorist/performer Eldar Mansurov groups the pieces under different mughams and also identifies each rang by the name of its related improvisation (Mansurov, 1984).

Example 4.2. Daramad from the Bayati Shiraz performed by Gasimov's trio 6

Many Daramads are used in performances of Bayati Shiraz. However, the piece shown above is favored among current performers. It has been included in several performances of Bayati Shiraz by Gasimov. It was also played in the recording of the trio Jabbar Garyaghdi, and performed by an

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

61

ensemble of Azerbaijanian folk instrumentalists accompanying the dastgah Bayati Shiraz sung by Jagub Mammadov. 7 BARDASHT (1:26) The first vocal section of Gasimov's dastgah is based on a poetic sequence of three beits The homeland, look at it, what a flower garden I have. Here are narcissus, lilacs, and golden reihan. The homeland is loved by all people living here My heart is yours (my soul is your victim) The homeland is my beloved, and I am her lover As Heis says, he has a beloved Leili. The singer begins every beit with the word V t n, repeated and stretched with ornamentation. The elaboration of this single word links all beits, while each reference to V t n is given a different emphasis. The first two lines describe the homeland as gulistan—land of flowers; the second beit pictures the homeland as a community of compatriots; and the third beit creates an intimate romantic image of the homeland as the madly loved one. The portrayal of the homeland is central to this section and will reach a culmination in the Maye. V t n as a spiritual paradise and earthly garden, intimate feelings addressed to the homeland as a lover, and the willingness to sacrifice for this love—these themes together become Gasimov's poetic program for the whole Bayati Shiraz.

A nic c - c c nic c Vatanmul ku ma ei bah ai gor nagu li stanim da ian da ianva

Bir Va ta ain ai ai ai ai

Example 4.3. Bardasht. The lyrics in musical notation are transliterated. When lyrics are shown without musical text and discussed independently, the poetry is presented in the Azerbaijanian language accompanied by English translation.

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Song from the Land of Fire

The three beits of the Bardasht establish the range of poetic imagery of the whole dastgah. Likewise, the vocal melody of the Bardasht introduces the tonal range of the complete composition. Like the instrumental Daramad, the opening of the Bardasht stresses two tones, G and D. The intervallic jump of a fifth leads to a declamation sustained on D, which is then balanced by a gradual descent filling the initial leap. Repeating the first line of the text, the singer increases the leap in the melody to a seventh, after which he again moves downwards by steps. While the cadences of the Bardasht end with G (the central tone of the Bayati Shiraz mode), the declamations are associated with a pulsating D, and the melodic line encircles D as a second central point. Introducing the "duality" of the tonal centers and simultaneously the tonal range of the Bayati Shiraz, the Bardasht is a condensed version or a 'program' of the musical developments in the composition whose dynamic is defined by the struggle of the two centers, G and D, and by the progression and expansion of the tonal ranges associated with each section of the dastgah. The Bardasht appears as a container of the "melodic code" of the Bayati Shiraz and also as the prelude of the Maye. 8 MAYE (2:41) The five beits of this section are a continuation of the ghazal used in the Bardasht. Connecting the two, the khanande repeats the last beit of the Bardasht at the beginning of the Maye. The homeland is my beloved, and I am her lover As Heis says, he has a beloved Leili. The flame of a candle cannot burn me as it burns the moth, For it is my Azadistan, the land of Fire. If an enemy steps on our land Wishing to destroy it, there are warriors. He who does not love his country and his land Has no honor. Vasif wants to give himself wholly for his people For them to be proud of him. In these five beits, Gasimov moves from a romanticized love of the land to a call for a personal commitment to defend the country. The romantic depiction of the homeland expressed in the Bardasht changes into a passionate statement in the Maye. While each beit stresses a single aspect of

63

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

devotion to the land, the beginning and ending beits express the poet's own emotions and the parts in the middle are addressed defiantly to the enemy. The meaning of the poetry is reinforced by the repetition of especially important words and expressions such as torpagina (soil), Vasifa (the name of the poet), and V t n. The text is heightened by its melodic treatment, including the declamation of sustained motifs, a pulsating pedal point, the stretching of a single word by vocal embellishment, and elaborated pensive cadences on vowels.

Va ta nim

di

ia

ia

ia

ma na mu shu

Va ta nim-im di ir na

ma sin ai

ai

ai Ge is ki

ma

i

ga

shi ga a

o

o-nun a-shi-gi-iam ia ia iam

Lei la kimi sa nanim va

ar

Example 4.4. Maye. Though the last beit of the Bardasht is repeated at the beginning of the Maye, tying the two together, the melodic pattern of Maye instantly identifies the distinctive character of this section. The wide leaps and extensive range of the Bardasht change to the less angular melodic contour of the Maye, which is based on a modest stepwise motif within an interval of a third. The rising and descending melodic lines are balanced. The melody emphasizes A and D: A is the center of the initial motif, from which the wavy melodic line emerges; and D is the beginning point of the following motifs which fill the distance between D and A with descending lines ending with temporal cadences on A. Appearing at the end of each poetic line, A does not give a sense of completion. The desirable but delayed arrival at the tonal center G is reached only at the end of the Maye. The downwards direction introduced in the Daramad prevails in all three: Daramad, Bardasht, and Maye. The link between the Bardasht and the Maye is also reinforced by the motif of the Bardasht that reappears in the culmination of the Maye, when the khanande sings about an enemy invading the homeland ("If an enemy steps in our land. . .").

64

Song from the Land of Fire

Ga da mi nia ia ia ia dush man a gar goysa

va tan tor pa gi na

Example 4.5. Motif from Bardasht reappearing in Maye. Contrasting with the stepwise motion of the gushe Maye, the energetic intervallic leaps interrupt the introspective atmosphere of this section with a passionate outburst, reflected in the powerful stretch to the high G on the word torpagini. This high point coincides with the symmetrical center of the lyrics in the Maye. The vocal part emphasizes this point as a culmination, and returns in the following beits to the elaboration of the main gushe of Maye. The vocal improvisation of the final beit, identifying the name Vasif, balances the previous ascending line (beginning at the culmination) with a gradual descent and a cadence ending on low G. The role of Maye in the Bayati Shiraz (as in every dastgah) is significant. Maye is considered the modal home, the headquarters directing subsequent musical processes. The vocal part of the Maye does not strike one with its brilliance, prolonged lyric melodies, or passionate tone like some other sections. Instead, it contains short motifs in a limited range that follow a stepwise motion. But motifs function as stimuli for further processes. Reappearing in different parts, they, because of their laconic features, invigorate significant melodic expansion and at the same time provide unity for the whole composition. Near the beginning of the dastgah, Maye, preceded and anticipated by the Daramad and Bardasht, establishes the scope of Bayati Shiraz. Maye as a center of dastgah will also be challenged by transformations and modulations in the following sections, reestablishing itself at the end. But here at the beginning, Maye is succeeded by a rang.

Example 4.6. Rang (0:48). Typically, rangs are played in 6/8. The four beats per measure in this rang as well as the stepwise descending melody of this piece define its songlike character. This rang, remaining within the range of the Maye and echo-

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

65

ing its melodic pattern, concludes the first cycle and provides a contrast for the following Isfahan. BAYATI ISFAHAN (2:16) The poetic basis of this section consists of one beit:9 Last night I spoke to my beloved about a fiesta Time came to share our drink. The text of the Bayati Isfahan is significantly shorter than that of the preceding parts. The poetic stanza returns to the subject of romantic love; a vocal line emerging from the final G of the preceding rang leads to the gushe of the Isfahan, sung at first without words on open vowels.

Ya ya ya

ay

ya ay ya ya yaya

ya-man

Example 4.7. Gusbe of the Isfahan. The energetic move from D to G, identifying the gushe of the Isfahan, is an intervallic inversion of the opening of the Bardasht. The melody accentuates E natural, sustained in length and surrounded with embellishment. Seemingly unimportant to an informed audience, this E natural, many musicians suggest, is a signature of Isfahan. The vocal opening of the Isfahan is followed by an instrumental interlude which begins by repeating the vocal line and gradually widens the initial tonal range to D–B flat. When the khanande enters again, his melody reaches B flat, from which his voice falls into a chain of forceful passages with characteristic zangulas (trills).

Dun

-

un-ga-cha-io-io - ai-rim-la sohbat-maast ma ia-ia ia

ia ia

ia

hana da ia a

Example 4.8. Elaboration of the gushe of the Isfahan. When the singer approaches the higher register, the kamancha interlaces its melody with the vocal line, following the singer just a bit later, creating a tightly braided intricate melodic lace. Directed upwards, with rich ornamentation created from sequences and variations of motifs, with an extended tonal range and complex vocal technique, the Isfahan contrasts

66

Song from the Land of Fire

with the moderate and restrained Maye. While the dramatic character of the Maye is mainly associated with the text, the melody of the Isfahan often contains no words. The recitation in the Maye is mainly syllabic while in Isfahan the words are interwoven into melodic melismas, which explains why there are five beits in Maye and only one in Isfahan. In addition, even though the Isfahan remains within the modal sphere of the Bayati Shiraz, it challenges the mode by stressing and encircling the E natural. RANG (0:57) The next rang is representative of the functions of rangs in mughams.

Section 2 Rang Isfahan Second Part

Example 4.9. Rang preceding the Zil Bayati Shiraz. The defined beat, swift tempo, and dancing character of this piece contrast with both Isfahan and Zil Bayati Shiraz, creating a bridge between the two. The rang consists of two sections. Section One is based on the tonal scope of the Isfahan with an emphasis on E natural and F sharp. The phrase, leading to a cadence, begins with the motif D-G characteristic of the Isfahan (opening call). Section Two extends its tonal range to the higher D. The stepwise intonation within the third, focusing on C-A (m. 19–20), is reminiscent of the Maye, which reappears in varied form and an octave higher in the Zil Bayati Shiraz, the improvisation following the rang.

67

The Sound of Traditional Mugham ZIL BAYATI SHIRAZ (1:46) This improvisation is sung with two beits: You kneel to your beloved one, times heals pain My love is so powerful that I became insane Not by the law of love, the eyes of my beloved make me an insane man, They called me Maj nun, the crazy one from the myth.

The lyrics are sorrowful and introspective. The reference to Majnun connects this section to the poetry of the Maye. While in the Maye, Heis and Leili were used as symbols of everlasting love and dedication, in Zil Bayati Shiraz, Mejnun appears as the metaphorical image of despair and madness. The emotions change from dedication (in the Maye) to distress (in the Zil), from anger to insanity. The music of Zil Bayati Shiraz, like its poetry, is closely related to the Maye. Typically, the Zil Bayati Shiraz repeats in varied form the gushe of Maye an octave higher. Here, however, the initial motif of the gushe Maye is sung in reverse order. The balanced up-and-downwards motion in the Maye turns to a descending line in the Zil Bayati Shiraz.

Uu o - zu gil-dim-ya-ou-ru-yana-shah Uu gil-dim-ya-oa-ru-yana-shah lar-na besir-za-ao

-

\ar mi ash-ig dan a zaa ma-an \ar zaa

a al

Example 4.10. Beginning of the Zil Bayati Shiraz. The short opening motifs are repeated in the instrumental part, echoing the singer's teary voice. After the first vocal segment, the instrumental duet plays the gushe of the Maye. The next vocal episode is a combination of intense recitation on the insistently repeated D and melodic sliding over the stretched vowels. This vocal segment, with emphasis on the D, and on descending motion, emerges from the second element of the gushe Zil Bayati Shiraz and Maye.

A-ia-Aslkka

rti la da i-i

ia-ia - il-Di Iba ra a

ia ia gof ma io ia

ia

sozla di i

i im

Example 4.11. Elaboration of the second element of the gushe Zil Bayati Shiraz.

Song from the Land of Fire

68

The importance of this short, falling motif with the ambiguous B flatB natural becomes apparent with the beginning of the Haveran. HAVERAN (0:50) This short section is based on one beit—a continuation of the lyrics recited in the Zil Bayati Shiraz. The intensity of the embellishment and ornamentation reaches a point where the words practically melt into the melody. For example, it is impossible to understand the first mizra of the beit, which makes the remaining line more ambiguous and sorrowful.

Until sunrise the owls call me 'crazy.

Developing the emotional anxiety of the Zil Bayati Shiraz, this section is separated from the previous one by a brief instrumental interlude, which is continued by the vocal part with a chain of vibratos on a sustained and intermittently repeated high C approached from the G below it. The continuous repetition of C expresses growing elation and leads to the gushe of the Haveran that originates from the three-tone descending initial motif of Zil. The wavering between B flat and B natural anticipates the transition from the mode Bayati Shiraz to the Rast, which will be fully realized in the Huzzal. The rising excitement of this group (Zil Bayati, Haveran, and Huzzal) can be identified by several features: the frequent alternation of vocal and instrumental segments, largely increased in comparison to previous parts; the play with a short motif (C-B[flat]-A) which unites the two movements (Zil Bayati and Haveran) and introduces a shift to a new modal area;10 the consistent alternation between recitative-like and vividly ornamented episodes; and the poetic text portraying the insane Mejnun. Creating the effect of exaltation, the Zil Bayati/Haveran group leads to the culmination of the dastgah, Huzzal, whose arrival is postponed by another rang (Example 8.11). This rang is a chain of sequences grown from a one-measure melodic cell which is repeated, reversed, and energized by syncopation and hemiolas. The opening descending sequence derived from this motif (m. 1–4) is reversed in the ascending sequence of the following segment (m. 4–7). The first four measures follow a straightforward dance rhythm with accentuated strong beats. In the next three measures, the first beat is continuously stressed, but syncopation is also introduced on the second strong beat. The two-measure motif (m. 8–9), from which a new sequence chain emerges, is an extended syncopated version of the first motif (m. 8–14). The following melodic segment, an eight-note line (m. 16–21), is a variation of the preceding sequence. Compensating for this even rhythmical flow of eighths,

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

69

the last six measures—another chain of two-measure sequences—include a hemiola in the first measure and an omitted strong beat in the second (m. 22-26).

Example 4.12. Rang (0:32) preceding Huzzal.

HUZZAL (1:23) The feelings of love and anguish, the adoration of the beloved, and the madness of love converge in the culmination of the mugham, the Huzzal. The text of this section includes one beit repeated twice. A nightingale falling in love spoke madly, I heard the words; With my own eyes I saw the love of the moth. The poetic expression of emotion reaches such high intensity in the previous sections that here the lyrics shift into a different realm—the

70

Song from the Land of Fire

metaphorical love of nightingale and moth. The lyrics are ambiguous; the poetic line, like an intricate ornament, is woven around words such as aşiq (one in love), eşq (love), yar (beloved), divan (mad), and şeida (crazy over love). The single beit contains two layers of meaning and imagery. One is centered on the poet who, like Majnun, can hear the love of the nightingale and see the passion of the moth. On a deeper level, the poet/musician iden­ tifies himself with the nightingale (high praise for a singer), whose madness in love signifies high spiritual intensity and with the moth, drawn (and burned) by the fire of love. The intensity of this section is expressed in music. Beginning with the word bülbül, the khanande sings in the highest register with continuous trills and melismas, imitating and competing with his invisible rival. Competing with the nightingale, the khanande enhances his melody with glissandi and overtones which cannot overshadow the modulation to mode Rast. The major-like sound of the Rast in combination with the repetitive trills expresses exaltation. When the intensity of the sound and emotions reaches its apogee in the vocal part, the singer drops off and the gushe of the Huzzal is played as an instrumental duet. When the singer returns, he repeats the same beit, changing the ardent embellishments for a dramatic declamation an octave lower and centered on low D with overtones that interweaved the singer's recitation. The same poetic line that portrayed the nightingale and that was sung at first in the high range is now repeated as a low,

Bui-bul la

jaaa

ya

aa

ya

shig

aa

de

yi

aa

ir

sh ai

da

e

shit dim soz la

na - aa

a a

ja

ri

a ni ii ma

a nim

Example 4.13. Modulation to the Rast in the Huzzal.

sorrowful recitative portraying the poet. This brief episode interrupts the rising vocal range that has developed throughout the dastgah, but it does not diminish the intensity of the rise. Instead, it creates an element of sus­ pense, energizing and expanding the climax.

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

71

RANG (0:36) As the vocal line turns into a whisper, a fast rang begins. Further raising the intensity of the music, the rang enters on high D, from which it rises upwards, inviting, encouraging, and challenging the singer.

Example 4.14. Rang played between Huzzal and Zarbi Huzzal.

ZARBIHUZZAL(0:35) As the rang continues, the singer begins his improvisation in a high tense voice and on open vowels. He enters with a sustained high E, from which a dense vocal ornament emerges above the rhythm of the daf duplicated by the strings. The convergence of vocal improvisation with a rhythmical beat is known as Zarbi. Babayev writes that "the rhythmic mugham is included in dastgah only when all other expressive devices have been used and yet a further drive and a stimulus for a new rise is desired" (E. Babayev, 1990: 71). When the khanande stops singing, the rang gradually lessens in intensity and leads to the final sequence of the dastgah. The singer enters the section Dilruba. DILRUBA (1:01) My beloved made me suffer so much that I am tired. Even my destiny was on fire from my moaning When will it gleam, the star of my happiness? Seemingly incapable of leaving the high register, the singer begins the Dilruba with a chain of ornaments on the high E. The phrases of the singer are short, each sung in one breath. The intervening instrumental interlude

72

Song from the Land of Fire

constantly echoes the gushe Dilruba (which will be discussed in relation to the instrumental Bayati Shiraz), leading the khanande to the characteristic melodic line which repeats the same motif twice, rising in the first motif (reaching upper D) and falling to the second (B). The words are completely diffused into the melody.

Ma - ni - i - i - ca - a - dan

-

u sa

a a ndi

i

ii

Example 4.15. Dilruba. The final two sections are merged—Dilruba slowing the motion and leading to the last beit-cadenza of mugham and Ayag summarizing Fizuli's quest for love and its meaning. AYAG (0:20) (Fizuli is always in love, and because of it he is ashamed before people Ask him what it is, this love, and did he not get worn down by it.) Translated as 'foot,' Ayag is the closing section of the dastgah and, in this case, simply an ornate version of the cadence. The music and text are fully integrated and form a chain of ornaments, glissandi sliding downwards to the initial G, the tonic of the Bayati Shiraz. A striking discovery about this section arose during my discussion of the poetry in this dastgah with Azerbaijanians. Two of my former compatriots familiar with this performance of the Bayati Shiraz and listening to it again, afterwards talking to me specifically mentioned the last belt of Fizuli's ghazal, while in fact, the poetic lines are absent and instead Gasimov sings open vowels. Apparently listeners perceive the relatively short cadence of the Ayag as a return to the main modal and thematic areas established in the Maye (and reoccurring in the Zil Bayati Shiraz). The khanande draws on shared feelings, knowledge, and established intimate bonds with his listener; and by allusion to well known text and music, he triggers one's imagination, creating the effect of the presence of 'something' which actually is absent. THE STRUCTURE AND DRAMATURGY The detailed analysis of the Bayati Shiraz allows us to view the construction of the mugham as the whole.

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

1:26 Bardasht

Daramid

2:41

2:16

Maye

Isfahan

0:48 Rang

1:46

73

(9:04)

Zil B.S.

0:57 Rang

0:50

Haveran

1;23

Huzzal 0:32 Rang

0:35 Sarbi

1:01

0:20

Dilruba

Ayag

0:36 Rang

Figure 4.2 . The symmetrical structure of Bayati Shiraz by Gasimov's trio The diagram shows rangs separating the sections of the mugham into groups. The central position is held by Zil Bayati Shiraz-Haveran. The Haveran, insignificant in size and inseparable from Zil, functions as the closure of and the transition away from the Zil Bayati Shiraz. The center of the visual as well as the temporal scale, the Zil Bayati Shiraz emerges from gushe Maye (the modal home of Bayati Shiraz) and anticipates the Dilruba/Ayag (a return to the area of Bayati Shiraz). Zil also divides the composition into two halves, each appearing as a balanced threefold structure, one centered on Isfahan and the other on Huzzal—the climax of the overall composition. Therefore, performed in the middle of the composition (look at the temporal scale of the dastgah), equally distanced from Isfahan and Huzzal (each separated from the Zil by approximately three minutes), connecting the outermost Maye and Diruba/Ayag, Zil Bayati Shiraz can be viewed as a center of the symmetrical composition. Speaking about distinctive features of Azerbaijanian mugham, Jean During notes the "importance de la forme cadentialle (question-réponse), de l'imitation, de la symétrie et de la répétition de motifs" (During, 1991: 36). Elements of symmetry appear in all layers of mugham organization. They are apparent in the structures of the mugham sections, based on repetition, variation, and inversion of phrases and motifs. The cadences, different in size and significance but always functional and representative of each part of the dastgah, also reveal a balanced structure. Melodic contours are created by counterbalanced ascending and descending melodic lines. An ostinato on a single tone often frames the melody, emphasizing the major tonal centers and creating a sense of equilibrium. In Western music and art, structurally symmetrical compositions without significant contrast between their parts are often perceived as peaceful and contemplative. "The notion of equilibrium is peacefulness and softness. This means that the passage from one gushe to another, or from one rhythm to another, or one ethos to another, must take place in a smooth and imperceptible manner" (During and Mirabdolbaghli, 1991: 96). Yet

74

Song from the Land of Fire

Daramad Bardasht

instr. vocal

1:06

V t n müllkün bax g r n gülüstanim var N rgizim, yas manim, sünbtülü reyhanim var. V t n esqi

yaşar indi, bülün insanlar

Verm ya can kimi m nd ona gurban var. V t nimdir m na m sug onun aşigiy m Dem sin Geys ki, Leyla kimi cananim var. Maye

instr. vocal

2:32 3:05

V t nimdir m n m şug onun aşigiy m Dem sin Geys ki, Leyla kimi cananim var. Mdni s m yandira bilm z oda p rvan kimi Yurdum odlar yurdu çün Az ristanim var. G d min düşm n g r goysa v t n torpaqina Onu m hv eylm y laymif imkanlm var. Kim ki, sevmir v t ni, bir d

ziz torpagini

Hagg yoxdur bel insan dey vicdanim var Vasifa varligginf s rf e b z xalgin üçün F xr edib xalgi desin xat mi d vranim var. Rang Isfahan

instr. vocal inst. vocal

5:13 6:01 6:30 6:59

Ya-ya, Dün g ç yari mla s hbat m st meyxan d Bir m gam yetdi ki, m şhuci mey peyman d H tribi ki, o b s s hb ti rôhaniya galmadi xli aşiqi

Rang Zil Bayati Shiraz

Haveran

instr. vocal instr. vocal instr vocal instr vocal

Ozü çildim yar , n biçr - zaman Varmi aşiqind n z l m n divand

dir.

Eşqi t rtil deyil, divan görüb, sözl di Goy, deilcin mana Majnun söhb ti fsam yar Subh d k b guşlar Har yanda deyir 'divana yar.'

11-40

Rang Hiizzal

8:17 9:04 9:33 10:05 10:37 10:50 11:07 11:18

vocal

12:12

Bttlbub asiq deyir seyda, eshitdim s0zbri Esqi amma 0zg0zumb germUsham parvanada.

Rang

instr.

12:32

vocal

12:50

instr.

13:35

Stfibyi sama yanir, bax pari lab Etmasdan dtts ub can verdi yaida.

Figure 4.3. Outline of musical and poetic elements in the construction of Bayati Shiraz performed by Gasimov's trio.

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

Zarbi Huzzal Dilruba

vocal instr. vocal

14:11 14:36 14:46

instr.

15:31

vocal

15:47

75

Ya-ya-ya Cizmi bir ai, Vahid hli Nigar, hüznü tari zülfünd n dülşdn nişan

Ayag

16:18

M ni candan usandirdi c fadanyar usanmazmi Falaklar yandi aximdan muradim şam'i yanmazmi (Fizuli rind - meydadir, h9miş xalq rüsvadir Sorun kim bu n sevdadir, bu sevdadan usanmazmi.)

Figure 4.3 (cont.). Outline of musical and poetic elements in the construction of Bayati Shiraz performed by Gasimov's trio. the dramatic development in Bayati Shiraz overpowers the balanced con­ struction by interplay with symmetrical and asymmetrical elements. The section Zil Bayati Shiraz, a variation of the Maye, whose gushe is elaborated in Zil Bayati Shiraz, can be perceived as a symmetrical conclu­ sion of the first half of the dastgah (Bardasht/Maye-Isfahan-Zil Bayati/Haveran). However, instead of completing the return with an aug­ mented coda, which would be a symmetrical reflection of the introductory Bardasht, Zil Bayati links to Haveran, a transitional section inspiring a new dramaturgical sequence. The developments in the second half lead into a new modal area and consequently return to the mode Bayati Shiraz in the final Dilruba/Ayag. Most of the Dilruba, however, remains in the area of mugham Rast and in the range of the Huzzal, delaying its move back to Bayati Shiraz. The Ayag, descending to the tonal center of the mugham (G), abbreviates the melody to an elaborate cadence, leaving most of the ren­ dering to the listener's imagination. The dynamics of the dastgah are determined by its internal sense of time and musical 'space.' The internal time is marked by the expansion and contraction of poetic text and the frequency of alternation between instru­ mental and vocal episodes. Musical 'space' involves tonal range and melod­ ic pattern. The internal rhythm (time) and musical 'space' of the dastgah are interdependent. For example, melodic elaboration is largely determined by text. The large poetic episodes and their clear articulation lead to melod­ ic declamation with modest melodic development. The contraction of lyrics corresponds with the expansion and intricacy of melodic patterns. Reciting five beits of the Maye, Gasimov employs a simple narrow-ranged melody. The same gushe used in the Zil Bayati Shiraz with less text (than in the Maye) allows the khanande to embellish the melody and extend the range. The central sections of the two halves of the dastgah, Isfahan in the first and the Huzzal in the second, are based upon short lyrics and consequent­ ly have richly ornamented melody and wide diapasons.

76

Song from the Land of Fire

As the dastgah continues, the amount of the text is gradually reduced in length. The Maye is based on five beits of lyrics, the Zil Bayati Shiraz uses two, and the Dilruba/Ayag only one (plus one 'missing' beit, discussed above). As the amount of text decreases, the frequency of shift from vocal to instrumental episodes increases. By looking at the graph below (Figure 4.4) one finds that the Bardasht is solely a vocal section; Maye, separated from the Bardasht by a short instrumental introduction, is also a vocal solo without instrumental interludes; the Isfahan consists of two vocal episodes with an instrumental segment in the middle; in the group of Zil Bayati Shiraz and Haveran the transition from vocal to instrumental fragments happens seven times; and in the Huzzal the vocalist and instrumentalists constantly exchange motifs, echoing, repeating, and competing with each other. Finally, the increasing recurrence of vocal and instrumental segments in the sections extends to the external level when the two large sections, Huzzal and Rang, intersect, forming the culmination of the mugham, Zarbi Huzzal (Figure 8.2). The internal rhythm of the dastgah corresponds to its tonal palette. The range of Bayati Shiraz is exposed only gradually, from one section to another (Figure 8.3). Each section is confined to its own range and fortifies its tonal territory by melodic elaboration, preparing for expansion in the following section.

Bardasht

Maye

Bayati

Isfahan Zil Bayati Shiraz

Haveran

Huzzal/Zarbi

Huz Dilruba Ayag

Example 4.16. Tonal ranges in the sections of the Bayati Shiraz. The overall ascending tendency corresponds to the acceleration of the internal rhythm of the piece. For example, the high pitches and the most extensive range of Zarbi Huzzal coincide with the intersection of the rang and vocal improvisation, thus determining and supporting the climax of the composition. Summarizing the analysis of the Bayati Shiraz performed by Gasimov, I want to emphasize several points: 1. The composition is constructed of "short bits of sound. . . , which are manipulated, alternated, repeated, developed, expanded, and reduced" (Nettl, 1992: 105). The resulting arabesque, a melodic pattern woven of various configurations and combinations of these bits of sound, unifies the seventeen-minute composition of the Bayati Shiraz. 2. Accordingly, the sections of the dastgah are not distinguished by contrasting dynamics, meter, speed, or timbre, and are not separated by

The Sound of Traditional Mugham

77

pauses. Each is identified with its lyrics, its gushe, its tonal range and its function in the overall composition. 3. The core of any mugham is a set of improvisations which reveals the significant logic in the construction of this dastgah, introducing balanced forms and elements of symmetry. 4. The dynamic of the composition, emerging from the "interplay of activating and balancing forces," (Arnheim, 1984: 20) is determined by the accelerated internal rhythm, the expansion of the melodic pattern, and the tonal range. LISTENING TO BAYATI SHIRAZ Studying the dastgah Bayati Shiraz allows one to see the correlation of text and music, to become acquainted with the refined structure of the composition, to enjoy the intricacy of its melodic patterns, and to appreciate the improvisation. However, to grasp the intrinsic meaning of this dastgah, to place it within a semiotic system in order to find out how the musical devices trigger the listeners' emotional response, one needs to relate this concrete performance to a larger body of performing tradition. Pursuing this direction, I examine two other performances of the Bayati Shiraz, one also sung by Gasimov and the other by Zagid Guliyev. With less detailed analysis, I am introducing the patterns and devices which indicate the similarities and differences among the three dastgahs in a way that discloses the symbolic content, the meaning of Bayati Shiraz. The diagram below (Figure 4.4) indicates, section by section, the time scale and the shift between instrumental and vocal episodes for each of the three performances. Although the sections and their order in all three is similar, the length of the performances differs significantly. The first Bayati Shiraz continues for about seventeen minutes; the performance of the trio Jabbar Garyaghdi is almost twice as long—over thirty minutes; Gasimov's second version lasts twenty seven and a half minutes. The Zil Bayati Shiraz is central in the structure of dastgah. In addition, the temporal scale shows that Zil is performed in the middle of all three compositions (9:04 of the 16:50 in the first version, 15:39 of the 30:02 of the second, and 13:33 of 27:34 of the third). The corresponding sections in the three compositions are based on the same gushes. Yet the melodic patterns woven from motivic cells are different in sound and length, each reflecting the individuality of the performer, his instantaneous inspiration, the poetry chosen, the circumstances, and the purpose of the performance. The tonal palette and the ranges of the sections are parallel, implying similar dramatic processes. Moreover, the condensation of the poetic text associated with the acceleration of the internal rhythm is characteristic of both of Alim's dastgahs. In both cases the number of beits per section is

78

Parts of dastgah Bayati Shiraz Daramad Bardasht

Song from the Land of Fire

Alim Gasimov's Vatan

Zakhid Guliyev, Trio J. Garyaghdi

instr. vocal

instr. vocal instr. vocal instr. vocal

1:06

Maye

instr. vocal

2:33

Rang Nisibi Faraz

instr.

5:15

Rano

Bayati Isfahan

vocal instr. vocal

6:02

Rang Tasnif Zil Bayati Shiraz

instr.

8:20

vocal instr. vocal instr.

9:04

Haveran

vocal instr. vocal

10:50

Rang

9:12 10:13

13:57 15:39

vocal instr. vocal

18:20

19:55 21:13

11:38

instr.

vocal instr. vocal

12:12

vocal instr. vocal instr. vocal

Rang

instr. rapid shift from vocal to instr. vocal instr. vocal vocal

13:35 14:11

instr. vocal instr. vocal

Ayag

vocal instr. vocal

3:28

6:17

vocal instr. vocal instr.

instr.

Dilruba

4:00

8:48 instr. vocal instr. vocal instr. vocal instr.

Huzzal

Huzzal (Zarbi Huzzal)

1:11

Alim Gasimov, Azerbaijan instr. 1:15 vocal instr.

23:27 24:12

14:46

27:38

16:18 16:48

28:57

Figure 4.4 Comparative chart of three dastgahs Bayati Shiraz.

vocal instr. vocal

9:50

instr.

12:50

vocal instr. vocal instr. vocal instr. vocal

13:33

vocal instr. vocal instr. vocal rapid shift between vocal & inst.

vocal

16:32 18:50 19:41

22:28 22:54

26:48

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79

gradually decreased, which, as was discussed earlier, leads to melodic expansion, frequent shifts from vocal to instrumental episodes, and overall dramatic developments. In Guliyev's version, the number of beits in differ­ ent sections varies insignificantly. However, the khanande chooses lyrics with gradually shortened beits, or a diminished number of syllables in each mizra. This appears clearly if we compare the opening beits of Maye and Zil Bayati Shiraz. Maye:

Sordum m g r bu dürcü d h ndir dedim dedi Yox-yox d vayi-d rdi n h ndürüş s nin.

Zil Bayati Shiraz:

N g dar s n yox idin Bilm z idim eşq n dir

Achieved in different ways, the reduction of the poetic text is charac­ teristic of the dynamic development of each composition. An analogy can be drawn between the roles and organization of specific sections. For example, all three Huzzals are based on one poetic beit repeated twice, once in the highest range and then in a low voice. In short, the three compositions exemplify the balance between for­ mula and inspiration. The performer uses familiar 'signs' but re-interprets them. The patterns give the listener a sense of security and balance. The ele­ ment of spontaneity challenges and twists the achieved balance and stabil­ ity, intriguing and surprising his listeners. Performers and listeners familiar with the patterns enjoy shared musical imagery, stimulating a creative interaction between the two. Relying on the familiarity of his listener with traditional poetry and music, Gasimov omits the closing beit of his dastgah, extending its completion beyond the boundary of audible sound, mak­ ing his listeners recreate the end of the mugham inaudibly. The tension between formulae and improvisation, between a refined model and its ornamentation, is the basis of mugham. Slobin interprets this as a tension between "the familiar, inescapable components of conscious­ ness" (canon) and unstable, almost subversive spontaneity that gives music the role of "shape-changer, if not a trickster" (Slobin, 1996: 4). 11 One real­ izes that each mugham performance is both an imitation of and a compe­ tition with a preexistent model. Therefore, each performance is an addi­ tional sequel in an infinite process of creation and re-creation, reminding one of the "ever-ending and ever-beginning arabesque" of mugham melody. INSTRUMENTAL BAYATI SHIRAZ The importance and complexity of Azerbaijanian musical imagery is revealed in the process of learning and performing mugham. A student of

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mugham must memorize a large amount of complex material. During my first field research in Baku, as I observed traditional performances and recorded discussions of mugham, I also had the striking experience of learning how to play dastgah Bayati Shiraz.12 I studied the composition without written instruction or notation. My mentor, Arif Asadullayev, a distinguished kamancha performer and professor of the Baku Music Academy, taught me one hour daily for almost two months. Following his suggestion, I studied Bayati Shiraz on my primary instrument, piano. The training process involved the endless repetition of each short phrase and gushe, which Arif would play first and I would repeat as many times as he felt necessary. After memorizing each segment I played it in connection with the other sections. Gradually I was able to memorize and play the basic canon of the mugham-composition Bayati Shiraz. Even though it was a significant achievement for me, it would be only the first step in the traditional schooling of a mugham performer. The performance of Bayati Shiraz, like any other mugham, requires many years of studying different mughams, as well as familiarity with diverse forms of native music and a talent for improvisation. The genre of instrumental mugham is derived from vocal dastgah. Musicians performing solo instrumental mughams on the kamancha or tar usually also play in traditional trios accompanying a khanande. Shafiga Eyvazova and Arif Asadullayev, wife and husband, both outstanding performers and teachers of kamancha, are well-known as soloists. They also regularly play in mugham trios. For example, Eyvazova, with tar player Ramiz Guliyev, has accompanied Alim Gasimov. Vagif Abdulgassimov considers this trio among the best musical groups and performers of twentieth century Azerbaijan (Abdulgassimov, 1990: 73). Arif Asadullayev, who taught me Bayati Shiraz, is a master of several solo mughams including Bayati Shiraz (Sound track four: Instrumental Bayati Shiraz played by Arif Asadullayev). He has also played in different groups. In a recent mugham collection he performed with the khanande Sakina Ismailova and tarist Elkhan Muzafarov.13 Like many instrumentalists, Arif developed his instrumental technique at an early age when he learned by accompanying various khanandes. Among his teachers he names the celebrated singer Seyid Shushinski. Working with singers, instrumentalists learn the gushes and melodic vocabulary of mugham, its structural and dramaturgic principles, and its lyrics. Like the khanandes, instrumentalists often retain in memory a large poetic repertoire. Even though a solo instrumental dastgah contains no references to a specific text, the poetic content and imagery of vocal mugham influences the organization and dynamics of instrumental pieces. Thus, having no vocal tasnifs or fast rhythmical rangs and formed as a chain of improvisations, with motifs, gushes, and melodic processes parallel to the

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vocal dastgah, the instrumental mugham can be perceived as a concentrated model of its vocal counterpart. In the absence of poetry, and without contrast between vocal and instrumental episodes, the dramaturgy of instrumental mugham is developed in its melody. The internal dynamics of the instrumental Bayati Shiraz are defined by the gushes and their elaboration, the expansion and diminution of tonal ranges, the establishment of the main modal area and the drive away from it, and the rhythmic pulse of the composition and its sections. A detailed analysis of the mechanisms of the instrumental Bayati Shiraz demonstrates the musical concept of this specific mugham and the overall mugham system. The investigation is based on the transcription of Asadullayev's performance of the Bayati Shiraz. Like the vocal mugham, this composition contains movements that can be grouped. Group 1

1. Bardasht 2. Isfahanak 3. Maye

Group 2

4. Nishibi Faraz 5. Bayati Isfahan

Group 3

6. Abul Chak 7. Zil Bayati Shiraz

Group 4

8. Havaran 9. Huzzal

Group 5

10. Dilruba 11. Ayag

Figure 4.5. Groups of sections in the instrumental Bayati Shiraz The sequence of improvisational sections of the vocal dastgah is followed in the instrumental counterpart. Several additional sections (Isfahanak, Nishibi Faraz, and Abul Chak) 'replace' rangs or tasnifs. Each group of sections contains introductory parts that identify the modal area and themes of the group, and a central movement which underlies the musical and dramaturgical developments. The groups present a symmetrical outline comparable to the vocal Bayati Shiraz. Groups 1, 3, and 5 have the same thematic and modal basis established in Maye, repeated an octave higher in Zil and again in the Dilruba/Ayag. Groups 2 and 4 introduce forces that oppose and challenge the power of Bayati Shiraz established in groups 1, 3, and 5. The Isfahan (group 2), for example, has a clearly distinctive character. Even though it does not modulate to a different modal area, its melody alters the basic tones of the Bayati Shiraz scale. Unlike

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Isfahan, the Huzzal (group 4) modulates to a new modal area which coincides with the culmination of the dastgah. Unlike compound pieces in Western classical music, where sections and movements are clearly identified, the transitions from section to section are not obvious to the Western ear. Nevertheless, an informed listener instantly recognizes any part of a mugham by its tonal range, gushe, and cadences. Definitive of each section of mugham, the tonal range is also important in the analysis of the instrumental Bayati Shiraz. While the range of the dastgah extends to two octaves, its full tonal scope is exposed gradually from one section to another, each section introducing a melodic line within a tetrachord or pentachord.

Bardasht

Isfahanak Maye

N/Faraz

B/Isfahan Ab/Chak Zil B-S. Haveran Huzzal

Dilruba Ayag

Example 4.17. Tonal ranges in the sections of the instrumental Bayati Shiraz. The above diagram clearly indicates two facts. First, the dramatic progression in the dastgah is associated with a consistently ascending line which, reaching its culmination in the highest range (Huzzal), is balanced by a rather quick descent. Second, the constant reappearance and reversal of two pitches, G and D, in the scheme above indicate a combat between the two tonal centers, determining the dynamics of the mugham melody. The melodic basis of each section is a gushe. The formal pattern and size of different gushes vary. Some of them coincide with a complete section, and others function as opening statements or as short melodic cells initiating the musical process. Structurally ambiguous (Zokhrabov, 1992: 31), the gushe "makes up the repertoire of a dastgah" (Farhat, 1990: 22). Each gushe unmistakably identifies both the mugham and the specific section of it. For the purposes of the present analysis I use Babayev's definition of a gushe as the smallest independent complete unit, a compound of motifs, micromotifs, and phrases, their repetition and variation. At times, the gushe can be condensed to a few notes, an intricate motif which expands into phrases, sentences, and periods. For example, the gushe of Bardasht transcribed below consists of two sentences (marked as A and A'), each containing two phrases divided into motifs.

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Example 4.18. Bardasht, instrumental Bayati Shiraz performed by Arif Asadullayev. The transcription above illustrates the symmetry of the melodic patterns. The melody is formed by counterbalancing stepwise motions, emphasizing the arrival points with ostinatos. Each structural unit is balanced by the one that follows: the ascending motif of the first phrase (motif 1) is balanced by the descending line of motif 3. The rising line in the first figures of the second sentence (A') are counterpoised by the downward direction of the ostinatos in the same chain of sequences. The opening motif introduces the tonal range of the Bardasht. Sliding from F sharp to D, the melodic line, passing G (the tonal center of Bayati Shiraz) leads to an ostinato repetition of D. The second motif mirrors the first, moving downwards from D to G with a cadence on G. The cadence at the end of the theme is the basis for an elaborate and ornate cadence in the following sections and movements. The melodic pattern of the Bardasht matches the description of Babayev: The first unit exposes the main thematic material, which is reflected in the following melodic development often based on the recurrences and elaboration of this initial fragment. The second motif contains a cadence which defines the tonal center of the given section of the dastgah. The first motifs are typically ascending. The second motif often appears as a rhythmic/intonational leitmotif of mugham reappearing in the different parts. (E. Babayev, 1990: 35) The opening motifs of the Bardasht introduce the tonal row of this section; each tone is emphasized separately by ostinato repetition in the second half (A') of the movement. For instance, the chain of sequences derived from the initial motif stresses the center of each segment in a two-note repeated ostinato. This ostinato forms a descending line enclosed in an elaborate cadence, which parallels the cadence of the first half. Two tones,

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G and D, frame the melody of the Bardasht. Stressed in cadences and ostinato figures, the G and D appear as the two tonal centers. The G is traditionally referred to as the tonic of the mugham Bayati Shiraz and it is reinforced in the cadences of the Bardasht. Nonetheless, the repeatedly stressed D creates the impression of an alternative tonal center which shows the plausibility of tonal conflict. Thus the internal devices of the opening movement of the composition anticipate the external context between Bayati Shiraz (Maye and Zil Bayati Shiraz) and Bayati Isfahan. In the instrumental Bayati Shiraz, the Bardasht is often followed by a section called Isfahanak: A mot. 1

A'

cadence

B' mot. 3'

phrase 1

phrase 2

motif 2

mot. 4'

B motif 3

mot. 5'

motif 5

motif 4

cadence

Example 4.19. Isfahanak, instrumental Bayati Shiraz. Even though Isfahanak often functions as an addition to Bardasht, it has distinctive features that are clearly seen in its energetic opening, which contrasts with the gradual stepwise motion of the Bardasht. The notation of this part also reveals a symmetrical element. For example, the opening consists of two motifs with the second mirroring the first. The leap from D to G (motif 1) is followed by a pause and then by the same intonation repeated in reverse (motif 2). Two phrases of A' sprang out of the initial motifs. The melody in the two phrases of A' is an inversion of the beginning. Yet the two phrases of A' balance each other with a descending line in phrase 1 and an ascending line in phrase 2. The theme of A' fills the frame D–G with melodic ornament, focusing on the tension between E flat and F sharp, each linking to the corresponding tonal center D or G. The sentence ends with a further elaborate cadence.14 The second half of the Isfahanak (B) introduces new motifs, which are diminished and transformed in section B', forming a chain of elaborate sequences leading to the cadence closing this movement. The three motifs of section B embrace the

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range of F sharp-B flat, descending to the E natural, the identity card of Bayati Isfahan. The role of Isfahanak is significant. While the whole first group of improvisations is focused on the establishment of the home base for Bayati Shiraz, Isfahanak, with its title (Isfahanak/Isfahan), its tonal range, paralleling Isfahan an octave lower, and with the E natural, sets the dynamic tension. This is an example of the devices which determine the coherence of the large compound composition. Both Bardasht and Isfahanak are often referred to as an introduction to the Maye. If the preceding parts focus the listener's attention on the expansion of the tonal range and on dulcet melodious themes, Maye is a slow-tempo intimate recitative-like improvisation. In this version, it begins with a short motif confined to three adjacent notes. The second motif is formed from the same three tones in different order. The third motif, also based on the first but slightly extended in length, moves symmetrically one step down-and-up. The three motifs marked by the cadences form the primary unit from which the two parts of Maye emerge. Recurring, the same motifs (1, 2, and 3) and sentence A introduce melodic expansion and ornamentation. Yet the differences are slight and do not transform the pensive character of Maye, which is reflected in the moderate motion, fragmented melody, and frequent moments of repose. The absence of a notable melody is compensated for by short characteristic intonations—the melodic nucleus growing throughout the whole composition and forming the musical "program" of the dastgah. The next section, Nishibi Faraz, is a prelude to Bayati Isfahan, which confronts the preceding Maye. Like the previous parts and movements, the notation of the Nishibi Faraz discloses symmetrical devices buried in its melody. For example, starting with the two major tonal points, G and D, it insistently emphasizes D at the beginning and G at the end of the improvisation, while using B and B flat (the middle point between G and D) in the middle of the movement. The character of the Nishibi Faraz is expressed in the two contrasting motifs of the first section. One motif, instantly introducing active and forceful rhythmic intonation and the intervallic leaps of a fifth (G to D) filled with an arpeggio triad, is reminiscent of Isfahanak (intervallic inversion, D and G). The other motif is a short descending line with a hesitant ending on B flat as a mediator between the two centers. The second and third sections are variations of the first. The section begins with the same leap of a fifth and continues as a densely woven pattern which leads to an elaborate descending line derived from the second motif of the first section. As the second motif ends with B flat approached by B natural, this half-step combination becomes persistent in the semi-cadences of section two. It strikes one a bit later that this B natural relates to the Bayati Isfahan, which also starts with B natural. Hence, between the encircling of

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the ambiguous B-B flat and the beginning of the Isfahan, there is a third segment of the Nizhibi Faraz which elaborates the cadence. Isfahan instantly reveals its energetic character. This improvisation contains three relatively independent sections exposing an enormous drive upwards (Example 4.20.). The first section expands the tonal horizon from B natural to G and the second to upper B flat. The opening sentence, rotating around E natural and composed of several motifs, is expanded in size and in tonal range compared to the opening sentences of the previous sections. The melodic contour shifts from rapid passages to long intricate trills and to the sustained repetition of one tone. This sentence ends on E natural, inviting a very strong reaction from listeners who are likely to identify this intricate evolution of the mode Bayati Shiraz with the resistant character of Isfahan.15 The second phrase, as adorned and diversified as the first, is generally directed downwards and yet simultaneously rises to the high B flat. Following this phrase-gushe, instead of repetition and elaboration of the first theme as in preceding parts, new themes emerge. Based on short sequences and a balanced ascending-descending melody, these themes change the expressive, improvisational character of the first gushe to the rhythmically and metrically defined figures of a dance-like rang. A

phrase, 1

phrase 2

cadence

B phrase 1

Example 4.20. Bayati Isfahan, instrumental Bayati Shiraz. Overall, the Isfahan, with its expressive improvisation in the first part and its rhythmical drive in the following segments, contrasts with the declamatory statement of Maye Bayati Shiraz. The two present opposite poles, one introverted and the other extroverted. The length of Isfahan, its melodic diversity, and its rich articulation invite the reappearance of Maye Bayati Shiraz, which is preceded by Abul Chak. "Chak," translated as

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"crooked" or "disharmonious," refers, according to Arif Asadullayev, to a dissonant melody based upon two adjacent pitches a semi-tone apart. The performer also defines this short section16 as a "prelude" of the Zil Bayati Shiraz. Spinning from the melodic cell of Maye, the pattern of Zil Bayati Shiraz is intensified by the high range. Zil (high voice) implies an octave rise in pitch. Highly decorated melody, rapid motion, and short rhythmical formulas repeated in a chain of motivic sequences characterize the new version of Bayati Shiraz, which surpasses Isfahan in its range, exceeding a high C and momentarily reaching D. The inter-sectional conflict centered on Isfahan (encircled by Maye and Zil Bayati) reveals symmetry on different levels of the construction: coupled sentences, motifs mirroring each other, and melodic patterns spun out of a micromotivic cell and other elements. Yet the symmetry is illusive, because Zil Bayati Shiraz, the embellished and modified replica of Maye, is not a reprise but an expansion that itself stimulates further development. Counterbalancing the power of Isfahan, Zil Bayati Shiraz rises in pitch, and Maye becomes the basis for a fiery improvisation. Up to this point all sections and musical events occurred in the mode Bayati Shiraz. Now the dramatization of Zil Bayati Shiraz leads to an escape from the established modal basis and modulation to mugbam Mahur in the section Haveran.

Example 4.21. Modulation to Mahur in the Haveran, instrumental Bayati Shiraz. According to the Azerbaijanian musicologist Shahla Mahmudova, the dastgahs Mahur-Hindi and Orta-Mahur are based on the modal formula of Rast (Mahmudova, 1997: 34). The Rast is the chief Azerbaijanian mugbam and is known also among Arabs, Persians, Turks, and Indians, symbolizing the common origin and relatedness of now diverse musical traditions. The scales of both Mahurs are identical to the mugbam Rast, but the pitch range of Orta-Mahur is higher than Rast by a seventh and Mahur-

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Hindi by a fifth.17 Haveran is performed in Mahur-Hindi, which is based on the central tone C and the alternation between B and B flat. The whole section is woven from a three-note intonation borrowed from a Maye/Zil Bayati Shiraz. This closeness to the main motif of Bayati Shiraz and the play with B and B flat makes the modulation to Mahur subtle. The modulation to a new mode changes the overall lyric tone of Bayati Shiraz to the elevated major-like sound of mugbam Mahur.18 The section Haveran ends with the traditional Bayati Shiraz cadence. Despite this return to the main mode of the dastgab, the next section, Huzzal, begins with fanfare-like major intonation in Mahur. The opening motif centers on D, which is two octaves higher than the beginning of Isfahanak. The energetic and elaborate development of the initial motif implies a continuing modal journey. Asadullayev says that Huzzal may modulate to Shekestei Fars and to Rast: "If I would play E natural instead of E flat, the door to Rast is opened. . . Rast is a large seven-story building [seven corresponds to the number of major mugham-modes] with numerous staircases and elevators connecting all modes with and through the Rast" (Interview with Arif Asadullayev). The section following Huzzal is Dilruba. Beginning in a high register and in the joyous atmosphere of Mahur, Dilruba becomes the turning point of the dastgah. Here begins the return to the mode of Bayati Shiraz and to its central tonal range. tr

tr

sequence

Example 4.22. Dilruba, instrumental Bayati Shiraz.

The gushe of the Dilruba consists of a short motif and its repetition with a different arrival point. The first time, this motif leads up to D; the second – down to B. The descending sequence based upon this motif reveals a gradual downward motion which may invoke the intonation of Isfahan and which leads to a fully presented cadence in Bayati Shiraz. The last section of the dastgah, Ayag, is formed of a chain of sequences, each encircling a single tone of the Bayati Shiraz scale in descending order (Example 4.23). Combining the dense curving pattern with an ostinato repetition of the central pitches, the segments of the sequence are gradually diminished in size and rather simple and relaxed, leading to the meticulously and richly ornamented final cadence of Bayati Shiraz.

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sequence

tr

cadence

Example 4.23. Ayag, instrumental Bayati Shiraz. Transcription cannot express the intricacy of Azerbaijanian melody woven from very small motifs.19 Repeated, varied, expanded, diminished, reversed, or frozen as a contemplation of a single tone, these bits of sounds spin into a chain of arabesques joined to each other and unified in a single musical flow into a composition of about twenty minutes' length. The analysis of the dastgah reveals structural principles outlining the composition on every level: a short intonation anticipates the melodic contour of the section; the coupled motifs with balanced melodic lines reflect the symmetrical order of the large parts; the tonal range of the parts defines the structural and dramatic progression of the entire composition; and the tonal centers determine the internal conflict as the overall dramaturgy. While the analysis of the instrumental Bayati Shiraz involves a dissection of the composition of movements, parts, gushes, themes, motifs, and intonations, the listener perceives the dastgab as a single piece with no distinct separation between sections, and without dynamic, tempo, or even register contrasts. Dramatic unity is achieved through different devices, such as the combination of canon and improvisation, symmetry and asymmetry, and repetition and transformation.

CHAPTER 5

The Modernization/Westernization of Mugham

UGHAM IS OFTEN CONSIDERED AN URBAN ART FORM. As MENTIONED earlier, THREE cities in the nineteenth century were famous for their mugham performers: Shusha, the center of Garabag; Shemakha of Shirvan; and Baku on the Apsheron peninsula. High in the mountains, where the voice of the khanande competed with the wind and echoed from the mountain heights, Shusha was the crossroads of Transcaucasia. Described by every visiting native poet, it was one of the most influential cities in the Caucasus and "the cradle of music and poetry" (Vurgun, 1943). According to Azerbaijanian musicologist Zemfira Safarova, "From this city, which played the role of musical conservatory for all Transcaucasia, every season and every month brought new songs and new melodies" (Safarova, 1973: 11). "Almost all the famous singers and musicians of Azerbaijan were born in Shusha," claims the Azerbaijanian poet, playwright, and scholar Samed Vurgun.1 The Russian poet Sergei Esenin wrote: "If one is not singing, one is not from Shusha" (Esenin, 1962: 205). In the second half of the nineteenth century, the majlis2—a gathering of poets, musicians, and philosophers—played a major role in the musical life of cities such as Shusha. The central event of these private meetings was the performance and discussion of mugham (Istoria Azerbaijanskoi musiki, 1992: 108). Signifying the community of musicians—students, masters, and performers—the majlis has been referred to as a school of mugham Many musicians from Garabag moved to Baku at the turn of the twentieth century,3 a time when the landscape of Azerbaijan suddenly sprouted oil derricks and when palaces, theaters, and luxurious residences arose in Baku, signifying the "oil baron period" (Blair 1998: 29). Baku, the oil cap-

M

91

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Figure 5.1. Mugham Trio: Jabbar Garyaghdi, Kurban Primov, and Sasha Oganezashvili (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Culture) ital of the Russian empire4 (Altstadt 1992: 21), attracted investments and investors as well as engineers, laborers, and capitalists. The "desert city [with] not yet a single street that might be considered European" became a place of mass migration for Russians, Germans, Englishmen, Armenians, Turks, and Iranians. Due to imperial politics and the development of the oil industry, which lured thousands of foreigners to Baku, the native Azeri population of the city dropped from sixty percent in 1897 to twenty-one percent in 1913 (Altstadt, 1992: 28–33). Yet according to Altstadt, "despite the native's demographic disadvantage, Baku remained the 'natural capital' and drew the educated, talented, and hard-working Azerbaijani Turks from Shusha, Ganja, Tiflis, and elsewhere in the region" (1992: 32). The city's cultural life was largely determined by the presence of a European commercial elite as well as Armenian emigrants and Russian administrators, financiers, and laborers. Capitalists such as the Nobels and the Parisian Rothschilds5 brought their managers, advisers, and engineers. Their presence created a market for Western European artforms. In 1889 Baku was visited by the Tiflis Opera Theater performing Rusalka by Alexander Dargomizhsky, Eugene Onegin by Pyotr Tchaikovsky, The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini, Otello by Giuseppe Verdi, and Carmen by Georges Bizet. During the last decade of the nineteenth century, musical life in Baku flourished, marked by performances of a ballet troupe from Warsaw;6 the Ukrainian Opera Theater; renowned European

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and Russian musicians such as pianists Joseph Hoffman, Alexander Ziloti, Emil Sauer, and Vassily Safonov;7 and singers Desiree Artot, 8 Marianne Anderson, and Fyodor Chaliapin singing in productions such as Mozart and Salieri by Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov and Boris Godunov by Modest Mussorgsky (Istoria azerbaijanskoi musiki, 1992: 125). The economic boom led to the formation of a commercial and industrial elite among native Azeris. Altstadt writes that besides their economic and political clout, often exerted behind the scenes, this elite was instrumental in creating a cultural enlightenment (Altstadt, 1992: 33). The leaders of this movement founded schools, built theaters, and established newspapers in Russian and native languages. Azeris from the provinces were attracted to the active and promising life in the cities, especially Baku. At the beginning of the twentieth century, among the outstanding performers who moved to Baku were khanandes Jabbar Garyaghdi oglu, Kechachi oglu Muhammad, Zabul Gasim, and Seyid Shushinski, tar players Kurban Primov and Mashadi Jamil Amirov and kamancha player Sasha Oganezashvili. These musicians performed at weddings and theatrical presentations, and established Eastern Concerts which brought to the stage groups of musicians performing traditional Azerbaijanian music (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 126). The Eastern Concerts brought together important musicians from different Azerbaijanian localities and became a venue in which national musical expression was forged. CHANGES IN MUGHAM PERFORMANCE IN THE EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY A flyer of 1886 announced the Tiflis premiere of the comedy Misie Jordan and Dervish Mast Ali Shah staged by a group of "Tatar amateurs" and with the "famous Sadikhjan and the devoted Persian court singer Mirza-Ali performing during intermissions" (Shushinski,1979: 44). Sadikhjan's disciples inherited this practice of performing mugham in the intermission or as a part of dramatic presentations. The trio of Jabbar Garyaghdi, as well as other strong mugham performers, played between the acts of dramatic productions of a theatrical group formed by Azerbaijanian intellectuals in the village Balakhani near Baku. "Azerbaijanian dramatic theater became one of the most progressive features of Azerbaijanian culture at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth century" (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 133). The integration of mugham and theater led to the creation of the first Azerbaijanian mugham operas such as Leili and Majnun (1907), based upon the classic poem of the Azerbaijanian author Fizuli (1498–1556). Mugham performers such as Kurban Primov and Ahmad Agdamsky became involved in this opera production. The role of Majnun

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was played by Husseingulu Sarabski. Among the conspicuous khanandes participating in this opera was the young singer Bülbül playing two female roles. The affiliation of Azerbaijanian mugham players with Azerbaijanian opera signified their interest in European classical culture, as well as a compromise between improvised and composed, between oral and written musical traditions. In a poster dated January 12, 1908, the caption above the title Leili and Majnun reads, in bold type, "Opera in the 'Muslim language'" Similarly the program notes—one folded leaf divided in two halves, one half in Russian and the other in Azeri (written in Arabic script)—announce that the opera will be shown "for the first time on the Muslim stage." Below are the names of two brothers, Uzeyir and Jeyhun Hajibeyov. The second name has been lost in Soviet annals because of Jeyhun's immigration to France in 1919. Throughout the years of socialistic Azerbaijan, the existence of Jeyhun was not acknowledged, and Uzeyir Hajibeyov was cited as the sole creator of the opera Leili and Majnun and of the genre mugham opera. The program notes also mention the Eastern orchestra under the leadership of Gurban Primov. The term "Eastern" was commonly used referring to events connected with Azerbaijanian music and groups of native musicians. The first Eastern concerts gathered celebrated mugham performers such as Kechachi oglu Muhammad, Sadikhjan, Grikor Bala oglu9 and Jabbar Garyaghdi oglu (performing ghazals of Azerbaijanian poets in Azeri). On January 11, 1902, Jabbar Garyaghdi participated in a large four-part concert of Eastern music held in Baku.10 Another Eastern concert on January 23 was staged to benefit the Russian-Tatars Majlis School in Shemakha. The program combined various musical genres; the Eastern orchestra opened and closed the concert. The soloists were listed only by their first names; next to the names Jabbar and Seyid of Baku (perhaps Jabbar Garyaghdi and Seyid Shushinski) on the concert program was a list of distinguished ashigs participating in the performance. The tradition of the Eastern concert continued throughout the first decades of the twentieth century. For example, an Eastern Concert of 1918 in Baku combined numbers performed by an orchestra of "Eastern instruments" and solo pieces for the tar with arias and duets from Azerbaijanian operas and musicals. It also included the third act of the recently composed operetta Arshin Mal Alan [The Clothes Peddler] by Uzeyir Hajibeyov (1913), a duet of ashigs, and two dastgahs (Segah and Gatar) performed by Seyid Shushinski. An Eastern Orchestra organized by Hajibeyov in 1931,

Figure 5.2. Poster for the premiere of Hajibeyov's Leili and Majnun. (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture)

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was, unlike its predecessors, designed to play written music by native and European composers. The use of expressions such as "Eastern orchestra," "Eastern concert," "Muslim language," "Muslim stage," or "Tatar amateurs," applied to long-established musical traditions, manifests an obscure notion of the ethnic and cultural identity of Azerbaijanians. This attitude, typical of cosmopolitan Baku, in many respects defined the viewpoint of Azerbaijanian intellectuals who laid the foundation of modern Azerbaijanian culture. 11 TRANSITION FROM PRE-SOVIET TO SOVIET AZERBAIJAN After seventy years of rule by the Russian empire, Transcaucasia was divided into separate republics to meet the needs of Soviet policy and, eventually, the aspirations of rising nationalistic movements.12 Although Azerbaijan was not Russified during the nineteenth century, the notion of the supremacy of Russian-European civilization colored all Azerbaijanian cultural developments under the Russian empire.13 I. Berezin, a nineteenthcentury specialist in the Russian East, exemplified such chauvinism when he wrote that "close acquaintance with the educated nation [Russia] and European music improved the taste of our Caucasian Muslims" (Akhmedov, 1989: 40). The notion of Russian cultural superiority continued in the Soviet period. Stalin stated that "the national question in the Caucasus can be resolved only by enticing the primitive, uncultured nations and peoples into the flow of the highest culture" (Vinogradov, 1938: 7). The Soviet cultural policy that resulted from this belief followed several directions, including the promotion of indigenous "folk" musics which were to be shaped in accordance with Russian/Soviet ideology. Soviet policies also encouraged the appreciation of Western/Russian classical music and the development of Western-modeled educational institutions to teach both folk and classical music. Officially, the Soviets encouraged the propagation of the music and cultures of different ethnic groups and republics by establishing National Cultural Decades. Every identified national group held concerts and art exhibitions in Moscow. These events followed a concept proposed by Lenin and promulgated by Stalin which defined Soviet art as "national in form and socialistic in content" (Nestiev, 1954: 64). Soviet ideas were to be dressed in national or folk 'costume.' Consequently, ethnically diverse expressions could progress, according to the Soviet official theory, only by conforming to Russian/Soviet cultural heritage.14 Socialistic content, at the Figure 5.3. Poster of Eastern Concert 23 January 1902. (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture)

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same time, established the arts as a mechanism of Soviet propaganda. Declaring the formation of a united "socialistic nation" with fully controllable art, Soviet policy developed uniform institutions and specialists— artists and musicians—as agents of this unified culture constructed on diversified ethnic grounds. The policies, applied to the ethnic 'provinces' of Russia, led to a significant modification of native musical traditions. Mark Slobin visited Uzbekistan in 1968 and, disappointed with the "Europeanization" of Uzbek music (the re-tuning of the native musical instruments, the "adoption" of European scales and repertoire), wrote about the "clash of my skeptical ethnomusicologist's approach with the official musical line propagated by Soviet publications" (Slobin, 1971: 8). Theodore Levin, also conducting fieldwork in Uzbekistan, wrote that "the Soviet Union did its utmost to reinforce the physical continuity of Soviet Eurasia with a cultural rapprochement between East and West. But Soviet-style rapprochement meant East meeting West on Western terms (Levin 1996: 9). One result of this cultural rapprochement, according to Levin, was that the Uzbek Shah Maqam, at least as taught in the academy, turned into what he called "frozen music" (Levin 1996: 45). In Azerbaijan, the Europeanization of music in the early decades of the twentieth century was viewed from two extreme positions: some, believing that the Azerbaijanian musical tradition was old-fashioned and needed rejuvenation, embraced European culture; others wanted to preserve Azerbaijanian musical forms, completely separating them from external influences (which did not coincide with Soviet politics). The Soviet bureaucracy, playing with notion of "nationalism" under the umbrella of "internationalism," assembled a control system based on the notion that national cultures had universal content, in Slobin's words a "doctrine of monoethnic identity" as "part of an invented homogeneity" (Slobin, 1996: 3). Soviet policies that supported the definition of Azerbaijanian and other ethnicities and cultures aimed to create satellites that would reinforce Russian/Soviet hegemony. Thus modernization and politicization characterized Azerbaijanian music during the Soviet period, establishing new social roles for artists and musicians. The status of a musician was based on education and professional, teaching, or performing position. Compositions were evaluated by the criteria of Soviet art and politics. While the Soviet control of art placed restrictions on artists and performers, the increased social standing of musicians may have been viewed by many as an improvement on the earlier condition of musicians. Since the Islamic attitude towards music has always been ambivalent, and religious purists considered the "effect of music an intoxicating, misleading agent of the devil" (Shiloah, 1995: 60), the social standing of performing musicians,

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though varied, had been generally low. However, respect and admiration were paid to musical scholars, theorists, and educated people. Soviet education, by contrast, gave musicians official titles as well as professional positions. One reason for Hajibeyov's prominence may have been the way he fit with both Soviet and traditional Islamic values. He was an educated man (the Teacher's Seminary in Gori and the Conservatory in St. Petersburg), a musical theorist, teacher, and composer, but not a performer (according to the traditional Islamic viewpoint, the profession of performer was looked down upon, while musical scholarship was highly esteemed). He founded educational institutions and believed in the propagation and preservation of Azerbaijanian music through revitalizing contacts with Russian and Western musical culture. Hajibeyov constructed a new image of the musician for his colleagues and their musical offspring in a rapidly changing social scene. THE CENTRAL POSITION OF UZEMIR HAJIBEYOV The role of Uzemir Hajibeyov (1895–1948) in Azerbaijan is interpreted differently in his native land and abroad. For example, Levin sees Hajibeyov as a reductionist who imposed Western forms on indigenous theory and performing practice by adjusting the complex microtonal scale to fit the Western tempered system. For Levin, Hajibeyov appears as the one "responsible for forging and reconstituting an authoritative musical system and repertoire." He believes that in the case of Azerbaijanian music (mugham) the "present-day performing practice as well as analyses . . . rely heavily on the reductions" of this man (Levin, 1984: 303). In Azerbaijan, Hajibeyov is seen as a person who reformed, compiled, and enriched native traditions. Azerbaijanian adherents of native as well as European genres— every ashig, sazande, composer, and musicologist I have met—refer to Hajibeyov with great respect, often calling him Uzeyirbek.15 He is recognized in native literature as a humanist, an artist, a composer of unique talent, and a scientist who built the foundation of Azerbaijanian musicology. Respected in intellectual circles in pre-Soviet Azerbaijan, his reformist ideas were consonant with the socialistic political agenda and likewise fit the nationalistic stream in music of the post-Soviet period. Born and raised in Shusha, Hajibeyov learned the tradition of mugham from his mother's brother Agalar bek Aliverdibekov. The first composer of Azerbaijan, Hajibeyov began a lineage of professional composers such as Niyazi, Gara Garayev, Fikret Amirov, Suleiman Aleskerov, Jahangir Jahangirov, Arif Melikov, Seyid Rustamov, Vasif Adigozal, Akshin Alizade, Faraj Garayev, Azer Dadashev, Franghiz Ali-Zade and many others, all of whom have called themselves his disciples. Like Hajibeyov, they aimed to express the Azerbaijanian musical character by integrating the music they

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grew up with and the European classical repertoire they learned in schools, colleges, and conservatories in Azerbaijan and elsewhere. Following Uzeyirbek, they developed hybrid genres like mugham-opera and operetta, symphonic mugham, mugham fantasy, and chamber pieces that wedded classical and Azerbaijanian musics. Hajibeyov created the genres of both mugham- and ashig-opera, which captured the imagination of Azerbaijanian musicians and resulted in the creation and performance of many musical spectacles. Among them are Keroglu by Hajibeyov (1937), Shah Ismail by M. Magomayev (1919), Vatan by G. Garayev and J. Hajiev (1945), Sevil by F. Amirov (1953), and Azad by J. Jahangirov (1957) (Zokhrabov and Kasimova, 1987: 199–202). As a composer, Hajibeyov integrated Azerbaijanian and European traditions, founding the first orchestra for folk instruments using written music.16 Attempting to combine monophonic Azerbaijanian music with a harmonic and polyphonic European tradition, Hajibeyov included a piano in his orchestra to play the bass part, providing the harmonic foundation generally absent from traditional music.17 Since that time, the piano, viewed as a solo instrument connected with European classical music, has often been added to enlarged traditional ensembles of Azerbaijanian musical instruments. The role of Hajibeyov and his associates is also significant in the area of musical research. In the 1920s Hajibeyov and Magomayev began to collect and notate Azerbaijanian folk songs (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 146). In 1927, they issued a collection of Azerbaijanian Turkic Folk Songs, transcribed from the singing of Aliverdibekov {Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 264). The initiative of Hajibeyov and Magomayev was continued by Tofig Guliyev and Zakir Bagirov, who in the 1930s transcribed several mughams performed by tar player M. Mansurov. A significant number of mughams were collected by composer and folklorist Nariman Mammadov, who notated the performance of Azerbaijanian sazandes Arif Bakikhanov and Bahram Mansurov (Efendieva, 1987: 208). Ever since, virtually every musicologist has developed a personal collection of mugham and native folk music which they use for their research and publication. Hajibeyov is renowned in Azerbaijan as the founder of modern native musical theory. Formulating his theory of Azerbaijanian modes and the structural basis of mugham, he relied on the treatises of medieval philosophers and scientists Safiaddin al Urmavi (1216–1294) 18 and Abdulkadir Maraghi (1353-1437) and on the written works of the best-known nineteenth-century musicologist in this region, Navvab Mir Mohsun. 19 Hajibeyov acknowledged musical ties to rest of the Caucasus: "Among Armenians there are many good tar players and kamancha players, as there are many well known zurna and balaban players among Georgians" (Hajibeyov, 1926: 27). He saw Azerbaijanian music as part of the Eastern

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family seeking development through "theoretical and practical interaction with other Eastern musics" (Safarova, 1985: 75). He believed that merging Azerbaijanian music with a 'universal' European culture would revitalize his native music. His determination to achieve cultural progress,20 shared by the Azerbaijanian intelligentsia at the beginning of the century, later matched the official course of Soviet cultural politics. Educated at Soviet musical institutions in Azerbaijan, subsequent generations of talented theorists and musicologists inherited the ideas planted by Hajibeyov and his contemporaries. Varied in approach, the works of Azerbaijanian theorists during the Soviet period reveal subordination to Russian and European musical science and culture. Azerbaijanian musicologists I interviewed believe that Hajibeyov, by choosing negotiation and integration between local and Western European (mainly Russian) traditions, helped Azerbaijanian music prosper. For example, Babayev states that the Russian musical school was "an engine which propelled Azerbaijanian music forward a couple of centuries (Interview with E. Babayev)." Years before Hajibeyov defined the mugham Bayati Shiraz in his Principles of Azerbaijanian Folk Music (1945), he used it in his first opera Leili and Majnun (1908) and in Keroglu (1938), which signaled the birth of native composed music. TWO MUGHAM OPERAS BY HAJIBEYOV Hajibeyov's fascination with opera 21 coincided with his political agenda to advance Azerbaijanian music, bridging it with European (Russian) culture and by overcoming conflicts within Azerbaijanian society, which was divided between the Western-oriented local elite and the majority of Azerbaijanians tied to centuries-old traditions. Pursuing the idea of creating a national opera, Hajibeyov faced serious obstacles, especially the unfamiliarity of natives with European operatic tradition and a lack of performers competent in both Azerbaijanian music and opera. These two factors determined many of the composer's decisions in his first opera. Introducing the operatic genre to Azerbaijanians who were "alien to contemporary professional music," Hajibeyov recognized that "his audience could only accept an opera performed in folk style, containing familiar melodies and based on a well known poignant plot" (Abbasova, 1960: 14–15). Since ancient times, the legend of Leili and Majnun has been sung by poets and musicians and retold by ashigs. The version created by Fizuli was generally favored by khanandes in their mugham performances. The narrative of Leili and Majnun also had a stage history. Elmira Abbasova writes that Fizuli's Leili and Majnun served as the basis for mugham improvisations in majlises and was also produced in various theatrical circles (Abbasova, 1960: 26). Hajibeyov himself recalled that in his

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Song from the Land of Fire Figure 5.4. Sarabski as Majnun, 1908. (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture)

home town Shusha, in 1897, he attended an amateur production of a musical tragedy entitled Majnun Near the Grave of Leili. According to Hajibeyov, this unforgettable experience (for a thirteen-year-old boy) led him to the idea of writing an opera about the legend (Hajibeyov, 1938). Scenes from Fizuli's Leili and Majnun were also included in a program of Eastern Concerts in Baku, 1901. The part of Majnun was performed by Jabbar Garyaghdi. This theatrical version became popular and was introduced in cities and villages throughout Azerbaijan and abroad. In his opera, Hajibeyov relied on familiar dances and songs performed in folk celebrations and in routine life. By choosing mugham as the basis of his opera, the composer connected it with folk traditions and simultaneously gave native classical music a new life. "Leili and Majnun appears to

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me," writes Sanubar Bagirova, "to be a gigantic mugham dastgah with traditional parts . . . and with a characteristic dramaturgy, for Azerbaijanian dastgah, of increasing emotional tension" (Bagirova 2002: 204) Forging mugham into an opera, the composer preserved the essence of mugham by including improvisation. This approach was also dictated by practical matters: not many musicians participating in the production could read musical notation. Consequently, the score of Leili and Majnun appears as "directione" (direction) or a "working version of the poetic text with indications of mughams performed with different segments of poetry. Hajibeyov wrote down only an overture, intermissions between acts, and song and dance-like episodes (including marches and waltzes)" (Abbasova, 1960: 29). The homophonic style largely prevailed,22 and the instrumentation was simple, matching the size and capacity of a small orchestra that combined strings with the tar, kamancha, and daf23 The scenes were unified according to mugham principles. A succession of solo improvisations and improvisational dialogues between the main characters was interspersed with instrumental (dance-like) episodes and choruses. Including several mugham episodes in the opera, Hajibeyov created a wide emotional palette. In the love scene of the first act, the composer employs the mugham Segah, which "in Azerbaijanian music is always used to express feelings of love" (Abbasova, 1960: 34) and is often performed for weddings. The happy tone of the Segah colors the dialogue of Leili and Majnun (then Heis) and also reappears in an aria where Majnun tells his parents about his love. The "melancholy and sadness" (Hajibeyov, 1985: 16) of Bayati Shiraz portray the main character at the beginning of the third act, when he appears transformed from the joyful and kindhearted Heis to the hurt and love-crazed Majnun, hiding in the desert. This opera shows the possibility of employing mugham in classical European musical theater, mediating between oral and written musical text, combining folk and orchestral musical instruments, and applying basic harmonies and polyphonic devices to traditionally monophonic Azerbaijanian music. In 1938, thirty years after Leili and Majnun, Hajibeyov, by then the author of many operas and operettas, composed the opera Keroglu, which has been referred to as an "encyclopedia of Hajibeyov's style" (Abezgauz, 1987: 11). In this monumental theatrical composition (a five-act play, with choruses of fifty to seventy people, dance scenes in the second act, and a horse appearing in the last act), the composer converged the traditions of the grand opera, Russian and European symphonic music, and mugham. As in his previous theatrical compositions, Hajibeyov used a theme most appealing to an Azerbaijanian audience. Because this opera is based on a dastan in the repertoire of every Azerbaijanian ashig and folk singer and

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because the main character in the opera is an ashig, it is referred to as an ashig-opera. The story is centered on the heroic resistance of the Azerbaijanians against Turkish and Persian invaders and also against the local tyrants of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.24 A young man surrounded by friends, Keroglu (meaning 'son of a blind man') enters his village to find that his father, an old horsegroom, has been blinded at the order of the malicious Hasan Khan, and that Keroglu's bride Nargiz has been captured by the ruler. When Keroglu declares war against Hasan Khan, the villagers, enraged by the long-lasting despotism of the Persian ruler, follow Keroglu. A clever and courageous man, he is capable of fighting with a sword as a soldier, and of singing and playing his saz as an ashig. Like the earlier operas of Hajibeyov and his colleagues, Keroglu employs both native musical material including songs, dances, mughams, and Western classical idioms and forms, such as an orchestral overture, arias, duets, ensembles, choruses, and interludes between scenes. Unlike Hajibeyov's earlier operas, Keroglu is not improvised but completely written down. Native musicologist Izabella Abezgauz suggests that "one of the most important discoveries of Hajibeyov [in this opera] was that the composer detected the points of convergence between specifically national motivic organization and its development in classical terms, and that he found in the national musical syntax the roots of symphonic style which he was able to advance" (Abezgauz, 1987: 98). The structure of the overture is based on the principles of the sonata form and includes elements of the suite. It begins with an introduction containing two themes, one a heroic manifesto and the other a proclamation of victory; the second is repeated in the coda of the overture. The first (main) theme of the exposition portrays courageous fighters, and the second theme becomes a leitmotif expressing the love of Keroglu and Nigar. The contrast between the themes, typical of the sonata allegro form, is softened here because of the melodic and rhythmical ostinato. At the same time, the composer introduces a wide emotional spectrum of different mugham-modes. The dark, heroic sound of the introduction in mode Shur changes to the flying dance motion of the main theme in Segah. This is followed by a lyric cantilena of the second theme in Bayati Shiraz, a dramatic development section in mode Chahargah, and a triumphal reprise in mode Rast. For Westerners, the native modal palette of the overture may appear as an interplay of G major (the main theme of exposition and reprise) and G minor (the introduction and the second theme in Bayati Shiraz), inflected with D major as the dominant key (development). While G is the tonic of the overture, D functions as "the hidden center of the main theme and the introduction" (Abezgauz, 1987: 159), and as an alternative center in the

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second theme of the exposition in the mode Bayati Shiraz. Here the recurrence of D creates a tonal duality (leading to the shift towards D, Chahargah in the development section) reminiscent of the contest between G and D in the versions of Bayati Shiraz analyzed earlier. The second theme in Bayati Shiraz is a lyric song. It is written down, harmonized, and contains an element of polyphonic imitation. These features, contrasting with the improvised and monophonic tradition of mugham, reveal the influence of Western classical music. The composer does not use familiar songs or mugham gushes. Dissociated from its conventional form, Bayati Shiraz is placed within the frame of sonata allegro. Musical theorists unfamiliar with Azerbaijanian mughams could argue that the second theme is written in the harmonic G minor. What then allows one to consider this theme as representative of Bayati Shiraz? Why is this overture treasured by the native audience as a manifestation of national culture? Why do Azerbaijanian musicologists refer to this particular piece as an antecedent of the genre of mugham symphony? One attentively listening to and analyzing the second episode of the overture's exposition finds that its harmonic language is nearly transparent, consisting of tonic and dominant harmonies; and even those episodes are rarely played in triads and more often sound in parallel intervallic motion, emphasizing melodic rather than harmonic aspects, (m. 3–4, 11). The imitation in the second phrase does not show simultaneous movement of the two upper voices. The polyphonic element is almost deceptive. If not for the sustained notes, the two voices could converge into the single winding melodic line characteristic of mugham improvisation. The two lower parts are formed of tonic G and an ostinato repetition alternating between D and E flat. The combination of a droning tone and the pulsation of two neighboring tones is typical of mugham improvisations. The process of melodic expansion in the second theme is also representative of mugham. It begins with a four-measure lyric melody. A threenote motif extracted from the initial "thesis" 25 forms a chain of sequences expanding into the six measures of the second phrase. Each segment of the descending 'canonical' sequence encircles the successive tones of the Bayati Shiraz scale, emphasizing the interval of an augmented second typical of the mugham-mode. This type of melodic expansion is characteristic of mugham improvisations analyzed in the previous chapter. Practically every improvised section of the mugham compositions I have examined begins with a statement of a distinctive and concise melodic thesis. Then this thesis is divided into fragments; and these fragments or particles of the initial motif form a chain of sequences which emphasizes the range of the section by encircling each tone in successive order. (See, for example, the Bardasht and the Maye from the instrumental Bayati Shiraz.)

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Example 5.1. The second theme from the exposition of the overture, Keroglu. The melodic coherence of the second theme in Hajibeyov's overture is primarily based upon a short rhythmic figure Sustained throughout this section, it provides another layer of ostinato (in addition to the low parts). Like mugham improvisations, the repetition and sequences define the developments of the theme. For example, the cadence, formed of a wavy melodic line encircling G (m. 12), seemingly leads to a final tonic. Then the same motif is repeated two steps higher and ends with D. The closure of the second theme introduces a shift between G, the tonic of the Bayati Shiraz, and the alternative tonal center D, which is also emblematic of this mugham. All the features discussed above—sequences, ostinato melodic and rhythmic figures, ornamentation, and the importance of the motif-thesis— are essential features of Azerbaijanian mugham. Operating within the frame of the Western classical sonata allegro, these musical elements change form. The introduction is long in proportion to the rest of the overture and contains thematic material functioning as the main melodic impulse. For instance, the melodic content of the second theme in Bayati

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Shiraz is similar to the beginning of the introduction, demonstrating a unifying melodic contour hardly recognized in the elaborate clothing of the overture.

Example 5.2. Introduction of the overture, Keroglu. Another adjustment in the sonata form occurs in a reprise where the second theme is omitted. Abezgauz associates the missing second theme with the composer's "intention to invigorate the dynamics of the reprise and to find the shortest way for its powerful stream directed towards a coda-apogee—the culmination of the overture" (Abezgauz, 1987: 162). Abezgauz also suggests that the lyric tone of mode Bayati Shiraz does not match the character of mode Rast used in the reprise. "Modulation from Bayati Shiraz, on the other hand, seems almost impossible without losing the specific coloring and the character of the theme" (Abezgauz, 1987: 162). Omitted from the recapitulation of the overture, Bayati Shiraz again occurs in the song of Nigar from Act two (Sound track six: Aria Nigar, Act II, opera Keroglu). Here it expresses the sorrow of Nigar upon learning that Keroglu's father has been blinded, worrying about her beloved and anticipating dramatic events. Like light haze, like dreams, Passing the days of spring. Cry Nigar, Cry Nigar! As if in a cage, my days are passing Without a clear sunrise, without the rose of love. . . In accordance with the tradition of mugham performances, this aria begins with a declamation in G which gradually expands into a balanced and beautifully curved melody. As in the overture, the unity is provided by a rhythmical formula:

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Example 5.3. The recitative-like opening of the aria "Cry Nigar," Keroglu. which serves as a motif-thesis. The initial two-measure rhythmical figure is fragmented in the second phrase, where it spins into a chain of sequences. While the four-step motif is directed downwards, a chain of sequences introduces uprising motion balanced by a descent to the maye of Bayati Shiraz G. Modification of the initial declamation in G is the basis for the dramatic development in this aria. At the moment of culmination, one hears again the variation of the episode shown above. It is striking that the composer shifts the words of the refrain of the first part (Cry, Nigar!) to the motif-thesis of the culmination, banishing sweet dreams and expressing grief and sorrow. Cry, Nigar, Cry! Cry, Nigar, Cry! Alas, who will stop my anguish? Who will come to warm my soul?

Example 5.4. The melodic elaboration and dramatization of the initial theme from aria "Cry Nigar," Keroglu. Merging the initial rhythmical formula with melodic elaboration on the words "Cry, Nigar!" the composer dramatizes the heroine's part. The sustained recitation in G is now replaced with a rising scale, which leads to the second phrase a fifth higher and diminished in size. The leap of a fifth leading to the cadence on D and the central position of this episode in the

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structure of the aria allow one to view this section as a reference to the Huzzal of the vocal Bayati Shiraz. According to Hajibeyov's description of Huzzal introduced before, this section is characterized by a rise to the area of the fifth above the maye G and by its position in the middle of the mugham. Whether or not the inclusion of this seemingly insignificant gesture was a conscious decision of the composer, it reveals his mugham thinking. The analysis of Bayati Shiraz in Hajibeyov's operas is important in a discussion of mugham. Transforming music throughout the twentieth century, mugham composers established a dialogue with Western classical music while preserving the essence of native expression in the midst of social and cultural turmoil. The examples from the two operas invite further investigation of the inherent balance of the mugham formulae with improvisation. In Leili and Majnun, whose genre is defined by Abbasova as improvised opera (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 29), the main characters and their feelings are expressed in improvisations. For native listeners, musical improvisation itself served as an invariable component of the newly introduced genre. In contrast, the episodes from Keroglu involve no improvisation or citation of mugham gushes. However, the original melodies created by the composer stress the modal basis and emphasize the tonal centers and their connections to the mugham formulae. The melody itself—its elaboration grounded in motivic cells, fragmented, repeated in sequences, varied, balanced with ostinatos of single tones or short distinctive "bits of sound," weaving a peculiar melodic arabesque—is identical to mugham monody. The excerpts of Bayati Shiraz from the two operas introduce different ways of the combining of canon and improvisation: adapting operatic genre to accommodate mugham in the first opera and creating a synthetic genre in the second. In Leili and Majnun, Hajibeyov simply inserts or dresses mugham in an operatic frame. If mugham improvisation serves as an invariable element of Leili and Majnun, the genre of opera itself and the realm of theater function for native listeners as variable elements. Therefore, the balance between mugham, "the familiar, inescapable components of consciousness" and opera, "unstable, almost subversive spontaneity," is achieved. In the years separating the first production of Leili and Majnun and the premier of Keroglu, opera (mainly improvised) flourished in Baku. Several newly composed productions were shown annually. Among them were operas that became Azerbaijanian classics: Shah Sanam, and Asli and Kerem by Uzeyir Hajibeyov, Shah Ismail by Muslim Magomayev, Ashig Garib by Zulfugar Hajibeyov and others. By the time Hajibeyov composed Keroglu, the audience was already acquainted with the elements of opera:

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arias, duets, choruses, and the orchestra. By bringing together the formal patterns of opera and mugham melody, the written musical text and the native modal system, the composer used two "canons" whose juxtaposition resulted in a new form. According to the Azerbaijanian musicologists Ramiz Zokhrabov and Solmaz Kasimova, "Keroglu exemplifies a synthesis of two different types of cognition, one of mugham and the other of operatic/symphonic artforms" (Zokhrabov and Kasimova, 1987: 199). Between the two operas, a span of thirty years marked by drastic changes taking place in Azerbaijan and musical cultures, new musical institutions were established and new types of musicians were produced.

