Download MP3 of SJSU Premiere Performance March 11th

Program Notes

by Beeri Moalem

As an Israeli Jew, even I myself am surprised at having written a piece inspired by Muslim mosque calls (Azaan).  Growing up in the outskirts of Jerusalem, across a Wadi (small canyon) from an Arab village, I remember hearing the Azaan as a child.  The Azaan is chanted five times a day (beginning at dawn, at various times of the day depending on the position of the sun, and finally at night).  It is recited by a Muezzin, amplified by loudspeakers, and is ubiquitous throughout the Middle East.  Many Jews in Israel hear the chants through filters of disdain due to the terrible bloodshed associated with the Arab-Israeli conflict.  But after living in America for more than a decade, I was able to zoom-out and dissociate myself somewhat from the feelings of raw hatred.  Returning to Israel, I discovered a new-found beauty in the Azaan.  I also realized that they are very similar to Yemenite Hebrew chants that I learned for my Bar Mitzvah (my ethnic origins are half Yemenite-Jewish, half-Romanian Jewish) 

    With an American passport, I traveled to the Muslim countries of Egypt, Jordan, and Morocco. My favorite Azaans were in rural villages near lush oases.  There is nothing like waking up in a tent at the pre-dawn hours to this solemn timeless chant.  Or sitting in the shade of the palm tree at noon, listening to the chant break the silence of the desert heat.  But nowhere are the Azaans most pronounced than in Cairo, one of the most densely populated cities in the Muslim world.  One of the first things my taxi driver told me on the way from the Cairo airport was that there are over 1 million mosques in the city.  At the prescribed times of the day, they all blare their Azaans and the city literally vibrates with the Muezzins' nasal cries of religious fervor.  Added to that mix, there is another aspect of the Cairo soundscape: car horns. 

Around the clock, on every street, drivers are constantly beeping their horns.  If anyone thinks New York City is bad in this regard, I guarantee that Cairo is at least ten times worse, partly because it combined with the sounds is smell and chaos of livestock (camels, donkeys, chickens), open sewers, dusty sidewalks, absence of smog control, complete disregard for stop lights and right of way, pedestrians of all ages everywhere and blistering heat .  The New York Times recently published an article about the health hazards of Cairo's noise levels.  Yet as hectic as the metropolis is, it ends abruptly at the Giza pyramids.  Beyond it is the vast Sahara desert, where all one hears is the sand blowing in the wind and scorpions scurrying between the rocks.  Deep into this desert, around Oases, minarets towers raise again, chanting a very different Azaan from Cairo's.

This satellite image shows the starkly dramatic border between desert, city, and cultivated land.  Desert-river-desert: A-B-A form.

    In this composition, I contrast my impressions of the Azaan, Cairo's musical street-din, and the irresistible secular dances of the Middle East.  Hardly a day passes when that region is not on the world news headlines.  The news are usually bad, yet we must not give up hope.  I think one of the first steps towards peace would be for each side to understand and appreciate the rich beauties of the other's culture.  This is my attempt to do that.

PDF of the Score

Photo Gallery of my trip to Egypt

Above: me at the Pyramids, January, 2008

Arabian string technique example:

Azaan Call: