The Art of Reciting the Qur’an, Kristina Nelson, Cairo and New York: The American University in Cairo Press, 2001. pp246

Some three weeks ago, at the Sidi Abul-Ela Mosque in Bulaq, while devotees of the saint solicited his intercession at the shrine, a large group of people gathered in clusters all across the main courtyard, listening to the sound emanating from half a dozen or more ancient-looking speakers positioned at convenient spots throughout. Although the sound was far from excellent, many had brought along recording equipment. There was something almost surreal about the scene. Young and old, conversing intermittently in whispers, these people had obviously gathered there for a purpose, but to the hapless observer, on walking into the mosque, that purpose was far from clear. In comparison to other, simultaneous events in Bulaq, moreover, the atmosphere of the Abul-Ela Mosque was remarkably quiet; and whatever activity taking place there seemed to be correspondingly low-key. Only after sitting cross-legged in one corner did it finally dawn upon the observer in question that he, too, had arrived there for a purpose: the event was a commemoration of the anniversary of the famous Qur’anic reciter Shiekh Mustafa Ismail (1905-1978); the speakers supplied rare, otherwise unavailable recordings of his recitations; and the listeners were aficionados. It was a sad irony that the reciter who once commanded a phenomenal popularity in this neighbourhood should be remembered so quietly by so comparatively few people. Yet the scene also afforded a glimpse of the power and majesty of a tradition that has come to be all but extinct: the art of reciting the Qur’an, the subject of the present book. Matching text to melody even as she delineates the received rules of recitation — the book benefits from a precise system of transliteration as well as musical notation — the author brings to this comprehensive account of Qur’anic recitation a range of epistemological perspectives, combining her knowledge of music and language with an exploration of the minds of the likes of Shiekh Mustafa and his admirers, and the circumstances in which they lived and worked. For a study of such diversity, moreover, the book is meticulously structured, making for a straightforward, if frequently taxing, read. An anthropologist, an expert on Arabic music and a Qur’anic scholar will each find both stimulation and benefit here.

"Night falls as small groups of people make their way towards a large tent straddling a Cairo street," Kristina Nelson, a scholar of ethnomusicology and a seasoned, active participant in the cultural scene of the Arab world, writes in her introduction to The Art of Reciting the Qur’an, the fruit of many years of research and first-hand encounters with reciters, listeners and scholars, first published in 1985 by the University of Texas. "As they draw near, a clear ribbon of sound begins to separate itself from the dense fabric of street noise all around. The sound is that of the recited Qur’an; a public performance has just begun." Since the present edition of the book was published, it is this passage, along with the rest of the introduction, that has been quoted most extensively by the Arabic press — an indication, perhaps, of the appeal of the introduction as a condensed summary of the entire project, as opposed to the more specific scholarly orientation of the book’s various chapters. One aim of the study, for example, is "to examine the implications of a particular perception within its tradition: given that recitation is the product of both divine and human ordering, how does this juxtaposition work in the mind of the performer and in the expectations of the listeners to shape the recitation of the Qur’an in Egypt today?" Classified by "those outside the tradition" as a form of religious music, recitation nonetheless remains, for those inside, both "distinct from music" and "a unique phenomenon." It is always to the heart of the tradition that Nelson thus turns in her attempt to demarcate the territory occupied by that "clear ribbon of sound," which initially enthralled her. "My own interest in Qur’anic recitation was caught and held by the power of the sound itself," she testifies. And to pursue that interest, Nelson has crossed geographic, cultural and linguistic borders. She studies the theory of recitation, the (rightful) place it is meant to occupy in Qur’anic cartography, in order to reach back to her experience of its practice. "A man hides his face in his hands," the introduction goes on, "another weeps violently. Some listeners tense themselves as if in pain, while, in the pauses between phrases, others shout appreciative responses to the reciter. Time passes unnoticed…"