CHAPTER 6

Mugham Lineages: Fathers and Sons, Masters and Disciples

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HE MOST PROFOUND MANIFESTATION OF CHANGE IN AZERBAIJANIAN

music during the twentieth century was the coexistence of two separate musical spheres, Russian/European and native Azerbaijanian. This new musical development became apparent in musical training, affected by Western/Soviet influences in three major ways. The first involves the foundation of a new system of musical education that replicated Russian and European academic standards and embraced multiple levels of training from musical schools to institutions of higher education. It defined a new type of relationship among musicians and between musicians and audiences. The second area of influence is connected with the arrival of musical specialists invited by Hajibeyov. Among the musicians attracted by the high position, generous pay, and warm climate was Boris Zeidman, a mentor of many Azerbaijanian composers and the first professor of composition at the Conservatory. His pupils included Fikret Amirov, Sultan Hajibeyov, Suleiman Aleskerov, and Ashraf Abbasov. The departments of musicology, instrumental, and vocal performance were formed by specialists from Russian musical centers. A school of Azerbaijanian piano performance was established by three pianists and teachers, M. Brenner, G. Sharoev, and M. Pressman. Pianist Farhad Badalbeyli was one of Brenner's last students. 1 The third type of influence involved Azerbaijanian musicians educated in reputable music schools outside Azerbaijan. Uzeyir Hajibeyov attended the Conservatory in St. Petersburg. Niyazi Tagi-zade-Hajibeyov studied composition in the musical colleges of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Murtuz Bulbul learned vocal technique in Italy. Composer Gara Garayev received his degree in composition from the Moscow Conservatory as a student of 111

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Shostakovich. Composer Tofig Bakikhanov, a son of Ahmad Bakikhanov, a highly regarded tar performer of the early twentieth century, recalled how Hajibeyov advised his father to sent both of his children play Western musical instruments. "You have enough students playing traditional musical instruments. Encourage your own children to learn to play Western instruments. One should play the piano, the other, the violin" (Gulnar Aydamirova, Interview with Tofig Bakikhanov, 21 December 2001 ). Many of the descendents of musical families were directed by their elders towards composed music. Why was it important for the descendants of musical families and the native musical school to receive Russian training and formal education? How would Westernization of the culture in the eyes of Hajibeyov and other like-minded intellectuals lead to the awakening of an Azerbaijanian national consciousness? Why was the leadership of this somewhat paradoxical process of Westernization/Sovetization/nationalization undertaken by family dynasties? How was this intricate paradigm related to the two musical traditions and to the distribution of power? Sketching the complex political, economic, social, and cultural life of twentieth century Azerbaijan, as a national consciousness formed against and within the Soviet context, I found it essential to trace the relationships among musicians who created and implemented these processes. As I reviewed historical texts and interviewed contemporary musicians, I found it striking that traditional mugham forms were preserved by master-discipline lineages, and that many fathers and sons benefited from the newly developing hierarchies of Western-style musical institutions and organizations. MASTERS, DISCIPLES, AND THE ORAL TRANSMISSION OF MUSICAL KNOWLEDGE In oral cultures, where musical knowledge is not mediated by written sources, the transmission of performance practice depends entirely on direct personal contact between teacher and pupil. Their communication is not limited to a few hours per week, as in Western musical schools, where the curriculum is compartmentalized (classes of musical history, theory, analysis, general education, instrumental technique), where faculty members are highly specialized, and where teaching responsibilities are shared by several instructors. In the world of oral learning, by contrast, composition, transmission, creation and performance are, as Albert Lord observed, "all one and the same thing" (Lord 1964:101). The master undertakes all aspects of the apprentice musician's existence: studying music, poetry, languages, and philosophy, as well as lifestyle and behavior. Teaching in such musical cultures is therefore based upon continuous interaction between master and pupil, often within a family. Among the

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Pashtun in Afghanistan, for instance, musical knowledge is preserved by dalaks, families of musicians (Sakata 1985:132). In India and Pakistan, the Qawwali 2 learns "the performance idiom and repertoire" . . . "basically from his family" (Qureshi 1987: 98). Qureshi suggests that among the Sufi, intimate familiar links between teacher and pupil are essential to the "memorization of melodic and rhythmic formulae, and . . . the understanding of musical semantics and complex concepts." Blood descendents of accomplished musicians are expected to be advanced in music. However, when these expectations are not fulfilled, Azerbaijanians use an expression: "The talent of father falls asleep in the son." Perhaps the passing of musical craftsmanship from father to son is seen primarily as a valuable inheritance that serves the practical purpose of continuing a family enterprise. But there is clearly a deeper spiritual dimension as well. Theodore Levin, studying Central Asian musics, writes about an Uzbeki bard, Qadir baxshi, who began to sing in his mid-twenties after the death of his father. "Before—the singer says—I had played and sung mainly for myself, but through the recollection of my father's friends and through many recordings of my father [on cassettes], I began to learn his repertory and to follow in the footsteps of my father" (Levin 1996: 149). Many Azerbaijanian musicians learned their trade within the structure of their biological families; others developed family-type loyalties to masters who are not blood relations. The development of kinship beyond the biological family is not, of course, unusual. Anthropologists Harold W. Scheffler and Floyd G. Lounsburry define "genealogically predicated" kinship as well as kinship extended to "individuals who are not genealogically connected" (Hirschfeld 1986: 218). Jenny While suggests that "kinship and group membership can be extended to non-relatives who do what kin do" (While 2000: 130). David Schneider considers kinship as "more of. . . doing than of being" (Schneider 1984: 75). The mode of transmission from father to son or from master to disciple is well suited to the structure and content of Azerbaijanian mugham. The core of mugham performance, as we have seen, is musical improvisation, which, as Lord suggests, requires a musician to be "equipped with a store of formulas, . . . themes and a technique of composition," and guided by "the plan which he has learned along with the other elements of his profession" (Lord 1964: 99). The musical vocabulary of every mugham mode, including melodic and rhythmic motifs and the sequence of the parts in each mugham composition, is typically recited by the teacher and echoed by the pupil. Since mugham weds vocal improvisation with written classical poetry, a student must memorize numerous stanzas, combining them with music to match an event and audience. The life stories of musicians from the early twentieth century show that many mugham performers entered their musical careers at very early ages,

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Figure 6.1. The ensemble of Sadikhjan (tar) and Bülbüljan (khanande, gaval), late 1890s. (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture) studying the trade with members of their families and with family associates. The monograph of Firidun Shushinski, including biographical references to leading mugham performers of the twentieth century, reveals parallel patterns in the stories of three mugham performers who at the turn of the twentieth century formed the most prominent trio in Azerbaijan. All three had musicians in their families. Tar player Gurban Primov was a great-grandson of the famous eighteenth-century ashig Valeh, and a younger brother of a popular singer. Kamancha player Sasha Oganezashvili (1889–1932) (Figure 6.1.-3.1.), taught by his father, began performing at the age of seven on the nagara. Khanande Jabbar Garyaghdi 3 from Shusha learned to sing from his eldest brother, who recited marsia (lament) and participated in religious mysteries during the month of maharram. Studying first with members of their families, young musicians in their teens frequently became apprentices of other masters, leaving their homes to follow their teachers. Ten-year old Oganezashvili accompanied Hacho, an itinerate tar player. Both Primov and Garyaghdi studied with Sadikhjan, an illustrious tar player, who redesigned the tar and changed the Azerbaijanian style of playing. Typically a student accompanied his father or master to poetic and musical gatherings and weddings where he had opportunities to meet with

2.11. Elkhan Muzafarov

2.10. Zamig Aliyev (1950-)

2.9. Gamid Vekilov (1949-)

[2.8. Ramiz Guliyev(1947-)

[2.7. Sarvar Ibragimov (1930-

2.6. Akhsan Dadashev (1924-1976)

2.5. Adil Geray (1919-1973)

2.4. Bahrain Mansurov (19111985)

2.3. Ahmad Bakikhanov (18921973)

3.5. Arif Asadullayev

-3.4. Adalat Vazirov (1951-

3.3. Shafiga Eivazova (1947-)

3.2. Taliat Bakikhanov (1927-)

3.1. Sasha Oganezashvili (1889-1932)

2.l. Gurban Primov (1880-1965) 2.2. Mashadi Jamil Amirov (1875(1928)

KAMANCHA

TAR

performers in twentieth-century Azerbaijan.

class at the Musical College

class at the Conservatory

1.13. Sakina Ismailova (1956-)

1.12. Alim Gasimov (1957-)

U0.Arif Babayev(1938-)

1.8. Alibaba Mammadov (1930-)

1.6. Khan Shushinski (1901-1979)

Figure 6.2 Master-disciple lineage of mugham

class at the Musical College

class at the Conservatory

1.3.Bülbül(1897-1961)

1.5. Zulfi Adigozalov (1898-1963)

1.11. Agakhan Abdullaev (1950-)

1.9. Islam Rzavev (1937-)

1.7. Hagigat Rzayeva (1907-1969)

1.4. Seyid Shusinski (1889-1965)

1.2. Islam Abdullaev (1876-1944)

1.1. Jabbar Garyaghdi oglu (1861-1944)

KHANANDE

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the master's associates. A special event in the life of an apprentice was the day when the master arranged for him to sing or play in a wedding where a renowned mugham player performed. The professional blessing given by an established master to a youngster was (and remains) highly desired. Shushinski, for example, portrays a sixteen-year-old boy from Shusha who accompanied his mentor to a wedding where his master sang in the company of men.4 During a break when the musicians rested, the master requested that his host play a gramophone record of a famous mugham performer renowned for his intense, high-pitched voice. When the recording ended, the master asked his student to repeat the mugham he had just heard. The young performer, competing with the recording, sang with great power and passion. Thereafter he was called Khan, inheriting the name of the khanande on the recording (Abulghasan Khan), to which the name of the city (Shusha) was added. Soon the name of Khan Shushinski (Figure 6.1.-1.6), performer and teacher of mugham, was well known throughout Azerbaijan5 (F. Shushinski, 1979: 71). While the process of transmission of oral music relied on close familylike relations among members of the profession of mugham performers, their social bonding was often strengthened by fundamentalist denunciation of their music, as observed in a number of Islamic communities (Feldman 1996: 139; Qureshi 1997: 263; Nasr 1997: 218). Nieuwkerk refers to musicians in Egypt who, as "members of dishonorable professions," reside in special districts of Cairo (Nieuwkerk 1995: 5, 78–86). 6 Sakata writes that in some Afghan communities, the "families of musicians . . . live in segregated quarters within a village and their dead are buried outside the village cemetery walls" (Sakata 1985: 133). Though I found no evidence of communal actions against musicians in Azerbaijan, in some religious families the association with the musical trade met with strong disapproval and at times outrage. The father of a young tar player, Shirin Akhundov, viewing the tar as the devil's creation, broke and then burned his son's instrument. Thirteen-year-old singer Murtuz Mammadov (later known as Bülbül), after performing at a wedding, escaped his family's anger by leaving his hometown (Komsomolskaya pravda, #75, Shushinski, 172). Both Akhundov and Bülbül, like many others, were in many ways guided by Garyaghdi. The support of fellow musicians played a crucial role in the lives of young performers, many of whom at the rise of the twentieth century moved to Baku. A strong, familial support network, as well as competitiveness, continued to characterize the community of professional musicians in Azerbaijan throughout the coming century.

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MUGHAM AND THE CONSERVATORY Azerbaijan entered the twentieth century with a fairly homogenous oral music culture. The bearers of the classical art of mugham represented a unified social structure based upon the family relations between father and son or master and disciple. The political and cultural changes brought about by the Soviet revolution resulted in a major shift in the way mugham was passed from generation to generation. Instruction of native music was included in the curriculum of specialized education institutions. Among the schools established in the first years of Soviet regime were the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory (1920) (now the Baku Music Academy) and the Turkic Music School (1922), soon transformed into a college. A three-tiered music education system formulated in 1928 encompassed specialized music schools, colleges, and the conservatory, in that hierarchical order. This formalized sequence of musical training, established throughout the Soviet Union, was based on the Russian/European system of musical education. 7 The conservatory, the highest institution of musical education, comprised departments of performance, history/theory, and composition. Along with classes on European classical music, the conservatory initially offered courses of folk music. Though the category of folk music included all native genres, songs of itinerate bards (ashigs), folklore, and mugham, in reality only mugham was and is taught in the Conservatory. (The folk repertory was taught, to some extent, as rangs and tasnifs, parts of mugham.) Celebrated native mugham performers, endorsing and simultaneously deferring to the new European system, enthusiastically taught in the department called the "Eastern Faculty" of the newly opened Conservatory. Garyaghdi, Primov, Oganezashvili, and Seyid Shushinski, who had performed at majlises and weddings as well as on the concert stage, became the first professors in this department, led by Uzeyir Hajibeyov. The study of mugham was thus institutionalized and received a socially and politically acknowledged home. Did the new walls affect the century-existing method of transmission? Very little scholarly material is devoted to the issue of the methodology of teaching mugham in the pre-Soviet and early Soviet period. According to several musicologists, including Elkhan Babayev, the pattern of the study of mugham continued to be based on endless "syllable by syllable" repetition. Each short segment of mugham would be played or recited by the master and echoed by the pupil. The major change in comparison to traditional study involved the conservatory curriculum, which along with mugham classes included Western musical disciplines, such as solfeggio, music appreciation, and others that required fluency in musical notation. The coexistence of the two different musical traditions and two systems of teaching, Western and native, under the same administrative and

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academic roof was a challenge. Enthusiasts of unified musical education demanded that students in folk departments study European music theory and history. The integration of educational systems resulted in the formation of a new type of performer. For example, the young khanande Bulbiil, well known throughout the Caucasus by 1915, entered the vocal department of the Azerbaijanian Convervatory in 1921. After his graduation in 1927, he left for Italy, where he studied operatic singing. By the time of his return to Azerbaijan, the singer had become a striking example of a hybrid musician able to perform both European classical repertoire and Azerbaijanian mugham. He also represented two major lineages, one linking him to Garyaghdi, the pioneer of the current 'school' of Azerbaijanian khanande, and the other to the bel canto singers of Italy. Bülbül nevertheless appeared to be an exception. In most cases the musical background of the folk department students (as well as the professors) and those in Western music programs differed significantly; the teaching of solfeggio and European music history classes for both groups soon proved unsuccessful. "In the spring of 1922 the Commissariat of Public Education raised the question of separating 'the Eastern Faculty' from the Conservatory" (Vagif Abdulgassimov 1990: 102–103). The Eastern Faculty was transformed into the Turkic (Azerbaijanian) Music College, which was open to musicians specializing in both European classical tradition and Azerbaijanian mugham. 8 In the musical college, students learning mugham improvisation and the native modal system were also required to study European scales and intervals. Although they were accustomed to the predominantly monophonic Azerbaijanian music, centering on vocal solos, according to the curriculum these students were required to learn the rules of harmony and polyphonic voice-leading. The Music College provided its graduates with teaching certificates as well as with the necessary training and qualification for passing the entrance exams into the conservatory. Therefore the musical college could be viewed as preliminary to the conservatory for musicians in all musical fields but Azerbaijanian "folk music." After the Eastern Faculty was eliminated from the conservatory, the Music College became the major institution for studying mugham—a status preserved for decades. While the College provided its students with professional degrees, this degree held less validity and a lower status than the Conservatory diploma, generally leading to a subordinate position in the musical hierarchy. In 1966, the Conservatory again opened its doors for tar and kamancha students and in the eighties to mugham singers (Abdulgassimov 1990: 11O).9 The unification of the two musical traditions and the two systems of training fulfilled the dream of the founder of modern Azerbaijanian musical philosophy, whose figure, forged in bronze, greets everyone approach-

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ing the Music Academy (Figure 6.7). However, the integration of the two has always been problematic and in recent years became more complex than ever. In the first year of the new millennium, upon the ukaz of the Azerbaijanian President, the Academy was formally split in two. The Baku Music Academy was designed to continue the study of the Western stream of Azerbaijanian music. The new Conservatory is intended to become the leading institution teaching the mugham tradition. However, this decision has not been executed because of financial difficulties and various other complications involved in building a home for the National Conservatory. Farhad Badalbeyli, president of the Baku Academy, who is still in charge of the Folk Departments (the future National Conservatory), articulates a vision for the National Conservatory as an institution that would "revive the long-existing methods in studying mugham" He stated, "I would not model the National Conservatory on any other Western-based institutions divided by departments. Why does a performer of mugham have to study and pass exams on harmony and polyphony? The National Conservatory, consisting of leading mugham masters such as Alim Gasimov, Ramiz Guliyev is our chance to restore the tradition of majlises" ("Vek nyneshnii" 2002: 232). In the musical institutions where mugham is taught, musical transmission is still based on a close relationship between master and disciple. As before, membership in a master's lineage indicates the singer's social status and place in the musical hierarchy. My personal encounters with Azerbaijanian musicians showed that almost everyone introduces him/herself by emphasizing a link to a prominent lineage, extending it not only to the immediate predecessor (father/teacher) but also to a prominent forefather of a specific musical dynasty. For example, Arif Asadullayev (Figure 6.1.-3.5.), a well-known kamancha player and professor at the Baku Music Academy, began his acquaintance with me by mentioning that he studied mugham with his uncle, Nariman Aliyev, who was a disciple of Seyid Shushinski (Figure 6.1.-1.4). Islam Rzayev (Figure 6.1.-1.9.), a leading professor of mugham singing in the Academy as well as the founder and the musical director of the Mugham Theater, reminded me during our meeting that he, as a student of Seyid Shushinski, belonged to the lineage of Garyaghdi. Arif Babayev (Figure 6.1.-1.10.), also a professor of mugham singing and a soloist of the Azerbaijanian Opera Theater, as a student of Khan Shushinski (Figure 6.1.-1.4.), is connected to Navvab, the great philosopher and musician of the nineteenth century. Similarly, Neuman observed in Northern India that each performer establishes "his credentials as a musician on the basis of whom he has studied with and whom he is related to" (Neuman 1980: 44). Within the colleges, each mugham student traces a musical lineage to a specific master or musical ancestor. The professors of the conservato-

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ry/academy represent prominent lineages. Therefore, students entering the 'folk' department of the music college and conservatory today align themselves with a distinguished genealogical lineage while obtaining official diplomas that will earn them respected positions in the hierarchical system inherited from Soviet times. Attending classes of mugham in 1997, I realized not only that lineage remains an important factor in the transmission of musical knowledge, but also that, even though the requirements of mugham classes are as rigorous as those of instrumental and vocal courses in European music departments, the atmosphere, the relationship between professor and pupils, and the process of teaching are very different and, according to musicians themselves, reminiscent of master-disciple training eighty years ago. Though masters of mugham singing follow a unified curriculum covering all mughams during four years of study, each of the professor designs an individual teaching plan. In addition, professors do not feel constrained by the unified class format. For example, the followers of Seyid Shushinski and Hajibaba Huseinov teach lessons one-on-one. The professors who have a large number of students commonly teach groups. The technique of transmission, nevertheless, is practically the same: masters such as Babayev or Rzayev, with large groups of students, choose a single student to teach (by repetition) in front of the class, while the others, observing the master and student, memorize the material. To see how traditional music is taught in a group setting at the Baku Music Academy, I visited classes in mugham singing taught by masters Rzayev and Babayev, (Figure 6.1.-1.9 and 1.10). Each class consisted of twelve to fifteen students and two staff accompanists playing tar and kamancha. Among the students were women who did not mix with the men but sat together in a group of their own. The lessons continued for three to three and a half hours. The atmosphere in the mugham class, as well as the teacher-student relationship, contrasted significantly with the group classes in the department of European classical music. While a majority of the students studying European music are similar to each other in age and musical background, 10 the mugham students are rather diverse. Some of them have nonmusical professions and come to the Academy after work. Others are regular students who dedicate all their time to learning the history and theory of music as well as the various arts and humanities. Some of the students hope to perform on operatic and concert stages, while others are already experienced in the performance of mugham in concert settings or at weddings and parties. The mentors, especially such well-known khanandes as Rzayev and Babayev, are treated with deference. As Babayev's class began, candies, chocolate, and a tea pot with the special armuds11—for the teacher and for me as his guest—appeared on a

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table covered with a festive tablecloth. This intimate home-like environment and signs of great respect and humble appreciation for the master and his guests are not unusual in mugham classes. Introducing me at the beginning of the lesson, Babayev gave me a chance to talk with the students. My questions led to an energetic discussion that demonstrated the interaction between the professor and his class. The pupils did not even once disagree with their master. At the same time, Babayev listened to them attentively and discussed issues with them directly. For instance, Babayev did not shy away from talking about the status of musicians, which depends on whether they choose to sing at weddings. He stated that mugham performers singing and playing for weddings are often viewed as "second class" musicians whose status is lower than that of their colleagues performing on the concert or operatic stage. Yet he believes that weddings are the "home of mugham" About himself Babayev said that although he holds the highest state titles and has been a soloist of the Opera House in Baku for decades, he will sing at weddings as long as he can—"if there is money to pay the musicians," he laughs. He adds that musicians often stop singing for weddings when they establish their concert careers and become financially secure. He points to two young women, saying that they perform for weddings and then gestures to two others stating that they would not: one is already a soloist at the opera theater and the other is eighteen-year-old Fargana, a daughter of Alim Gasimov (Figure 6.1.-1.12), currently the most prominent Azerbaijanian khanande. "He [Gasimov] used to sing for weddings all the time when he was younger and less popular," says Arif, "but she, his daughter, is not going to." While traditional relations between master and pupil might appear to be inconsistent with the formalized structure of modern Azerbaijanian institutions, both master and disciple have adjusted to an institutionalized structure that preserves a degree of familial intimacy. In addition, the general subordination of folk music students to those in "Western" departments has resulted in bonding among the community of mugham masters and performers in the conservatory/academy. In the class of Rzayev, the master upon my visit asked his group to perform mugham Shushtar. Without any discussion preceding the performance, the students began. Rzayev participated minimally, indicating by pointing his finger who would sing the following improvised section. The tasnifs (songs) between improvised parts were performed by all together, also without any discussion of which song had been chosen. Some professors of mugham singing have a small number of students whom they teach one-on-one with undivided attention dedicated to each student twice per week for one-hour lessons. Alim Gasimov, for example, has only a few students, but his lessons are typically attended by twenty to

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thirty visitors who study with other mentors and who wish to observe Alim. Though it may seem that a master might resent such a 'showlesson,'12 this practice of public teaching is considered an honor and thus is welcomed and appreciated by all, master, pupils, and audience. While classes in mugham singing can be either individual or groupbased, the study of the tar and kamancha takes place in private studios. The body of students in the instrumental program is somewhat different from pupils of mugham singing. In order for an instrumentalist to attend the music college or Baku Musical Academy, he/she has to complete at least seven years of studying the instrument in a music school. The ones attending the conservatory, for the most part, read music and, like students in piano, violin, and other Western instrumental classes, exhibit advanced technical ability and knowledge of the repertoire. The issues of instrumental repertoire and methods of teaching are fascinating. According to Arif Asadullayev, a professor of kamancha, the instructor teaches his/her students in two quite distinct areas of performance. One is mugham, which involves oral training, and the other is the composed repertoire, which includes both native and Western classical music. Consequently at the end of each semester students are graded upon two recitals, one involving mugham and the other, Western repertoire. For example, it is common for students of kamancha to play at their recitals an arrangement of Mozart concertos for the violin or Mendelssohn's e minor concerto. One favorite piece arranged for the kamancha is Sarasate's Zigeunertveisen (Gypsy Ways), which Arif's daughter, a promising young musician, prepares for her stage appearance. Asadullayev typically dedicates one of the two weekly lessons to the study of the written repertoire, the other to the oral teaching of mugham, patiently repeating, sometimes dozen of times, the patterns of mugham, echoed by his students. With me, using a traditional method of mugham teaching-learning, he played the piano, and I had to repeat melodic fragments by myself and along with him. "Some pupils memorize fast, and as fast forget. Others can play along with you, but lose concentration when trying by themselves. The type of study depends on the technique of memorization," says he. If I were not studying with him, I would ask how and when the students learn to improvise, since both methods appear to engage the student only in memorization. But learning from him, I know that repetitions of the same motif are never exact. A player can vary the cadences and expand or condense the punctuation of the same tones (a characteristic feature of the Azerbaijanian arabesque) or enrich a melodic pattern.

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MEMORIZATION VERSUS CREATION? The study of master-disciple relations within Western-based musical institutions inevitably raises the question whether the system of teaching within the conservatory has led to the formalization of mugham, the "frozen music" described by Levin. (Levin notes that in eight years since he first listened to a certain shah maqam performed by a reputable Uzbek maqam ensemble of Abduhashim-aka they had made only fifty changes, "mostly in ornamentation" [Levin 1996: 50].) Levin's statement that "in the Conservatory's Department of Eastern Music, the Shash maqam was taught from a six-volume set of musical transcriptions complied by professor Karamatov and a fellow musicologist, Is'haq Rajabov" seems distant from Azerbaijanian mugham (Levin 1996: 47). Transcriptions of mugham have been used for teaching purposes, but mainly in the departments of Western music for students who, learning European instruments and specializing in the history of classical music, were expected to learn the basis of Azerbaijanian native music. Nevertheless, even they, as I recall from my own experience as a student in piano performance, were sent on field trips to distant villages to collect, learn, and transcribe the music of mugham performances. Elkhan Babayev jokes that collections of mugham transcriptions are published for foreign specialists to interest them in the mechanisms of mugham performance. He adds: "Every respectable theorist prepares his or her own transcriptions of mugham performances, comparing and contrasting these with others, searching for an internal dichotomy of variable and invariable components. Likewise, every respectable listener recognizes familiar elements, listening for new ones" (Telephone interview, summer 2002). If there is a degree of uniformity in Azerbaijanian mugham, it might be related not so much to teaching and notation as to the fact that the conservatory and music college have brought performers of mugham together, creating a unified mugham community, and overturned the localization of mugham centers and schools. In today's Azerbaijan, professional mugham performers generally know each other or of each other. FATHERS AND SONS To a large extent, then, the story of the transmission of mugham is one of institutionalization. Students who would once have learned as apprentices now study in sanctioned educational academies. Yet while attempts have been made to Westernize the teaching of mugham, the methods, even within classrooms, are somewhat similar to those used generations earlier by master mugham performers with their students.

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The development of educational institutions is only half of the story of musicianship related to mugham. The other half involves musicians who have chosen the route favored by the Soviet/Russian hierarchy throughout most of the century—the pursuit of Western-oriented, classical musicianship. The social mechanisms supporting these musicians are strikingly different from those described above. CELEBRATION OF A MUSICAL FAMILY In the winter of 1991, only months before the final collapse of the Soviet Union, Moscow hosted, for the last time, the meeting of the Union of the Soviet Composers. Representing Azerbaijan, a choir and orchestra performed the oratorio Garabag Shikestesi by Vasif Adigozal. The word "Garabag," which recalled the 1989 ethnic conflict with Armenia and the 1990 Russian police action against Azerbaijan, was omitted in the announcement of the piece, but was reiterated in the oratorio that culminates in a vow to defend and protect this land against Armenia and, by implication, against the Soviets as well. Musically, the composition combines mugham idioms with classical European conventions—the first represented by an improvised vocal solo accompanied by an intimate threepiece ensemble, the second by a symphonic orchestra and chorus. The production of this highly politicized, musically hybrid oratorio relates to three generations of Adigozals (or Adigozalovs13), one of the well-known musical families in the twentieth century Azerbaijan. The composer of the oratorio, Vasif Adigozal, is a son of Zulfi, a much loved singer of traditional mugham. The conductor of the Moscow performance of the oratorio is Yalchin Adigozal, a grandson of the singer and a son of the composer. One of the vocal soloists is the composer's brother Rauf. The musical production described above reflects knowledge of both Western and Azerbaijanian music transmitted and transformed by a single family of musicians. The Adigozalov family, which will surface later in this chapter, brings attention to the role of kinship in preserving the infrastructure of Westernized Azerbaijanian music. It is striking how the 'familial' structure of Azerbaijanian musicianship has survived and responded to the turmoil of the last hundred years— urbanization and oil exploration in the early 1900s, the revolution (1918) and the short-lived-Azerbaijanian republic (1918–1920), Stalin's purges (1930s), the Second World War (1941–45), the collapse of the Soviet Union (1980s), and the formation of the Azerbaijanian state (1990). Since little is known about Azerbaijanian musicians, and in order to make some general arguments about the current social-musical scene, I find it necessary to focus on a few families and to include some brief biographic references to others. As a musician from Azerbaijan, I know many members of musical

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families personally. Others I met during my fieldwork provided substantial information about changes taking place in the current musical scene. Earlier, I described how the traditional system of oral transmission of mugham became institutionalized. Here the discussion centers on the creation of a new Azerbaijanian classical tradition. If, at the verge of the twentieth century, the musical arena of Baku was defined by the coexistence of mugham and western music, in the first decade a new tradition arose—a hybrid composed music that united improvised mugham with classical European genres. Hajibeyov's Leili and Majnun, discussed in Chapter Five, integrated European operatic conventions and the vocabulary of Azerbaijanian mugham. The score was partly written and partly taught orally due to the fact that many musicians did not read music. Hajibeyov's achievements inspired other musicians to use native music, especially mugham, as the basis of operas, ballets operettas, symphonic mughams, cantatas, and instrumental pieces.14 The Soviets, promoting the Westernization of Azerbaijan, assumed the role, denounced by Edward Said, of the "hero, rescuing the Orient from obscurity, alienation, and strangeness" (Said 1979: 121). Placing their 'rescuing' mission on an ideological platform, Soviets established a centrally administered musical system that consisted of three parts, including education (discussed above), performing venues, and repertoire. New performing venues, officially sponsored and therefore controlled by the government, replaced privately organized musical events. In the first month of the Soviet Azerbaijanian republic,15 a decree signed by the president of the ARC (Azerbaijanian Revolutionary Committee) N. Narimanov, ratified the foundation of the national symphonic orchestra (Kerimov, 118). Another decree (June 1920) nationalized all theaters and dramatic troupes in Azerbaijan. In 1925, the Azerbaijan State Theater of Opera and Ballet was formed in Baku (Kasimova 1973: 8). Repertoire was a defining factor in the establishment of these new musical organizations, performing ensembles, and theaters. The mere existence and functioning of groups such as the national symphony orchestra depended on composed classical music. Because native operas had been composed since the first decade of the twentieth century, the repertoire of the opera troupe included both Russian and native operas. 16 On the other hand, the absence of a native symphonic repertoire forced the orchestra to perform only Western and Russian classics.17 Soon the first symphonic compositions, some of them based on native music, made their way into the repertoire of the Azerbaijanian symphony. At the same time, Western and Russian classical compositions were introduced and rearranged for ensembles of Azerbaijanian folk instruments. As we saw in the last chapter, Hajibeyov organized an Eastern Orchestra that performed written musical texts and was therefore able to

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"pursue their main goal—the broad promulgation [among native audiences] of European composed music" (Abbasova 1985: 126). 18 Arrangements of European musical classics were also performed by a choir established by Hajibeyov, despite initial rejection by Azerbaijanians unaccustomed to choral singing (Abbasova 1985: 127). Both groups and many that followed performed from musical scores rather than improvising. In the coming years, symphonic and chamber groups would play orchestral arrangements of mugham compositions, and celebrated mugham musicians would become operatic performers in the Eastern troupe of the Opera Theater. Mirroring Soviet cultural assumptions, composed music began to symbolize cultural progress, while improvised music suggested nostalgia for an outdated past. Socialistic censorship privileged written or fixed 'national music' over improvised oral text loaded with musical and poetic idioms and conventions known to natives but inaccessible to communist censors. Thus ideology led the Soviets to position national composed music at the top of a hierarchical scale and award composers, vocalists, piano, and other instrumentalists a status higher than musicians who performed native improvised forms such as mugham. The system of musical education also supported this hierarchy. Musicians trained in Soviet institutions were promoted to administrative leadership positions. Governing all aspects of musical production, including teaching, performance, administration, and performing venues,19 Soviet cultural policies nourished an Azerbaijanian musical aristocracy which emerged from an existing structure that possessed the necessary musical and social mechanisms for both change and continuity in musical production. It seems clear that the destruction of traditional social structures gave energy to a reliable one—the family. Although the musical profession in pre-Soviet Azerbaijan as well as in many Islamic countries did not garner high esteem, among musicians, mugham performers were considered high class professionals and, not rarely, intellectuals, especially because of their knowledge of written classical poetry. Employing their professional knowledge, connections, and networks, many mugham performers of the early twentieth century carefully navigated the new social structures, protecting the future of their progeny. To secure their children's fortunes, the Azerbaijanian musical elite—mugham performers—created family dynasties that became the Soviet (and post-Soviet) musical aristocracy. What roles did these families play in the musical pursuits of their heirs? How did the networks and strategies of these families correlate with the social and musical dynamics of Soviet and post Soviet Azerbaijan? Figure 6.3. lists a number of musical families that have played a major role in Azerbaijanian music throughout the last hundred years. The following section will introduce the reader to these musicians, their personal achievements, and their internal connections.

Three Brothers 3.2 Nazim (1926–1986) composer cello and 3.3 Kazim (b. 1927) condictor

SECOND GENERATION

Two Brothers 2.3 Afrasiab (1907–1976) composer and 2.4 Shamsi (1911–1986) director, musical theater

SECOND GENERATION

1.3 Niyazi (1912–1984) composer/conductor

2.5 Farhad (b. 1947) pianist/composer

1.6 Ismail Sultan oglu (b. 1949) composer

Figure 6.3 Musical dynasties

THIRD GENERATION

THIRD GENERATION

THIRD GENERATION

3.5 Samir (b. 1962) composer

and 3.4 Rasim (1930–1993) viola

and 1.5 Sultan (1919–1974) composer

1.4 Chingiz (1913–1971) composer

SECOND GENERATION

Two Brothers 2.1 Badal 1875–1932 and 2.2 Ahmad (Agdamski) (1884–1954)

Three Brothers 1.1 Uzeyir (1885–1948) and 1.2 Zulfugar (1883–1950) and 1.3 Jeyhun (1891–1962) 3.1 Agular bek (1880–1951)

FIRST GENERATION

5.1 Murtuz (1897–1961)

4.3 jamil composer(jazz and popular music)

THIRD GENERATION

4.2 Fikret (1922–1984) composer

5.3 Teimur fagot

THIRD GENERATION

5.2 Polad (b.1945) composer/popular song singer

SECOND GENERATION SECOND GENERTION

4.1 Mashadi Jamil (1875–1928)

3. Aliverdibekov4.Bülbül(Mammadov)5.Bülbül(Mummadov) FIRST GENERATION FIRST GENERATION FIRST GENERATION

2. Badalbeyli

1. Hajibeyov

FIRST GENERATION

THIRD GENERATION

7.5 Elkhan (b. 1960) composer

THIRD GENERATION

6.4 Yalchin (b. 1959) conductor

Figure 6.3 Musical dynasties

Brother and Sister 8.2 Rashid (1915–11989) singer and 8.3 Najiba

Two Brothers 7.3 Mammad (b. 1929) cello and 7.4 Tofig (b. 1930) composer, violin

Two Brothers 6.2 Vasif (b. 1935) composer and 6.3 Rauf (b. 1940) violin/singer

8.4 Rashida (b. 1953) popular singer

THIRD GENERATION

singer/actress

SECOND GENERATION

SECOND GENERATION

8.1 Medjid (1873–1945) khanande

SECOND GENERATION

6.1 Zulfugar (Zulfi) khanande (1898–1963)

FIRST GENERATION

FIRST GENERATION

FIRST GENERATION

Two Brothers 7.1 Ahmad Mammadrza oglu (1892–1973) and 7.2 Mammadkhan Mamedrza oglu 1890–1957) tar players

8. Behbudov

7. Bakikhanov

6. Adigozalov

Two Brothers 9.6Elkhan(b.1955) tar player and Eldar (b.1952) composer

FOURT DENERATION

9.5BahramSuleymanoglu (1911–1958)

THIRD DENERATION

and 9.4MirzaMansurMalik (1887–1967)

Two Brothers 3.3MashadiSuleiman (1872–1955)

SECON

Two B 9.1 M (1833–1907) and 9.2MashadiMalik (1829–1903) tar players

FIRST GENERATION

9. Man

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Hajibeyov, as we have seen, is the most prominent name in twentiethcentury Azerbaijanian music. Niyazi Hajibeyov (1912–1984), an adopted son of Zulfugar and nephew of Uzeyir, was a composer and the chief conductor of the Azerbaijanian National Symphony for forty years. Niyazi, one of the most influential figures in the Azerbaijanian musical scene, brought fame to many performers and composers and dismissed others by ignoring or publicly criticizing them. Among the direct musical heirs of Uzeyir was his younger cousin, Sultan Hajibeyov (Figure 6.3.-1.5), also a composer, who was for years the president of the Azerbaijanian State Conservatory. In summer 1997, shortly after my arrival in Azerbaijan, I attended a concert of Figure 6.4. Sitting are Gurban Primov compositions by Ismail Hajibeyov (left), Murtaz Bülbül (right), and (Figure 1.6), composer-experimenter, young Polad Bulbiil (middle). grandnephew of Uzeyir and son of Sultan. The event was well attended by music lovers and by the Azerbaijanian intellectual elite, honoring the memory of the family forefather. On their mother's side the Hajibeyovs (Uzeyir and his brothers) were related to the musical dynasty of Badalbeyli. The two brothers Badal (1875–1932) and Ahmad Badalbeyli (1884–1954) were among the first singers of mugham to enter the operatic stage. Ahmad Badalbeyli, known under the pseudonym Agdamsky, performed female parts in the first Azerbaijanian mugham operas. In 1940, Afrasiab Badalbeyli (1907–1976), a son of Badal, composed the first Azerbaijanian ballet.20 His brother Shamsi was a producer and a founder of Azerbaijanian musical theater. Shamsi's son is an accomplished pianist, Farhad Badalbeyli, who finished the Azerbaijanian Conservatory and received his graduate degree from the Moscow Conservatory. A winner of many world competitions and a performing pianist, Farhad Badalbeyli is president of the Baku Music Academy. In summer 2002, I attended Farhad's performance at a benefit concert for a specialized music school that bears the name of Afrasiab Badalbeyli, his uncle. One realizes that the Hajibeyov-Badalbeily dynasty

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has been continuously involved in the leadership of the most important musical institutions from the time of their establishment. The family played a vital part in creating and developing modern Azerbaijanian musical culture. Undertaking challenging musical tasks, it also constructed and preserved its familial territory. Also closely related to Hajibeyov by blood and by musical occupation are the Aliverdibekovs. Another prominent Azerbaijanian musical family the Amirovs, is represented by Mashadi Jamil Amirov, known as a tar performer and the first among mugham players to transcribe and publish mugham in 1912. In 1915, Amirov premiered his opera, in which young Bülbül sang leading female part. The son of Mashadi, Fikret Amirov became a leading composer. Bülbül, born Murtuz Mammadov, received his pseudonym (nightingale) for his mugham singing, and passed this name to his son, Polad Bülbül (Figure 6.3.-6.2.). The latter, a composer and a singer of popular songs, well known among Azerbaijanians in recent years, now serves as Azerbaijan's Minister of Culture ("Classical Music of Azerbaijan" 1997: 18). The Adigozalovs—referred to earlier in this essay—constitute one of the most prominent musical families in Azerbaijan. The founder of the musical dynasty was the khanande Zulfulgar Adigozalov (Figure 6.3.-4.1), whom the people of Baku called by a sweet-sounding abbreviation of his name—"Zulfi." His elder son, Vasif Adigozal (Figure 6.3.-4.2), is one of the most important composers in modern Azerbaijan; the younger son is a singer, and his grandson conducted the Azerbaijanian State Symphony Orchestra, the Theater of Opera and Ballet and many other orchestras around the world (Figure 6.3.-4.4). On several occasions I met with Yalchin and Vasif. The idea of approaching Azerbaijanian musicianship from its core—musical kinship—resulted largely from my conversations with the Adigozalovs. The chart of Azerbaijanian musical families does not encompass all of the musical dynasties. However, the names in this chart are well-known to most Azerbaijanians. The founding fathers of most of the families in the chart are associated with mugham: Madjid oglu Behbudov (8.1), Zulfi Adigozalov (4.1), and Murtuz Bülbül (6.1) were outstanding khanandes whose names symbolized the Azerbaijanian renaissance at the beginning of the century; Mashadi Jamil Amirov (5.1) and Ahmad Bakikhanov (7.1) were celebrated tar players who left lasting schools of disciples. Some of them, like Mashadi Amirov and Bülbül, were interested in European music. By looking at the chart one notices that subsequent generations inmany families have shifted towards careers in Western classical music. A few musical dynasties, such as the Mansurovs, are still affiliated with Azerbaijanian art music. The Mansurov family has provided a chain of tar players known for a distinguished style of performance and teaching for

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over a century. Mashadi Malik Mansurov (3.2) established a majlis in Baku which was well known among musicians, poets, and the intelligentsia (Istoriia azerbaizhanskoi muzyki 1992: 120). His nephew, Bahram Suleyman oglu Mansurov (3.7), was featured on the first recordings of Azerbaijanian mugham available abroad. 21 Within this family, young Eldar Mansurov (3.7) has recently become well known as a composer of popular songs. Most of the families introduced here illustrate the constancy of family involvement in music on the one hand and a transition from Azerbaijanian art music, particularly mugham, to European classical music on the other. Indeed not all Azerbaijanian composers came from musical dynasties. For example, the parents of Azerbaijanian composer Gara Garayev, one of the greatest modern composers, had no affiliation with the musical profession. Because this book deals primarily with musicians associated with mugham, and Garayev had less pronounced relations with this oral tradition, he and his works are not discussed here. A pupil of Shostakovich and an advocate of the European and American avant garde, Garayev created his own lineage of composers, some of them descendents of musical families, including his son Faraj Garayev. The involvement of families in Westernized music led me to question musicians from several musical dynasties about their family histories. Composer Tofig Bakikhanov (7.4) told me about his father and his uncle, Ahmad (7.1) and Mammadkhan Bakikhanov (7.2), both celebrated tar players. Ahmad Bakikhanov is remembered in Azerbaijan as a brilliant performer and the founder of the Ensemble of Folk Instruments that now carries his name. He was also a great teacher who discovered and nourished the talents of many singers and instrumentalists now performing in Azerbaijan. For his own sons, however, Ahmad Bakikhanov saw a different future. He insisted that unlike him and his brother Mammadkhan, both of his sons, Mammad (7.3) and Tofig (7.4), would receive training in cello and violin (later in composition). Tofig has paid tribute to Azerbaijanian art music and to the musical world of his father in a number of symphonic mughams. Somewhat similar is the story of composer Vasif Adigozal. A son of khanande Zulfi Adigozalov, Vasif is the author of symphonies, oratorios, piano concertos, and chamber pieces. He graduated from the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory with degrees in piano performance and composition. His youngest brother, Rauf (currently a professor at the conservatory), completed his musical education at the St. Petersburg Conservatory as a violin performer. During our conversation, Vasif told me that his father insisted that both of his sons obtain performing skills on Western musical instruments, demanding that the eldest son complete his piano degree even though Vasif was already known as a composer.

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In the case of the youngest son, a gifted singer who dreamed of continuing his father's career, so strong was the will of the head of the family that Rauf did not enter the stage as a singer until after his father's death. In the premiere of the Vasif Adigozal oratorio Garabag Shikestasi in Baku in 1989 and then on the stage of the Moscow Tchaikovsky Hall in 1992, Rauf sang with renowned khanandes Sakina Ismailova and Alim Gasimov. Attempting to explain why Adigozalov senior would not allow his sons to follow in his footsteps, Vasif simply said that his father's life was not easy and that he probably wished to secure his sons' positions in music. Though he said that he never fully understood his father's decisions, he enacted a similar role in the life of his own son Yalchin. Like Vasif, Yalchin received European musical training. When I interviewed Vasif and Yalchin, then the conductor of the Azerbaijanian Symphonic Orchestra and now the principal conductor of the Azerbaijanian Theater of Opera and Ballet, the father and son recalled episodes from Yalchin's schooling years. After Yalchin's graduation from the special musical school in Baku, his father Vasif decided that his son should seek admission to the Moscow or St. Petersburg Conservatory. Vasif Adigozal financed the trips to Moscow and found the best professors to tutor young Yalchin for his entrance exams.22 For a year in Moscow, and two years after that in St. Petersburg, Yalchin studied with the leading musicians of the former Soviet Union. Vasif's professional contacts allowed him to approach these masters requesting special attention for Yalchin. However, tough competition, political and personal matters, and Russian chauvinism towards prospective students from the "eastern provinces" prevented Yalchin from attending either of the top musical institutions in the former Soviet Union. The network in Moscow and St. Petersburg did not function as smoothly and agreeably for the Adigozalovs as their all-encompassing sviazi (connections) would have operated in Baku. Fortunately for Yalchin, close friendship and professional solidarity with Uzbek musicians made it possible for Vasif to place his son in the prestigious musical program at the Tashkent Conservatory, even though the time of the entry exams had passed. A year later, Adigozal found a way to transfer Yalchin to the Conservatory in St. Petersburg. This family victory was symbolized by Yalchin's graduation, by his subsequent study in Austria, and by his successful career. Observing three generations of Adigozalovs one notices several important points: (1) music is assumed as the family's professional field, (2) the head of the family determines the musical specialty pursued by the youngsters, (3) the family patriarch's (Zulfi's) disapproval of a mugham-performance career for his sons led the Adigozalovs to shift their orientation from the traditional art form towards Western classical music, and (4) the

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Adigozalovs did not abandon the native tradition of mugham but transferred and adapted it to the realm of Azerbaijanian composed music. Vasif Adigozal repeats the words of his father-kbanande: "My father believed that European instruments and European musical schools open broader horizons and opportunities. The Azerbaijanian musical tradition you will know anyway." (Interview with Vasif Adigozal, summer 1997). The musical families determined the character of the Azerbaijanian composing and performing traditions. The music of the sons of celebrated mugham performers—whether written for symphonic orchestra, chamber ensemble, or opera, whether shaped in the form of the piano concerto, symphony, rhapsody, or ballet—has never been divorced from the family's musical roots. The familial infrastructure of Azerbaijanian musical society, particularly in the realm of Westernized (composed) music, is neither clearly visible nor discussed in analytical fashion. A musical network is employed when one of its 'members' seeks support. As I learned in conversations with many musicians, the kinship system serves practical purposes, appearing to many as 'natural' element of the social structure. Moreover, the pattern of relations within one family extends to others, creating an inter-familial network that defines the overall Azerbaijanian musical community. Several photographs depicted Fikret Amirov in the company of his father's associates, Primov, Bahram Mansurov, and Khan Shushinski (for example, Figure 6.5). Farhad Badalbeyli is shown walking with Gara Garayev. The most revealing is the portrait of an Azerbaijanian musical delegation to a plenum of Soviet composers in the 1950s (Figure 6.6). Except for Garayev, the composers appearing most prominently in the photograph—Vasif Adigozal, Sultan Hajibeyov, Rashid Behbudov, Tofig Bakikhanov, Musa Mirzoyev, Nazim Aliverdibekov—are all members of musical families. Some say that it was expected that heirs of musicians in early twentieth century, well acquainted with old traditions, would be eager to follow new trends, especially those promising success. Similarly it is expected that descendents of musical families will pursue the family enterprise. Functioning as a channel of knowledge passed from father to son, musical kinship serves artistic as well as social purposes. Musical families aim to preserve traditions as well as the status and position of their members. Music in this context serves as a social agent in the power structure of the Azerbaijanian community. As shown above, the choice of musical career and the steady transition to European classical music has been directed and controlled in musical families through father-son relations. Nor has parental involvement been limited to the choice of musical direction. The story of the Adigozalovs illustrates the active step-by-step involvement of Vasif Adigozal in his son's education. Despite Yalchin's musical talent and his dedication to music, it would have been difficult for him as a young

Figure 6.5. Girban Primov (left), Fikret Amirov (middle), Bahram Mansurov (right) (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture)

Figure 6.6. Azerbaijanian musical delegation to a plenum of Soviet composers (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture)

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Figure 6.7. The Baku Music Academy (conservatory). man to rise to the top of the musical hierarchy and attain the position he currently holds without a parental hand shaping his environment, providing social and musical support. Similarly, Sultan Hajibeyov, a composer and former president of the Azerbaijanian Conservatory, himself bolstered by the authority of his uncles (Zulfugar and Uzeyir), extended this family support to his son Ismail, also a composer and a professor of composition and music theory. These examples demonstrate that music itself functions as a strategy of social reproduction, securing the future of the descendents of musical families. It is not accidental that the current generation of the dynasties listed in Figure 6.3 occupies the highest professional and social positions: the Minister of Culture of Azerbaijan, the president of the Azerbaijanian Conservatory, the secretary of the Union of Azerbaijanian Composers, the principal conductors in the Philharmonic Orchestra and the Opera Theater, renowned composers and professors at the Baku Music Academy and Music college. While the living descendants of the musical families are visible in high positions, the memories of forefathers are engraved in the names of streets, schools, and concert halls. Until its name was changed in 2002 to the Baku Music Academy, the Azerbaijanian Conservatory in the

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middle of the city bore the name of Hajibeyov. His statue remains in front of the building. Every day, the president of the Baku Music Academy, Farhad Badalbeyli, walks into this building from the street that bears the name of his father Shamsi Badalbeyli. The Special School for Gifted Children is given the name of Bulbul. The Theater of Musical Comedy is named after A. Badalbeyli, the Theater of Opera and Ballet after M. Magomayev. The adherence of musicians to their historical roots and their dynastic names may have given a sense of continuity to the Azerbaijanian community that craved stability to counterbalance ongoing uncertainties. Throughout the twentieth century, mugham has appeared in various new forms, signifying its penetration of Western genres (written music) and its adaptation to new training systems and educational institutions, changes in performing styles, and social relations. The 're-invention' of mugham in different musical and social realms was crafted within the musical families that have combined the two musical systems, European/Russian and Azerbaijanian, securing the art form and their own prominent positions. The investigation of two musical lineages, one based on blood relationships and the other on master-disciple bonds, leads to a deeper understanding of two patterns of preserving musical knowledge and retaining social/professional positions. Master-disciple ties have been transferred and adjusted to the Soviet institutional system of education. Despite being reshaped in its formal structure, master-disciple lineage has nevertheless preserved its musical content—the oral tradition of mugham, From the same history of musical kinship grew the other social structure—musical dynasties. Emerging from the oral mugham tradition, members of the musical dynasties moved away from improvised forms and oral transmission, securing their status in the familial musical infrastructure of Soviet and post-Soviet Azerbaijan. Protecting their musical leadership, members of musical families revised native music in a new socio-political context. Translating the oral art of mugham to the realm of composed music and juxtaposing native and European musical classics they created a new Azerbaijanian tradition—national composed music. Today the two musical traditions, improvised and composed, coexist in Azerbaijanian musical culture, distinct and yet entwined, representing the wealth and particularity of the native culture. The two native traditions merged in the Moscow 1991 performance, described earlier, of Garabag Shikestesi. In front of the two-hundred-piece choir and symphonic orchestra is a traditional mugham trio and a group of soloists. Next to singer Rauf Adigozalov are khanandes Sakina Ismailova and Alim Gasimov and tar performer Ramiz Guliyev. The most conspicuous performers of mugham in today's Azerbaijan, the three are graduates of the Azerbaijanian Music College and disciples of eminent masters

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(Figure 6.3). Gasimov and Guliyev are themselves distinguished masters and professors at the Music College and the Academy. While the ensemble signifies the dichotomy of Azerbaijanian musicianship, the soloists represent two musical realms and two social streams, musical dynasties and master-disciple lineages. As the large ensembles sing and play composed music, the soloists improvise, following the centuries-old musical path as the musicians of Azerbaijan have improvised within a changing political and cultural context, revising and preserving traditional musical forms, reconstructing and protecting their cultural roles.

CHAPTER 7

Symphonic Mugham

A

SIMPLE GEOMETRIC FIGURE IS REPEATED AGAIN AND AGAIN ON THE

field of the Azerbaijanian carpet. The repetitiveness of the pattern captures one's eyes, draws one's mind to rest and contemplation when suddenly the exactness of this design breaks, appears illusive. One's eyes catch irregularities and imperfections in each reflection of the same motif. Changed colors, added dots, curves, or lines, new accents define an internal dynamic of the overall design, while the repetitions seem endless, appearing to cross the carpet's border. Likewise, a short musical motif spinning into a chain of its own repetitions, slightly extended, abbreviated, and ornamented, forms a never-ending sound arabesque. Stopped at any time, it can be at any time continued. In the same way, old stories are told and retold numerous times, each version based on and interpreting a general archetype. Over a hundred known versions of Leili and Majnun depict different places and times, emphasizing different characteristics of the heroes and situations. Every rendition is valuable as a unique piece of art. All together they form a literary continuum. In his songs, the poet re-tells an old story. Yet it is always new, At the intersection of new and old in the early twentieth century Azerbaijanian music composed music was born. It history began with the 1908 premiere of Leili and Majnun, National symphonic music originated thirty years later in association with another Hajibeyov opera, Keroglu (1938), whose overture followed the classical sonata form and laid the ground for the native symphony (Zokhrabov and Kasimova, 1987: 199). Another ten years passed after Keroglu before the first mugham-symphonies, Shur and Kurd Ovshari, were performed. This delay in the assimilation of the symphonic genre in Azerbaijanian music can be explained by 139

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specifics of the two genres in relation to the traditions of native music and musical perceptions of native audiences. Opera, though unfamiliar to Azerbaijanians, provided its audience with a concrete plot, an entertaining spectacle, and poetry (often ghazals) to help the spectator understand the music. The symphony, an abstract musical form based on conventions such as the large orchestra, was foreign to Azeri audiences accustomed to small ensembles and solo performances. Azerbaijanian operas gradually introduced new musical forms—orchestral overtures, intermissions, and accompaniment for dance and action scenes—that laid the groundwork for the formation of symphonic forms. Mugham, on the other hand, eventually provided Azerbaijanian orchestral music with a 'program' drawing on long-established musical imagery and familiar poetic narratives. Among the first symphonic mughams was Bayati Shiraz (1948) by Suleiman Aleskerov (Sound track seven: Suleiman Aleskerov, fragment from symphonic mugham Bayati Shiraz). This composition negotiates between Western and Azerbaijanian conventions and bridges formulaic and improvisatory elements, reflecting musical and social paradigms in mid-century Azerbaijan. The analysis of this orchestral piece focuses on the construction of the symphonic mugham as a hybrid genre. Modeled on a traditional dastgah (mugham composition), the symphonic mugham is written in the form of a suite consisting of twelve parts. The chain of parts corresponds to the order of sections in a traditional dastgah. 1. Maye (Bardasht, Isfahanak, and Maye) 2. Nishib Faraz 3. Rang 4. Bayati Isfahan 5. Aman Ovchu (Tasnif)1 6. Zil Bayati Shiraz (Abul Chak, Maye, and Bardasht) 7. March (Rang) 8. Haveran 9. Lachin (Tasnif) 10. Huzzal 11. Huzzal Rang 12. Coda The similarity to the dastgah Bayati Shiraz is evident in the outline of the sections and in the gushes of the central movements that correspond to improvisations in traditional mugham performances. By including songs and dances in the dastgah (two songs function as tasnifs and the march as a rang), Aleskerov draws on vocal mugham, in which a singer's solo

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improvisations are interpersed with metrical instrumental pieces and folktype songs. At the same time, the composition is written for orchestra; the insertion of sections such as Isfahanak (in the middle of the Maye) and Abul Chak (the introduction to the Bayati Shiraz)—both typically associated with instrumental dastgah and rarely performed in its vocal counterpart—links this composition with the instrumental Bayati Shiraz. Therefore the composer converges vocal and instrumental mugham traditions. While Aleskerov employs traditional gushes, he, however, does not follow the 'tonal plan' of the traditional dastgah, where each section is confined to a specific range and the overall dynamics are expressed by a gradual rise in pitch from section to section. He compensates for the lack of 'tonal dramaturgy' by creating a diversity of timbres, a combination of different instruments, and contrasting dynamics. Although in traditional performances the distinction between non-metrical improvisations and metrical rangs or tasnifs is largely associated with rhythm, in this composition texture and harmonization determine the contrast between the principal parts and songs or dances. The sections derived from improvisations are composed as instrumental solos (or instruments played in unison), often reminiscent of a vocal recitation or an expressive lyric monologue echoed in the instrumental line or accompanied by a light, single-toned instrumental pulsation. In contrast, songs and dances are frequently written for the large orchestral group, with the different parts combined into a relatively dense harmonic texture. In the symphonic version of Bayati Shiraz, the distinction between improvisations and metered pieces, sections associated with mugham improvisations, is expressed in a new way that reveals the influences of Hajibeyov's music for theater. In his operas, solo episodes of the main characters are associated with the intimacy of mugham improvisation, and mass scenes can be paralled to rangs and tasnifs.2 Conversely, in Aleskerov's mugham symphony the songs and rangs, with their extensive dynamic range and 'choral' texture, remind one of the mass scenes and dances in Azerbaijanian operas. The intimate solo expression of the principal movements, at times lyrical and pensive, at times intense and declamatory, reminds one of operatic arias and recitatives. Drawing on the pattern of a traditional dastgah, Aleskerov significantly alters the length of the 'solo-like' movements, songs, and rangs. Functioning as bridges between improvisations, concluding the development of one section and anticipating others, the metered tasnifs and rangs in a traditional performance are significantly shorter than the improvisations. By contrast, the largest pieces in Aleskerov's composition are two songs, Aman Ovchu and Lachin. Placed between the Bayati Isfahan and Bayati Shiraz3 (the two competing sections in oral performances) Aman

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Example 7.1. Aman Ovchu, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz by S. Aleskerov.

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Ovchu is almost as long as the two combined. Therefore, while the tension between Isfahan and Bayati Shiraz is essential in the first half of a traditional dastgah (Bardasht/Maye-Isfahan-Zil Bayati Shiraz), the emphasis in the symphonic Bayati Shiraz falls on Aman Ovchu encircled by Isfahan and Bayati Shiraz. In the Isfahan section, the melody (punctuated by a G in the oboe) leads to a sequence of short motifs woven around E natural. Retaining its restless character, the Isfahan gradually moves to a quiet dance linking to the Aman Ovchu. This is one of the most popular folk songs in Azerbaijan, sung at weddings, folk, and family celebrations and in everyday life. Its melody and words are known to every native. Aman Ovchu (Mercy, O Hunter) portrays metaphoric images of a hunter (ovchu) shooting an arrow (of love) into a reindeer. Relying on the audience's knowledge of the song's absent text, the composer repeats three couplets. The following Zil Bayati (Part 6) encompasses three subsections—Abul Chak, Maye, and Bardasht. But the role of this symphonic movement is not as significant as in a mugham performance. The Zil Bayati becomes an extension of Aman Ovchu—a culmination of the first half of the composition. Thus Zil Bayati loses its independent character, serving as the conclusion of the song (and of the first half of the composition). The development in the second half of the composition is centered on another popular folk song, Lachin (Part 9) ('falcon,' a word of endearment, also a female name). The song is inserted between Haveran and Huzzal (Parts 8 and 10), taking the place that in a traditional dastgah is usually given to a short rang that advances the intensive drive to the culmination— Huzzal. In Aleskerov's composition, the gushe Haveran opening the second half starts with the powerful sound—triads divided among all the orchestral parts. As the agitation slows down, the Haveran links to the lyrical Lachin, the longest song in the cycle, which reveals its independence by modulating to mode Rast. Manifesting the strength of Rast, the song expands into a large 'chorus,' when the trumpets signal the beginning of the Huzzal. Even though the Huzzal is expressive, it is also short, overshadowed by the length and emotional appeal of the preceding Lachin.

Maestoso

Example 7.2. Haveran, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz by S. Aleskerov.

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Example 7.3. Huzzal, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz by S. Aleskerov. In this composition Aleskerov merges the features of vocal and instrumental mugham with symphonic and even theatrical elements. Re-interpreting the mugham dramaturgy, reversing the importance of the principal movements and the folk songs, the composer relies on poetic narratives familiar to the Azerbaijanian audience. The unspoken, absent text of the songs is evident to the native listener. Using the mugham canon, Aleskerov invokes another layer of "the familiar, inescapable components of consciousness." MELODY AS THE STRUCTURAL BASIS OF MUGHAM COMPOSITION Unlike improvised mugham, in which the sections follow each other in a gradual progression and without drastic changes in speed, dynamics, or melodic range, the design of Aleskerov's composition is based upon contrast between movements. Compensating for his noncompliance with a basic unifying principle of mugham, Aleskerov is especially attentive to melody, which he uses as a unifying device. Essential for the structure and processes in mugham, melodic elaboration is likewise an important component of symphonic development. In Western classical music, melody is frequently described as the "surface of music" (Scholes, 1997: 619) or the "surface of harmony" (Apel, 1969: 517). Melody defines and is defined by the harmony, structure, and other musical elements. In mugham, melody is the music—"the whole surface" (Scholes, 1997: 619). The accompaniment to vocal mugham does not provide a harmonic basis but rather repeats and echoes the melody without creating a harmonic or polyphonic texture. Since mughams are not transposed, each gushe is fixed within a specific pitch collection and tonal range. The timbres of the small traditional group of Azerbaijanian instruments also do not provide the diversity of tone colors characteristic of the Western musical tradition. Therefore, the melody or monody, as commonly addressed in native Azerbaijanian musicology, appears as the chief of all musical processes in mugham. The Azerbaijanian musicologist Mammadova defines the 'hegemonic role' of monody in the modal system and in the formal organization of native music (Mammadova, 1987: 99). Mahmudova suggests that monody embodies the "theme, form, and

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process" emerging from fragmentation and manipulation of the theme-thesis (Mahmudova, 1997: 14). Azerbaijanian mugham monody appears as an inseparable unity of important tonal points and centers and, corresponding to them, typical motif-models which are connected by invisible threads with the main initial melodic impulse. (Mahmudova, 1997: 197) Therefore, approaching the development and structure of the symphonic version of Bayati Shiraz, one focuses on monody by examining the process whereby the theme-thesis parallels the gushes from the movement of improvised Bayati Shiraz. Analyzing this piece designed for the orchestra, on the other hand, one finds that harmony, structural organization and timbres make the mugham monody the 'surface' of a larger musical frame which may influence and modify the traditional mugham monody. In order to observe the interplay and integration of the two melodic concepts, I will analyze the first movement of Bayati Shiraz and then focus on several melodic features playing an important role in the overall composition. The first movement of Bayati Shiraz is Maye. It encompasses the Bardasht, Isfahanak, and Maye—usually three separate sections. Representing the modal area of Bayati Shiraz, the first movement can be perceived as the exposition of a cycle. Corresponding to mugham dramaturgy, it is also a condensed formula of the dramatic development of the dastgah. The movement, beginning with gushe Bardasht, a gentle, slow melody (a clarinet solo restated by the strings with light transparent harmonies), undergoes gradual elaboration and varied repetition as well as an extension of range and dynamics and increasing tempos. The melody reaches fortissimo and abruptly stops on E natural, signaling the beginning of Isfahanak and anticipating the future arrival and conflict with Isfahan. But at this point, in Isfahanak, the tightly woven melodic ornament encircling E natural through a series of falling scales leads back to Maye. Even though every note of the piece is written down, the type of melodic development, the frequent changes in meter, and the 'flexibility' of the rhythm emulate traditional improvisation. Contrasting with the forceful wide-ranging passages of the previous section, the gushe of Maye (Example 7.4) embraces a traditionally narrow tonal range. The investigation of the first movement in relation to symphonic form and to mugham leads one to review the constructive role of tonality in classical genres and likewise the role of mode as the fundamental basis of any mugham composition. The dramaturgy of a symphonic cycle and its movements involves contrasting themes and episodes associated with different keys. For example, the Western classical canon prescribes modula-

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Violin I

Violin II

Viola

Bass

Example 7.4. Gusbe Maye, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz. tion (from tonic to dominant or from a minor key to the relative major) in the exposition of the first movement. In the 'exposition' of Aleskerov's first movement of Bayati Shiraz one finds an 'implied' departure from the modal base in Isfahanak, with the subsequent reassurance provided by a return to the key of the mode Bayati Shiraz. The aim of this movement is the full establishment of the main modal, thematic, and tonal basis. Distinct subsections are confined to the 'inner' modal space, and contrasting musical images result from the melodic elaboration of the opening theme-thesis. The expansion of the mugham monody from the theme-thesis corresponds to the monothematic principle in symphonic music. One may find two types of monothematic development in the first movement. The first is connected with the fragmentation of the initial theme (gushe Bardasht). The crystallization of the melodic figures and intonation creates independent units that serve as the basis of melodic development. Defining this fundamental type of melodic development in mugham, Azerbaijanian scholars use a term borrowed from Russian musical theory, the "rassredotochenie" (Usfin, 1971: 149) of the theme, which means the fracture of the theme and the infiltration of its bits throughout the whole musical body. For example, one may look closely at the opening theme of the Maye. The first element of the theme (clarinet) is an ascending line emerging from a prolonged G (motif 1). Balancing the first element, the second is a descent beginning with an ostinato D (motif 2). As in traditional performances of Bayati Shiraz, the gushe Bardasht stresses the two tonal centers, G and D, whose role in the dramatic development of this movement and the overall composition is significant. Repeated, the same theme (A) begins with notes that are twice faster in duration (A). Then the first part of the theme is repeated again including only the initial fragment of the second (A"). This short melodic intonation spins into a chain of sequences sustained throughout the first part. The second type of monothematic development is associated with the recurrence of the opening theme (gushe Bardasht) functioning as a leitmo-

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Clarinet motif 1

motif 2

6

Example 7.5. Theme-thesis at the opening of the first part, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz. tif. Thus the gushe Bardasht, a melodic source of the themes included here, consolidates the dramaturgy of this movement. It also becomes apparent that not Maye (as in the traditional dastgah) but Bardasht provides the meaning and unity of this part. The importance of the gushe Bardasht extends beyond the first part, where it also functions as the main melodic source and as a thesis reappearing in different parts of the composition. Repeated, varied, spun into sequences, reversed, diminished, and augmented, the units of this theme determine the cohesion within each part and in the overall composition. The theme also stimulates a musical progression of significant duration and intensity. The elements of this theme serve as constructive material in the other parts of the composition (Nishib Faraz, Rang, Isfahan). The theme of the popular song Aman Ovchu also begins with the intervallic inversion of the same theme-thesis (Example 7.6.) later repeated in Lachin. Lachin

Example 7.6. Lachin.

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The melodic canvas of the entire Bayati Shiraz is woven from a conjunction of repeated and varied units of the opening theme. In traditional mugham performance, thematic elaboration is part of the developmental processes and the gushes correlate to each other, yet at the same time each theme-thesis (gushe) demonstrates melodic independence. In Aleskerov's symphony, the gushe Bardasht becomes an emblem, a melodic germ of the whole Bayati Shiraz composition. In traditional performances of dastgah Bayati Shiraz, the gushe Bardasht is introduced in the opening sections (Bardasht is typically the first section in the instrumental mugham and the second, after Daramad, in the vocal Bayati Shiraz) and recurs in Zil Bayati Shiraz and in the finale group Dilruba/Ayag. In Aleskerov's piece this theme is repeated in practically every movement at moments of high intensity. It unifies solo (unison) movements and metrical pieces. For example, it is woven into the melody of Lachin.

Flute

Clarinet

Tamb.

Piano

Example 7.7. Theme-thesis of Bardasht in Lachin, Symphonic Bayati Shiraz. The closer the composition moves towards the conclusion the more frequently the gushe Bardasht is repeated, changing its character—from lyric to intense, from pensive to energetic. The increasing frequency of its appearance leads to the Coda, which opens with a powerful statement of the theme-thesis played fortissimo in four parts. The Coda, for the most part, mirrors the first movement. It repeats the gushes Bardasht and Maye. Omitting the Isfahanak as a reference to the alternative tonal center D (fifth above the tonic), the finale, like the recapitulation in sonata form, restates

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the main themes (Bardasht and Maye), which are played in powerful fortissimo by the whole orchestra. The musical analysis of Bayati Shiraz leads to several observations: (1) the composer's use of the traditional order of mugham parts, including the gushes associated with these parts; (2) his reliance on familiar patterns of mugham, reinterpreting their meaning by shifting emphasis away from the principal parts to the songs and dances; (3) the expansion of the latter into "mass scenes" arranged in rich texture and harmony; (4) the emphasis on popular folk songs as part of the collective memory; (5) the connection of contrasting movements on a monothematic basis; and (6) the control of the single theme-thesis over all other melodic and dramatic processes as well as the formal organization of the piece. Fully rooted in mugham, the symphony combines a musical narrative that appeals to natives with a symphonic interpretation that pleases Western-attuned ears. Aleskerov's Bayati Shiraz is reflective of the mid-twentieth century in Soviet Azerbaijan. It demonstrates the possibility of bringing together the two musical realms. It also shows that Azerbaijanian mugham is not lost in the translation to the language of symphony. Yet in my 1997 interviews with musicians and music lovers in current Baku, I learned that what was perhaps valued fifty years ago seems unsatisfactory today, when this composition is perceived as a simple 're-write' or rearrangement of mugham for symphonic orchestra. Pointing out the adherence of this Bayati Shiraz to its mugham model, some find that it lacks originality. AMIROV'S BAYATI SHIRAZ When Aleskerov created his Bayati Shiraz, he modeled his composition on the symphonic mughams of Fikret Amirov (1922–1984), the founder of this genre, who in his first symphonic mughams (Shur and Kurd Ovshari) established the genre's general characteristics. For example, following the outline of traditional performance, Amirov structured his two compositions as suites of rhapsodic pieces that paralleled mugham improvisations, dances, or songs. Preserving the exact sequences of the traditional dastgahs, Amirov gave titles to each section, which also provided written programs for the compositions. Similar structural devices were used in Aleskerov's Bayati Shiraz. As explained in Chapter Four, solo improvisation in a traditional dastgah performance is based on a melodic collection drawn from a specific mugham. Similarly, the thematic material of Amirov's two mughams can be observed as "written" improvisation based upon mugham formulae. In both symphonic Shur and Kurd Ovshari, each section is associated with a traditional gushe which parallels the melodic language of Aleskerov's mugham. Amirov's Shur and Kurd Ovshari demonstrated the endeavor of

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a young composer to join two musical realms to which he was deeply attached. A son of Mashadi Jamil Amirov, a great Azerbaijanian tar player and a performer of mugham, Fikret Amirov had an insight into Azerbaijanian art music. Inheriting his father's fascination with new areas of written and composed music,4 Amirov entered the institutionalized musical system. Graduating from the Azerbaijanian conservatory, where he majored in composition under Zeidman, Amirov, already known as a composer of operatic, instrumental, and vocal pieces, was fully equipped with the knowledge of European genres, forms, harmonic language, and instrumentation. Wedding mugham and symphonic style and relying on Hajibeyov's experiments of combined folk and European ensembles, Amirov faithfully transferred the complexity and wealth of Azerbaijanian mugham into written and orchestral media. Amirov's composing in this period reflected his aspiration to preserve this native art form. In Figure 7.1 below, he is shown transcribing and discussing mugham with Seyid Shushinski and Gurban Primov. On the other hand, the adoption of mugham to symphonic performance reflected the inventive spirit of this time. This innovation in native

Figure 7.1. Fikret Amirov with Gurban Primov (tar) and Seyid Shushinski (gaval).

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idioms mirrored the Soviet view of national progress and the intent to make national compositions accessible to a broader audience within and outside Azerbaijan.5 Therefore, in his first symphonic mughams, Amirov introduced a new direction which was followed by his disciples and his fellow composers, including Suleiman Aleskerov. The twenty-three years between Amirov's first symphonic mughams and his Gulistan Bayati Shiraz were a formative period in the Azerbaijanian composing school (Sound track eight: Fikret Amirov, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz). The coexistence and intermingling of the two classical traditions resulted in new forms and directions for musical compositions. For example, even before Amirov composed his first symphonic mugham, his contemporary Gara Garayev (1918-1982), studying under Shostakovich at the Moscow Conservatory, created his first symphony, (1944) which "laid the foundation for the national symphonic genre" (Kasimova, 1984: 125). In the following years, Garayev wrote his second and third symphonies (1946 and 1964). A passionate advocate of Western experimental music, Garayev employed serial technique in his third symphony, while his melodic language remained unmistakably native. Other Azerbaijanian composers also worked in the symphonic genre, forging native melodic idioms into classical symphonic forms. While Amirov began to adjust mugham to the European symphonic tradition, Garayev undertook the adaptation of the symphony to Azerbaijanian musical culture, which soon embraced symphonic music as a part of the national repertoire. Returning to the genre of symphonic mugham in 1971, Amirov was no longer concerned with the foreignness of the symphony to his compatriots or with preserving scrupulously all elements of mugham in his symphony. Choosing an orchestral rendition to express the creative thinking embedded in Azerbaijanian mugham, Amirov overcame the controlling power of the mugham formulae. The overall structure of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz significantly differs from the traditional model. Though Amirov's piece can be viewed as sectional, the composer neither identifies sections, as he did in his previous symphonic mughams, nor follows the traditional order. In the improvised dastgah, each section is associated with gushes that identify the thematic and modal characteristics of the section and its place in the overall dynamic processes. Choosing to leave out most of the gushes, Amirov consequently modified the sequence of sections. Like the dastgah, Amirov's symphony contains dance, song, and declamatory episodes, yet these three types of pieces are not confined to separate sections. The composer instead often intertwines them into larger segments or blocks—a term suggested by native musicologist Narmina Bairamalibeili. Examining Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, she finds that "the junction of a sho'be (an improvised section in a traditional dastgah) with metrical sections (tasnifs and rangs) as well as the

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coupling of several sko'bes with surrounding pieces eliminates the sectional division typical of traditional mugham and instead leads to the formation of large constructive blocks" (Bairamalibeili 1994). This principle results in increasing dramatization within these section-blocks and in the tightening of the overall structure. Omitting the predetermined order of sections, Amirov amplifies the "staircase" dynamics of the traditional dastgah. As emphasized earlier in the discussion of traditional mugham performance, the characteristic dramatic pattern of Bayati Shiraz involves the conflicting forces of Bayati Shiraz and Bayati Isfahan, and an energetic drive to a culmination and modulation in Huzzal. Following the same formula, Amirov magnifies the tension by inserting in his symphonic Gulistan Bayati Shiraz blocks of different mughams such as Humayun, Segah, and Shur. In addition to including in his composition the fragments of other mughams, Amirov employs the characteristic dance rhythm of the ashig, which indicates a move beyond the mugham frame. The combination of different modal areas and distant art forms is striking in at least three specific respects: (1) overcoming the boundaries of Bayati Shiraz, the composition still remains within its modal and dynamic context; (2) composing his Bayati Shiraz, Amirov unifies several unrelated Azerbaijanian mughams; and (3) by combining mughams with instantly recognized ashig elements, the composer intends to create and represent a unified national musical imagery. To understand how Amirov moved beyond the mugham canon, enriching the meaning of Bayati Shiraz, one must make a detailed analysis of the composition. Acknowledging a degree of liberty in his rendition of the traditional Bayati Shiraz, Amirov entitles the composition Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, which can be viewed as symphonic fantasy. The word gulistan (garden of flowers) is associated with the motherland. The composer dedicates Gulistan Bayati Shiraz to "the great poets of the East, Saadi and Hafiz" on the opening page of the score, choosing poetic lines of both as a program for his composition. The beit of Hafiz expresses the poet's admiration for the art of the musician. Musician! All sciences I would give you for the sound of the chang.6 Or the trill of a flute. Touch the strings with your bow. Hafiz (1317/1326–1389/1390) What is it for, my friend, a tray full of roses. Better, friend, if the rose leaves from gulistan would reach me. Fresh roses will not delight one's eyes for many days, But my gulistan never loses its eternal freshness Saadi (1207–1291)

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The word gulistan, repeated in the Saadi's stanza, is full of longing for the garden of roses, reminiscent of the traditional imagery of the mughambride Bayati Shiraz. The emotions of love and loss are associated with the gulistan as both a homeland and a beloved woman. 7 Originally written for a chamber orchestra and soprano, the composition was later rearranged by the composer for a full orchestra, with two solo parts, one for piano and the other for soprano or alto saxophone. THE STRUCTURE AND DRAMATURGY OF GULISTAN BAYATI SHIRAZ IN RELATION TO A TRADITIONAL DASTGAH How do the overall dynamics and construction of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz relate to the models investigated earlier? A chart including traditional mugham performance (left column) and Amirov's Gulistan Bayati Shiraz (right column) identifies the dramaturgical and structural relationship between the two. Indeed, unlike Aleskerov's Bayati Shiraz, Amirov's symphonic mugham is a one-movement composition reminiscent of a traditional mugham. Identifying the sections and internal division in Amirov's piece, I rely on the author's remarks on modifying speed and character, especially when they coincide with other elements such as fermatas, changes in texture, and melodic material.

Model of Traditional Dastgah Bayati Shiraz Daramad-Rang Bardasht (Isfahanak) Maye Rang(Tasnif) Isfahan Rang Zil Bayati Shiraz 1 Haveran Rang Huzzal Zarbi Huzzal 1 Rang Dilruba 1 Ayag

Gulistan Bayati Shiraz by Fikret Amirov Slow Introduction Rang (Daramad) Bardasht, Isfahanak, Maye Bardasht Scherzo, Piano Solo Rang, Isfahan, Bardasht | (Zil Bayati Shiraz), Isfahan Chahargah, Introduction, 1 Saxophone Solo Dance (ashig's rhythm) - Intro. Shur (ashig's rhythm continues) | Dilruba, Segah, Dance (ashig) Rang, Bardasht, Maye, Isfahan Coda

Figure 7.2 Comparative outline of the traditional Bayati Shiraz and Gulistan Bayati Shiraz by F. Amirov. The heavy line indicates the separation of the two halves of the compositions.

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The sixteen-measure opening contains all the material from which the twenty-minute composition is built. This is no different from the introductory section of the traditional mugham, except that for a few moments the elements of all three cornerstone sections, Bardasht, Maye, and Isfahan, appear simultaneously, converging in a suddenly bursting ardent dance. The gradual separation of the theme-images is signaled by the emergence of the expressive gushe Bardasht, which identifies and fully exposes the area of Bayati Shiraz. Turning into a light scherzo, the Bardasht precedes a passionate piano solo which contains melodic ingredients of both modal 'parties,' Bayati Shiraz and Isfahan. The consequent rang, though based on the melodic cell of Bardasht, begins with an agitated motif emphasizing E natural, a sign of the advent of Isfahan. The two recurrences of the combative Isfahan, with Bardasht in the middle, create one long block in which the two forceful musical images, Bayati Shiraz and Isfahan, confront each other. As in traditional mugham, this progressively intensified struggle is emphasized in gradually increasing dynamics and speed, shorter notes, dense texture, and clearly ascending motion. Though several important sections of the dastgah are omitted from Amirov's composition, the overall dramatic processes follow the old pattern: the Bardasht and the Maye as a group (block) establishing the musical image of Bayati Shiraz; the following Isfahan, with its distinctive musical traits, provoking the return of Bayati Shiraz; and the recurring Bardasht and Maye, which, performed in a much more elaborate and ornate way and an octave higher, invoke a strong analogy with the Zil Bayati Shiraz. Therefore, even though Amirov does not preserve the traditional pattern, he projects the same dynamic plan. Breaking away from the structural separation of Bayati Shiraz and Isfahan, he combines them, making their interaction complex and dramatic. The second half of the composition, beginning with the powerful full orchestral fortissimo, is suddenly interrupted. The new forceful ascent led by violins and bells, played in unison and in gradually slower stepwise motion, is fortified by the entrance of the brasses and woodwinds, revealing a shift to a different mugham, Chahargah. Hence the forceful stream is again interrupted. The prolonged silence, gradually filled with a drone, gives birth to an expressive vocal solo (or alto saxophone), whose sorrowful tone and melody indicate another shift, now to the mugham Humayun. As the solo fades away, the characteristic rhythm of the ashig's dance signals another modulation, now to the area of Shur. The energetic drive of this segment, mixing the ashig's dance with the distinctive intonation of Shur, coincides with an ascent in the tonal range and dynamics. The melodic expressiveness and dance rhythm, the high pitch range, and the swift motion imply a parallel with the section that is performed at this point of the dastgah—Zarbi Huzzal (rhythmic Huzzal).

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The following melodic reference to Dilruba is important because in the midst of the exciting journey to different mughams, Dilruba reminds the listener of the chief modal area of this composition. The two measures of the Dilruba are followed by a modulation to mugham Segah. The slow seven-note motif (played first by an English horn and then by a flute piccolo), repeated and adorned with filigree, portrays the sweetness and lyricism of the Segah. The dance that precedes Shur and recurs after Segah encircles the exciting journeys to distant modal areas and links to the beginning of the composition, which is also based on dance rhythms. Repeated without any modification, this dance segment, a symmetrical reflection of the introduction of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, ends on the initial theme (cellos and basses) followed by a long, sustained final chord. As discussed above, the second half of the fantasy, departing from the traditional dastgah, embraces several mughams. Yet their modal and melodic elements follow and serve the dynamic and structural basis of Bayati Shiraz. For example, the sequence including the dramatic episode in Chahargah, the expressive cantilena for mezzo-soprano (saxophone) in Humayun, and the explosion of the dance Shur parallel the dramatic chain of Haveran, Huzzal, and Zarbi Huzzal in traditional performances of Bayati Shiraz. As in a traditional dastgah, the Dilruba in Amirov's composition releases the dramatic pressure of the preceding musical development and leads to a symmetrical repetition of the beginning of the composition, ending with the coda (Ayag). As in a traditional dastgah, the two-measure lyric motif opening the short coda descends from a high to a low register. The vocal/saxophone solo, echoed in flutes and accompanied with a sustained D in glockenspiel and trumpets, is abruptly stopped by three crashing chords of the piano, sweeping through the entire piano range from upper to lower register. The initial theme in cellos and basses enclosing the composition ends with a sustained D above which the B natural continues for eight measures, bringing a rest but giving no resolution. This B natural—a median between the two struggling centers, D and G—leaves an open ending inviting other renditions of Bayati Shiraz. A strikingly complex and original composition, the symphony is part of a continuum which, like a geometric pattern in a carpet or a story meant to be retold, reveals the essence of the native narrative. THE MOTIFS OF GULISTAN BAYATI SHIRAZ IN RELATIONSHIP TO TRADITIONAL DASTGAH The suggestion of the close connection of the "free" rhapsodic composition with the precise formal and dramaturgical pattern of the dastgah invites

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one to approach another level of analysis which involves the modal and melodic material of the piece. The opening segment introduces the chief types of melodic development we have seen in traditional dastgahs—balanced motion, intervallic leaps with stepwise fillings, canonical sequences, and the repetition of a single tone. Andante sostenuto

(a)

misterioso

Violoncelli

p espitess. Contrabassi

p espress.

Example 7.8. Opening of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, mm. 1-9. This slow introduction, like a capsule, contains the main ideas penetrating the piece. Each of the five motifs or short musical ideas in the opening serves as a basis for musical imagery. For example, the short opening motif (a) with a double marking, misterioso and espressivo, played by the low strings in unison, immediately exposes the two centers, D and G, foreseeing the conflict between the tonal centers. A gradual scale-type motif grows into the gushe Bardasht from Bayati Shiraz. A third motif later becomes associated with the theme of Isfahan. A fourth motif, the repetition of a single tone, characteristic of mugham and also known as Amirov's trademark (interview with E. Babayev, September, 1997), is employed in the most dramatic moments of the composition and also in the vigorous dance episodes. A fifth element, a chord, which concludes the introduction and serves as a bridge to the following dance, also functions as a tonal formula in Gulistan Bayati Shiraz: F sharp, D, E flat, and B flat. This slow, short introduction does not follow the traditional model of Bayati Shiraz, which starts with a dance-like Daramad that introduces its modal and melodic core. Instead, the main motivic seeds planted in Amirov's introduction undergo thematic growth in the first long segmentblock of Amirov's composition. For example, the chain of sequences based on the second motif of the introduction ends with an ascending-descending scale reminiscent of Bardasht. The active mechanical motion spins into endless repetition of a short melodic line based on three tones, G, A, and B flat, similar to the modest motivic configuration of the gushe Maye. The reiteration of one of the motifs with the insistent emphasis on E natural creates the image of gushe Isfahan. Example 7.9. Element of Isfahan, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz.

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This episode, in which different motif-images are overlapped, played simultaneously, and developed into independent themes, is an active developmental zone. No one melodic particle of the introduction or the first expository block is 'lost' in the consequent development of the symphonic mugham. Every musical element is meaningful and reappears in a more elaborate, independent, and complete form later in the composition. For example, in the second half of the composition, the elements from the introduction expanded in the first block of the piece erupt into the dance of an ashig.s The 'intrusion' of the ashig's imagery in the mugham is also allied with a shift to a mugham Shur, both creating an element of surprise.

Xlph.

ff

Piano

Vns. I, Vns. II, Vlles

ff Example 7.10. Combination of several elements representing contrasting themeimages, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz. How did the thematic vision of Amirov result in the action-packed dramaturgy that leads his listeners beyond the conventional horizons of Bayati Shiraz? The analysis of Amirov's themes (gushes), their recurrences, developments, and dramaturgical functions, reveals the pyramidal structure of Amirov's Gulistan. The melodic intonations "planted" in the mugham bashi (the 'head' of mugham or the introduction), spring into motifs and themes in the following blocks, then gradually expand into complex musical images and progress to independent or semi-independent structural blocks. To grasp this process, one may examine the evolution of the main motif from the opening. Its chromatic melodic outline, the tonal range, and position at the beginning of the piece suggest its association with gushe Bardasht from the traditional dastgah. The motif below is identifiable as the Bardasht from the improvised mugham.

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Example 7.11. Gushe Bardasht, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz. (Vlles, C-B)

In Amirov's composition, it is germinated from a sequence of short motifs turning into a swift dance following the introduction. In the course of the dance-like episode first expanding in the sequence (1), the melodic pattern is then condensed to an ascending line (from F sharp to D, the range characteristic of Bardahst). The following descending sequence of the dance counterbalances the preceding motion. Together the two link to the cell of Bardasht (2).

(I'icc, FL Ob., Vns)

(2)

(H.,Ob.,Cl.,Vns)

Example 7.12. Modifications of the gushe Bardasht, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz.

The melody interacts with others in the dance (Daramad), leading to its consequent development into a complete segment (Bardasht). Here the gushe Bardasht is amply stated, with each melodic nuance emphasized and elaborated. Moderate Maestoso

3 3

ff (W.W.,Hrn.,Vls.,Vlles.,C.-B.)

3

3

3

3

Example 7.13. Beginning of section Bardasht, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz.

3

Symphonic Mugham

159

Fully exposed and recognized, the gushe Bardasht begins to disintegrate. Fragmented, it becomes a scherzo episode—a light spirited segment, which, gradually gathering energy, leads to a piano solo. This piano part, woven from bit and pieces of the gushe Bardasht, is one of the most intense in the composition and one of the most spectacular parts during a performance as the pianist's hands, moving in opposite directions, gradually embrace the entire keyboard. 8

appassionato

W

.

Piano

QrfT- -•

3

8"L

3

$vb

Example 7.14. Piano solo, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz. A simple syncopated figure overlapping both hands increases the tension. In the subsequent sections, short excerpts of the scale-type motion associated with Bardasht are repeated and spun around, forming a mechanical stream that counteracts the repetitive motion of Isfahan. The temporal 'victory' of the Bardasht is confirmed by the inclusion of an element of Isfahan (E flat instead of E natural) in the theme of the Bardasht. In the consequent migration to distant modal areas, elements of the Bardasht serve as bridges and transitions: a step-wise melodic row identifies a shift to mugham Humayun and Segah.9 Repeated several times upon the return to the home mode Bayati Shiraz, the fragments of the theme of the Bardasht are the last melodic elements in the coda, which fades away, dissolving into a long, eight-measure sustained final chord. The unity of the thematic material on one hand and inclusiveness of wide-ranging idioms distant from Bayati Shiraz on the other disclose new horizons for imaginary interpretation. Amirov's symphonic composition is not simply another version of traditional mugham. Nor is it an apologetic arrangement of an intimate trio piece for a chamber group. Amirov creates

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a monumental sound as well as the visual effects of a large orchestra with a virtuoso piano part and a vocal/saxophone solo. The piano is simultaneously lyrical and passionate, bursting into forceful passages that fight the boundaries of the keyboard, then change to soft and mellow lyric ornamentation, and finally shift again to intense harmonic motion. In contrast, the female vocal solo, related to traditional mugham singing at first, introduces a modest narrow range that is involved in gradual melodic elaboration and expansion. Preceded by a dramatic melody first played by horns and then softened by flutes and clarinets, the female solo emerges as an imitation of the same melody, comprising both the dramatic impulse of the horns and the intimacy of flutes and clarinets. Engaged in continuous melodic, tonal, rhythmic, and dynamic elaboration, this solo gradually reaches a stage of intense emotional elevation reminiscent of vocal recitation in a traditional dastgah. The absence of poetic text activates the listener's participation in the musical production. The stanzas chosen as an epigraph offer unsung but implicit poetic imagery. The two central images are music and motherland united by the traditional mugham metaphor of romantic love. The image of Bayati Shiraz, inseparable from the idea of love and loss, can be imagined in association with both solo parts. Throughout most of the composition, the two are separated: the piano solo is played in the middle of the first half and the vocal/saxophone solo is the focal point of the second half. The light dance before and after the piano solo emphasizes its intense character; similarly, the dramatic entree and the fiery ashig's rhythms after the voice/saxophone solo emphasize its lyricism. Having central positions in the two halves of the composition, the solos express images of love and separation, encountering each other only in the coda. There, the voice line begins with a pensive lyric phrase, after which its line becomes fragmented, interspersed with increasingly long moments of silence. As the consequent motif rests on D, the sudden crashing harmony of the piano sweeps downwards from the highest register to the lowest, where the two solos finally converge in the long-dying final chord. 8va

sub. P

Piano

8vb Voice/ Sax.

P Example 7.15. Two solo instruments, piano and saxophone, in the finale, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz.

Symphonic Mugham

161

Amirov's Gulistan Bayati Shiraz reinterprets the idea of love for the motherland in a modern context as a strong nationalistic sentiment. No longer satisfied with a symphonic interpretation of a single mugham, Amirov creates a composition which, embodying the features of several major Azerbaijanian mughams, unifies and epitomizes the different forms and genres of native music, itself becoming a musical obelisk of national consciousness.

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CHAPTER 8

Women's Voices Defying and Defining the Culture

U

NDER A PROSCENIUM ARCH CARVED WITH IMAGES OF THE MUSES, THREE

musicians—a woman singing and accompanying herself on the gaval and two male instrumentalists playing tar and kamancha— perform mugham at the Opera Theater of Baku. The concert demonstrates the current status of female performers of mugham—a musical form considered for centuries a male province. While this chapter focuses primarily on Azerbaijanian female musicians, particularly mugham performers, women's participation in music is inseparable from political trends discussed earlier—Sovietization, modernization, nationalism and deSovietization—and from attitudes defined by Muslim doctrine and redefined by Soviet anti-religious policy. The involvement of women in the performance of mugham reflects historically constructed musical forms, their social functions, and gender-based performing traditions. The text of mugham itself reinforces traditional images of women. In the classical love poetry that associates love with spring, gardens, and the first blossom of flowers, the "gül" (flower, specifically a rose) often symbolizes a woman, and the "bülbür (nightingale) is allied with a man. 1

Har sevimli külün öz ashigi, öz bülbülüvar, M n d bir bülbülüm öz g nceri h nd nim var Bizim baguin kiillari var, Ai kyl usta bülbüll ri var. O yari ki, man seviram, Cox sevir m, ai shirin-shirin Dill ri var.

Every lovely flower has a singer, a nightingale, I am this nightingale who glides around the [rose] bud2 In our garden there are flowers, Above them are the flying nightigales. O, there is a beautiful one I love, Love so much, lost my mind Speaking of her. (Zokhrabov, 1983: 177)

163

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These metaphors represent culturally defined roles: the male, bülbül, is insignificant in appearance but is able to sing and fly; the female, gül, is beautiful but voiceless and relatively static. The poetic imagery provides a framework for the investigation of women musicians, who prior to the beginning of the twentieth century seemed nonexistent—voiceless. Positioned within the gender-segregated Azerbaijanian society, female musicians performed only for female gatherings limited to a private domestic sphere.3 Women first appeared in the public musical arena less than one hundred years ago, which coincided with the revolutionary changes in Azerbaijanian culture discussed earlier: the de-segregation of society, the shift of native classical and folk music to the concert stage, the birth of native composed music, and the foundation of a European-based system of musical education that opened new opportunities and musical venues to Azerbaijanian female musicians. My observations are based on interviews I conducted with women musicians from different generations, various levels of professional achievement, and several performing venues. Investigating the long-existing participation of women musicians in rituals and celebrations, I compare traditionally devised gender roles with those constructed within a relatively new, institutionalized, and politicized social context. THE ROLE OF FEMALE MUSICIANS IN RITUALS: BURIALS AND WEDDINGS Female musicians traditionally performed in rituals such as burials and weddings. One of the established female professions, agiçi4 or lamenter, has been known from pre-Islamic times. The ancient burial ritual—yiug5—was held to commemorate the death of a hero. A large banquet was organized with "specially invited women—lamenters, who played on the twostringed gopuz and danced. At first the female waiters narrated stories glorifying the victories and bravery of the warrior. Then they sang sad mournful songs which were supposed to move the whole crowd to a loud cry" (Ahverdiev, 1957: 412). According to Saadat Seidova, in pre-Islamic times the yiug was done by men and women together, while later, when women were separated from men, the agigi performed the ritual only for women (Seidova, 1981: 11). The art of the agigi, like that of the khanande, required from performers a knowledge of poetry, prose, metaphors, and music, along with an ability to improvise. This pre-Islamic burial ceremony and the art of the agigi influenced the Islamic sbebiha—a type of dramatized performance or theatrical mystery recalling the life and death of the imam Hussein.6 A prominent part of sbebiha is marsia, a lament sung between fragments of the stories of the hero-

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ic battles and the deaths of Ali and his eldest son Hussein, the son-in-law and grandson of the Prophet Mohammed. During the month of maharram, marsia was performed repeatedly several times each day. It was sung by religious leaders such as mollahs and shehirds7 or by singers. It was performed by men and women, singly and in groups segregated by gender. During my 1997 visit to Taza Pir, I asked a woman in the courtyard if it was possible to find a female performer of marsia. Her reply—that most old women in the mosque and the ones living in this area knew how to sing marsia—was surprising because during the decades when the state prohibited religious activities, Islamic traditions seemed to have vanished. Moreover, in Baku, the melting-pot Azerbaijanian capital inhabited by a cosmopolitan intelligentsia schooled in the "Soviet" notion of modernity and internationalism, Islam and its traditions were viewed as a part of a doomed and distant past. Entering the mosque, I found the mullah and repeated my request. He invited me to enter the woman's section, a rather small area separated with a black drapery from the spacious prayer room for men. The women behind the black wall were all dressed alike, most of them covered with long dark shawls. Some wore patterned veils with gold and silver designs. The younger women sat on the floor, the older ones on low chairs. In the center of the group on a tall stool was a woman mullah, who leads prayer, reads Arabic, and teaches girls in the religious school.8 When I asked the mullah to sing marsia, she pulled from a very small table a thick notebook with numerous texts. Several old women also brought out note pads from their purses or from under their scarves. They took turns singing different marsias, which created an atmosphere of immense emotional intensity. During the verses, performed solo, the women, hearing about the suffering of the heroes, began to weep. The refrains, sung by all the women accompanying themselves by slapping their palms against their knees, led to exultation: closed or half-closed eyes, swaying body movements, exclamations such as "ai aman." Seidova divides marsias into two types—sinazan, performed by men, and novha, sung by women. According to Seidova, the word sinazan is derived from the Azerbaijanian sina, chest, and is associated with the style of performance in which men sing standing up while pounding themselves on the chests. Women, on the other hand, perform the marsia sitting on carpets, clapping, and weeping aloud. The word novha is rooted in the Azerbaijanian 'weep' (Seidova, 1981: 15-17). When performed by males the marsia has an epic, dramatic character; the women's novha is rather lyrical and deeply sorrowful. Sevil Farhadova, in her work on the music of Azerbaijanian rituals, describes the repertoire of female wailers who impersonate Ali-Akbar's mother Leili, Hussein's beloved princess Shehribanu, and his sister Zeinab. Each of the heroines has her own song, a cry narrat-

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ed in the first person. In the "Cry of Shehribanu," the performer sings about ruined dreams, recreating the scenes of a meeting with her departed hero and declaring her everlasting love for him. The "Cry of Leili" portrays the mother of Ali, who foresees the loss of her son, tries to stop him from leaving, and later receives the message of his death. Marsias, as well as agi and the other types of lament, have also been part of the funeral and memorial days for a death in a family. Seidova dis­ cusses the Azerbaijanian funeral in four parts: preparation/announcement, grieving, burial, and remembrance. While the first part is performed by a man reciting verses of the Qur'an, women agici are involved in the second part of the ritual, which they sing in the company of other women (Seidova, 1981: 12). The laments in this part are divided into several groups based upon the relations of mourners to the deceased: child, parent, husband, or other relative. Women also often participate in the fourth part of the ritual called juma ahshami, held every Thursday afternoon for forty days after the burial. The Azerbaijanian lament incorporates classical literary sources as well as free prose improvisations. Inseparable from Azerbaijanian folk music, the lament is also merged with mugham (Seidova, 1981: 21). Analyzing the melodic features of the marsia, Farhadova points out its declamatory nature, the melodic patterns spinning out of the thematic cell, the promi­ nence of ostinato, cadences, and ornamentation—all characteristic traits of mugham. Recording and analyzing different laments, Farhadova and Seidova agree (Seidova, 1981: 19) that different agis and marsias are asso­ ciated with mugham-modes. For example, "Cry of Sakina," reminding one of a lullaby, is performed in the mode Bayati Shiraz. "Cry of Shehribanu" is in the mode Shur, typical of Azerbaijanian lyric songs (Farhadova, 1991: 15). Likewise the mullah in Gői Mosque told me that for her, marsia and mugham are the same. Singing a lament, she uses melodies from familiar mughams. One of the women in Taza Pir, participating in a similar discus­ sion about the connections between mugham and music for burial rites, began to sing an improvisation in Segah, telling me that she could sing it as marsia. The musical idiom of marsia is closely related to other rituals where women provide music. Nearly a century ago, Hajibeyov stated that "the musical language of marsia is hardly different from . . . music performed in folk festivals and weddings" (Seidova, 1981: 15). The dancing and singing of professional women performers had been for centuries a vital part of the Azerbaijanian wedding. The Russian painter Gagarin created a series of paintings of female dancers from the province Shemakha. In one of his works, portraying female dancers in a company of male musicians, Gagarin includes the names of his characters: Sara, Rena, Sakina, Hikmet.

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Figure 8.1. Dancers of Shemakha. Painting by G. Gagarin (Azerbaijan Irs) Women play a critical role in arranging the marriage for their male relatives; and since sharia9 prohibited women from appearing publicly with uncovered faces, men relied for the choice of a bride on their female kin. The mother and other women in the family of a potential groom visited the house of a recommended girl, a procedure known as gyzgorma (girl viewing). If the girl satisfied their expectations, a few days later, the older women of the groom's household would arrive with arvad elchilii (the women's proposition). The last word, nevertheless, was left to the men, who entered the girls' home with kishi elchilii (the men's proposition). The parents of the bride signaled their agreement by offering sweets to the guests of the house. This preliminary negotiation of two sides was followed by several engagement parties, which were traditionally accompanied with music and held separately by women and men. Women's rituals also included paltarkesdi (cutting of the fabric)—making the bridal dress—and hinayahma—coloring the palms, feet, and hair of a bride with henna. Each segment of the celebration was associated with special songs and dances. The culmination of the whole marriage fiesta was a wedding—toy (Farhadova, 1991: 75-76). The toy traditionally began at the house of the bride who, wearing a red dress and covered by a red veil, led the procession, the bridal wagon, to the house of the groom, where the wedding was to continue. Every part of the wedding, as well as the rituals preceding it, was accompanied by spe-

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cial types of songs, dances, and poetry sung or spoken. Farhadova believes that "the length of wedding ceremonies held among women exceeds that of the men's celebrations, which is clearly seen in the musical repertoire" (Farhadova, 1991:78). The most traditional weddings are performed in Azerbaijanian villages or in rural areas near Baku. The "modernized" urban population of Baku, diversified ethnically, socially, and culturally, performs various mixed and non-traditional wedding ceremonies, and even the traditional ones have been altered.10 Frequently some parts of the celebration are abbreviated or performed only in close family circles. For example, the "bridal wagon" does not extend beyond one's back yard; instead, the customary procession of the bride with her maids and female relatives to the groom's house turns into an automobile cortege. The big wedding is frequently held in the presence of both men and women in rented restaurants with several musicians or even musical groups including ashigs, sazandes and electronic ensembles. These modernized wedding parties are typically preceded by several engagement rituals—kichik nishan (the small engagement party), bouyk nishan (the big engagement gathering), and the presentation of honja11—all held separately by women and men. Traditional songs providing entertainment also establish the order of each wedding episode. The song Hinayahdi (Farhadova, 1991: 88) accompanies and portrays the coloring of the bride's hands and feet with henna. The Hosh Galdin welcomes a bride to her new house and introduces her new relatives. In Aparmaha kalmishik, the groom's relatives jokingly bargain with the parents to give them the bride. Many songs are associated with dances. A special group of wedding songs called Harai, often performed as a musical contest,12 is found more often in rural than urban areas. Mugham performance is an essential part of Azerbaijanian weddings. For example, in 'men's weddings' 13 mugham is the culminating point of the gathering. There are various views about the place and duration of mugham performances at women's parties. Zoya Tajikova (Tajikistan, Central Asia) writes that "in [women's] weddings the [female] sozandah often perform sections from the Shash makam [one of the Central Asian counterparts of Azerbaijanian mugham ] " (Tajikova, 1987: 76). Her account, as well as my interactions with students in a class of mugham and with other female performers, led me to believe that for at least the last several decades, the performance of a complete dastgah is not typical for women's weddings. Instead of a chain of mugham improvisations, female khanandes performing for weddings typically sing one or more mugham sections lasting from fifteen to thirty minutes and surrounded by folk songs or tasnifs in a corresponding mugham-mode. Little scholarly research has been done on the music of female wedding rituals or on female musicians, because of several factors: the denial of the

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seriousness of music and music-associated rituals by religious purists, the highly theoretical approach to music as a spiritual and intellectual phenomenon that does not involve women, and finally the general inaccessibility of female rituals such as weddings for writers and scholars, who were mostly men. Nonetheless, the existing rituals and verbal references to the pre-existing ceremonies, along with research on women-musicians in other Muslim societies, allow me to hypothesize about the musical profession, the social status and image of the foremothers of contemporary Azerbaijanian female performers. The investigation of female participation in two major Azerbaijanian rituals, weddings and burials, reveals two points: a long tradition of professional female musicians and dancers, and the existence of an established female musical repertoire. Performing (mostly) for women's parties, female musicians were considered professionals. They traveled to the place where they were employed and where they were paid money for their service. Karin van Nieuwkerk, in her book on Egyptian female musicians and dancers, A Trade Like Any Other, writes that "despite their importance, entertainers are generally not honored or accorded much prestige." The author poses the question whether "the low esteem of female performers is mainly related to the dishonor of the trade or to the prevailing gender ideology" (Nieuwkerk, 1995: 2). Perhaps both perspectives are relevant to the Muslim view of music and women. The heroine of Fatima Mernissi's novel, a girl from a Moroccan village, learns to understand "the word 'harem' . . . as a slight variation of the word haram, the forbidden" (Mernissi, 1995: 61). Haram, applied to both music and women, makes women-musicians a double sin in the eyes of the followers of orthodox Islam. Harem is an inner domestic territory or an enclosed private space to which women were attached by Islamic law and customs. 14 Accordingly, both the practice of music and the deterritorialization of women performing outside the enclosed space placed female musicians on the margins of traditional Muslim society. Working for money was an indication of low status in a society where the woman's position was often measured by the support she received from her male patron, husband, or father. Specific types of work such as weaving carpets were a traditional woman's vocation because such work did not violate the sanctity of the harem walls. Musical performance, on the other hand, was removed from the harem structure and focused attention on a woman's physical appearance (even when it was only a voice stirring one's imagination), making the musician herself an object. Thus, although the question of sexual morality did not arise, since the female performer worked in women's company, the image of the woman entertainer was morally ambiguous. Consequently, a woman's choice of music as a career suggested (1) her family position with an absent or financially insecure and morally weak husband, (2) her low social status as one "outside

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of the harem," or (3) her affiliation with musical entertainment for profit. Indeed, wailers claimed more respect because of the religious nature of their performance and its disassociation from 'music.' Another area of musical and poetic creativity, though narrow, was historically significant in relation to women's involvement in mugham and the development of female musical professions in the twentieth century. Throughout the centuries, a number of women were patrons of both male and female artists and intellectuals, confronting the entire social and cultural system of Islamic society. Female patronage had ancient roots. Writing about early Arabic Islamic societies, Amnon Shiloah comments: The lion's share of patronage was extended by emancipated women of high society, who at that time were mixing freely with the opposite sex. Not yet cloistered, cultivated patronesses endowed with fine literary taste transformed their houses into salons where eloquence and extemporaneity reigned, and the greatest poets and musicians were encouraged to display their talent, competing with one another. The salon was known under its Arabic appellation majlis, which means both meeting place and the session held there (Shiloah, 1995: 12). Azerbaijanian classical literature includes poetry by Mehseti Khanum Ganjevi of the twelfth century, who "was persecuted for her courageous poetry." Among her followers in the nineteenth century was poetess AshigPeri, the founder of a majlis in Shusha (Istoriia Azerbaidganskoi musiki, 1992: 119). A. Akhmedov suggests that Mirza-Djan Madatov, a Garabag nobleman and a "conspicuous author of Azerbaijanian literature in the first half of the nineteenth century . . . competed in poetic improvisation with a young Garabag poetess, Ashig-Peri" (Akhmedov, 1989: 187). Nicolaz Baratashvili, a Georgian poet living in the middle of the nineteenth century in Azerbaijanian territory, wrote that "now everywhere in Nakhichevan one hears the new poetry of the eighteen-year-old Gonchi Begim, a daughter of Nachichevan's khan" (Shushinski, 1979: 32). Baratashvili himself translated her poetry, which was performed not only in Azerbaijanian but in Georgian by Sattar, a celebrated khanande of the nineteenth century. The line of women involved in poetry and music led to a female poet of the nineteenth century, Khurshud Banu Natavan (1837-1897), a founder of the Majlis Ulus in Shusha (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 116). Natavan, the most notable figure among female poets and musicians, is recognized as one of the greatest poets of Azerbaijan by both men and women. She had a significant influence on Uzeyir Hajibeyov. Since Hajibeyov's father was Natavan's secretary for many years and his mother grew up in the house of Natavan, it is believed that young Uzeyir was often present at musical/poetic gatherings where he listened to Natavan reciting

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her poetry (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 185, 186). Given Hajibeyov's crucial role in the genealogy of modern Azerbaijanian music, his family ties with Natavan are intriguing. In the framework of a malecentered hierarchy, the idea of a female precursor of contemporary music would surprise not only conservative musicians but even relatively modern ones and their fans in contemporary Azerbaijan. Unlike the agiçi, marsia performers, and musicians singing and playing at weddings, poetesses from Azerbaijanian majlises lived in a diversified ethnic environment, belonged to a high social class, received an education unusual for women, and did not perform for money, rather playing the role of patroness of the arts and artists. All three models of female musicians prior to the twentieth century— agici, wedding performer, and artistic patroness—influenced the contem­ porary performing practice of mugham. Throughout the twentieth century, the three spheres of female musicianship changed at different rates as they related to new sociocultural contexts. For example, due to the Soviet pro­ hibition of sacred rituals, small local groups discreetly performed and thereby preserved Muslim religious rituals and ceremonies. Since the central religious celebration—maharram—has remained largely untouched, women continue to perform for female audiences, and the repertoire has not changed significantly. The two female mullahs I talked to in Baku were older women who both began to perform burial rit­ uals after they became widows. One of them, the mullah from Gői Mosque, was a nurse before her husband died. In an engaging manner she told me her story. After the loss of her husband she had a dream in which she was visited by three imams pressing her to quit her job and become a mullah. At first she rejected the idea. Night after night the imams, visiting her in her dreams, threatened to take away her infant son, who shortly after this message became ill (in real life). The thirty-seven-year-old widow made promises (in her dreams), after which she enrolled in an Arabic lan­ guage class in the Pedagogical Institute in Baku. She believes that the knowledge of classical Arabic, the language of the Qur'an, came magically easy to her. "It was not a new language to me, but one that I forgot." Attending the mosque regularly she retrieved the songs she had learned as a girl growing up in the village. Performing for burial and other ritual cel­ ebrations, she was able to raise her children. She continues to support her daughter and her daughter's family. She teaches Arabic to girls who attend a recently opened religious school in this mosque. As a teacher and mullah with a strong, vital personality, she is respected by the women surrounding her. The story of the woman mullah from the Taza Pir Mosque, though somewhat less dramatic, reveals similarities. She also began attending the mosque daily after the death of her husband. The company of older women

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soothed her sorrow and opened an opportunity for supporting her family. Through the years, she learned to calm and soothe the pain of other women and many years later, as the oldest, she was chosen to be a mullah in the mosque. The women surrounding these mullahs were mainly widows and also women who had recently moved to Baku from Azerbaijanian rural areas. Several of them were refugees from Armenian villages in the occupied territories. Respected among women in mosques, visited by thousands of women during the maharram, invited to mourn for sorrowful events in families, these women, however, rarely interact socially with women from middle class families in Baku. Is it because of their family status, or of the necessity to support their families—a role that does not coincide with the idea of "femininity"? Is it because the appearance of these women covered in dark shawls contrasts with the colorfully and fashionably dressed women on the streets of Baku, or because they are associated with sorrow, their voices extending into another world? While burial rituals appear to have been unaltered in the twentieth century, weddings were heavily influenced by interaction with different ethnic traditions. Considering these factors, one expects to find important changes in the role and image of the female entertainer, especially in the integrated urban society of Baku. Nonetheless, most female musicians whom I met during my field trip to Baku were hesitant to admit that they performed for weddings. Their reluctance was especially visible in classes of mugham which I visited in the Azerbaijanian Conservatory. The first time I attended the class of Professor Rzayev, a khanande, I asked the female students if they sang at weddings. Addressing this question, I noticed that Rzayev gave the students a slight negative gesture after which they all denied their participation in weddings. The idea of singing in folk gatherings perhaps seemed somewhat demeaning to students and their mentor, who were concerned with the integrity of the Music Academy as an institution they represent—the image of the most prestigious education. The polite answer was not factually accurate but reflected the professional image they wished to project to me as a "foreigner." 15 Later, whenever I had an opportunity to talk with female musicians, I led the conversation by introducing my experience of Azerbaijanian weddings and my knowledge of music, mugham in particular, for which the wedding was a traditional venue. Even though only a few women acknowledged their participation in weddings at the beginning of our conversations, there was always someone who pursued the topic by saying to her friend: "But you do sing/play for weddings." Some of them further admitted that they would sing more if there were more weddings and better pay. Most women I talked to were unable to explain the negative connotation of the status of a female singer performing for weddings or other folk cel-

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ebrations. Some musicians even denied this negative implication, but stated proudly that they themselves did not perform for such gatherings. Sakina Ismailova, one of the most conspicuous khanandes of the current generation, says that weddings have always been a "school" of mugham singing, and some of her colleagues appear in both weddings and concerts. At the same time she states that she herself does not sing for weddings. kamancha player Arif Asadullayev recalls that he began to play for weddings at age of thirteen. His wife, the distinguished kamancha player Shafiga Eivazova, discusses in detail the mugham tradition in the context of weddings but begins by saying that she does not play at weddings. Arif adds: "She does not like to receive money from someone's hands." Although the same mugham can be performed at a wedding and on a concert stage by the same performer, a number of the female musicians I met performed at weddings only at the beginning of their careers or not at all. Sara Gadimova, a celebrated khanande of the older generation, explained that this choice reflected not only personal preferences but also an official agenda. "Women of my generation did not sing at weddings, especially after they received formal recognition or a national prize." Since the sphere of public performance was controlled by the government through organizations such as AzConcert and Philharmony, from which performers received their monthly pay, private performances (weddings) could cost the musician the loss of a regular salary. The performing venues of Sara Gadimova and other well-known female musicians include concert halls, opera theater, television and radio broadcasts—none of which existed before the twentieth century. WHEN A GUL SINGS MUGHAM . .. In the context of the drastic and complex sociocultural changes in the twentieth century, the emergence and development of female musicianship is inseparable from negotiation of gender roles. Fragmented evidence allows one to reconstruct the "biography" of female musicianship of the twentieth century. 1. In 1908, at the premiere of the Azerbaijanian opera Leili and Mejnun, the role of Leili was played by a man. At first it was Abdulrahim Farajev and later Ahmad Agdamsky. Although a number of theaters had functioned in Baku since the end of the nineteenth century, women were not allowed to appear either on stage or in the audience. An exception was made both for female foreigners and for Azerbaijanian women from families of the commercial elite. They could attend theatrical spectacles sitting in a special balcony behind a heavy curtain and watching the performance through a little hole in the drapery.

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2. Shovkat Mammadova (1012-1981) is referred to in different sources as "the first woman singing on the stage before the revolution [the Soviet revolution of 1918]" (Enciklopedicheskii muzikalinii slovar, 1966: 289). Altstadt writes that "Uzeyir Hajibeyov first put a woman performer [Shovkat Mammadova] . . . on stage, though doing so was regarded as an insult to womanhood and to the community" (Altstadt, 1992: 54). Mammadova recalled how in April 1912, Hajibeyov organized for her a concert to finance her schooling in Italy. The 15-year-old singer appeared publicly on stage in European dress and without a veil. The recital in Baku "almost cost her life; only escape from Baku to Tiflis saved the singer [as well as the composer and producers] from Muslim fanatics" (Vinogradov 1982: 48). In later years Mammadova performed many roles in operas and operettas by Hajibeyov and other Azerbaijanian composers. For several decades (after 1949) she was also the professor of a vocal class at the Azerbaijanian conservatory. 3. Even before the revolution in Azerbaijan, Hadija khanum Gaibova held in her house a musical salon, which was attended by leading musicians of Baku. An excellent pianist, Gaibova was also "the first Azerbaijanian woman performing on the public stage improvisation based on the themes from various mughams" (Guilrena Mirza 200: 145). In June 1920, courses in Eastern Music were established on Gaibova's initiative. Several other women piano players entered performing and teaching careers in the early years of Soviet Azerbaijan. 4. An Azerbaijanian dekret (commandment) of March 31, 1920, ratified an increase in the monthly pay to everyone working in the musical studio for Azerbaijanian women. It was acknowledged that "the distinctive character of the first musical school for Muslim women in the whole Muslim world requires, besides professional education and working experience, a special knowledge of the local environment and methods of combat with the ignorant Muslims" (Dekreti Azerbaijan, 1988: 461). 5. In a 1926 photograph, Uzeyir Hajibeyov conducts a mixed gender chorus. Another photograph of the late 1920s portrays the first graduates of the recently established Azerbaijanian Conservatory. Among them are Shovkat Mammadova and Hagigat Rzayeva. In the following years Hagigat sang Arabzangi in Magomayev's opera Shah Ismail, Leili in Hajibeyov's Leili and Mejnun, and Telli in Arshin Mai Alan, a musical comedy by U. Hajibeyov. 6. In 1946, Arshin Mai Alan was made as a film musical. The film version was played by two Azerbaijanian female singers, Anvar Kalantarli and F. Mekhralieva (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 205). "They were

Figure 8.2. Hajibeyov conducting female choir, 1926 (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture)

Figure 8.3. Hajibeyov (center), and the graduates of the Azerbaijanian Conservatory: Shovkat Mammadova (left), Hagigat Rzayeva (right), and Bulbul (to her left), late 20s (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture).

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outstanding mugham players, the first generation of female khanandes," says Sara Gadimova (Interview with S. Gadimova by the author, June 1997). Herself a mugham singer, Gadimova, along with other female khanandes such as Fatí Mekhralieva, Shovkat Alekperova, Rubaba Muradova—the second generation—entered the Azerbaijanian musical scene shortly before World War II. Those four were legendary figures, precursors of a world feminist movement, outstanding performers and also creators of a new image of Azerbaijanian women. During the war they often toured for months, giving three to four concerts per day and spending the time in between on the road. Only a few decades separate those women musicians from the debut of Shovkat Mammadova. Although the female khanandes were regarded with public respect and official recognition, their names were also connected

Figure 8.4. A group of musicians performing for army, 1944. Sara Gadimova is the third in the middle row (State Museum of Azerbaijanian Musical Culture) with numerous derogatory stories and innuendoes. Obtaining the position of concert singer and concerned with their social images, female mugham performers, especially in the first generation, separated themselves from women folk singers by wearing dresses closed at the chin and performing in stagnant motionless postures. Gadimova recalls that until recently, female khanandes used no gaval, the frame drum which, according to

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Doubleday, makes "important links with dance and sexuality," (Doubleday, 1999: 101) and which, involving bodily motion, stirs the erotic imagination. Only later, since the fifties, have women khanandes begun holding the gaval, tapping it lightly but lacking the vibrancy of traditional male performance. Since the end of the World War II, more women have entered the field of mugham performance. Among them are Gandab Gulieva (1947), Sakina Ismailova (1956), and Malakhanim Eiubova (1963). They and the others perform the female repertoire of the Azerbaijanians classics—operas and operettas, as well as mugham, I attended several performances of these singers: Gandab Gulieva in the opera The Bridal Rock, by Shafiga Akhundova; Sakina Ismailova in the operas Asbig Garib, by Z. Hajibeyov and Leili and Mejnun, by U. Hajibeyov; Malakhanim Eiubova also in Leili and Mejnun. I also listened to Malakhanim singing a short mugham in the concert hall and to Sakina, who arranged for me a mugham performance at home. CONTEMPORARY FEMALE MUSICIANS Many female performers came from musical families. The paternal grandparents of Malakhanim were amateur singers with exceptional voices. Her father was an asbig, and her brother is a khanande living in Shemaha and known in that area for his singing at weddings (Alakbarli, 1997). Malakhanim herself studied in the department of musical comedy at the Azerbaijanian Institute of Art. After graduation she worked for several years in a recently formed theatrical group Urs, whose goal is the revival of ancient Azerbaijanian literary, dramatic, and musical traditions. She is married and has three children. After the birth of her third child, knowing that her husband disapproved of her stage career, Malakhanim stopped performing. She says that at first she was happy with her decision to be a fulltime mother and wife, but after almost two years she began to feel the emptiness of her life without singing. Obligated by a promise to her husband, she remained at home until her husband himself, seeing her unhappy, asked her to return to singing. Malakhanim performs solo concerts and participates in concert programs where she sings mugham as well as Azerbaijanian popular songs.16 In the early 1990s she appeared on the stage of the Azerbaijanian Opera House playing Leili in Hajibeyov's opera Leili and Mejnun. Some of the older and more experienced khanandes believe that she is too young; others find her voice too high, childlike and not strong enough. Nevertheless, many singers and fans of Azerbaijanian art music, talking about well-known current female performers, name Sakina Ismailova and Malakhanim Eiubova. Both are talented, educated, and independent modern women.

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Sakina Ismailova also shares musical interests within her family. Her sister, who sings at weddings and other celebrations, says that she lacks Sakina's voice and talent, and therefore cannot be a concert performer. Sakina graduated from the Azerbaijanian Musical College, known as the academy of traditional music. She also has a husband and teenage daughter. Initially, Sakina's husband was unhappy with her vocation. She recalls that it was her father-in-law who approved of her talent and profession and who himself accompanied her to performances, which gradually resolved her family problem. The role of a father-in-law who drives his son's wife to work and remains near her during her rehearsals and concerts may seem strange for one outside the culture and society. Within this cultural context, however, the presence of the male head of the family (especially father of the husband) is an indication of the singer's family status and a demonstration of his protection and approval. Consequently her femininity is properly acknowledged. Currently Sakina is a soloist at the Opera House, where she performs leading roles in major mugham operas. Because of the country's poor economic condition and the effects of the political disorder on cultural life (the lack of governmental subsidies, the reformation of the Soviet cultural management system, chaos in the administration of cultural affairs, the lack of private cultural initiative) she gives only two or three solo performances per year, where she sings complete dastgahs. She performs extensively on radio and television. She is well known and respected not only in Azerbaijan but in Turkey, Iran, and in Arabic countries. Sakina has also toured in France, Holland, and the United States. She has strong voice with a wide range and a rich, low register. During our conversation she emphasized that her repertoire includes "male" mughams. The two categories, "male" and "female" mugham, are mainly defined with respect to voice range and emotional content of mughams. The Segah, Shahnaz and Bayati Shiraz are considered "female" mughams because of their high-pitched ringing sound, while Shur and Chahargah are recognized as "male" mughams for their low registers and "masculine" dramatic (Shur), heroic and passionate (Chahargah) characteristics.17 Used among performers but not discussed in native scholarship, the categories "male" and "female" are not usually applied to male performers because, perhaps, all mughams are considered as created by men. Discussing the male repertoire one rather speaks about the Garabag school of singing, which favors Segah for its high and resonating sound, or about the Baku school, known for mughams such as Shur and Rast, which have a more natural low range and a declamatory poetic style. High, intense male singing is treasured. The idea of "gender" in mugham is mainly applied to female performers. Female singers are generally confined to the high register. Sweet-sounding "female" mughams are thought to correspond to "natural" female qualities18 and consequently diminish the view of female performers—a view

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challenged by celebrated female khanandes. For example, Zeynab Khanlarova, an outstanding singer appearing on stage in the 1960s, a performer of traditional mugham, operas, and popular songs, and currently a member of the Azerbaijanian Parliament, recalls how she learned "male" mugham with her teacher, Seyid Shushinski: Chahargah was always sung by men. Once Seyid challenged me to learn this mugham. After some time I told him that I was ready. He liked my singing although he found that my performance was not done on a professional level. After we worked together he arranged for me to record my Chahargah. It was in the 1960s. The next day after it was played on national radio I visited the radio station where I saw the poet Anvar Alibeili. He congratulated me and said that many people thought at first that the mugham was performed by a man and were surprised to find out that the performer was a woman. (Akhundova, 1986) Interviewing Malakhanim, Aziz Alakbarli asked: "Is it believed that [mughams such as] Shahnaz, Gatar are "female" mughams}" The singer replied with another question: "Why did Khan Shushinski sing Shahnaz? Don't women in our day successfully perform mughams Rast, Chahargah, and Shur?" (Alakbarli, 1997). Sakina Ismailova passionately argues against the two categories, including "male" mughams in her repertoire. In the private performance she arranged for me, she demonstrated her mastery of the "male" mugham Shur. Sakina performed the complete fifty-minute dastgah with an intense dramatic low tone as well as an intimate and passionate recitative-like singing style. She was accompanied by female instrumentalists, 19 Turunj Agaeva playing tar and Farida Malikova kamancha. Rehearsing and performing with Sakina since the early 1990s, both women are also soloists, winners of state competitions, and teachers. The trio performance of Shur seemed well rehearsed and memorized, but when upon my request they repeated a short fragment, it was different from the previous version. This female trio is unique in Azerbaijan, and Sakina confesses that although she herself has obtained recognition in her country and beyond its borders as a singer, the community of male performers is resentful of the idea of a female trio. This factor for years affected Sakina's concert arrangements, especially in her tours abroad. The concerts outside of Azerbaijan that during last decade became a valuable source of an income for musicians, are jealously guarded by well-established male performers and administrators. Until recently, Sakina was unable to take her female trio abroad. One of their first foreign trips was to Holland in 1999. Their subsequent performance in Tehran was held at

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Figure 8.5. Sakina Ismailova with gaval (middle) and her accompanists, Turunj Agaeva with tar (left) and Farida Malikova with kamancha (right) (Photograph by author, 2002) the Alzahra University [for women] in front of an audience of 5000 women. This groundbreaking event opened the stage as an official performing venue for female musicians in Iran (Conversation with Sakina, Turunj and Farida in May 2002). Moreover, now Sakina and her ensemble have been invited to perform in Teheran in front of male audience. As in her previous visit, Sakina will cover her heavy beautiful hair and forehead with a kalagai, a large silk wrap. Pioneering is one of the traits of Sakina's adventurous personality. For example, instead of holding the gaval "properly," slightly pounding on it as female khanandes did for decades, she began to take lessons from Mahmud Salahov and now plays gaval like a male professional. In this as in other matters, she is followed by other female singers, who now study gaval. Sakina is also the first woman professor to teach mugham singing in Baku Music Academy—the highest state institution for music education. Experimenting with various aspects of performance, Sakina designed a concert program that immersed the listener in the world of one mugham in its various incarnations, including arrangements of pieces composed for European instruments. In 2001, she opened her concert with Bayati Shiraz and in 2002, she dedicated an entire performance to Rast.

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WOMAN AS A MASTER OF MUGHAM The artistic style of musicians performing in an oral tradition largely depends on the transmission of musical material through training. When interviewing both female and male Azerbaijanian musicians in 1997, I found it striking that female khanandes, though achieving a high level of performance, had rarely been involved in teaching and that female singers studied with male mentors. Apparently, all the above mentioned singers of mugham studied with male teachers. Further, while most theory and musicology pedagogues and piano instructors at music schools and colleges are women, until recently there were no female instructors of vocal mugham in leading musical institutions. In 1997, I was also unable to find female khanandes who taught or studied with women privately. Unsatisfied with the result of my own search involving contemporary singers, I requested from Elkhan Babayev a list of distinguished women khanandes of early generations who had pupils. He gave me the names of Anvar Kalantarli (1902-1979), Tukazban Ismailova (1922), Rubaba Muradova (1932-1984), and Sara Gadimova (1922), but said that none had disciples. I repeatedly raised the question of women teachers of mugham singing with male khanandes. Several of them, recognizing the absence of female teachers of mugham, found it surprising; nevertheless, they expressed their doubts about the effectiveness of female teaching. If women have for decades been the pupils of male teachers, could there be a distinction between female and male characteristics of mugham singing? Searching for traits that would identify a female style of mugham performance, I considered the issue of the text. Since most mugham narratives express the longing of a man glorifying the image of a beloved woman, I was curious about women's use of the text. Do female singers change the lyrics, or choose contemporary poetry, or select a narrative centered on abstract themes, such as love for the motherland? I found that the gender images of classical texts generally do not bother the female singers. Sara Gadimova suggests that texts can be interpreted differently. She says that for her the musical quality of the poetic line is the most important element and that she prefers the classical sources (Gadimova, interview by author, July 1997). Among all the women singers I met, only Malakhanim said that at times she feels a necessity to change a few words. Sakina does not believe in "correcting" the literary sources, but she usually chooses texts where love poetry does not specify gender. The singers are also attracted to contemporary and classical texts about love for their Vatan (motherland) as well as to philosophical poetry. Sakina also finds that the difference between male and female singing is subtle and involves mainly ornamentation. She instantly demonstrates the zangula (trills) as performed by male and female khanandes. The dis-

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tinction between the two is the intervallic distance between the pitches: in the case of a female the range is wide, while in the male version the trill is very narrow. (Sound track nine: Sakina Ismailova, an excerpt from Bayati Shiraz) Malakhanim stresses the same point about vocal embellishments. With respect to teaching, Gadimova says that although she does not have students, she often hears that young khanandes performing on TV and radio program imitate her style and even copy the mughams she recorded. Malakhanim also recalls that at the beginning of her performing career she admired Zeynab Khanlarova and mimicked her musical style and stage presentation, just as young girls now imitate her manner. The issue of teaching seems to me very important for understanding both musical style and gender dynamics. Hammoudi, examining the master/disciple relation in Morocco, suggests that the "power relation owes its strength to a constant and repetitive reassertion of the master disciple relationship" (Hammoudi, 1997: 137). The scholar defines a master as a figure equal to a chief, father, or an older person expecting full compliance from a disciple whose role exposes the "signs of femininity" as a form of submission (Hammoudi, 1997: 5). In the Azerbaijanian context, where the mastery of mugham incorporates the two—performance and teaching—a female singer until recently was unable to fulfill the role of master. Beginning their musical careers as disciples and later not accepted as teachers, they remained attached to a socially bounded "femininity." The position of female performer paralleled a state of dependence (on male teacher and male accompanists, male concert managers and administrators), which according to Hammoudi "informs the training methods and programs of political organizations that draw on some versions of Islam" (Hammoudi, 1997: 6). It is significant that in independent Azerbaijan, undergoing an Islamic revival, during the five years between my first and second visit, several female kbanandes began teaching in Music College and Sakina Ismailova was offered a class at the Baku Academy, where both of her students are men. Transcending the boundary of traditional feminine roles, Azerbaijanian women kbanandes, especially ones as successful as Sakina, have undertaken their own management, including public relations and dealing with administrators. Having their own ensembles, these performers also assume leadership on the stage and often find themselves financially responsible for the members of their groups. Consequently, one finds that a female singer assumes the 'masculine' role in relation to her subordinates. I observed a master-disciple relationship between Sakina and her femaleaccompanists. Being approximately the same age as the tar and kamancha players working with her, Sakina assumed the power role in relation to her colleagues. This is reflected in the tone of her voice and in her strong reaction to everything that did not coincide with her professional or personal

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opinion. At the same time I learned that she is a benevolent, friendly, and compassionate woman who functions well within her cultural role. Correspondingly, her female partners demonstrate (perhaps not willingly, but habitually and culturally) their meekness and compliance to Sakina's leadership. Their respect would not come solely because of her humane characteristics but more from the power relation she maintains. Visiting Gadimova, I realized that in her household she, whom fans and admirers regarded for decades as a symbol of femininity, has undertaken a 'masculine' role in relation to her younger brother (whom she—the eldest of six children—raised) and her son (along with his wife and collegeage children). They succumb to her authority and, like Sakina's instrumentalists, perform their roles in a culturally developed drama. MEETING SAKINA IN HER HOUSE I had an opportunity to see Ismailova's stage and private performances, attend her rehearsals, and have tea with her. She often holds rehearsals with her ensembles at her home. Her apartment in 1997 was not as large, light, and glamorous as she wished, and therefore she arranged our meeting with her group in a friend's home. There she welcomed me in the second story of this house, designed in a somewhat American fashion with light painted walls, big windows, and a workout machine in one of the adjacent rooms. The room where the musicians performed had divans, armchairs, and a floor covered in Azerbaijanian manner with colorful carpets. The table was set for tea with native pastries, fruits, and refined china. In subsequent meetings we saw each other in Sakina's dressing room at the Opera House and in her home. Five years later, on my second day in Baku, I visited Sakina's new house in the middle of the city, where the streets are clustered together, and the web of one-way roads presents an insurmountable challenge to any driver except the locals who know these streets by heart. The houses, spaced a few steps apart on streets with extremely narrow pedestrian walks and magically parked cars, are typical Baku's one or two story structures with internal courtyards. I remember childhood visits to my grandmother, who lived in one of these houses, when each building, accessed from the street through a gate, was occupied by a dozen families living on different levels and often sharing kitchens and rest rooms. This, in the past, was the heart of cosmopolitan Soviet Baku. Despite the traffic and the congestion, it remains one of the prime areas in Baku, especially for one who can afford to buy an entire unit, as Sakina did. Entering the gates of her new house, one can walk into an internal tiled courtyard and with a table set in the midst of it, or one can enter the spacious rooms in the house itself. At our meeting in 1997, Sakina herself and her musicians played sitting on chairs.

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In her new house they sit cross-legged on big bright colored cushions that lie on soft carpets covering the whole floor. The change of houses and the move from Baku's suburbs to a nice but relatively small apartment in the center of the city and then to a large private house is an indication of Sakina's growing prestige and perhaps of the rapidly rising status of mugham performers. While Sakina Ismailova and other prominent mugham performers moved to the center of the city, a large number of Western-trained Azerbaijanian musicians left to teach, perform, and compose abroad. Is the relocation of Azerbaijanian musicians an indicator of significant changes in the dichotomy of the two native traditions, the oral art of mugham and Azerbaijanian Western-modeled composed music? FEMALE COMPOSERS Both female mugham performers and woman composers emerged in the twentieth century. However, while women became increasingly successful in the areas of performance, teaching, and scholarship in the early decades of the twentieth century, for over two thirds of the century there were no prominent female composers whose music was regularly performed. A photograph of the Azerbaijanian musical delegation to a plenum of Soviet composers in the 1960s, for instance, includes only one woman, musicologist Ludmila Karagicheva, in the company of men. (Figure 6.6) Another photo shows the faculty of the department of composition at the Azerbaijanian Conservatory in 1971—eight men and no women (Mirzazadeh Khayyam 2002: 169). The entrance of several talented and educated woman composers in the seventies was marked by the 1974 premier of Galin gayasi (The Bridal Rock)—the first opera created by an Azerbaijanian woman, Shafiga Akhunddova. Galin gayasi is known as a song-opera for its melodic language closely related to folk songs, dances, and the vocabulary of mugham. Not incidentally, Sakina Ismailova chose to "translate" Akhundova's compositions into the language of mugham. The excerpts of composed pieces, melodies from Akhundova's film and symphonic music, are combined with oral material and arranged for mugham ensemble. The arrangements of her compositions are not written down. Strikingly, though for decades mugham performers have been playing composed music from written text, these written pieces are learned by ear from Mahmud Salahov, who conducts the rehearsals. Sakina frequently converses with the seventy-eight year composer, who is excited by this experiment that brings her composition back to the roots of native music. Also, in the case of a prepared rather than improvised performance, mugham itself becomes a composed piece.

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Native composed music is characterized by the interplay between improvised and written musical traditions and by the intermingling of Azerbaijanian and Western musical elements. Every composer finds a way of combining oral music, Western influences, and Azerbaijanian composed music traditions developed throughout the last century. Perhaps this mixture of different sources inspired musical experimentation, which became a trademark of composers, many of them women, who studied with composer Gara Garayev. He "exposed them to the fascinating universe of contemporary music and acquainted them with the most significant trends . . . in composition, beginning with classical dodecaphony" (Gabai, 1990: 31). Among those were Ilnara Dadasheva, Sevda Ibrahimova, Afag Jafarova, and Nargiz Shafieva. The two most committed to experimental music are Franghiz Ali-Zade and Rahila Hasanova. Learning to appreciate European art and literature, influenced by classical music and works of avant-garde composers, Ali-Zade and Hasanova were also deeply affected by the Azerbaijanian soundscape. Captured by the spell of mugham, Ali-Zade recalls how "during and after her schooling years [she] devoted herself systematically to her 'musical tongue'"(Redepenning, 1997: 5). Ali-Zade's style synthesizes contemporary experimental technique with the dramaturgy and melodic vocabulary of mugham. In a different way, European and Azerbaijanian elements cohere in works of Rahila Hasanova. According to Günter Metzner, her composer-minimalist methods are at times reminiscent of Philip Glass. Simultaneously her music utilizes the semiotics of native expression with specific references to Sufism, an Islamic sect which, as we have seen, viewed poetry and music as a way of communicating with the divine. Years ago, as a piano student at the Azerbaijanian Conservatory, I first met Ali-Zade—a young (less than ten years my senior) professor of musicology and a pianist, a rare combination of two intense and demanding musical fields. As a pianist, she introduced Azerbaijanian and Soviet audiences to the music of Schoenberg, Berg, Cramp, and Ksenakis, composers denounced by Soviet officials for decades. She also performed pieces of Edison Denisov and Sofia Gubaidulina, as well as her own compositions. In 1998 I became acquainted again with Franghiz Ali-Zade at the music festival/congress Frau Musika Nova, where Ali-Zade's performances of her own compositions on a prepared piano one day and her string quartet the following day were a highlight of the musical program. She herself was rushing to Frankfurt to participate in the dress rehearsal for the premiere of her Sturm und Drang, Two years later, I attended a dress rehearsal of her Crossing II, played by Continuum, a New York chamber group. Once acclaimed as "one of the best interpreters of modern music in the USSR," now Ali-Zadeh is "indisputably one of the leading women composers of today" (Redepenning: 1997, 9).

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During her schooling with Garayev, from whom she inherited an affinity with the Second Viennese School, Ali-Zade wrote and performed the Sonata in memorium Alban Berg and then Gabil Sayagi (In the style of Gabil), the piece premiered in 1979 that brought the spotlight to the young composer. In Gabil Sayagi, Ali-Zade weds experimental technique and Azerbaijanian mugham. Written upon the request of cellist Iwan Manigetti, and composed for cello and prepared piano, this piece imitates the style of kamancha player Gabil Aliyev. Ali-Zade employs modern composing and performing devices to make the two instruments sound like a mugham trio. Besides kamancha, tar, and gaval, the instruments associated with mugham performance, the composer also alludes to other Eastern instruments such as the sitar and the tambura. The composer's notes indicate "tremolo on the open strings played with rubber mallets" and elsewhere recommend that the pianist "pluck the string energetically," treating the instrument more like a tar than a keyboard. In this piece, the composer draws on the emotional content of mugham, as well as on its modal, melodic, and structural features. Like traditional mugham, Ali-Zade's piece is sectional, with each segment identified by a melodic line confined to limited modal segments. The fluctuating rhythm adds an element of improvisation. The melody, played by one instrument, is constantly imitated by the other. Using the traditional principles of melodic and modal blocks, Ali-Zade also utilizes serial technique. In a recent interview with Kareva, the composer admits that she often uses the tetrachords of mugham as a four-tone set (Kareva 2002: 190). In her Crossing II (1992–1993), an eighteen and a half minute composition for eleven instruments including strings, woodwinds, trombone, harp, and vibraphone/glockenspiel, the composer crosses "the unusual and the banal, imagined music and real sonorities, loud and soft, the profound and trivial" (Redepenning 1997: 8). Crossing II also bridges the philosophical content of mugham and modern European cognition by converging the distinctive features of mugham monody—the persistent repetition of a single tone, narrow motivic ranges, melodic fragmentation, and the microtonal modal basis—with the devices of minimalism. For example, for the first five minutes of the piece, Ali-Zade demonstrates that in the absence of melody, harmony, and rhythm, music still exists. A single pitch filling the air has a mesmerizing effect. The gradual entrance of different instruments makes the soundscape more dense, while increasing vibration intensifies the sound. The middle part of Crossing is striking. I hear it as a horn calling for battle, interrupted by a frightened-sounding flute. The lasting fortissimo with a continuing and somewhat ominous pedal point reaches great intensity. The short, lyric dance-like fragments inserted between the sounds of battle symbolize the crossing of memory and reality, of war and inner escape. These sounds have very strong associations for me, after

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seeing my homeland drift during the last decade into war and turmoil. However, the philosophical depth of this composition, especially its middle part, invites many possible interpretations. Ali-Zade told me that the piece expresses love, beauty, and prayer. Joel Sachs, who is conducting this composition in America, said he associates this music with neither war nor love. For him, this composition is an expansive dance. Speaking about the meaning and dramaturgy of this composition, AliZade points out that she draws on mugham incantation, its wide emotional range and its dramaturgical organization. Finding in mugham the inherent depth of her native culture, a year after Crossing, Ali-Zade composed Mugham Sayagi. Musicologist Urii Gabai, finds that Ali-Zadeh's mugham thinking underlies her experimentation with different composing techniques (Gabai, 1990: 32). At the same time, Azerbaijanian scholar Jahangir Selimkhanov finds in Ali-Zadeh's style the interplay of Azerbaijanian, Eastern, and European elements and suggests that the "national element in Ali-Zade's music resonates with the East in general" (Selimkhanov, 2002: 156). In a similar manner, Selimkhanov discusses the style of Rahila Hasanova. Hasanova, a member of the Azerbaijanian Composers Union, became known in Azerbaijanian musical circles in the early seventies, when her student compositions were successfully performed in the republic and later in Moscow, Leningrad, and Kiev. After a premiere at the Warsaw Fall Festival of 1973, her works were played in several cities in Poland. The sophisticated Polish audience, attuned to music by native composers such as Witold Lutoslawski, Krzysztof Penderecki, and Henryk Gorecki, embraced Hasanova, recognizing the talent and boldness of the young avant-garde composer. Hasanova's attraction to serial technique in her early compositions led her to minimalism, which has become her trademark. The composer has been especially prolific during the last decade. The Azerbaijanian tragedy of the nineties filled her maturing voice with passion. The Bloody January of 1990, when Soviet tank divisions entered the Azerbaijanian capital, taking hundreds of lives, resonated in Hasanova's Marsia, a lamentation, which echoed the voices of wailers through centuries of Azerbaijanian history. The Marsia is composed for a chamber orchestra, including strings, winds, prepared piano and singers. The introspective character of Hasanova's music, expressed in concentrated meditation which gradually progresses to emotional rapture and exaltation, is developed most fully in her most recent works. Among them is her Dervish (1993) for tenor, bass and string quartet. As wandering Sufis, dervishes express their devotion to god in a mystical dance. According to the dervish brotherhoods, "dancing is not rising to your feet painlessly like a speck of dust blown around in the wind. Dancing is when you rise above

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both worlds, tearing your heart to pieces and giving up your soul." (Lifchez, 1992: 255–256) The image of the whirling dervish emanates from a single tone D repeated for eighteen measures in a steady beat with irregular 'mystic' accents, creating the effect of suspense, the expectation of something about to happen. The deliberately slow, inner dynamic process takes more than half the composition (71 measures out of 132) before the vocal entrance. A low male voice slides, as recommended by the composer, into falsetto, echoed in high strings. The overlapping voices with rich ornamentation ascend into a chain of glissandi and vocal jubilation. In her foreword, Hasanova suggests that the singers "jubilate as breathing allows." She also invites the performers to add a visual element, actual dance movements, portraying the ecstatic effect. Reaching an emotional peak, the composer allows no immediate resolution. Sustained in this condition of heart breaking whirling, the musical process gradually lessens into the initial slow paced single D. The dramaturgical formula of this piece, the modal basis of its melodic intonation and the imagery reveal the closeness of this composition to mugham. The composer states that it is from mugham that she learned the "processes of minimalism." Less than a decade later, Ali-Zade likewise created a Dervish (2000). Western strings are combined with "true" dervish instruments such as such as the nagara, the ney tutek, and the canun, The improvised vocal segments converge with written instrumental parts. For her Dervish, Ali-Zade chose the refined poetry of Nasimi, who believed the world is encompassed within each man. I am a dervish, an eternal wanderer, who has nothing. But I am Master(king) of the universe. The vocal recitation is preceded by an instrumental beginning—intricate filigree on the ney, followed by short motifs of the nagara and canun, all diving into silence from which a single-tone vibration gradually emanates. A sustained soft A in the viola and violin (quasi niente) creates an intense atmosphere interrupted by impatient rhythmical patterns of the nagara and glissandi of the canun, all revolving around A, which changes color as it rises to a higher register. The piece, woven from small bits of melody and rhythm, encompasses a narrow tonal scope fully explored in dense ornamentation. The cello, entrusted with the solo part, weaves elaborate bright colors into the transparent texture of the piece; its passionate voice evokes the imagery of a crying dervish. As the singer begins, the cello embraces the dervish's voice, continuing and expanding the vocal part. AliZade devised the vocal part as sprechstimme (speech-voice), assigning it to a khanande.

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The two voices are entwined in dialogue. One voice is reminiscent of echoes in the mountains and the rustling winds of the desert. The other voice is the warm and human-like voice of the cello. The composer wrote the vocal part for Alim Gasimov and the cello solo for Yo-Yo Ma. AliZade's intimate ties with cello, developed in Gabil Sayagi, surface again in this piece commissioned by and designed for Yo-Yo Ma. The compositions entitled Dervish are especially striking because historically the orders of Azerbaijanian dervishes and Sufis were open only to men. Dervishes and Sufi scholars I met in 2002 stated that there are no women among the revived group of mystics. But both female composers, searching for native spiritual roots in their artistic worlds, transcended a gender divide in order to enter mystical circles, much as female mugham performers did when they entered the public spotlight. Issues of gender rarely surface publicly and are hardly discussed among composers and performers. "If music is good it is not important whether the composer is a man or a woman," I have often heard. The reality is more complex. For example, despite the popularity of Hasanova in the West and her enormous effort to be heard in her own homeland, her compositions are rarely performed. Native musicologist Sanubar Bagirova, quoting press reports about the enthusiasm of Hasanova's foreign audiences, comments that "'beyond the successful image' there are years during which the composer could not arrange the performance of her orchestral pieces and recordings in Azerbaijan" (Bagirova). There are no publications of her works; my scores of her music are copies of manuscripts that Hasanova gave to me. A 1993 concert program of Hasanova's works was organized and sponsored by international companies. One of the groups frequently performing Hasanova's music abroad is the Nieuw Ensemble of Amsterdam, which commissioned compositions such as Sa'ma and Pirabedil. Though works of Ali-Zade are performed worldwide, they have not been played recently in her native country. During my 1997 field work in Azerbaijan, I found no recordings or scores of Ali-Zade's music nor could I find the composer herself. Her existence as a creator and as a female musician is possible only in exile. "It is very difficult to be a composer in Azerbaijan," she told me recently, "and it is twice as difficult to be a female composer. Now is the harshest time of all." Preferring the tough competitiveness of the Western musical world, she found there tremendous appreciation and support. In the 1989 Warsaw Fall Festival, her Gabil Sayagi was named the best solo cello composition of the decade. Issued in Berne in 1996, Alizade's recording became a bestseller. Her works are played and recorded by Kronos Quartet, and featured by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, while the composer herself received the highest awards. 20

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As both Alizade and Hasanova become internationally known, their status with regard to the nation of Azerbaijan becomes somewhat tenuous. At times the attitude towards the two composers is expressed subtly. In Azerbaijan Irs (2000), an elegantly designed journal dedicated to native music, essays on the two female composers were written in English, and the interview with Ali-Zade was printed in neither Azerbaijanian nor Russian, limiting its accessibility to the native reader. Did the choice of language signify the popularity of the two composers abroad or imply their foreignness at home, especially in the case of Ali-Zadeh, who has lived for a few years in Germany? In other cases the foreignness of the female composer is articulated more directly. The journal Musical Academy, published in Moscow and addressing Russian professional musical community and intelligentsia, devoted a large part of its first issue of 2002 to the theme "Azerbaijan: Ten Years After." Like Azerbaijan Irs, this collection, compiled by Azerbaijanian scholars, features both female composers, who bring fame to Azerbaijanian music and at the same time demonstrate the gender balance in the Azerbaijanian musical community. Musical Academy welcomes and encourages experimental music as viewed "through the prism of free choice" (Zumrud Dadasheva, "Te kto pishet muziku" [The one who writes music]). However, the experimentalism of Ali-Zade and Hasanova is viewed as "distant from national roots" (Selimkhanov 2002, 156). The author, comparing Ali-Zade with George Cramb, describes her as a artful story teller, a master of "charming timbres that remind a listener of a ringing bell signaling the arrival of a caravan to an oasis, the sweet taste of rose water in rahat loukoum [rose-flavored dessert], the cry of a jinni." In the music of both Ali-Zade and Hasanova he finds elements of homegrown orientalism—"orientalism from within, not an Eastern music, but music about the East, this time coming from the East" (Selimkhanov 2002, 156). The complex reception of female composers by scholars, critics, and audiences is inseparable from the cultural kaleidoscope of the twentieth century. Looking at developments in Azerbaijanian culture, one recognizes that Soviet policy increased the status of female musicians while Azerbaijanian music itself, distant from Russian musical expression, remained on the cultural fringes. In the post-Soviet period, the shift of mugham, a major native musical form, to the center of culture, raised questions about the position of both composed music and women in relation to musical representation of Azerbaijanian nationhood.

CHAPTER 9

Conclusion: Mugham as Signifier

B

ENEDICT ANDERSON, EXPLORING THE IDEA OF NATIONS AS "IMAGINARY

communities," refers to a paradoxical contrast between "the objective modernity of nations to the historian's eyes" and "their subjective antiquity in the eyes of nationalists" (Anderson 1983: 5). In Azerbaijan, as perhaps in other post-Soviet nation-states, historians and nationalists alike imagine their nation and wish others to see it as both modern and antique. Both modernity and antiquity are embodied in mugham. It is tied to ancient classical literature, and it is spontaneously improvised at each performance. It is a modal system that bears the legacy of centuries-old tradition and provides the possibility of continuing reconstruction. The relationships, networks, and social hierarchies inseparable from mugham constitute the objective reality of current Azerbaijan. At the same time, the highly subjective imagery of mugham invokes feelings of love and devotion, comprising several layers of meaning, from romance to spirituality and to patriotism. The cultural significance of mugham in Azerbaijan parallels that of print language, which Anderson sees as "the basis for national consciousness in three distinct ways." First, print language "created unified fields of exchange and communication," forming "the embryo of the nationally imagined community." Second, it "gave a new fixity to language, which in the long run helped to build that image of antiquity so central to the subjective idea of the nation." Third, it "created languages-of-power," forms of the vernacular that were "elevated to new political-cultural eminence" (Anderson 1983: 44-45). Mugham compositions employ written language—classical poetry— and mugham itself is a language embraced and understood by those initi191

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ated into Azerbaijanian culture. When mugham was written down in the twentieth century, it became a "print language" signifying national consciousness in the three ways discussed by Anderson. Written mugham, transcribed and published (printed), became a form of unification for the Azerbaijanian community and of cultural exchange with outsiders, primarily within the Soviet Union. In this new fixed form mugham "helped to build [an] image of antiquity." Composed mugham determined the prominence of its oral counterpart in comparison to other musical forms, establishing a hierarchy of "languages-of-power." It is therefore not surprising that mugham became an active participant in the construction of the Azerbaijanian nation. Throughout this work, mugham has been investigated as an agent of social, political, historical, and gender negotiation. It has also been discussed in terms of its poetic imagery, which deals with romantic love, passion, betrayal, and loss—all applied metaphorically to the love of country. The stories and imagery of mugham, told and retold, adapted to different times and different social settings, are embedded in and communicated by the music. Fluctuating between modernity and antiquity, between written and oral texts, mugham is "a language of 'continuity'"—a very real (as opposed to "imaginary") embodiment of communal/national identity. Based on the analysis of different renditions of Bayati Shiraz, I will argue here that the language of mugham itself reveals the social significance of the musical form. Studying Bayati Shiraz, now considered one of the major Azerbaijanian mughams, it is hard to imagine that it may not have existed as a complete composition prior to the end of the nineteenth century. When Navvab formulated the theoretical basis of the art form, listing main and auxiliary mughams, he placed Bayati Shiraz in the category of sho'be, not an independent mugham but a section a now somewhat forgotten mugham Rahavi. Navvab gives equal status to two sho'bes Bayati Shiraz and Isfahan. Why then did Hajibeyov, in his pivotal theoretical work Principles of Azerbaijanian Folk Music, present Bayati Shiraz as one of the seven main mughams and dastgahs, and introduce the Isfahan as a section of Bayati Shiraz? One familiar with the works of Hajibeyov cannot explain the entire chapter dedicated to Bayati Shiraz in his book 1 as a mistake. Nor can the discrepancy be attributed to regional style; both Navvab and Hajibeyov were from Shusha. One can speculate that the construction of new hierarchies, Isfahan as a part of Bayati Shiraz, reflected conflicting political, social, and cultural dynamics in Azerbaijan at the beginning of the twentieth century—the accelerated secularization and consequent move away from Arabic/Islamic

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influences, the search for Azerbaijanian uniqueness, and the split identity that resulted from the struggle between Turkish and Iranian roots. From this perspective, it is significant that Hajibeyov omits mughams such as Arak2 and Nava, 3 both mentioned by Navvab and close to Arabic sources. (In the opera Leili and Majnun, when Majnun meets an Arabic tribe in a desert, Hajibeyov uses mugham Arak to portray Arabs [Abasova 1960: 45].) Perhaps Hajibeyov, who fought for a distinctive Azerbaijanian identity, wished to liberate his native music from Arabic (Islamic) ties, which he saw as a sign of outdatedness in his native people and culture. Therefore, Hajibeyov's re-definition of mugham can be seen as intentional, corresponding to the rise of ethnic awareness and the strife for liberation from Arabic/Islamic cultural pressure. Also, it is important to recognize that the scale of Bayati Shiraz corresponds to the European minor scale in the same way that mode Rast coincides with the major, a fact conceptually important for Hajibeyov as he merged elements of European and Azerbaijanian music and adapted native instruments to the Western-based repertoire. The omission of mugham Arak and the subordination of Isfahan (one of the historical Arabic capitals and also a major Arabic maqam) parallel the Soviet government's decision to discontinue the use of Arabic script. The "promotion" of Bayati Shiraz from the category of sho'be to one of seven major Azerbaijanian mughams mirrors Westernization. Moreover, the re-definition of written Azeri coincided with the beginning of written (composed, transcribed) native music. The growing nationalist movement at the beginning of the twentieth century faced an identity crisis, a split between pro-Turkic and pro-Iranian orientations. In this context I would suggest that the title Bayati Shiraz emblemized a compromise between the two. The first word, bayati, designates one of the Turkic tribes residing in ancient Azerbaijan. Sumbatzade suggests that "Fizuli . . . belonged to a Turkic tribe called bayat" (Sumbatzade 1897: 225). Bayat is also the name for a poetic unit with four seven-syllable lines with the first, third, and fourth lines rhymed (Vrata drevnego 1980: 277). The word is used by Mirza Ibragimov, writing about Dede Korkud, when he refers to Turkic forefathers who defined the "distinctive aptitudes of the Azerbaijanians,. . reflected in our proverbs, sayings, bayats, folk legends . . . " (Ibragimov 1969: 21). The second word, Shiraz, is identified with the Iranian city Shiraz, where the tribe of bayat was located. The city of Shiraz was also known for centuries as one of the major cultural and musical centers where various regional styles converged. Thus, the title Bayati Shiraz bonds Turkish with Iranian elements. Uniting the two parts of the Azerbaijanian identity, Hajibeyov does not completely eliminate Isfahan (the Arabic reference). Instead he defines the meaning and structure of mugham through the conflict between Bayati Shiraz (Turkish/Persian) and Isfahan (Arabic/Islamic) enveloped in two large improvisational sections, each with

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its own tonal center and its own distinctive gushe. In a strictly theoretical tone, Hajibeyov suggests: Then comes the section called "Bayati Isfahan." It differs from Maye "Bayati Shiraz" in as much as the return sentence . . . ends not in tonic, but in the lower median of the tonic . . . [and later] comes the repetition of the sections Maye "Bayati Shiraz" and "Bayati Isfahan" moved up one octave. (Hajibeyov 1985: 106, 109) The order of the sections in Hajibeyov's version of the Bayati Shiraz is: 1. Maye Bayati Shiraz 2. Bayati Isfahan 3. Huzzal (a fifth up) 4. Maye Bayati Shiraz 5. Bayati Isfahan (an octave up).4

The second Bayati Isfahan, closing the dastgah, acquires no less power and importance than the Maye Bayati Shiraz. Occurring again an octave higher, the Isfahan becomes a focal point of the whole piece (Hajibeyov 1985: 109). In the compositions and in recent performances of the Bayati Shiraz discussed here, the role of the Isfahan has changed. The threefold MayeIsfahan-Zil is built upon the reoccurrence of the gushe Bayati Shiraz, enclosing and constraining the once independent and powerful mugham Isfahan. (The contest is intensified by the split between the two magnetic poles—G and D—discussed earlier.) In Gasimov's version, not Isfahan but Maye Bayati Shiraz is repeated (as Zil) an octave higher. The importance and centrality of this threesome is further reduced by the choice of Huzzal as the culmination of the whole composition. Zil Bayati Shiraz (not Isfahan) clearly assumes the central position, obtaining a dominant place in the symmetrical construction of the dastgah and in the framing of its two halves. (The central dramatic sections of the composition are emphasized in bold.) Bardasht/Isfahanak/Maye Nishibi Faraz/Isfahan Abul Chak/Zil Bayati Shiraz Haveran/Huzzal Dilruba/Ayag The centrality of Zil Bayati Shiraz confirms of the idea of the gushe Bayati Shiraz as representative of native identity.

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As Gasimov moves towards the concluding Haveran and Huzzal, B and B flat—half way between G and D—mediate tonal strife and inspire modal ambiguity. The Huzzal modulates to the mugham-mode Mahur. The Mahur belongs to the modal group Rast, 5 a prime mugham in many art traditions in Arabic and Near Eastern countries. Thus I suggest that the triumphant major-like sound of the Huzzal symbolizes the unity of the Eastern region. The shifting status of gushes and sho'bes associated with Bayati Shiraz reflects changing political views about the culture and history of Azerbaijan in relation to Turkey, Iran, and the Islamic world. At the beginning of the twentieth century, ideas of modernity and progress coming from the West galvanized Azerbaijanian intellectuals (including performers). Ties with Eastern regions and cultures were weakened and did not appear as a major issue until recent times, when the idea of reunification with the East reflected resistance to Russian/Soviet domination. This fluctuation of ideas has been reflected in changes in emphasis within the "formulae" of Bayati Shiraz. Proposing this interpretation of the dastgah Bayati Shiraz, I am not suggesting that the above "program" objectively exists or is discussed among Azerbaijanians. The inherent meaning of the mugham is rarely verbalized. Yet the dynamics of the dastgah, the order of its sections, the confrontation of Isfahan and Bayati Shiraz, the unifying power of Mahur (Rast), and the interplay of the tonal centers is meaningful within the social context of twentieth-century Azerbaijan. This knowledge and understanding of mugham is not limited to performers and theorists. Ordinary Azerbaijanians who know the succession of musical patterns expect repetition and therefore notice changes that trigger the imagination. A listener hearing the upper E that signals Isfahan, for instance, would anticipate the strife for the high-pitched culmination Huzzal and might be energized to hear the triumphal sound of Mahur. Thus mugham can communicate by balancing formulaic elements (a code of identity) and improvisatory elements (change and flexibility), representing the dichotomy of Turkic and Iranian cultural roots and the complexity of Azerbaijanian and Arabic/Islamic ties. While the most definitive aspects of the dastgah are associated with the modal structure and the body of gushes, an analysis of different Bayati Shiraz compositions shows that during the last hundred years (or less) the mugham's dramatic outline, modal scale, and gushes have been constantly altered and re-invented. At the same time, improvisatory methods such as the ornamentation, the encircling of tones, the balancing of motifs, the intricate intangible melodic improvisation "too illusive to be transferred into exact notation," (E. Babaev 1990: 20) and the micromotifs remain the most consistent formulaic factors of native musical/ emotional cognition.

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The interplay of variable and invariable, formulaic and improvisatory, thus amounts to a reversal of "authority and freedom" (Nettl 1992: 140-1). My personal experience learning to play Bayati Shiraz showed me that learning mugham requires mechanical repetition as well as logical comprehension of the concept and structure of the musical bits. The memorization and re-composition of mugham, although often romanticized as a process of pure artistic inspiration, requires from an artist, whether performer or composer, an acute sensitivity to one's listeners and the surrounding social ambiance. At the same time, the cognition of mugham by a broad native audience involves not only emotional reactions but also a shared knowledge of mugham's inherent meaning. As a part of social thinking, Bayati Shiraz and its musical organization can be read as social enactment. COMPOSED MUGHAM IN A SOCIAL CONTEXT We have seen that as traditional mugham was transmitted and transformed during last hundred years, a separate tradition of composed music developed in Azerbaijan. Within the mugham-based Azerbaijanian composing school, several generations of Azerbaijanian composers drew inspiration from mugham, creating hybrid genres such as mugham-opera, mughamsymphony, mugham-ballet, mugham-trio, and solo instrumental compositions. Unlike orally transmitted mugham, these compositions were written using Western-style notation. Undoubtedly this composing tradition bears a resemblance to many national composing schools developed since the first half of the nineteenth century. One could argue that this move from oral to written music represents the Westernization of Azerbaijanian music reinforced by Soviet cultural ideology directed towards "progress and national reformation." Yet I propose that the formation of the composing school was stimulated not only externally by Western and Soviet influences but also by internal forces, signifying the rise of national awareness nourished by Russian/Soviet authority. From the early nineteenth century, under Russian and Soviet power, Azerbaijan ceased to be an arena of conflict between Turkey and Iran. Liberated from the Turkish and Iranian presence and influences, Azerbaijan for the first time gained an opportunity to define itself as a nation. During the first decades of the twentieth century, the name Azerbaijan was re-created, the national borders were drawn, the language was reformed, a press was established in the native tongue, and the Azerbaijanian classics were translated. Early in that period, the renowned khanande Jabbar Garyaghdi began to perform mughams in Azeri (Shushinski 1979: 57). Fashioned in a fixed form, composed mugham paralleled and reflected the developing national Azerbaijanian mythology and history. The impro-

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visatory component of mugham reflected the flexibility of a culture that survived intrusion and adjusted to domination. The interplay between formulae and improvisation in written music gives an insight into the Azerbaijanian quest for its identity, a concept nourished through decades of Soviet domination and within the entity called Soviet Azerbaijan. Every mugham performance and composition scrutinized in this monograph reflects political realities. In Aleskerov's Bayati Shiraz, for instance, the composer's personal intentions converged with the official agenda of Soviet Azerbaijan. A young musician in 1948, Aleskerov belonged to a generation of composers raised by the forefathers of modern Azerbaijanian music. Like his contemporaries, Aleskerov shared the ideals of the native composing school, particularly the affinity of Hajibeyov and his associates for Russian and Soviet music. The establishment of the government-sponsored Union of Soviet Composers in 1932 and its replicas in the socialist republics two years later signaled the formation of a system designed to control all layers of musical creativity. The Unions fully complied with socialistic doctrines, including the doctrines discussed in earlier chapters. The basic requirement for these composers was to create an art "national in form and socialistic in concept" (Nestiev 1954: 64). Aleskerov's Bayati Shiraz, clearly "national in form," follows the traditional order of the dastgah Bayati Shiraz and its melodic material. What then was the "socialistic concept"? For Anatoly Lunacharski, the USSR's first Commissar of Education, the socialistic concept was associated with "art which creates the collective emotion of the revolutionary masses" (Kosunko 1981: 42 (9-74). Aleskerov's composition is a direct realization of this idea. The composer appeals to collective emotions by including popular folk songs in his score. "The idea of folk gatherings and festivals [or demonstrations held on the main Soviet holidays] was the main artistic creation of revolution," (Kosunko 1981: 40) and became a form of revolutionary propaganda during the Soviet decades. The emphasis on "collective" versus "individual" parallels the shift of emphasis in the Bayati Shiraz from the principal or solo movements to folk songs and dances symbolizing collective expression. Aleskerov, born in 1924 in Soviet Azerbaijan, formed his character and musicianship in the decades of Stalinism (1926-1953). 6 Stalin's reign of terror, though now common knowledge, was not perceived as such by the citizens of the USSR at that time. Presenting purges and bloodshed as a fight against the enemies of the revolution, socialistic propaganda glorified the Soviet despot as a father, wizard, comrade, and hero leading his people to the "radiant future." During the Second World War, Soviet soldiers died on the battlefields with the name of Stalin on their lips. For Aleskerov, a student of the conservatory at the end of the war, as for many others, victory was associated with the will and talent of one man, the nation's leader. The

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monothematic base of Aleskerov's composition may therefore seem significant by contrast with a traditional dastgah, where the dynamics are defined by the sequence of independent gushes. It is interesting to speculate that the theme-thesis, serving as the impetus for all melodic developments, acts with the unifying strength of a single voice, reflecting the political and social realities of this era. Such an interpretation would fit Aleskerov's other works at this time. Many of his compositions of the 1940s are intensely patriotic: the Bairam overture [Celebration Overture] dedicated to victory in W.W.II, and also the cantatas Boyuk October salam [Hello to the Great October] praising the revolution and Vatana eshg olsun [Love to the Motherland] celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of the victory of Soviet rule in Azerbaijan. Aleskerov's political acuteness helped him achieve important positions in the Azerbaijanian musical hierarchy, becoming an instructor at the Baku Musical College and then its president. In the 1960s he was made director of the Theater of Musical Comedy. Retired from this administrative position, he worked as a professor at the Music Academy to the last year of his life. NATIONALISM IN AMIROV'S BAYATI

SHIRAZ

The relationship between consistent and variable elements in mugham shifts as we move from Aleskerov to Fikret Amirov. The two belonged to the same generation and were classmates at the conservatory, graduating the same year. Both were also identified with a group of musicians from Garabag. Amirov, in his first experimental symphonic mughams Shur and Kurd Ovshari, became a model for Aleskerov.7 Since the late 1940s Amirov's music, addressing both listeners intimately connected with mugham vocabulary and those unfamiliar with Azerbaijanian music, has been performed in the Soviet Union and abroad. 8 But the prime audience of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, created in the 70s, was the Azerbaijanian native urban intelligentsia which understood Western musical idioms no less (and sometimes more) than the language and conventions of native music. For this audience, it was not important that Amirov omitted most of the traditional gushes of Bayati Shiraz. On the other hand, listeners familiar with mugham would recognize how the composer, elaborating motivic cells, alludes to gushes. Like a traditional musician creating the dastgah piece by piece during his/her performance, Amirov composes themes from small bits of sound, crystallizing them into short motifs and then into gushes, creating "big bang" dynamics which correspond to the dramatic outline of the traditional dastgah. In this respect, Amirov's symphonic fantasy is closer to mugham improvisation than many of his other pieces based on mugham modes.

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In the first half of Bayati Shiraz the composer, drawing on the motiftheme-image of Bardasht, stimulates the formation of themes associated with traditional gushes. In the second half, the theme of Bardasht/Bayati Shiraz overcomes its own modal boundaries and incorporates other mughams. Sharifova writes that "it appears unexpected that the composer does not confine himself to an established mugham formula and instead pursues unforeseen departures beyond its frame which ultimately enrich the traditions of the genre" (Sharifova, n.d.: 24-25). The fragments of the different modes in Gulistan Bayati Shiraz are well known to native ears. Informed listeners are surprised by the references to unrelated mughams inserted in the middle of Bayati Shiraz. Despite or perhaps because of the familiarity of these diverse modal materials, Amirov's composition creates an effect of "subversive spontaneity." Functioning as a trickster or "shapechanger," Gulistan Bayati Shiraz fuses different mughams, replacing the preexistent semiotic code with a new one dictated by the nationalistic mood of the early 1970s. One may ask why, in order to combine the multiple parts of Azerbaijanian musical identity, Amirov chose Bayati Shiraz, with its intense emotional elevation and simultaneously sadness. Traditionally, choosing a mugham to perform, musicians thoughtfully consider the time and the occasion. According to Soviet musicologist Yarustovski, one of the first performances of Gulistan Bayati Shiraz took place in Moscow at the 1971 International Congress UNESCO, dedicated to "Musical Cultures of the People, Traditions and Modernity" (Yarustovski 1974). There it was perceived both as evidence of successful Soviet cultural policy and as an example of Azerbaijanian national music expressed in a form understood by a broad audience. This performance, like another at the Seventh International Musical Symposium (of UNESCO) in Samarkand (Uzbekistan), was accompanied by discussions of Amirov's "individual interpretation of national traditional music" (Sharifova), which represented a "new stage in the development of national symphonic music" (Bairamalibeili 1994:12). Thus the occasion fits the emotional elevation inherent in the mugham Bayati Shiraz. Gulistan Bayati Shiraz was written in the early seventies, the beginning of a new era associated with Geidar Aliev, who led Azerbaijan through the late Soviet decades and continues as president of post-Soviet Azerbaijan. To many, his first appearance in the role of the first secretary of AzCP symbolized power and order. At the same time, it led to disillusionment among the intelligentsia—feelings unspoken and concealed in an atmosphere of autocracy and political corruption. Some people, among them perhaps Amirov, foresaw the dramatic decades to come. There is not a joyful moment in the whole piece. Closing his composition, the composer returns to the deep and expressive opening statement by the cello and basses leading to the final chord (Example 9.1).

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Example 9.1. The final chord, Gulistan Bayati Shiraz.

But before it dissolves into the long sustained uncertain, unresolved chord, the composer repeats the most lyrical and hopeful motif of the mugham Segah.

MUGHAM AND NATIONALISM Since the beginning of the twentieth century, mugham has signified the unification of the people into a nation. Almost a hundred years ago, Hajibeyov adjusted mugham to the opera and thus to the musical values of the western hemisphere, aiming for national development and progress in the arena of "universal" (European) cultural values. Submissive to state cultural policy, mugham during the first decades of the Soviet Union projected a mood of national determination directed towards establishing, under official socialistic policy, an extensive system of musical education, performance, and composition. In the next generation, Azerbaijanian composers wrote music intended, as Etienne Balibar once wrote about the process of nation-building, "to produce the people." The fundamental issue in this process, Balibar said, "is to make the people produce itself continually as national community . . . to produce the effect of unity by virtue of which the people will appear, in everyone's eyes, 'as a people,' that is, as the basis and origin of political power." 9 For Azerbaijanians, Aleskerov's mugham (along with the early symphonic Shur and Kurd Ovshari by Amirov) demonstrated the importance of their national music, validated by its metamorphosis into internationally accepted forms. Amirov, also forging his Gulistan Bayati Shiraz in a symphonic format, used orchestral and composed music, which by the seventies had become a native musical language, to communicate a nationalistic message. Bridging different mughams, inserting an ashig's dance and sustaining an uninterrupted dynamic flow, Amirov created a composition charged with strong nationalistic feelings. The intricacy of his language, the convergence of various musical elements, deeply seeded in the culture and understood by every insider, but unreadable to outsiders, signified the opposition to imposed cultural and social restraints.

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Amirov's symphonies showed composers interesting possibilities for converging European genres and different mughams not limited to Bayati Shiraz. His style and his vision were compelling to a new generation of composers. For example, Franghiz Ali-Zade, in her symphonic Mugham Sayagi (In the Style of Mugham), uses the concept of mugham in a much looser sense, not limiting herself to specific modal, thematic, and dramaturgical frames. Hence, like Hajibeyov, who almost a hundred years ago merged Azerbaijanian and Western instruments, written text, and traditional improvisation in his opera about the love-mad dervish Majnun, AliZade creates her Dervish as a dialogue between a man and his soul, a khanande and a cello player, improvised music and composed. Components other than traditional gushes and melodic-rhythmic emblems of mugham identify the adherence of Ali-Zade's music to her native musical form. Designing her piece for a khanande, she invited a "dervish" to be part of a compositional process, sharing with him her musical vision, and simultaneously learning from him to improvise. Ali-Zade is one of many composers who inherited a taste for experimental music from Gara Garayev. Among his followers is Faraj Garayev, founder of Yeni Muziki [New Music] and part of SoNoR (both groups of composers and performers of new music). Despite his distaste for "flirting with folklore and native traditions," (Selimkhanov 157) Garayev surprised many by collaborating with Mukhlet Muslimov, the tar player who improvised the second movement of Hutba, Mugham, and Sura, adhering to the exact pattern of dastgah Shushtar. The two composers, Faraj Garayev and Ali-Zade, connect with mugham in contrasting ways, the first making a traditional mugham part of his triptych and the second dismissing gushes, avazes, and other elements traditionally associated with mugham but relying on mugham dramaturgy and content. Most important, improvisation is an essential factor of the two compositions. While composers learn to "improvise," mugham performers begin experimenting with composed music. Alim Gasimov works with Ali-Zade and Yo-Yo Ma. Sakina Ismailova, following her plan to sing all the major mughams recorded and analyzed by Hajibeyov, opens her first program with Bayati Shiraz. In her performance, she uses fragments of composed music with the orchestral parts rearranged for a mugham trio and written vocal parts as a basis for her improvisation. The development of national consciousness is thus mirrored in the dichotomy of the two Azerbaijanian musical traditions—one, oral and improvised, identified with antiquity, and the other, written, symbolizing modernity. Hajibeyov fought for solidified national expression which would simultaneously reflect a political and cultural reorientation towards the West; Aleskerov's symphony reflects the formation of nation consistent with the Russian understanding of the "national question." The intense

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tone of Amirov's composition, representing a growing desire for national independence, anticipates the increasing interest in the following decades in traditional mugham performance. The mood of patriotic devotion embedded in Amirov's music and the poetry he chooses (Gulistan, the "Land of flowers") parallel the performances of dastgah Bayati Shiraz by Alim Gasimov, Zakhid Guliyev, and Sakina Ismailova. The musical arena of mugham unites composers and performers, women and men across generations, presenting national consciousness through the prism of mugham. THE COMPLEXITIES AND CONTRADICTIONS OF MUGHAM The musical analysis of various renditions of Bayati Shiraz and more recent works involving mugham again raises the question of the conceptual definition of mugham. Placing this art form in a different context, and probing the complexity of its meanings, one finds the category "mugham" fluctuating, changing, and even contradictory. Mugham defies simple definition. Enacting controversial and often conflicting roles, mugham performs the role of negotiator, making peace between opposites. Viewed historically, mugham is both a symbol of Azerbaijanian identification with various groups (Islamic, Arabic, Persian, Turkic, Middle Eastern) and at the same time an indicator of the distinctive Azerbaijanian character and individuality. Embracing Islam and its aesthetics, mugham nonetheless alludes to ancient Zoroastrian beliefs, reinventing them in its theory (Hurufi's cabalistic numerology strongly influenced the theoretical concept of mugham) and poetic imagery (Gasimov sings about "Azadistan, the land of Fire," referring to the eternal fire of Zoroastrian temples). Historically connected with Arabic/Persian roots, mugham can be viewed as conflicting with the Turkic part of the Azerbaijanian identity associated with ashigs. Nevertheless, as discussed in earlier chapters, the modal system of mugham gradually overcame the boundary of its traditional art form, serving as the basis of Azerbaijanian folk tradition. In addition, since the nineteenth century, mugham has been performed in the native (Turkic family) language, signifying the unification of Persian and Turkic roots. In the clash of Islamic and Soviet agendas, mugham invoiced both entities and at the same time established a compromise. In this process of constant re-dress and fluctuation, mugham appears evasive. An intellectual property, mugham was traditionally passed from father to son or to another male relative, reinforcing the domestic structure which made familial connections a model for the master and disciple relationship. The distribution of knowledge from father to son, or from male master to male disciple also reflected, prior to the twentieth century, the separation of women from intellectual power. The domestic relationship defined a social structure where the career and status of a mugham "maker" depend-

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ed on one's kinship, one's ties to the intellectual elite, and one's legacy of intellectual assets. The social structure, in turn, is connected with political power that approaches mugham as an object of manipulation. The analysis of the themes and ideas of mughams, for example, has shown that throughout the socialistic era, the veneration of the divine, typical of mugham, was transformed into an expression of nationalistic feeling approved by Soviet policy makers. The revision of ideas was reflected in the readjustment of musical devices. Thus the musical language of mugham, signifying its closeness with eastern musics in Soviet times, was adapted to western musical instruments and forms. Even the improvisation essential to the musical and non-musical aspects of mugham has been forged into the "controllable" format of a written "text." The non-musical substance of mugham is no more definitive than its musical traits. The length of a mugham composition may vary from several minutes to more than an hour: from a seven-minute performance of Bayati Shiraz by Alim and Fargana Gasimov to a twenty-minute dastgah sung by Alim himself to the forty-five minute symphonic Gulistan Bayati Shiraz to the hour-long performance of Mugham Rast by Jabbar Garyaghdi. mugham is a monodic music which, nonetheless, can be reshaped with a dense homophonic or polyphonic texture. It can be a vocal or instrumental. It can be performed as a solo piece, as a composition for a small ensemble of Azerbaijanian folk instruments or for a symphonic orchestra. It may or may not have a poetic text. Its single performance may comprise a dozen and a half sections, but may also include only a few or take the form of a single improvisation. It may be played at a backyard party, performed in the concert hall, or staged in the theater. The question of definition becomes increasingly complex when applied to a specific mugham in relation to others. Analyzing several versions of Bayati Shiraz I found that one frequently recognizes a persistent formal pattern in several of these compositions. Yet in other renditions, the order of parts may change, with some segments omitted,10 others extended or abbreviated,11 or with the structure completely altered, as in the case of Amirov's constructive blocks. The distinctive traits of each mugham are associated with its melodic content and specifically with gushes identifiable in each section of any individual mugham. The similarity of the gushes in the compositions I analyzed, essential to recognizing the mugham and its sections, might suggest that mugham is defined primarily by its themes. However, Amirov, in his symphonic fantasy, provides only two short glimpses of traditional gushes (Bardasht and Dilruba), and for the most part employs motifs. Only a listener very familiar with Bayati Shiraz is able to parallel these motifs with traditional gushes. Finally, the definitive foundation of every mugham composition is its modal base, yet it too is chal-

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lenged by the instantaneous modal adventures of Gasimov and the liberties of Amirov. Thus the analytical and contextual investigation of the category mugham makes it now seem even more complex, ambiguous, and undetermined than at the beginning of the work. Fluid and ever changing, it seems intangible to the uninformed listener and yet obvious and definite for informed ones. The flexibility and persistence defining the peculiar dichotomy of this art form link back to a discussion of improvisation and formula, the two continuously striving for balance. While improvisation conceals the formula, the formula itself provides freedom for improvisation. The flexibility of the form and language of mugham camouflage its semiotic code, which, on the other hand, allows it to appropriate new devices and interpretive modes. Between the extremes—flexibility and persistence, improvisation and formula, interdependence and reciprocity— contrasting and striving for a balance, the meaning and semiotic code of mugham are formed. Signifying since the beginning of this century the transformation of the ethnic to the national Azerbaijanian identity, reflecting the continuing process of formulation and negotiation of this identity in the Soviet and post-Soviet context, mugham today is a way of reinventing and imagining a national past and thus reassuring Azerbaijan's self-perception as a nation. Celebrating the removal of Azerbaijan from the category of "Russian province," and its independence from other Eastern musical traditions, mugham, now distributed through world cultural trade, also manifests the Azerbaijanian modern nation, its real existence in a contemporary global context.

CHAPTER 10

Travel Notes: 1997 and 2002

PARIS 1997: ALIM AND FARGANA

A

SPOTLIGHT PIERCING THE SOFT DARKNESS OF A PARISIAN AUDITORIUM

focuses on a bright rectangle in the middle of the stage—a woven arabesque. Composed of hundreds and thousands of single knots merging into lines that form intricate ornaments, the pattern of the carpet is reminiscent of mugham, woven from sounds of various tones and colors linked together into a peculiar melodic adornment. Entering the "carpet space" a traditional mugham ensemble picks up instruments, ready to play. Dressed in modern clothes, capable of blending with any contemporary crowd, the musicians when sitting with their instruments on the colorful carpet remind one of figures from old painted miniatures. Crossing bound­ aries of space and time, they reunite present with past, contemporaries with predecessors, poets with musicians. The two in the middle are singers, khanandes holding large tam­ bourine-like gavals. On either side of them are instrumentalists playing a long necked lute—tar and a spike fiddle—kamancha. One singer is older and the other is younger, one the leader and the other the follower. The first gives a sign, and the second begins to sing a popular folk tune. 1 The sweet lyrics of the song portray dedication to one's beloved (Sound track ten: Bayati Shiraz performed by Fargana and Alim Gasimov).

Küç l su splisssn Yar ğslnd toz olmasin El ğ lsin, el ğetsin Aralihda sōz olmasin

The street [I] poured water on For my beloved's path not to be dusty As she comes and leaves Nothing to spoil the meeting between us. 205

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The beautiful Azerbaijanian poetic line embraces Russian words, such as "samovar" and "stakan." The first, "samovar," is a Russian/Soviet trade­ mark. Like the "matreshkas" occupying shops in every European and American metropolis, the "samovar," another visual/literary symbol, has become a part of the international lexicon. Samovara od salmisam Istekana g nd salmisam Yarim ğedim tek galmicam N ğöšz ldir yarin cani N sirindir yarin cani.

Samovar (tea pot) I have set on the stove, In her tea cup I have put sugar She left and I am alone Thinking how beautiful my beloved one. How sweet is my beloved one.

While the younger khanande sings this folk tune, the older lightly pounds his gaval. Attentively listening to his apprentice, the master khanande sings along when he wants to emphasize the importance of a single word or line. After the song, they begin to improvise, exchanging musical phrases with words unrecognizable in the dense melizmatic line woven by the two. Suddenly, the younger singer dives into a low whisper, from which she begins her deliberately slow and emotionally intense ascent. Full of anguish, her phrases are short and interrupted with long pauses. Her older partner, carefully listening to her, fills the silent breaks in her line with dense filigree. Sometimes echoing her phrases, he gingerly guides and push­ es her upwards. At some points, expressing his encouragement and his approval of her singing, he gives her a light kiss on the cheek. When the melody extends to a high range, charged with energy and intense dynam­ ics, he too becomes more and more impatient. No longer vigilant, he com­ petes and challenges. Impassioned, he almost interrupts her line, repeating it with intensified ornamentation and constantly extending the pitch range by including higher tones. While she constrains her passion to vehement melodic elaboration, remaining static in posture, he becomes active in his movement. He no longer sits in a relaxed, cross-legged pose. Instead he almost physically expresses the melodic uplift by rising on his knees. In this tense position he closes his eyes, thrusts his head back, and waves his hands, reminiscent of the nightingale in voice and gesture. The improvisa­ tion, reaching its emotional apogee, suddenly turns into a folk song. Fast and ardent, it is sung in unison by the two rhythmically moving up and down together. Maral gaçar dağ üsta, bülbül usar bas üsta, Niya mandan gaçirsan, dağ çekirssn, dağ üsts

A reindeer runs in mountains, a nightingale sings in a garden Why do you run from me, burning me in fire?

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As the last sound of the Bayati Shiraz fades, the Parisian audience bursts into cheers. The performers rise to their feet and bow to their spectators. While the instrumentalists applaud their soloists, the khanande Alim Gasimov himself applauds his daughter, Fargana. One of the most striking effects of this performance is that—singing about the love of a bülbül to a gül—the two soloists support the poetic and musical imagery with their own stage presence, he vibrant, energetic, and full of motion and she, though emotional in her singing, static in her visual appearance. The presence of Fargana, a woman singing Azerbaijanian mugham on the stage of the Théâtre de la Ville à Paris, signifies a radical transformation in native society. At the same time, the metaphor of the rose and the nightingale, illustrated in the performing styles of the two khanan­ des, reveals a familiar pattern—repetitiveness—in gender dynamics. Mutation and repetition—two opposite and connected aspects in gender relations—parallel the categories discussed throughout this work, namely flexibility and persistence, improvisation and canon. The two Gasimovs and their performance of Bayati Shiraz reveal the dichotomy of canon and improvisation in relation to the musical and social concept of mugham. Although played by a traditional ensemble, the mugham is sung, atypically, by a duet of khanandes. Taking in the performance, the informed listener immediately identifies the familiar modal and melodic characteristics of Bayati Shiraz. Nonetheless, introducing this native art music to a foreign audience, the performers chose not a complete dastgah but a short improvisation of Bayati Shiraz enclosed with traditional folk songs—seven minutes altogether. The musical, poetic, and visual pattern of this performance spins intricate ornaments of time and space, turning the "space" of mugham framed by the colorful carpet into a woven gulistan, a metaphor of the homeland, of the people, and of mugham itself. It also compresses time, uniting the folk song and traditional poetry with Russian words—a symbol of cultural tourism, creating different layers of meaning for its diverse audience but always preserving its native semiotic message. The performance is representative of the musicianship involved in the production of mugham and also reflective of the social position of musicians. This duet of khanandes demonstrates the canonical kinship structure. Yet the tradition is also disrupted, because the paternal/filial relationship connects father and daughter, indicative of changing gender dichotomy. His position as master is approved and established in new institutions, the music college and the musical academy, where Alim currently teaches, and abroad, where Alim tours extensively, gaining fame and appreciation of his talent and the art of mugham. His daughter and apprentice Fargana is to be not a performer for weddings and folk gatherings but a singer on operatic and concert stages. The performance and the performers of the

Figures 10.1–10.4 Alim and Fargana performing Bayati Shiraz (Family Photographs)

10.1

10.2

10.3

10.4

Bayati Shiraz in Paris embody the dynamics of the Azerbaijanian native art form, ever formulaic and ever improvised, ever repeated and ever new. CHICAGO 2002: ALIM GASIMOV AND YO-YO MA Seven musicians form a half-circle on the stage inviting hundreds of listeners into a mystical circle like the ritualistic ring of the dervishes. A performance of Franghiz Ali-zade's composition Dervish takes place in a temple of European classical music, Chicago's Symphony Orchestra Hall, on May 1, 2002. At the ends of the half circle are the soloists, Alim Gasimov and Yo-Yo Ma, linked by a musical chain of performers on the ney tutek, the kanun, the double-headed nagara, the violin, and the viola.2 The group signifies "East and West," meeting once again on 'Western ground.' The composed Dervish is part of the Silk Road project designed by American/Japanese cellist Yo-Yo Ma. Musically, the composition juxtaposes two Azerbaijanian streams: oral and written, improvised and composed. The oral text of the composition—a ghazal by the thirteenth century poet Sufi Nasimi—consists of seven beits (the basic unit of two lines). Like beads of a necklace, the beits are coherent and self-contained. Similarly, though the composer uses no drastic dynamic or tempo contrasts, each beit has its own distinct musical identity. The restrained declamation is followed by passionate recitation, the spoken word by dense vocal ornamentation. Short vocal episodes alternate with instrumental interludes, and improvised sections with metrically defined ones. All the above elements signify the culture of mugham. In Dervish, the cello plays various roles: its voice is hidden in the shadow of accompanying parts, then suddenly bursts forth with brilliant colors, playing the leading role. The most dramatic solo episode takes place near the end of the piece. The passionate and yet warm tone of the instrument makes it sound like a human voice, while Alim engages in his declamation. Ali-zade envisioned this mesmerizing episode as a dialogue between a dervish (voice) and his soul (cello) (telephone interview, 2002). Alim sits cross-legged on a small platform, moving from side to side listening to music, singing in exaltation, his eyes at times half-closed and his hands rising swiftly, his music and stage presence creating the image of a dervish. But he is not merely acting a role. The spirituality of his musical performance mirrors his perception of music and his style of singing in the concerts and weddings I observed. Many Azerbaijanian musicians imitate him, while others question his style. He is admired and respected among the religious clergy and dervishes I interviewed. A poet and the author of several books on dervishes, Akhund Soltan Husseingulu oglu calls Gasimov a half-dervish. "When he begins a performance, he sings as a professional

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musician, but music takes him to a different world—then he is a dervish," Sultan smiles. In the episode with Fargana, Alim projected the straightforward image of a performer, mentor, father, and a man. Singing Dervish he is imbued with spirituality. In the production of Dervish, Alim, a musician highly respected at home and abroad, becomes a humble pupil. He does not read musical notation and thus depends on Ali-zade's help. Equally reputable in the area of composition, she, on the other hand, has to enter the realm of oral transmission. She teaches Alim, as did generations of mugham masters, by repeating melodic segments for him. Ali-zade, reflecting on the enormous talent and humor of the singer, recalls how, after going over the vocal part, she marked the score, identifying instrumental parts with different colors. Alim tells how difficult it was for him to learn to understand and follow the conductor's gestures. In a mugham ensemble, the sense of unity largely relies on the leadership of the khanande. In this composition, he is a soloist but must learn to follow. Alim jokes about how, getting accustomed to one conductor, he had to rehearse with another whose gestures he could not read. "I said to him, 'don't do it like this, do it this way'"—he laughs. Offstage, he is as articulate and animated as during the concerts and in every moment he is ready to sing. According to both the composer and the performer, Dervish never sounds the same twice. For example, in our last conversation, Ali-zade expressed her concern that Yo-Yo Ma gently leaves the major role to the dervish part, while the composer wishes the piece would evolve as a dialogue between the two. Alim Gasimov believes that, learning the Dervish the same way he years ago studied the basics of mugham, he improvises the piece each time he performs. Alim also comments that the other members of the group, including Yo-Yo Ma, also take liberties and improvise. Turning the pages of Ali-zade's musical text, I realize that the score itself is anything but "frozen music." The notation reminds one of an art piece that at times indicates precise pitches and intricate rhythmical patterns, but for the most part contains suggestive lines, curves, circles, and arrows. Intensified dynamics, rising pitches, pulsating repetitions of some patterns, and then gradual release with waving lines slipping from the last page— these are the musical graphics of Ali-zade's Dervish. Thus while Alim learns the poetic and musical text, the text itself is an improvisation that rules out the possibility of exact reproduction. The May 1 performance ends with prolonged silence imbued with the spirit of the dervish, embodying and reversing traditional patterns.

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BAKU 1997: THE MUGHAM THEATER AS "SOCIAL MATERIAL" The Mugham Theater is located in the heart of Baku, in the old part, ichari shahar, known until recently as a bad neighborhood, practically the worst crime area in the city. A stranger entering this part of Baku would soon feel lost in the labyrinth of narrow, one-step-wide streets hidden in the shadows after dusk. At the beginning of the seventies, artifacts found under a demolished building led archeologists to excavate the area. About fifteen to twenty feet under the "old city" they found remains of ninth century Baku with a market place, public baths, and well preserved buildings. After the restoration, several restaurants moved into these old buildings, creating an atmosphere of the imaginary caravan sarai.3 Museums, art galleries, and souvenir shops now inhabit the unearthed structures. The small area around the tower called Göz Galasi has became a tourist attraction shown to foreign visitors. One of these buildings is shared by an upscale restaurant belonging to an Iranian merchant and by the Mugham Theater. Coming through the regular door into the building one walks under an arch and enters an enclosed courtyard with a small pool and two mulberry trees in the center of the inner garden. Surrounding this open space is a two-story building consisting of many chambers. The rooms of the first floor have entrances into the garden. The units of the second floor exit onto a balcony embracing the inner part of the building and looking onto the courtyard. The walls inside and outside the building are unpainted, revealing crude massive stone blocks covered inside with elaborate and colorful Azerbaijanian carpets. The carpets decorate the walls looking into the garden. This ancient structure maintains a balance of interior and exterior space with bright sunlight and a place to rest one's eyes, a hot summer day spent in cool rooms or a fresh night enjoyed in the garden. Currently, most days of the week the restaurant occupies all the inner cells as well as the garden. Some evenings the Mugham Theater holds performances. I attended two concerts. One of them, on May 28, 1997, was dedicated to Azerbaijanian Independence Day. Intrigued by this program and by the concept of mugham as a theatrical spectacle, I expressed to my friend Babayev, highly respected in musical circles, my hope to see more of the productions of this troupe. He repeated my words as a request to Rzayev, a professor of the conservatory and the musical director of the Mugham Theater. Out of respect for his superior, Rzayev gathered the group for a second, semi-private concert. With slight variation, the performers of both concerts occupied the same places. In front of the audience were khanandes with an instrumental duet, tar and kamancha player, sitting at his sides. Two women playing kanuns4 and a ney performer5 in the middle of the second row were sur-

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rounded by ud and tar performers on one side and a second kamancha on the other. The third row comprised the nagara,6 two gavals, and a piano. The Concert for Independence Day opened with official congratulations—Tabriklar—followed by the overture from the opera Keroglu by Hajibeyov. Along with musical and poetic numbers, dances became a part of the festive program: the fiery dance-battle of two young igidlar (young warriors) with swords, the sweet and gracious dance of women in national costumes—pink, red, and silk dresses with long sleeves, and an embroidered skullcap holding the tulle scarves—and a humoresque that parodied false virility. The dances were accompanied by rangs, while the folk and composed songs as well as the shortened improvisation were sung by khanandes. The concert ended with the hymn Azerbaijan, with all members of the troupe walking into the middle of the courtyard carrying a portrait of the President Heydar Aliyev and the national flag. The second performance of the theater was more focused on mugham. Seven khanandes (three women and four men) took turns singing improvisations in dastgah Segah. The vocal solo fragments alternated with poetic declamation based on classical texts. Rangs were danced by a group of four women. Metrical tasnifs performed by all the singers together reminded me of Rzayev's class at the Conservatory. Most of the soloists of the Mugham Theater were his former and current students. In order to analyze these events I approach the two concerts as "social forms . . . , a system of social signals." Raymond Williams suggests that "the most common kinds of signals are those of occasion and place" (Williams 1982: 131). In terms of place, the theater, located in an ancient building, now offers food and entertainment. The presence of food (tea and sweets such as pahlava) is not untypical during the performance. If anything was unusual, it was the audience itself. The majority of guests at the first of two concerts were foreign attachés, diplomats, and businessmen mixed with a matching group of locals. The program, in order to satisfy an audience unaccustomed to mugham, consisted of relatively short pieces of different genres and types. The twelve-person ensemble, including different Azerbaijanian instruments, was visually spectacular in comparison to the traditional trio. Concert programs of the mixed type, comprising different genres, are not a recent invention in Azerbaijan. A billboard of 1926 announced the "last seasonal concert of the Eastern Jazz-Band conducted by A. Ionessain" 7 and including H. Sarabski8 as a soloist with an ensemble of folk instruments and a dance group. The solo concert of Seyid Shushinski in 1918 also presented a diversified repertoire encompassing mugham improvisations, fragments from operas, musical comedies, "Asian dances," and songs of ashigs (Shushinski 1979: 162).

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The posters of the concerts at the beginning of the century were often written in Russian, while the program and tickets for the concert in the Mugham Theater in 1997 were printed in English and Azerbaijanian (Latin alphabet). Moreover, one could not simply purchase tickets in the box office. All invitations were distributed to selected offices and to important people.9 The place and occasion, therefore, demonstrate the intention of the hosts to revive or re-imagine their historical and cultural past and at the same time to make it presentable and profitable. Although the second concert was less formal than the first, it was not open to a general audience and was therefore significantly less crowded. Among the guests were musicians, reporters, and relatives of troupe members. The program, also compounded of dances, vocal, and instrumental episodes, was centered on mugham. In both concerts, certain social signals—the "works of art themselves," the concert formats, the admission, and the audience—identified the social means of production. For example, the focal point of the first concert was a grand finale with a portrait of the Azerbaijanian president. The performance appeared to be a glorification of the leader of the country and the country itself. According to Hammoudi, writing about authoritarianism in Islamic Morocco, the "supreme leader . . . is the 'master,' the 'patron,' the 'lord' (Hammoudi 1997: 42). The author, evaluating different power configurations, argues that "the masterdisciple relationship" is "related to the patronage system" (Hammoudi 1997: 97). Similarly, I see the second concert as a tribute to Babayev, representing the musical authority of Rzayev's patron. Investigating the master-disciple paradigm, Hammoudi finds its reflection in different forms of interaction involving religious, social, political, and cultural organizations. Becoming a teacher, one does not simply change one category for another. A master among pupils, one is still subservient to one's patronmaster. By providing a concert stage for his pupils, the established mugham master Rzayev assumed the role of disciple in relation to his patron at the Conservatory and demonstrated his devotion to the political leader. In Baku the symbols of submission are referred to as "paying respect." Paying respect to his patron, Rzayev invited Babayev, his wife Hajar, and me to a new restaurant known only to the Baku elite. The restaurant was distant from the crowded city and located in an outdoor garden with small fountains, half-closed private tents, and exceptional food. Rzayev came with his former student, the leading soloist of the Mugham Theater. Demonstrating respect to Babayev (his family and his guest), Rzayev himself was paid tribute by his disciple. The communication around the table in the Baku restaurant mirrored at least two layers of the familiar model—teacher and pupil, patron and subordinate. The young khanande did not participate in the conversation, mainly responding to questions addressed directly to him. His demeanor

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reminded me of student behavior in the khanande classes I observed at the Conservatory. He seemed preoccupied with pleasing his guests with good food and service. Rzayev, on the other hand, appeared as a communicative and pleasant companion, simultaneously paying attention to both the conversation and the service. When Hajar or I wanted something, we addressed our requests to Babayev, who "translated" it to our hosts. The youngest was in charge of food and drink, directing the servers who changed the dishes and cleaned the table. At every moment he was ready to leave the table, find and talk to our waiter while his master conducted the course of events by almost invisible signals. A significant part of Azerbaijanian gatherings around the table are toasts, most of which during this evening were centered on recognition of the professional, administrative, and musical achievements of Babayev. The latter, a man with an extraordinary sense of humor and an ability to remember and produce hundreds of anecdotes, was rather serious and received the toasts, aptly returning compliments to Rzayev and expressing polite appreciation of his students' singing. Searching for the significance of the master/disciple relationship I realized that I may, as Geertz says, begin "in a cultural repertoire of forms and end up anywhere else" (Geertz 1973: 453). The cultural patterns of discipleship and hierarchy discussed earlier in the book were present throughout the experience of the Mugham Theater, from setting to audience to performance to after-theater entertainment. BAKU 2002: MUGHAM JAZZ Five years later I am again in the enclosed garden of the Mugham Theater. The theater remains under the directorship of a filmmaker, Arif Gaziyev. (His daughter now runs the restaurant.) It is a hot lazy day, and nothing is more inviting than an armud (traditional pear-shaped glass) of tea in the shade of the mulberry trees in the company of Jamil Amirov. We listen to a rehearsal of musicians from the theater and talk; people in the courtyard stop by our table from time to time. Some recognize me, and others come to greet Jamil, who recently moved back to Baku from Moscow. Approaching him, musicians who have not seen him for years mention their connections with his father. I suspect that the visibility makes him uncomfortable. The legacy of his father, composer Fikret Amirov, and his grandfather, tar performer Mashadi Jamil, includes high community expectations. As a descendant of a major musical family he is expected to maintain his family's status and to achieve high public recognition like many other descendents of Fikret Amirov's associates. Jamil, without a high title, is well known in jazz circles as a keyboard player and composer. He finished

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a specialized musical school as a pianist, and later at the conservatory completed undergraduate and graduate degrees in composition. Jamil tells me that his father did not oppose his desire to play jazz, but that Amirov senior believed the road to jazz lay through classical music. Jamil pursued his musical career as a piano and harpsichord player in the State Chamber Orchestra and as a composer. During his student years, he wrote several quartets and symphonies for strings as well as compositions for piano. A vinyl recording of 1981 features his and his father's compositions. Completely immersed in jazz, Jamil himself believes now that jazz is inseparable from classical music. In his recently issued recording he creates jazz compositions merging jazz with native music and instruments. From its very beginning, jazz in Azerbaijan was associated with both native and classical traditions. We talk with Jamil about a billboard of 1926 which announced Moscow performances of an Eastern Jazz-Band10 featuring Husseingulu Sarabski, the first performer of Majnun in Hajibeyov's Leili and Majnun. At the end of the twenties jazz was a fashionable word, yet for several decades the music itself was outlawed by Soviet officials, who targeted jazz musicians as anti-Soviet and counter-revolutionary. In the middle of century, jazz musicians from many Soviet cities gradually gathered in Baku. Like revolutionaries escaping from the Russian Imperial police in the early twentieth century, jazz musicians were looking for a safe harbor in a remote city and were attracted to Baku's warm climate and the Azerbaijanian taste for outdoor events. On Baku Boulevard, along the shore of the Caspian Sea, and in many city parks there were evening concerts where musicians played and barefoot boys from nearby streets listened and learned to like this music. During the sixties, in a rare moment of relief from the Soviet vilification of jazz, two Azerbaijanian jazz pianists, Rauf Babayev (1936-1994) and Vasif Mustafa Zadeh (1940–1979), flabbergasted an international audience gathered at the First Jazz Festival in the Estonian capital, Tallin. The most intriguing aspect of Mustafa Zadeh's performance was that he did not actually play traditional American jazz. What he introduced to the public was jazz mugham. Perceiving improvisation as a bridge between the two traditions, Mustafa Zadeh converged the modal intricacy of mugham with rich jazz harmony, fused familiar motifs with swing, used both jazz and mugham types of melodic elaboration, thus integrating two essentially diverse ways of musical thinking. Like Jamil and many other Azerbaijanian jazz musicians, Vagif was trained as a classical pianist; his first piano teacher was his mother. From her, studying by ear, he also learned mugham. The ability to memorize by repeating, characteristic of the oral transmission of mugham, helped Mustafa Zadeh learn the classical jazz repertoire from recordings. An essential feature of mugham—once

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memorized, it is never repeated the same way—led the pianist to jazz improvisation. He especially liked Bayati Shiraz; several of his compositions bear the name of the mugham (Audio track 11: Vagif Mustafa-Zadeh, excerpt from his jazz composition Bayati Shiraz). He did not follow the traditional sequence, nor did he use complete gushes (themes). He did not simply "redress" mugham in a new fashion. His music exposed a highly individual style; but his individuality was inseparable from mugham. His language was woven from the tonal pallet of mugham, and references to gushes could suddenly surface in the middle of a composition, as in his "Bayati Shiraz" for piano and percussion (Audio Track 10). Admired by many young people and disliked by both officials and the majority of the Azerbaijanian musical mainstream, Mustafa Zadeh left the city. He died young, passing his fervor for jazz to his daughter and pupil Aziza. First appearing on the stage next to her father at age of eight, she is now known as jazz singer, composer, and pianist. The musical style of her mugham jazz has made her popular in Europe, where she has issued seven recordings and established her current residency. Two minute's walk from the Mugham Theater, on one of the narrow, curved streets of the old city, is the two-story building where Vagif Mustafa Zadeh was born and lived a large part of his life. On the wall of the building is a plaque with his name; his apartment on the second floor has been turned into the Mustafa Zadeh HomeMuseum, a part of the

Figure 10.5. Jamil Amirov under a portrait of Vagif Mustafa Zadeh (Photograph by author, 2002)

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State Museum of Musical Culture of Azerbaijan. Jamil Amirov, now married to Mustafa Zadeh's sister, lives in this three-room apartment-museum. Tourists visiting the exhibit become Jamil's personal guests and are treated to a tour and tea. "Only in Baku," both of us say simultaneously, reciting a local adage. Besides representing the intersection of classical music, native traditions, and jazz, Jamil, an heir of a musical dynasty, has joined another, symbolizing a personal and spiritual connection with the founder of mugham jazz. A few streets away from the Mugham Theater in the opposite direction from the Mustafa Zadeh Home-Museum and across from the boulevard on the Caspian shore is a district of theaters, restaurants, and entertainment spots. I spent several evenings here in a jazz club which barely existed five years ago, and which would have been unthinkable in Soviet Azerbaijan. (Though prohibited, unofficial gatherings of jazz musicians were, in my memory, more enthusiastically attended than this club.) Now classes of jazz improvisation are offered at the Baku Music Academy. One of the instructors is Salman Gambarov. Trained as a classical pianist, he is a devoted performer. Before meeting him, I listened to him on the stage of concert halls, jazz clubs, restaurants, also on radio and television programs and in a number of recordings. Our introduction had a somewhat humorous tinge. As a researcher, especially with my dual identity as a native and an American, I am not invisible. One evening, entering the jazz club and approaching a table not far from the stage, I hear Salman begin to improvise Bayati Shiraz. The word about me, my research, and my special interest in Bayati Shiraz has circulated through the musical network, and Salman is teasing me. Later, on several occasions, we spend hours talking about jazz. Discussing the fusion of jazz and mugham, Salman mentions that it would be interesting to meet and play a jam session with Yassaf Eivazov, an ud player. I know Elza Eivazova—the wife of my mugham teacher Arif, herself a prominent kamancha player and a professor at The Music Academy. She is Yassaf's sister. ("The Eivazov family is gifted with musical talent," many say.) Using traditional methods of connection through the family network, I arrange for the two to meet. After exchanging greetings and talking about each other's families and hard times for musicians, Salman comes to the piano and Yassaf takes his ud (Sound track twelve: Eivazov playing ud and Gambarov piano improvise in Bayati Shiraz). In the silence of the mid-afternoon, the music melts into the rolling waves of the sea, the shining blue sky, and the thick hot air mixed with the smell of Caspian oil.

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Figure 10.6. Yassaf Eivazov (ud) and Salman Gambarov (piano) (Photograph by author, 2002) BAKU 2002: BUYING A CARPET On my last day in Azerbaijan, I come again to the Mugham Theater, but this time not to listen to music. I have decided to buy a carpet, and though dozens of shops selling thick hand-woven carpets are spread through every part of the old city, what place can be more appropriate to buy my rug than the house of mugham} The second story of the theater is a series of tiny rooms, cells really, connected by the balcony that encircles the building from the inside. From this balcony one can look into an internal garden and enjoy the mugham being played downstairs. Each cell is filled with carpets—carpets rolled, folded, hanging on walls and ceilings, covering floors, chairs, and tables—a kingdom of bright colors and soft caressing surfaces. Buying and even looking at carpets is a ritual that involves prolonged conversation. The vendor wants to learn how much the buyer knows about rugs, as the price of the carpet may depend on this. Accordingly, the buyer, me in this case, avows a moderate interest in carpets on one hand (a strong desire to buy may result in higher prices) and some knowledge of carpets on the other. Both sides aim to establish a friendly personal ground which may help in the negotiation. This tactic is familiar, but there is more to it when one deals with beautiful morsels of paradise. The seller, a young woman, shows me carpets that I select and also some that she herself likes. The vendors from nearby

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rooms bring other rugs. Soon the floor of the cell turns into a dazzling pillow. In the course of our conversation, the young woman tells me she is a musician. Just a few days ago she played her last piano recital at the Music College, and now she is looking forward to commencement. She is also a weaver, and shows her own small rounded rugs, demonstrating the density of knots and identifying the origin of the patterns. I came to the shops with my dear friends, actor Mabud Magerramov and his wife Hanum, a pianist and an instructor at the Music School of Bülbül. As I choose my rug, we are beginning to enter serious negotiations when an older man walks into the room. He is the father of the woman/seller and the owner of all the shops in this building. Greeting me with no special interest (selling tactics) he suddenly steps forward, giving a handshake and a hug to Mabud. Years ago I met Mabud, a young and jobless actor who used to shock his friends by telling loud jokes and demonstrating slapstick routines while walking down the street. Now he is a famous actor, and his visit to the shop is an honor to the owner. When Mabud introduces his wife, the owner's whole demeanor drastically changes. Softened, he asks if she recognizes him and reminds her that many years ago he studied with Hanum's father, an outstanding tar player and a teacher who mentored a host of tar performers. The owner himself had a successful career as a tar player, but "the income of musicians," he explains, "can't compare with the carpet business." (As a result of this moving meeting, the price of the carpet is dropped.) The ties between carpet and mugham are as palpable as familial connections and professional lineages. Leaving the mugham theater, which doubles as a carpet shop, I carry with me my purchase, a woven ShakhNazarli. Like mughams, carpets have their own names and are divided in groups, each associated with different locales, each with its own distinct character. Every type has its own color scale, patterns, and underlying dynamic structure connecting the bits of woven motifs. Based upon a formulaic design typical of its group, each carpet is different from the others— a slightly changed design, a missed knot, an added petal—and thus improvised. Bringing my ShakhNazarli (king Nazarli) to my no-longer-new home in America, I hang it in my Chicago apartment. Surrounded by carpets, I listen to mugham, inviting my reader to continue, with me, my journey.

Glossary

Agi. (Turk.) A sad song, a part of burial ceremony Agiçi. Lamenter/wailer Aruz. A poetic formula in Azerbaijanian classical poetry; formed as a sequence of short and long syllables corresponding to the short and long vowels characteristic of the Arabic language Ashig. A singer and poet accompanying himself with the saz Avaz. A short motif; several avazes may constitute a gushe Beit. (Arabic) A 'house,' a poetic stanza consisting of two lines, the second lines-mizras-are rhymed Daf or gaval. Tambourine-like instrument; played by a khanande during mugham performance Daramad. Instrumental metrical introduction to belongs to the rang group of pieces

mugham-dastgah,

Dastan. Azerbaijanian epic genre, a type of ballad, performed by ashigs Dastgah or mugham-dastgah. Complete mugham composition, includes metrical and improvisatory sections Gazal. Poetic form used in mugham, consists of four to fifteen beits, the formula of a gbazal: is AA, BA, CA, DA Gushe. A theme-thesis, an identity card usually introduced at the beginning of a section, the development of which is based on endless repetition, modification, and ornamentation Kamancha. A spiked fiddle

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"If ever a singer sang songs no composer had made The gay kamancha would make fun of his voice thus displayed" (Azerbaijanian poetry, 1969: 83-84) Khanande. A singer of mugham Maharram. A month in the Islamic calendar, observed by Muslim Shii, commemorating the martyrdom in 680 of the direct descendents of the Prophet Muhammed Marsia. Lament Majlis. A gathering of poets, musicians and philosophers; also a school Mullah. (Turkish molla, Persian mulla, from Arabic mawla) An educated Muslim trained in traditional religious law and doctrine (Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 1993: 764), also a figure respected in community and often holding an official post Mugham. 1) Modal system underlying Azerbaijanian music; 2) compositions (mugham-dastgah) based upon specific tonal, rhythmic, melodic and formal organization 3) a concept related to Arabic maqam, Turkish makam, Persian dastgah and Indian raga Nagara. A small pair of kettledrums Haram. 'Prohibited,' a term often applied to music in traditional Islamic society Novha. (Azer.) Weep, lament performed by women, clapping and weeping aloud Rang. A dance-like instrumental section of a dastgah, provides transition between and contrast to improvisational sections Saz. A fretted lute, a relative of the Turkish baglama Sazande. (From saz) Instrumentalist, a member of a traditional mugham ensemble Shari'a. Islamic law, governs all aspects of spiritual, hygienic, private and communal behavior of Muslims Shebiha. Theatrical mysteries played in commemoration of the imam Hussein during the month of maharram celebrated by Muslim Shii Shiism. A branch of Islam that follows Ali, the son-in-law and cousin of Muhammed. Shia are Muslims who believe that the leadership in the Islamic community belongs to blood descendents of the Prophet Muhammed Shobe. Mainly known as a section of a mugham composition historically it was also referred as a segment of a mugham scale associated with a specific section of the performed composition

Glossary

223

Sinazan. (Azer. "sina") Chest, lament sung by men pounding themselves on the chests Sunnism. A branch of Islam that follows the principles of elected leadership, not limited to blood descendents of Muhammed Tar. A plucked string instrument that accompanies the khanande in mugham performance, also a solo instrument in instrumental dastgah Tasnif. A metrical song connecting the improvised sections of a mugham composition Yiug. Ancient burial ceremony for a hero who died in a battle Zangula. Vocal trill, where the distance between tones for female performers is much wider than for males

Notes

NOTES TO CHAPTER I 1

According to Ayaz Malikov, within the territory of the former Soviet Union, "the total number of members of Turk groups and nationalities is now close to 50 million." Further on, Malikov states that "any Turk language opens the door to the other Turk languages; that is, every Turk language is simultaneously a local language and the language of international communication between close Turk people." (Malikov, 1994: 4 & 6). 2 The empire of Akhamenids extended from the African Nile to India (I. Babaev, 1990: 38). 3 Albania played a major role in Azerbaijanian as well as Armenian history, a fact that invited tremendous attention in the context of recent political developments in this region. In discussing early Albania, historians have traditionally been preoccupied with questions of the Albanian church, Christian-Armenization, and Islamization. 4 A semi-independent state, Atropaten was part of the Sassanian empire (Persia) for over four hundred years (226–642). 5 Swietochowski suggests that Azerbaijanian groups were ethnically heterogeneous, including Kurds, Talish, Lezgins, and others (1995: 3). 6 It was signed by Iranians and Russians in the small village of Turkmanchai on February 10, 1828. 7 Analyzing the nationalities in Baku from 1897 to 1911, Altstadt draws a graph showing that the population of the Azerbaijanian Turks changed insignificantly, while the Russians, doubling in number, outnumbered the natives by more than thirty thousand; the Armenians increased by three times, bringing their population almost equal to the number of Azerbaijanian Turks. (Altstadt, 1992: 32). Bay Essad, the son of an oil owner, discussed in his book the significant difference in numbers between male and female populations of the city. He wrote that working contracts "prohibited single workmen to marry . . . on the grounds that their

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income did not enable them to support families." He also recalled how his father "got rid of a married worker" even though "his father was considered the most liberal of his class by both workmen and owners" (Essad, 1932: 6). 8 Owners of small businesses, even tailor shops or bakeries, were labeled "capitalists." Their children were considered outcasts, could not attend college, and had a hard time finding jobs even after family businesses were confiscated. 9 The Hurufis were a Sufi order which "systematized the equations between letters in the Arabic alphabet and features of the human face or the human body" (Lifchez, 1992: 247). 10 The art of mugham reached its peak in urban centers such as Shusha of Garabag, Shemakha of Shirvan, and Baku in Apsheron. 11 The differentiation of the localities associated with the two musical forms was discussed with me by several musicians such as composer Vasif Adigozal, musicologist Elkhan Babayev, and kamancha player Arif Asadullayev. 12 Elmira Abbasova writes that "not by accident, Hajibeyov chose the poem Leili and Majnun by Fizuli. The composer was attracted by the fact that it was written in the Azerbaijanian language." The poem is written in Farsi or Persian, which at the beginning of the twentieth century was considered by many Azerbaijanians as their native tongue (Abbasova, 1960: 25). 13 The names of the famous Azerbaijanian poets and thinkers were derived from the cities of their birth. For example, the poet Gartran Tabrizi was born in Shadiabad near Tabriz; Nizami lived in Ganja; Khagani was named after Shirvan, a khanate famous for its poetic school. The name Ganjevi refers to the city, while the pseudonym Nizami means "waving rhymes" (Ganjevi, 1982: 11). 14 An adherent of Faslullah Naimi (1339–1396) and the founder of hurufism, Nasimi was seized by Muslim "fanatics who, on orders from the town's ruler, skinned him alive for his 'blasphemous' poetry" (Azerbaijanian Poetry, 1969: 90). 15 Amnon Shiloah defines qasida as a major poetic genre "based on a union of meter and rhyme, with the same rhythmical structure and rhymes repeated in each line of the poem" (Shiloah, 1995: 3). 16 Oljak Suleimanov recalls the old aphorism: "Arabic is for scientists, Persian for poets and Turkic for soldiers" (Iz staroi turetskoi poezii, 1978: 7). 17 Azerbaijanian dastans were widely used in the operas of native composers. For example, the story of Keroglu and Asli and Kerem were the sources of Uzeyir Hajibeyov's ashig opera Keroglu (1937), and the opera Asli and Kerem; Shah Ismail was the basis for an opera with the same title by Muslim Magomaev (1919). The opera Ashig Garib was composed by Zulfugar Hajibeyov (1916). 18 For example, Olimov analyzes one beit as "forty eight 'meetings' of fifteen letters: 'b', 'o', and 'ii' repeated four times, 'u' and 'k' five, 'r' and 'a' seven times (Olimov, 131). NOTES T O CHAPTER 2 1

The highest point of the celebration of maharram. The central mosque in Baku (tr. New Mosque or shrine). 3 I was told this later by the mollah of one of the mosques. 2

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Hajji derives form the word 'hajj'—the pilgrimage to Mecca that every Muslim must undertake at least once in a lifetime. A person who performs the hajj is called a hajji, which in the case of Jiabrail also identifies his position in the religious community. 5 Mazdaism is another name for a religion worshipping Ahura Mazda—the Zoroastrian God. Madhusudan Mallik writes: "At the head of the heavenly hosts [Zoroastrian gods] stands Ahura Mazda" (Mallik, 1980: 17). 6 Sufism was often a mediator between Islamic doctrine and pre-Islamic customs, rituals, poetry, and music. Azerbaijanian Ismail Khatai—a shah and a poet who brought a united Iran to Shiism—was himself a Sufi. 7 Due to the historical dominance of Persia over Azerbaijan, the latter is often considered a part of Persia. 8 Shiloah suggests that "many well-known female and male musicians of early Islam were mawali. They were of varied origin, but most were Persians." (Shiloah, 1995:12). According to Sumbatzade, "the first Azerbaijanian poets writing in Arabic were called mawali (from vali, translated 'to follow')" (1897: 107). 9 Nigosian writes that "under the Sassanian Kings (224–651), Persia enjoyed a period of great cultural brilliance that endured until the advent of the Arabs. The Zoroastrian faith played a significant role in reviving national sentiment" (Nigosian 1993: 33). 10 Babek's fighters were dressed in red, a symbol of fire. (Sumbatzade 1897: 108–9). 11 In 1906 (before the Soviet revolution) native writer Jalil Mamedkulizade wrote in his pamphlet "Alas, my brother Muslims! If you want to know whom to laugh at, put a mirror in front of yourself and look attentively at the image it shows" (Safarova 1973: 20). 12 Participation in these demonstrations was often obligatory. The celebrations took place annually on November 7 and May 1. 13 Lois Al-Faruqi addresses all forms of sound-art expression as the "artistic engineering of sound" (Al-Faruqi 1985: 179). 14 According to Soviet law, Islamic societies, executive organs, and clergy had to be registered (Ro'i, 2000: 18–25). Non-registered institutions including clandestine prayer houses, holy mausoleums, and pirs—places of continuous pilgrimage— superceded registered institutions in number and influence among the native population. In the literature on Islam in the former Soviet Union, these institutions are referred to as "popular religion," or "parallel Islam" (Mayer 2002: 180). Alexandre Bennigsen suggests that "the holy places in Azerbaijan enjoyed a greater prestige than those of other Muslim territories, and are attended by larger masses of believers, probably because of the more mystical, popular and picturesque aspect of Shiism [majority of Azerbaijanians]. These places of pilgrimage are real centers of religious life" (Bennigsen 1986: 141). These places presented a threat to the Soviet regime. 15 During some periods of the Soviet Union, jazz was forbidden and jazz musicians were attacked and even persecuted. For example, Vagif Mustafa Zadeh, a creator of Azerbaijanian jazz, rarely received an opportunity to perform publicly. (Naroditskaya 1981: 3).

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16

Gorky in his article "Music of the Gross" calls jazz "animalistic" and "vulgar" (Gorky 1928). 17 Examples of symphonic mughams include Shur, Kurd Ovshari (1948) and Gulistan Bayati Shiraz (1971) by Fikret Amirov; Rast by Niyazi (1929); and Mugham Sayagi by Frangiz Ali-zade (1993). 18 In Azerbaijanian operas such as Leili and Mejnun by Uzeyir Hajibeyov (1907), Vatan by Gara Garayev and Jevdat Hajiev (1945), Sevil by Fikret Amirov (1953), and Azad by Jahangir Jahangirov (1957), typical operatic elements, arias, duets, and choruses are juxtaposed with mugham episodes containing vocal improvisations and traditional instrumental accompaniment. 19 For example, the repertoire of the intermediate pianist includes a number of collections of mugham excerpts arranged for piano. K. Safaralieva—a renowned professor of piano at the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory—composed a cycle of short piano pieces based on different mughams for beginning students (1945). In 1970, she also compiled a collection of piano pieces of young Azerbaijanian composers. Based on mugham-modes, these pieces refer to different genres of native music: folk, ashig songs, and mugham. 20 For decades, jazz was considered not permissible in the Soviet Union. During the eighties, when its position became slightly less constrained, I, by then a graduate of the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory, wrote several articles on Azerbaijanian jazz, which had rich (underground) traditions. While at first my efforts to publish the article were unsuccessful, a curious accident (the absence of the main editor and the approval of his substitute, who purposely left work and attributed the publication of my article to an editorial mistake) helped to stimulate the discussion of jazz in a major Azerbaijanian newspaper. After this issue, I was invited to a meeting with the first secretary of the Azerbaijanian Comsomol Union, who proposed to organize an Azerbaijanian Jazz Festival. This was the late eighties, a period marked by shifting cultural and social paradigms. NOTES T O CHAPTER 3 1

From an interview with composer Vasif Adigozal, son of khanande Zulfi Adigozalov from Shusha. 2 Even in the Soviet period, when Islamic rituals were not performed or acknowledged publicly, weddings did not take place during these times. 3 Mugham can also be performed as a solo instrumental composition. 4 Both the number of strings and the technique of playing are often changed by celebrated masters. One of the most important masters and reformers of the tar was Sadikhjan (1846–1902), who increased the number of strings from seven to eleven and moved the instrument to the upper chest position. More recently, musician Mahmud Salahov constructed a tar with thirteen strings and 32 frets. Among some of the most distinguished tar performers and teachers of the last hundred years were Sadikhjan (1846–1902), Bahram Mansurov (1911–1985), Gurban Primov (1880–1965), Ahsan Dadashev (1924–1976), and Ramiz Guliyev (1947– ). 5 Hajibeyov's portrayal of the mugham/maqam system (Hajibeyov, 1985: 18). 6 The Arabic art form parallel to Azerbaijanian mugham.

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7

The ud is a plucked string instrument with a short neck and the head bent back, the ancestor of the Medieval European lute. The instrument of poets and philosophers, it is often depicted in "Persian gardens, sumptuous interiors, and the flowery landscapes serving as poetic frameworks set off the concentration of the musicians " (During and Mirabdolbaghi, 1991, 109).. 8 The names given by Navvab do not always coincide with accounts of other authors. Navvab himself "expresses his dissatisfaction with some musicians who view Chahargah and Humayun as mughams, when in fact those are sho'bes" (Safarova, 1987, 51). These particular modes are included today in the list of major Azerbaijanian mughams. 9 I encountered the use of this term in relation to Azerbaijanian mugham primarily in the work of Rafig Imrani (1994: 181). 10 The term avaz, like many other terms used in Azerbaijanian music, has various meanings. Uzeyir Hajibeyov viewed avaz and gushe as comparable parts of mugham composition. Ramiz Zokhrabov admits some uncertainty in the definition of the term, identifying it as a melodic unit smaller than a gushe. Babayev avoids using this dubious term, substituting words such as melodic cell, microtheme, or micromotif. Here I employ the interpretation of Mahmudova, which appears definite and at the same time inclusive (Mahmudova, 1997:21). 11 One of the first applying this term to a complete compound piece was Navvab. The meaning of the term dastgah in Azerbaijanian music must be differentiated from Persian dastgah. The Persian dastgah "signifies both the title of a grouping of modes, of which there are twelve, and the initial mode presented in each group" (Farhat, 1990:19). Jean During recognizes that "the term dastgah suggests the organization of the modal and melodic material in a system" (Jean During, 1991: 63). As such, the term dastgah in Persian music parallels the Azerbaijanian mugham concept. 12 This expression was used by Jani-zadeh (1987: 106). It is also quoted by Mahmudova (1997:31). 13 In the version of mugham Rast analyzed by Ramiz Zokhrabov, the sections Shahnaz and Kurdi modulate to the mode Shur (1992:52). NOTES T O CHAPTER 4 1 Farhat, writing about the Persian equivalent of Azerbaijanian mugham, states that scales or gammas—a word of French origin also used in Azerbaijan—"impose a frame of reference alien to the music. Even today the majority of Persian performing musicians have no knowledge of what a scale is" (Farhat, 1990: 16). 2 Instrumental mugham is derivative of vocal/instrumental mugham. All instrumentalists performing mugham work with and learn from accompanying singers. Many sazandes name khanandes among their teachers. For example, Arif Asadullayev calls himself a student and disciple of an outstanding khanande, Seyid Shushinski. 3 This recording was given to me by the khanande himself. Several recordings of Alim Gasimov's trio were recently issued in France and in the United States (See discography).

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4 Unless otherwise noted, Azeri texts were translated by the author with the assistance of other native speakers. 5 Vasif Dadash is a twentieth century poet living in Azerbaijan (1880-1960) (Azerbaijan ghazallari, 1991: 470). 6 This and subsequent musical examples were transcribed by the author, unless otherwise noted. 7 One of Alim's performances of the Bayati Shiraz is recorded on Azerbaijan: L'Art fu Mugham (Paris, 1997), Ocora C 560112. The recording of Jagub Mammadov was introduced to me by musicians working at Azerbaijanian Radio. 8 The term 'melodic code' is applied by native musicologist Shahla Mahmudova, who examines developmental processes in the monody of Azerbaijanian mughams (Mahmudova, 1997: 36). 9 The additional poetic line or beit is sung with extensive ornamentation, which makes the text difficult to understand. 10 The new modal area will be determined in the following section, Huzzal. Here the transition to a different mode is implied but not yet completed. 11 See also Ali Jihad Racy, "The Many Faces of Improvisation" (Pacy, 2000: 302–303). 12 As a musicology student at the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory in Baku, I studied the theoretical basics of mugham. In Folk Music classes we used to learn fragments of mughams from notated sources. The Conservatory program also included field trips to rural areas where students recorded and later notated folk and art music. The oral nature of mugham was overlooked; an attempt was made to "acculturate" mugham by bringing it into the sphere of written (classical) music. 13 Sakine Ismaïlovas: Mugham D'Azerbaïdjan. CD, AUVIDIS W 260049. 14 Though cadences appear the same in notation, each of them is performed with different ornamentation and embellishment varying from one movement to another. 15 The importance of Isfahan as a force confronting Bayati Shiraz is clearly seen in the music and can be observed in transcriptions. It was also emphasized by Arif Asadullayev, who explained to me the dynamics of this mugham, and by other musicians talking about the structure of Bayati Shiraz. 16 Abul Chak is performed only in instrumental versions of dastgah, where this section plays a transitional role. In a vocal/instrumental Bayati Shiraz, the function of transition is performed by rangs and tasnifs. 17 Hence the Mahur compositions are not simply transposed versions of Rast. Both Mahurs have their characteristic gushes, cadences, and structural elements identifying their individual characters. 18 Jean During wrote about Rast that "the scale of this dastgah is identical to that of Mahur and similar to the Occidental major tonality." (During and Mirabdolbaghi, 1991: 74). 19 The notation I use in the present work is more detailed than many transcriptions used by Azerbaijanian musicologists, which commonly appear as summaries of major musical events, allowing one acquainted with mugham to "read" the text, to recollect the full sound of the mugham, and to discuss it on the basis of the simplified sketches. Yet all transcriptions are pointless for performers. Musicians unfamiliar with mugham cannot perform mugham by reading the score.

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NOTES TO CHAPTER 5 1 Samed Vurgun (1906–1956) is best-known for his poetry and for dramas Vagif, Farhad and Shirin, Khanlar, considered classics of Azerbaijanian literature (Azerbaijanian Poetry, 1969: 285–298). 2 Shiloah defines the Arabic word majlis as "both a meeting-place and the session held there" (Shiloah, 1995: 12). It is very similar to the Azerbaijanian majlis, which in addition functioned as a school for youngsters led by experienced teachers. 3 From 1828 through the end of the nineteenth century, Azerbaijan remained an unknown and largely unexplored outskirt of the tsarist empire. 4 Baku produced fifty percent of the world's petroleum. 5 In 1872, the Russian government issued an act granting long-term oil leases to the highest bidder, often foreign and Russian capitalists. Among the most important were the Nobel Brothers Company, who soon controlled more than half of Baku's oil output. Their chief competitors were the Parisian Rothschilds, who completed the Batum-Baku railroad in 1883, which brought oil to western markets. In the suburbs of Baku there remain areas built by the Nobels for their laborers. 6 The producer was Geitman and the conductor was Charpentier (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki, 1992: 125). 7 Ziloti and Sauer were students of Franz Liszt and Nikolay Rubenstein (Kennedy, 1980: 561, 722). 8 A Belgian soprano who studied under Pauline Verdot (Kennedy, 1980: 27). 9 "Oglu" is translated as "son of" while "gizi" is "daughter of." Both are used as middle or last names, stressing the importance of one's identity with one's father. 10 A flyer for this concert is reprinted in Shushinski (1979: 59). 11 From the beginning of Russian imperial dominance in Azerbaijan, the tzarist administration attempted to create a native bureaucracy from the "respectable Muslim families." "Civilizing" the Azerbaijanians, Russians familiarized the former with Russian and European classical music which, according to Akhamadov, influenced the performing style of Azerbaijanian khanandes such as Sattar (Akhmedov, 1989: 34–41). 12 According to Swietochowski, 128 Armenian and 158 Azerbaijanian villages were destroyed in nationalistic clashes during the spring and summer of 1905 (Swietochowski, 1995: 41–42). 13 "Russians and Armenians (and more distant foreigners, as well) sometimes expressed their perception that Baku was their island in an 'alien' ocean, forgetting that the ocean was the native population" (Alstadt 1992: 49). 14

The Soviet system gave the leading role to Russian culture as a stimulus to the "modernization process" in the cultures of peripheral nationalities (Eickelman, 1993: 1–15, 4). Opening the First Ail-Union Congress of Soviet Composers, Zdanov spoke about the "progressive principles in Soviet music," reminding those present of "the enormous role played by our classical heritage, and particularly of the Russian musical School" (Ockhanovsky, 1955: 52). 15

ter.

"Bek," added to one's name, indicates the high status of a nobleman or a mas-

232 16

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5

According to Firidun Shushinski, the first Eastern Orchestra was organized by conductor, composer and musical activist Avanes Ioannesian (Shushinski, 1979: 94–97). 17 Tarlan Seidov suggests that piano concerts in private salons and small public settings became very popular among the Azerbaijanian intelligentsia at the end of the nineteenth century (Seidov, 1992: 95). 18 Several possible dates of his birth are offered by various sources: 1216, 1217, or 1230 by Istoriaia azerbaijanskoi muziki (1992: 90); 1216 or 1217 by Rafig Imrani (1994: 100). 19 Navvad Mir Mohsin Garabagi was the author of the treatise about Azerbaijanian music written in the Azerbaijanian language using Arabic letters. Called Vazuhil-agram, translated as "Explanation of the numerals," this work studies numbers related to mugham-dastgah and their subdivided parts and their proportion and organization. Like his predecessors in the Middle Ages, Havvad was especially fascinated with the measurement of tones and pitches in the Azerbaijanian modal system. Like them he used the theories of music and art developed by ancient Greek philosophers. 20 The word "progress" is a native view of cultural development related to the ideas of Hajibeyov and his followers during the twentieth century. By using the term "progress" I do not intend to evaluate the validity of the cultural developments, but rather to be precise in expressing the local perspectives and vocabulary. 21 The acquaintance and fascination of Hajibeyov with opera began in his student years in Gori near Tiflis, which was the capital of Georgia and the most Westernized city in the Caucasus with active operatic troupes and touring musicians. Tchaikovsky visited Tiflis several times. Anton Rubinstein and Fedor Shaliapin performed in the city's concert halls. 22 Advocating polyphony in Azerbaijanian traditional monophonic music, Hajibeyov wrote that "there is a view that if harmony is applied to naturally monophonic Azerbaijanian music, all the intricacy of our modes will be reduced to zero. It is quite true. Clumsy application of harmony to Azerbaijanian melodies may change their character, neutralize the distinction of their modal peculiarities, and even make them rough and vulgar. But it does not follow that Azerbaijanian music must necessarily remain monophonic. The regular system of Azerbaijanian modes and the strict law of the formation of sensible melodies does not prevent the introduction of polyphony, but on the contrary, lays firm foundations for building large polyphonic forms based not on the dead gammas, but on the lively and viable modes of Azerbaijanian folk music" (Hajibeyov, 1985: 45–46). 23 In the eyes of performers and their supporters, the premiere was a risky project. Now, over ninety years after the first performance of Leili and Majnun, some details of it look whimsical and odd. For example, a young man, Abdurrahim Farajev, the first performer of Leili, was especially embarrassed by putting make-up on his face, fearful that it would damage his mustache. After the first performance, Farajev refused to play a female part again. The role of Leili was taken by Ahmad Agdamsky, an enthusiast and future star of the early modern theater in Azerbaijan. 24 Even though it is a legend, the figure of Koroglu is very real to Azerbaijanians. In the region of Gazakh there is a castle which is believed to have belonged to Koroglu.

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25

The term motif-thesis or theme-thesis is commonly used in Azerbaijanian musicological literature in relation to mugham or mugham-type improvisation developed from an initial melodic cell (Istoria azerbaijanskoi muziki 1992: 246; Abezgauz, 1987: 78–87). NOTES T O CHAPTER 6 1 E Badalbeyli, the president of the Azerbaijanian Conservatory, is a laureate of the Smetana Competition in Prague and a winner of the Vanna da Mota in Lisbon (Farhad Badalbeyli). 2 Qawwal, translated from Arabic as "one who says" (Shiloah, 1995: 59). 3 "Garyaghdi," translated from Azerbaijanian as "the snow falls," was given to Jabbar's father because of his laconic and reserved personality. 4 Gender-segregated weddings were common in pre-Soviet Azerbaijan. 5 The last name was often derived from the name of the city of musician's origin, in this case Shusha. 6 Music was banned in Iran after 1979, when fundamentalism took over the country; a similar situation has been experienced by Afghan musicians and by performers in Algeria and other countries and societies governed by Islamic extremists. 7 The students, faculty members, and programs of each institution were divided into two sectors, Russian and Azerbaijanian, depending on the language of study. The most advanced students, the most invigorating classes, and the most qualified professors were traditionally associated with the Russian sector. This remained a commonly shared and rarely questioned assumption, well known to me in my years as a student majoring in piano performance at the Azerbaijanian Music College and later in musicology at the Conservatory. 8 After the conservatory was closed to students of Azerbaijanian music, Bulbul, in order to graduate from the conservatory, shifted to the Department of Vocal Performance. 9 In fact, two years after my visit in 1997, I learned from Elkhan Babayev that the Ministry of Culture had decided to reorganize the folk department, establishing a separate institution of higher musical education which would specialize in the study of native traditional music. This decision has not yet been implemented, and the students as well as professors of 'folk music' remain under the same roof and administration with Western-based musical programs. Also, no other Azerbaijanian musical forms besides mugham are taught at the Conservatory. 10 They come to the conservatory directly after graduation from special musical schools or music colleges. 11 The armud is a traditional Azerbaijanian tea glass. Tea drinking in Azerbaijan is a ritual repeated many times every day. Azerbaijanians often joke that one doesn't know whether one constantly drinks tea at work or comes to work to drink tea. 12 A term used in academic jargon to describe special events when a lesson is purposely designed for the attendance by groups of colleagues, students, or general visitors. 13 In Soviet times, Azerbaijanian names were Russified, which is reflected in suffixes "ov" or "ev" at the end of the names. (This parallels Theodore Levin's references to names in Central Asia. [Levin 1996: 4]). Prior to this, surnames did not

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exist. People were referred to by their first names and by whose sons (oglu) or daughter (gizi) they were. 14 The repertoire rapidly expanded in the early years of socialism in Azerbaijan, with both Soviet administrators and the native intelligentsia encouraging the foundation of new instrumental ensembles, choral groups, and concert organizations such as the Azerbaijanian Opera Theater and the Philharmonic Orchestra. 15 Soviet rule in Azerbaijan was established in April 1920, and the decree above was issued in August 1920. 16 Tarlan Seidov, writing about the development of Azerbaijanian repertoire for piano, states that in the 1930s, the main attention of Azerbaijanian pioneers of composition was focused first on operatic music and only later during WWII on symphonic genres (Seidov, 1981: 4). 17 During the season of 1922–23 the orchestra performed the Sixth Symphony (Pathetique), Francesca da Ramini, Italian Capriccio by P. Tchaikovsky, symphonic suite Scheherazade by N. Rimsky-Korsakov, the Eight (Unfinished) Symphony by F. Schubert, and the Seventh Symphony of Beethoven (Kerimov, 118) 18 The repertoire of the Eastern Orchestra included specially arranged works by Mozart, Schubert, Mendelsohn, Chopin, Grieg, Bizet, Glinka, Mussorgsky, as well as Soviet composers. 19 In institutions of music education, from the specialized schools for children to the Conservatory, the pupils of folk departments studied in Azeri, while the majority of others were taught in Russian. 20 In 1940 Afrasiab Badalbeyli composed the first Azerbaijanian ballet "Qiz Qalasi" (Maiden's Tower). 21 A full-length record of Azerbaijanian music with B. Mansurov as a featured soloist was included in the 1960 UNESCO series Musical Anthology of the Orient. The recording Azerbaijani Mugham (1975) contained seven mughams performed by Bahram Mansurov. This recording was reissued on the compact disc Azerbaijan (1992) (Naroditskaya, 1997: 144). 22 Soviet conservatories practiced a system of entrance exams (usually nine or more exams, depending on the students' specialization and the requirements of the various musical departments) testing students' performing skill, musical knowledge —theory, history, and harmony—and general areas such as world and Soviet history, literature, and writing. Highly competitive, this testing program (often together with a personal network) determined the admission of students to the university. NOTES T O CHAPTER 7 1

The manuscript that I received from the late composer in 1997 includes, instead of Aman Ovchu, another popular song Guchalari Sanmisham (part #5). 2 The same year Aleskerov wrote Bayati Shiraz he also composed his first operetta, Ulduz, which was modeled on Hajibeyov's opera and operettas. 3 The movement Bayati Shiraz parallels the section Zil Bayati Shiraz of the traditional dastgah. 4 Mashadi Jamil Amirov himself created and produced, with a group of khanandes, one of the first operas, entitled Seifal Muluk.

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5

Both symphonic mughams, Shur and Kurd Ovchari, were played in concert halls around the world. In the United States it was performed by the Boston Symphonic Orchestra conducted by Leopold Stokowski (Kasimova, 1984: 82). A recording of Kurd Ovchari was made by the Houston Symphony Orchestra, also conducted by Stokowski (CD Everest EVC 9048). 6 A string instrument of the twelfth century (Abdullaeva, 1991: 9–10). 7 According to Boris Yarustovski, the love poetry of Iranian poets inspired Amirov to include in his score a dulcet female vocal part (Yarustovski, 1974: 1). 8 Valida Sharifova writes that "instead of the 6/8 meter traditional for Azerbaijanian rangs, the composer employs 5/8, followed and combined with a metro-rhythmical structure in 7/8 and 8/8, even less characteristic for native [dance] music. This rhythmical formula grows out of the repetition of a single tone introduced in the opening, motif (e), and developed into a characteristic rhythmical gesture in the first structural block, where, played slowly on the xylophone, it provides active thematic development with a dance pulsation" (Sharifova).

9 In order to identify the different modal areas in Amirov's Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, I used modal scales and corresponding gushes given to me by Ilnara Dadasheva, an Azerbaijanian composer and former colleague. Many of these she transcribed herself.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 8 1

Ramiz Zokhrabov, writing about the poetic images of tasnifs (the metrical songs included in mugham), refers to the "typical Eastern love lyric images of the nightingale and rose" (Zokhrabov, 1983: 5). Zoya Tajikova, in her research on women-sozandahs from Bukhara (Tajik, Central Asia), suggests that in ritual wedding songs, the sozandah refers to the bride as the gül and to the groom as the billbill (Tajikova, 1987: 77). 2 Poetry created by Vagif, an Azerbaijanian poet of the eighteenth century, is often used in mugham. The poetic stanza introduced here is cited by Ramiz Zokhrabov in his book Azerbaijanskie Tasnifi (1983: 170). 3 Female musicians performed for women's gatherings, and male musicians for men's. Male musicians were able to make music in both private settings (family celebrations) and public ones (tea houses and market places). 4 The word agiçi is derived from agi, translated from Turkish as 'sad song.' 5 The term yiug came from yiuglamag—to weep. 6 Shiloah writes: "Hussein, son of the second Caliph 'Ali and grandson of the prophet, was martyred in the battle of Kerbala on the tenth of maharram 680. . . . Annual commemorations . . . take place during the first ten days of the month maharram. The ceremonial mourning dates from the period of Buyid rule (932–1055) and has profoundly affected the development of music and poetry in Iran over the past millennium. . . . Each of the drama's characters sings in a specif-

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ic dastgah (a major system of Persian art music). . . . A solo voice, duet, or even choir, may do the singing. Instrumental passages—interludes, postludes—are played by drums, long trumpets (karna) and cymbals (Shiloah, 1979: 98). 7 Mullah or mollahh, from the Arabic word mawldi is "a word meaning 'master.' It was born as a title of respect by religious figures and jurists in Iran and other parts of Asia" Nettl, 1992: 179). 8 Visiting another mosque, Goi Mosque ("blue mosque," so-called for its bright blue roof), I saw a similar black curtain and seating arrangements. 9 Shari'a, translated from Arabic as 'road' or 'path,' is the Islamic Law. Esposito in Islam and Politics (1984: 6) writes that "the Book (Qur'an) and the Prophet provide the fundamental sources for the Straight Path (Shari'a, or Islamic Law) of Muslim Life. The Prophet Muhammad is not only the messenger, who received and proclaimed God's revelation, but also the 'noble paradigm', the model or exemplar of Muslim Life." Hiro (1996: 294) states that "Shari'a completely governs the individual and the social life of the believer." It defines "all body functions—eating, drinking, breathing, washing, urinating, bleeding, shaving. Along with this is a code of social behavior that is too all-encompassing." Mernissi (1975: 21) suggests that the term Shari'a "commonly rendered in English by 'Law,' is rather 'the whole duty of man. . . . " 10 Russian, Armenian, and Jewish songs, as well as foreign pop songs, all became part of the musical repertoire in Azerbaijanian weddings performed in Baku. 11 Dressed in shining colorful dresses they appeared in the house of the bride with music and dances, carrying trays full of sweets and gifts—honja, decorated with red ribbons. 12 Similar wedding songs are mentioned by Zoya Tajikova in her paper on female musicians from Buhara (Tajikistan, Central Asia) (1987: 76). 13 In Azerbaijan, traditional wedding rituals performed separately by gender are referred to as "men's wedding" or "women's wedding." 14 Writing about Khayzuran, the wife of the third Abbasid khalif and mother of khalif Harun al-Rashid, Mernissi in The Forgotten Queens of Islam states that "the great obstacle to a political career of women like Khayzuran was not [only] biological, nor legal, but territorial—the fact of belonging to inner space" (Mernissi, 1993:51). 15 I remember talking with Betty Blair, the editor of the journal Azerbaijan International, which is published four times annually in California. She is married to an Azerbaijanian man and has spent a significant amount of time in Azerbaijan during the last five years. She told me that she has difficulties with information received from native people who believe that any type of representation has to be a glorification. 16 The first CD recording of Malakhanim Eiubova was issued in Summer 1997. (Baku/Raks, Azerbaijan Turkey Joint Venture). 17 Sara Gadimova refers to Chahargah as a "war" mugham. (Interview with Sara Gadimova in Baku, June 10, 1997). 18 High voice and sweetness as are viewed in Azerbaijanian society as natural female characteristics. 19 There are only a few well-known female sazande, kamancha and tar players. Among them is Shafiga Eivasova, who is widely recorded and cited in several works

Notes to Chapter 9

237

on the history of instrumental music of Azerbaijan. She is recognized as both an outstanding performer and a prominent teacher working at the Conservatory. Some female instrumentalists, mostly kamancha players, teach beginning classes at the musical schools. Seeing a female sazande performing on the concert stage is as rare an incident as seeing one as an advanced teacher. 20 In autumn 2000 she was a guest at the Kunstlerhaus of Schloss Wiepersdorf in Brandenburg. Since January 2001 Ali-Zade has been the recipient of a stipend from the Kaethe Dorsch Foundation (Berlin). In 2002 she received a stipend in order to work in the artist's colony Schreyahn (Lower Saxony). As in May 2001, the composer will also serve as composer in residence with the Beethovenhalle Orchestra in Bonn in January 2003. N O T E S T O CHAPTER 9 1

The chapter titled "The Structure of the Minor Sixths" contains two sections: 1. "Composing Music in the Mode Bayati Shiraz" (103–106) and 2. "Composing Melodies in the Mode Bayati Shiraz" (106–111). In the first section, Hajibeyov examines the modal scale and various functions performed by each tone of the scale in different sections of mugham Bayati Shiraz. In the second section, he offers the example of the melodies and cadences of different sections of dastgah Bayati Shiraz, including the section called Isfahan (Hajibeyov 1985: 103–111). 2 The recording produced in 1906 contains Rahab and Arag along with other mugham-compositions performed by khanande Kechaci oglu Melikov accompanied by Gurban Primov (tar) and Sasha Oganizashvili (kamancha). Kechaci ogli Melikov (VTPO Firma Melodiia, 1990. Reproduction of 1906), M90 49505 006. 3 I was told by several performers that Azerbaijanian mugham Shur is rooted in Nava. The latter, which has been forgotten for decades, recently attracted significant interest after the premiere of the symphony Nava by Tofig Bakikhanov. 4 The cadence of the section Bayati Isfahan ends with the Maye of the mugham Bayati Shiraz. 5 Mahmudova writes that "dastgahs Rast, Orta Mahur, Mahur Hindi, Bayati Gajar, Gatar and Dugah have a common modal ground, namely mode Rast (Mahmudova, 34). All of these mughams are based upon the modal cell of Rast, its basic tetrachord: l(step)-l–l/2. 6 For Azerbaijanians this time was also associated with the AzCP first secretary Mir Jafar Bagirov (1933–1953), whose cruelty and avariciousness paralleled Stalin's. Altstadt writes that Bagirov "destroyed the political, intellectual, and social elite that remained in Azerbaijan after bolshevization" (Altstadt 1992: 163–164). 7 In 1948, twenty-eight-year old Amirov, already a well known and performed composer, had just graduated from the Azerbaijanian National Conservatory. This is the year when the two symphonic mughams were composed. 8 In the 1950s his symphonic mughams Shur and Kurd Ovshari and other compositions were also played by the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Leopold Stokowski. In 1965, his symphony Nizami was performed in London. (Kasimova 1984: 81–82) 9 Etienne Balibar is quoted by Ping-hui Liao (Liao 1993: 75).

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10

Comparing the two most traditional versions of vocal Bayati Shiraz performed by khanandes Alim Gasimov (V t n) and Zakhid Guliyev, one finds that section Nishibi Faraz sung by Guliyev is absent in Gasimov's composition, and while the first employs exclusively rangs, the second includes tasnifs in his performance. 11 As discussed earlier, in relation to the pattern of the analyzed traditional dastgah, Aleskerov in his symphonic Bayati Shiraz revises the length and importance of the sections by transferring the emphasis from improvisation-type sections to folk episodes. He also combines the elements of both vocal and instrumental versions in his symphonic piece.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 10 1

Halg Edebiyatri, 439. The Azerbaijanian dervish has long been praised as a poet, a storyteller, healer, an anguished lamenter at a burial and a performer of "dervish weddings." (Abdullaeva Zyleikha 1996). The image of the dervish made its way into classical music in as mad Majnun (opera Leili and Majnun by Hajibeyov, 1908), frequently performed in our days by Alim. 3 A Caravan sarai was a place of food and rest for caravans, which could be large or small, including at times dozens of people, horses and camels, all of whom had to have enough food and a place inside to escape from the sun. 4 The kanun is a trapezoidal zither. Twenty-four tripled strings are stretched over its body, which is made out of a pine tree (Abdullaeva 1990: 38). 5 The ney is a kind of flute whose body is made of the mulberry, nut or often an apricot tree. A ney has a soft timbre and is frequently used in the orchestra of Azerbaijanian folk instruments (Abdullaeva 1990: 23). 6 The nagara is a cylindrical-shaped drum made out of a nut tree with a membrane stretched by a rope crossing its body and held by a metal ring (Abdullaeva 1990: 29). 7 A. Ioannesian was a founder of the first large orchestra of folk instruments in Baku in 1920 (Shushinski 1979: 95). 8 Sarabski was an actor of the Azerbaijanian Opera theater in the 1920s (Istoriia Azerbaidganskoi musiki 1992: 170). 9 I received my invitation from Babayev. At the same time his prestige was enhanced because of me as the "American" musicologist researching local musical culture. 10 The director of the "band" was A. Ioannesian, a founder of the first large orchestra of folk instruments in Baku in 1920 (Shushinski 1979: 95). 2

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Index

A Abbasov, Ashraf: 111. Abbasova, Elmira: 101, 103, 126, 226n. Abdulgassimov, Vagif: 80, 118. Abdullaev, Agakhan: 115. Abdullaev, Islam: 115. Abdullaeva, Saadat: 32. Abdullaeva, Zyleikha: 237n. Abezgauz, Izabella: 103–104, 107. Adigozal: See Also Adigozalov. Adigozal, Vasif: 99, 124, 128, 130, 131, 133, 226n, 228n. Adigozalov, Rauf. 124, 128, 131, 136. Adigozalov, Yalchin: 128, 130, 132. Adigozalov, Zulfugar (Zulfi): 115, 128, 130, 131–131, 132, 228n. Agaeva, Sureya Khosrov gizi: 36–37. Agaeva, Turunj: 179. Agdamsky, Ahmad: See Badalbeyli, Ahmad. Agici: 164, 166, 171, 235n. Akhamenids: 5, 225n. Akhmedov, A.M.: 97, 170, 231n. Akhmedov, Kamil: 54. Akhundov, Mirza Fatali: See Akhundzade, Mirza Fatali. Akhundov, Shirin: 116. Akhundova, Shafiga: 177, 179, 184; 255

Galin Gayasi, 177, 184. Akhundzade, Mirza Fatali: 8, 16. Alakbarli, Aziz: 179. Alekperova, Shovkat: 176. Aleskerov, Suleiman: 11, 99, 140–149, 151, 197–198, 200–201n; Bairam Overture, 198; Bayati Shiraz, 140–149, 197, 234n, 237n; Boyuk October Salam, 198; Vatana eshg olsun, 198. Al-Faruqi, Lois Lamya: 20, 25–28, 227n. Alieva, Adel: 231n. Aliverdibekov, Agalar bek: 99–100, 127. Aliverdibekov, Kazim: 127. Aliverdibekov, Nazim: 99, 127, 133. Aliverdibekov, Rasim: 127. Aliverdibekov, Samir: 127. Aliyev, Gabil: 186. Aliyev, Gazanfar Usif oglu: 14. Aliyev, Heydar: 199, 213. Aliyev, Nariman: 119. Aliyev, Zamig: 115. Alizade, Akshin: 88. Ali-Zade, Franghiz: 99, 185, 189, 201, 211–212; Crossing II, 185–187; Dervish, 188–189, 201, 210–211; Gabil Sayagi, 186, 227n; Mugham

256 Sayagi, 201; Sonata in Memory of Alban Berg, 186; Sturm und Drang, 185. Alphabet: changes in, 16. Altstadt, Audrey L.: 6, 8, 15, 92, 93, 174, 231n, 237n. Alzahra University: 180. Aman Ovchu: 140–143, 147. Amirov, Fikret: 99, 100, 111, 127, 130, 133–134, 149–161, 198, 203–204, 215; Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, 227n, 235n; Kurd Ovshari, 198, 200, 227n, 234n, 237n; Sevil, 227n; Shur, 198, 200, 227n, 234n, 237n. Amirov, Jamil: 93, 127, 215–218. Amirov, Mashadi Jamil: 115, 130, 150, 215; Seifal Muluk, 234n. Anderson, Benedict: 191. Apsheronian peninsula: 12, 226n. Arabic language: 14. Arasli, Gamid: 15. Arnheim, Rudolf: 77. Arshin Mai Alan: by Hajibeyov, 12, 94, 174. Artôt, Désirée: 93. Aruz: 17–18, 54. Asadullayev, Arif: 32–33, 80–81, 83, 115, 119, 122, 173, 226n, 229n, 230n. Ashig: 10–18, 44, 47, 49–51, 94, 99, 101, 168. Ashig Garib: by Z. Hajibeyov, 177–177, 226n. Ashig-Peri: 170. Ashura: 19. Atash Gah: 24. Atropat: 5. Atropaten: 225n. Avaz: 37, 228n. Ayag: 43, 72, 155. Aydamirova, Gulnar: 112. Azad: by Jahangirov, 227n. Azan: 20. Azerbaijan: ancient history, 5–6; Arabic migration, 6; cultural unifi-

Index cation, 13; demographic changes, 8; ethnicity, 4; land and people, 4; language and literature, 13–17; poetry, 16–18; Russian domination, 7–8; search for identity, 10; split identity, 10–12; Westernization, 111–112. Azerbaijan Philharmonia: 233n. Azerbaijanian composing school: 150–151. Azerbaijanian music: composed songs, 28; See Also Mugham. Azerbaijanian Music College: 182, 233n. Azerbaijanian National Conservatory: 230n, 232–2234n; Eastern Faculty, 117; See Also Baku Music Academy. Azerbaijanian State Symphony: 125, 130, 132, 233n. Azerbaijanian Turkic Folk Songs: 100. B Babaev, Ilias: 4–5, 6. Babayev, Arif: 115, 119–121, 229n. Babayev, Elkhan: 17, 27, 42, 71, 82, 83, 101, 117, 123, 181,212, 214–215, 226n, 233n, 238n. Babayev, Rauf: 216. Babayeva, Hajar: 214–215. Badalbeyli, Afrasiab: 127, 129. Badalbeyli, Ahmad (Ahmad Agdamski): 93, 127, 129, 129, 136, 173. Badalbeyli, Badal: 127, 129. Badalbeyli, Farhad: 111, 119, 127, 129, 133, 232n. Badalbeyli, Shamsi: 127, 133. Bagirov, Mir Jafar: 237n. Bagirov, Zakir: 100. Bahmanyar, Abdulhasan: 13. Bahr: 18, 54, 56. Bairam Overture: 198. Bairamalibeili, Narmina: 152, 198. Bakikhanov, Ahmad: 112, 115, 130, 131.

Index Bakikhanov, Ahmad Mammadrza oglu: 128. Bakikhanov, Elkhan: 128. Bakikhanov, Mammad: 128, 131. Bakikhanov, Mammadkhan Mamedrza oglu: 128, 131. Bakikhanov, Taliat: 115. Bakikhanov, Tofig: 112, 128, 131, 133. Bakikhihanov, Arif: 4 7 – 8 , 100. Baku: 3, 6, 8–9, 16–17, 19, 31, 46–47, 47, 91–93, 109, 125, 165, 174, 226n, 230n, 231n; city of refuge, 9; cultural life, 92–93; demographic changes, 8, 92. Baku Music Academy (formerly Azerbaijanian National Conservatory): 117, 119, 129, 135, 182. Bakui, Mohammed Ali: 13. Bala oglu, Grikor: 94. Balakhani: 93. Balibar, Etienne: 200, 237n. Baratashvili, Nicolaz: 170. Barda: 6. Bardasht: 61–65, 83–85, 105, 140–149, 154–159, 203. Barmak hesabi: See Mugham. Bayat: 193. Bayati Isfahan: 65–66, 85–86, 193–194, 237n. Bayati Shiraz: 48, 166, 192–200, 203, 218, 229n, 230n, 237n; by Aleskerov, 140–149, 197, 234n, 237n; defined by Hajibeyov, 101; in Hajibeyov's Leili and Majnun, 103–110; instrumental, 79–89; listening to, 77–79; musical analysis, 59–77; poetry, 55; structure and dramaturgy, 72–77; vocal, 54–79. Begim, Gonchi: 170. Behbudov, Medjid oglu: 128, 130, 131. Behbudov, Najiba: 128. Behbudov, Rashid: 128, 133. Behbudov, Rashida: 128. Beit: 17–18, 44, 45, 54, 55–56, 58–72, 62–63, 75–79, 226n, 229n. Bek: 231n.

257 Berezin, I.: 97. Berg, Alban: 185. Birge, John Kingsley: 10, 15, 24. Bizet, Georges: 92. Blair, Betty: 91, 231n, 236n. Boyce, Mary: 23. Boyuk October Salam: by Aleskerov, 198. Brenner, M.: 111. Bridal Rock: See Galin gayasi. Browning, Robert: 36. Bulbiil: See Mammadov, Murtuz. Bulbiil, Polad: 129–130. Burial rituals: 164, 166, 169, 170–172, 172. C Canon: in mugham, 45–46. Carpet: 3, 29, 31, 50, 139, 165, 169, 183, 184, 219–220. Chahargah: 178, 228n, 236n; by Hajibeyov, 4 1 . Chaliapin, Fyodor: 93. Cramb, John: 185. Crossing II: by Ali-Zade, 185–187. Cuba: 8. D Dadash, Vasif: 58, 229n. Dadashev, Akhsan: 32, 115, 228n. Dadashev, Azer: 99. Dadasheva, Ilnara: 185, 235n. Dadasheva, Zumrud: 190. Dadashzade, Memmed: 14. Daf: 3, 103; See Also Gaval. Daramad: 60–61, 156, 158. Dargomizhsky, Alexander: 92. Dastan: 17. Dastgah: 38, 43, 54–90, 94, 140–162, 168, 192, 203, 229n, 235n. Dede Korkud: 14, 193. Denisov, Edison: 185. Denny, Walter: 55. Dervish: 201; by Alizade, 210–211; by Ali-Zade, 188–189; by Hasanova, 187–188.

258 Dilruba: 71–72. Doubleday, Veronica: 177. Dumback: 34. During, Jean: 42, 72, 73, 228n, 229n, 230n. E Eastern concerts: 12, 93–97, 102, 231n, 234n. Efendieva, Imruz: 100. Eickelman, Dale E: 23In. Eiubova, Malakhanim: 177, 181–182. Eivazov, Yassaf: 218–219. Eivazova, Elza: 218. Eivazova, Shafiga: 173, 236n. Ensemble of Folk Instruments: 131. Erdener, Yildiray: 51. Esenin, Sergei: 91. Eyvazova, Shafiga: 80. F Families, musical: 123–137. Farabi, Abu Nasr: 36–37. Farajev, Abdulrahim: 173. Farhadova, Sevil: 23, 166. Farhat, Hormoz: 10, 28, 37, 39, 4 1 , 53–54, 82, 229n. Farsi: See Languages: Persian. Feldman, Walter: 116. Fizuli, Muhammad: 14, 17, 54, 58, 93, 101; Leili and Majnun, 15, 101, 226n. Folk songs: Aman Ovchu, 140; Lachin, 140. G Gabai, Urii: 185, 187. Gabil Sayagi: by Ali-Zade, 186, 227n. Gadimova, Sara: 173, 176, 181, 236n. Gaibova, Hadija-khanum: 174. Galin Gayasi: by Akhundova, 177, 184. Gambarov, Salman: 218–219. Ganja: 6, 8, 14, 92, 226n. Ganjevi, Mehseti Khanum: 170. Ganjevi, Nizami: 14, 18, 18, 36, 226n;

Index Leili and Majnun, 14. Garabag: 12, 45, 49, 91, 226n. Garabag Shikestesi: 124, 136. Garabagi, Navvad Mir Mohsin: 23In. Garayev, Faraj: 131, 201; Hutba, Mugham, and Sura, 201. Garayev, Gara: 28, 99, 100, 111, 130, 133, 151, 185, 201; Vatan, 227n. Garyaghdi, Jabbar: 43, 93–99, 102, 114, 115–117,119, 196,203, 232n. Gasim, Zabul: 93. Gasimov, Alim: 54–79, 115, 119, 121, 132, 136–137, 189, 194–195,

201–211, 229n,237n,237n, 238n. Gasimova, Fargana: 121, 203, 206–209. Gaval: 22, 32, 34, 43, 59, 163, 180, 186, 205–206. Gazakh: 12. Gebullaev, Gisaddin Asker ogli: 5. Geertz, Clifford: 215. Geraili: 17. Geray, Adil: 115. Ghazal: 14–15, 44, 45, 54–58, 62, 72, 140; Azerbaijanian, 17–18; classic poets, 14–15. Girshman, Roman: 13. Gizi: 231n, 233n. Glass, Philip: 185. Goi Mosque: 171, 235n. Gorecki, Henryk Mikolaj: 187. Gorky, Maxim: 227n. Goshma: 17. Gubaidulina, Sofia: 185. Gulieva, Gandab: 100, 177. Gulistan Bayati Shiraz (Amirov): 151–161, 227n, 235n; dramaturgy, 152; motifs, 151. Guliyev, Ramiz: 80, 115, 136–137, 199, 228n, 237n. Guliyev, Tofig: 100. Guliyev, Zakhid: 54, 77, 78, 202. Gushe: 47–48, 52, 64–65, 67–68, 70, 72–73, 75, 77, 80–82, 86, 88–90,

Index 105, 144–148, 194–195, 203, 230n; definition, 42; eliminated in Gulistan Bayati Shiraz, 151–152. H Hacho: 114. Hafiz: 152. Hajibeyov, Chingiz: 127. Hajibeyov, Ismail: 129, 136. Hajibeyov, Jeyhun: 8, 93, 127. Hajibeyov, Sultan: 111, 127, 129, 133. Hajibeyov, Uzeyir: 8, 12, 29, 39–41, 45–46, 53, 93, 94, 99–112, 107, 117, 125, 127, 129, 136, 139, 150, 165–166, 170, 174, 175, 192–194, 197, 200–201, 213, 226n, 227n, 237n; Arshin Mal Alan, 12, 94, 174; Chahargah, 4 1 ; Keroglu, 213, 226n; Leili and Majnun, 12, 93–94, 101–103, 125, 139, 173–174, 177, 193, 216, 227n, 232n, 238n; Shur, 4 1 . Hajibeyov, Zulfugar: 8, 127, 129, 136, 177; Ashig Garib, 177, 226n. Hajiev, Jevdat: Vatan, 227n. Hammoudi, Abdellah: 182, 185, 214. Hamse (epic cycle): 14. Haram, halal: 20. Hasanova, Rahila: 185, 187; Dervish, 187–188; Marsia, 187. Haveran: 68–69. Heja: 15. Hirschfeld, Lawrence A.: 113. Hoffman, Joseph: 93. Hunter, Shireen T.: 5, 10–13. Hurramits: 23. Hurufism: 10, 23–24, 202, 226n. Huseinov, Hajibaba: 120. Hutba, Mugham, and Sura: by Garayev, 201. I Ibragimov, Mirza: 17, 193. Ibragimov, Sarvar: 115. Ibrahimova, Sevda: 185. Imam Hussein: commemoration of, 19.

259 Improvisation: in mugham, 45–46. Imrani, Rafig: 23, 228n, 23In. Ioannesian, Avanes: 231n, 238n. Ionessain, A.: 213. Isfahan: 140–151, 154–156, 237n. Isfahanak: 81,84–85, 143. Islam: connections with ancient rituals, 22; in the twentieth century, 24; revival in the 1990s, 19; view of music, 19, 25–27, 116, 233n. Ismailova, Sakina: 80, 115, 132, 136, 177–180, 185, 230n. Ismailova, Tukazban: 181. J Jabarly, Jafar: 15. Jabbar Garyaghdi trio: 78, 93. Jafarova, Afag: 185. Jahangirov, Jahangir: 99, 100; Azad, 227n. Jakobson, Roman: 35. Jani-zadeh, Tamila: 44–47, 229n. Javid, Hussein: 16. Jazz: 215–218, 227n,228n. K Kalantarli, Anvar: 174, 181. Kamancha: 22, 32–33, 54, 100, 103, 119, 122, 163, 173, 186,205, 236n. Karagicheva, Ludmila: 184. Kareva, M.: 187. Kasimova, Solmaz: 100, 110, 125, 139, 151, 234n, 237n. Kennedy, Michael: 231n. Kerimov, S.: 125, 234n. Kerimova, Qarina: 234n. Keroglu: 101, 103–105, 232n; by Hajibeyov, 12, 103, 139, 213, 226n; epic poem, 15. Khan, Abulghasan: 116. Khanande: 18, 29, 31–32, 4 1 , 44, 45, 48–51, 54–79, 101, 164, 168, 170–182, 177–184, 188, 205–207, 237n; female, 164. Khanlarova, Zeynab: 179, 182, 185.

260 Khatai, Ismail: See Safavi, 227n. Khorasan: 36. Kosunko, V. G.: 197. Ksenakis, Janis: 185. Kurd Ovshari: by Amirov, 198, 200, 227n, 234n, 237n. L Languages: Arabic, 14, 226n; Azeri, 13–17; Persian, 14, 226n; Turkic, 14, 226n. Languages of Azerbaijanian poetry: 14. Leili and Majnun: by Fizuli, 15, 101, 226n; by Hajibeyov, 12, 93–94, 101–103, 125, 139, 173–174, 177, 193, 216, 227n, 232n, 238n; by Nizami, 14; Gasimov Dastgah, 55. Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich: 8. Levin, Theodore: 98–99, 113, 123. Liao, Ping-hui: 237n. Liszt, Franz: 231n. Lord, Albert: 50–51, 112–113. Lounsburry, Floyd G.: 133. Lunacharski, Anatoly: 197. Lutoslawski, Witold: 187. M Madatov, Mirza-Djan: 170. Magerramov, Mabud: 220. Magerramova, Hanum: 220. Maghta: 18. Magomayev, Muslim: 8, 100, 136, 174; Shah Ismail, 174. Maharram: 19, 2 1 , 114, 165, 171, 235n. Mahmudova, Shahla: 42, 47, 87, 144–145, 229n, 237n. Majlis: 230n. Malikov, Ayaz: 225n. Malikova, Farida: 179. Mallik, Madhusudan: 227n. Mamedkulizade, Jalil: 227n. Mamedov, N.: 51. Mammadov, Alibaba: 115. Mammadov, Jagub: 61, 229n.

Index Mammadov, Murtuz (Bulbul): 94, 111, 115, 116, 118, 127, 129–130, 136, 175, 233n. Mammadov, Nariman: 100. Mammadov, Polad: 127. Mammadov, Tariel: 17. Mammadov, Telmur fagot: 127. Mammadova, Rena Azer gizi: 23, 35, 41–43, 45, 5 1 , 144. Mammadova, Shovkat: 174, 175. Manigetti, Iwan: 186. Mansurov, Bahrain Suleyman oglu: 115, 128, 228n, 234n. Mansurov, Bahram Suleyman oglu: 47–48, 100, 131, 134. Mansurov, Eldar: 60, 128, 131. Mansurov, Elkhan: 54, 128. Mansurov, Masahdi Ismail: 128. Mansurov, Mashadi Malik: 54, 100, 128, 131. Mansurov, Mashadi Suleiman: 128. Mansurov, Mirza Mansur Malik oglu: 128. Maraghi, Abdulkadir: 10, 13, 37, 100. Marsia: 114, 164–166, 171; by Hasanova, 187. Masters and disciples: 112–116. Ma'sudi: 13. Maye: 53–89, 105, 140–149, 154, 156, 194, 237n. Mazdaism: 227n. Medrese: 15. Mehti, Niazi: 17. Mekhralieva, Fati: 174, 176. Melikov, Arif: 99. Melikov-Zarbadi, Hasan: 8. Mendelssohn, Felix: 122. Mernissi, Fatima: 169, 236n. Metzner, Günter: 185. Mikail oglu, Jabrail: 21. Mingechaur: 6. Mirabdolbaghi, Zia: 42, 73, 228n, 230n. Mirza, Guilrena: 174. Mirza-Ali: 93. Mirzazedeh, Khayyam Hadi oglu: 184.

Index Mirzoyev, Musa: 133. Mizra: 17–18, 56, 68, 79. Mozart: 122. Mugham: audience, 49, 109–110, 140; barmak hesabi, 17, 50; canon and improvisation, 77–80, 109; chamber pieces, 28; classroom, 120–122; collections, 100; definition, 3–4; fantasy, 100; history, 35–38; instruments, 32–34; jazz, 215–218; male and female, 178–179; modal concept, 39–40; mugham bashi, 43–44; musical concept, 36–41, 53, 99, 232n; opera, 28, 101–110, 140, 184; roots, 10; structure, 42; symphony, 28, 100, 105, 139, 140; teaching and learning, 80, 112–16; transcription of, 89; weddings, 172–173; See Also Bayati Shiraz. Mugham Sayagi: 201. Mugham Theater: 212–215, 217–218. Muhammad, Kechachi oglu: 93. Muradova, Rubaba: 176, 181. Musicians: musical dynasties, 123–137; status of, 119, 121, 133, 172–173. Muslimov, Mokhlet: 54. Mussorgsky, Modest: 93. Mustafa zadeh, Aziza: 217. Mustafa Zadeh, Vagif: 28, 216–218, 227n. Muzafarov, Elkhan: 80, 115. N Nagara: 34, 114. Naimi, Faslullah: 226n. Nakhichevan: 6, 8, 12, 170. Nasimi: 10, 14, 17, 36, 188, 210. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein: 20, 116. Natavan, Khurshud Banu: 17, 170. National Cultural Decades: 97. Nattiez, Jean-Jacques: 35. Navvab, Mir Mohsun: 24, 43, 45–46, 53, 100, 119, 192, 228–229n. Nei: 34. Nestiev, Izrail Vladimirovich: 97, 197.

261 Nettl, Bruno: 42, 76, 196. Neuman, Daniel S.: 119. Nicholson, Reynold A.: 17, 22. Nieuwkerk, Karin van: 116, 169. Nigosian, S. A: 22, 227n. Niyazi: 99, 111, 127, 129. Nizami: See Ganjevi, Nizami. Novha: 165. O Ockhanovsky, Andrei: 231n. Oganezashvili, Sasha: 92, 114, 115, 117. Oglu: 231n , 233n. Oil baron period: 91–92. Olimov, S.: 18, 56. P Parde: 36. Pashazade, Shik-ul-Islam al-Haj Allahsükür: 16. Penderecki, Krzysztof: 187. Peter the Great: 7. Poetry: languages used, 14; of Bayati Shiraz, 55. Powers, Harold: 39. Pressman, M.: 111. Primov, Gurban: 93, 114, 115, 117, 129, 133–134, 228n. Principles of Azerbaijanian Folk Music (Hajibeyov): 53, 101, 192. Q Qasida: 15, 226n. Qur'an: 23, 171, 235n; chanting, 20–21, 25–27. Qureshi Burchardt, Regula: 20, 113, 116. R Radif: 42. Rang: 43, 59–60, 64–71, 73, 76, 80–81, 86, 140–147, 151, 159, 230n, 237n. Rasulzade, Mammad Amin: 11, 12. Redepenning, Dorothea: 185, 187.

262 Rimsky-Korsakov, Nikolay: 93, 234n. Rossini, Gioachino: 92. Rowbotham, John Frederick: 51. Rubenstein, Anton: 232n. Rubenstein, Nikolay: 231n. Russian chauvinism: 97, 132. Rustamov, Seid: 99. Rzayev, Islam: 115, 119–121, 172, 212–215. Rzayev, Ramin: 33. Rzayeva, Hagigat: 115, 174. S Saadi: 152. Sabir, Mirza Alekper: 8, 16. Sadikhjan: 93, 114, 228n. Safaralieva, K. H.: 227n. Safarova, Zemfira Yusuf gizi: 37, 4 1 , 49, 53, 91, 101, 227n, 228n. Safavi, Ismail: 7, 10, 14. Safonov, Vassily: 93. Said, Edward: 125. Sakata, Hiromi Lorraine: 113, 116. Salahov, Mahmud: 34, 228n. Sarabski, Husseingulu: 94, 102, 213, 216, 238n. Sarasate, Pablo de: 122. Sarbon: 5–6. Sassanian dynasty: 6, 13, 225n, 227n. Sattar: 170. Sauer, Emil: 93, 231n. Saz: 51. Sazande: 50, 99, 168, 236n. Scheffler, Harold W.: 113. Schneider, David: 113. Schoenberg, Arnold: 185. Scholes, Percy A.: 144. Schubert, Franz: 234n. Seidov, Tarlan: 231n, 231n. Seidova, Saadat: 164–166. Seifal Muluk: by M. J. Amirov, 234n. Selimkhanov, Jahangir: 187, 190, 201. Serial technique: in Garayev, 151. Sevil: by Amirov, 227n. Shafieva, Nargiz: 185. Shah Abbas: 7.

Index Shah Ismail: by Magomayev, 174. Shah Maqam (Uzbeki): 98. Shaliapin, Fedor: 232n. Shari'a: 235n. Sharifova, Valida: 199, 234n. Sharoev, G.: 111. Shebiha: 164–165. Sheki: 6–7. Shemakha: 6, 8, 10, 46–47, 9 1 , 9 1 , 226n. Shiia Muslims: 19. Shiloah, Amnon: 23, 98, 170, 226–226n, 230n. Shirvan: 12, 226n. Shirvani, Khagani: 14, 17, 226n. Sho'be: 37–38, 151–152, 192–193; See Also Gulistan Bayati Shiraz. Shostakovich, Dmitri: 111–112, 151. Shur: 178, 198, 200; by Amirov, 227n, 234n, 237n; by Hajibeyov, 4 1 . Shusha: 46–47, 91–93, 99, 102, 114, 116, 170, 226n, 233n. Shushinski, Firidun: 93, 114, 116, 133, 170, 196, 229n, 231n, 238n. Shushinski, Khan: 114, 115, 119, 179. Shushinski, Seyid: 80, 94, 115, 117, 119, 121, 179,213. Sinazan: 165. Slobin, Mark: 98. Sonata in Memory of Alban Berg: by Ali-Zade, 186. Soviet ideology: music, 97. Soviet Union: attitude towards music, 25–27; musical education, 117–120. Special School for Gifted Children: 136. Stalin, Joseph: 16, 97, 124, 197. Sturm und Drang: by Ali-Zade, 185. Sufism: 227n. Suleimanov, Oljak: 226n. Sumbatzade, Alisoibat Sumbatovich: 4, 6–7, 13, 14, 23, 193, 227n. Swietochowski, Tadeusz: 6–7, 9, 11, 16, 225n, 231n. Symphonic mugham: See Mugham: symphony.

Index T Tabriz: 6, 226n. Tabrizi, Gartran: 6, 14, 226n. Tagi-zade-Hajibeyov: See Niyazi. Tajikova, Zoya: 168, 235n. Tar: 22, 32–33, 4 1 , 100, 103, 114, 122,130, 163, 1 8 6 , 2 0 1 , 2 0 5 , 215, 228n, 236n. Tasnif: 43–44, 59, 80–81, 140–141, 151, 168, 230n, 237n. Taza Pir (mosque): 19, 165, 171. Tchaikovsky, Pyotr: 92, 232n, 233n. Theater of Musical Comedy: 136. Theater of Opera and Ballet: 125, 130, 132, 136, 233n. Tiflis: 92, 174, 232n. Toy (wedding): 21, 167–168; ohumag, 21. Turkic language: 14. Turkic Music School: 117. Tutak: 34. U Ud: 34, 37, 228n. Urmavi, Safiaddin: 10, 13, 36, 39, 100. Usfin, A: 146. V Vagif, Molla Panah: 15, 17, 235n. Vahid, Aliaga: 16. Valeh: 114. Vatan: by Garayev and Hajiev, 227n. Vatana eshg olsun: 198. Vazirov, Adalat: 115.

263 Vekilov, Gamid: 115. Verdi, Giuseppe: 92. Verdot, Pauline: 23In. Vidadi, Mollah Veli: 15. Vinogradov, Vladimir S.: 50, 97, 174. Vizuhil-argam: 23. Vurgun, Samed: 16, 91, 230n. W Weddings: 121, 164–172, 172–173, 232n, 236n; See Also Toy. While, Jenny: 113. Williams, Raymond: 213. Y Yarustovski, Boris: 199, 234n. Yiug: 235n; See Also Burial rituals. Yo-YoMa: 189,210–211. Z Zarbi Huzzal: 69–71, 76. Zdanov: 231n. Zeidman, Boris: 111. Zil Bayati Shiraz: 67–68, 140, 143, 148, 154. Ziloti, Alexander: 93, 231n. Zokhrabov, Ramiz: 27, 38, 49, 53, 60, 82, 100, 110, 139, 163, 229n, 235n, 235n. Zonis, Ella: 42. Zoroastrianism: 11, 22–24, 202, 227n. Zulfi: See Adigozalov, Zulfulgar. Zurna: 34.