Ethnomusicology is a multidisciplinary arena that makes possible the exploration of "the link between the affective power of sound and its referent meanings in daily life and religious practice." As a female Westerner, Nelson was thus confronted by the twofold difficulty of coming to the sacred realm of Qur’anic scholarship from a profane (musical) background, and being the lone foreign women in a world made up exclusively of native men. Looking back on her experience — Nelson spent the period from September 1977 to August 1978 in Cairo undertaking research of a journalistic as well as a scholarly nature and learning the two modes of recitation, the private, devotional tartil and the artistic, audience-oriented tajwid — she wonders whether this "completely crazy" task would have been possible had she started her project in the 1990s, a time of decline for both the traditions of recitation and the tolerant attitudes that make social integration possible. It was the humane eagerness of these men, after all, that sustained her "desire and intent" to complete the task: "everyone I met in the course of my research," Nelson recalls in the Acknowledgments, "was extremely helpful and generous with time, information, and hospitality." This spirit of intercultural integration informs not only the project but the book, in which Nelson was careful not to fall into the trap of Orientalism by substantially referencing every point she desired to make. "The way to do it," she has confided, "is to let the relevant people say it for you rather than saying it yourself; this way it doesn’t sound like something you’re imposing." In itself this (Western) orientation is a commendable achievement: at no point does the desire and ability to explore a subject of interest imply a superior or authoritative attitude. Nelson is as faithful to the given precepts of Islam and Muslim culture as she is to the dictates of her own (academic) endeavour. And in this sense The Art of Reciting the Qur’an sets a precedent for Western studies of "the Orient" in that it is driven by genuine respect for that realm. Despite such intimate contact, moreover, Nelson has not converted to Islam — further testimony to the impartial understanding that informs her approach to the tradition of recitation.

Clockwise from top: Shiekh Mustafa Ismail, the "diva" of recitation; Sheikh Mohamed Mahmoud Tablawi; Sheikh Lotfi Amer; Sheikh Abdel-Baset Abdel-Samad; sheikh Mohamed Rifaat; the wajid of one listener; the author among reciters, at the time of conducting her research

Based on a University of California at Berkeley dissertation, for which the research was undertaken, the book progresses in two closely interrelated directions, seeking, first, "the ideal recitation" in the context of the place of this phenomenon in religious discourse and, secondly, the contemporaneous practice of Qur’anic recitation as Nelson encountered it in real life. The choice of Egypt, she explains, finds justification in "the particular prestige and influence of the Egyptian tradition in Qur’anic recitation, which make it an obvious starting place." And the relevance of her study — an invaluable contribution to the body of available knowledge on social, cultural and artistic life in Egypt — is that, unlike the "classic works of Western Qur’anic scholarship," which concentrate on the Qur’an as a written document, it addresses those aspects of recitation on which traditional Islamic scholarship has remained silent: "as the scope of Qur’anic disciplines has been firmly and authoritatively established and that body of knowledge has traditionally been considered fixed and given," in recent times "there has been a reluctance to look at the Qur’an in new ways." The book’s importance derives, Nelson implies, not only from giving equal consideration "to the theory and practice of recitation and the analysis of their interactions," but from "my own direct participation in the tradition as student and performer." A thorough consideration of what Nelson calls "the Sama’ Polemic," the "alliance of Qura’nic text and vocal artistry" that provides the basis of the historical debate concerning whether and to what extent the melodic recitation of tajwid may be associated with music, follows her impeccable account of the Qur’an itself, the history of the revelation and how the Prophet’s message was communicated, as well as the nature of tajwid, Nelson’s principal interest. Then comes an account of the ideal recitation gleaned from classic Islamic scholarship, followed by the material of Nelson’s own experience: the nuances of the practice of recitation and the dynamics of reciter-audience interaction. Finally "the separation of music and recitation" receives its share of exploration: "That the acquiring of musical skills is left up to the individual reciter," Nelson explains, "is one way to effect a concrete separation of recitation from music," keeping recitation within the framework of religion even when it approaches the intensity of a (musical) performance.

Two interrelated issues make The Art of Reciting the Qur’an of particular interest to those inside the tradition: recitation as a means of transmission of the holy text, and the religious validity of the musicality of recitation. By recounting the history of recitation as the earliest and most widespread means of transmitting the sacred text, Nelson challenges the notion — so rampant in modern Egyptian society — that the sacred is the property of a literate minority. Sound emerges as something over and above both music or reading out loud: "The ideal recitation is a paradox. Participants in the tradition… all agree first, that the Qur’an is paramount in its divine uniqueness and perfection, and second, that melody is essential to the most effective Qur’anic recitation. The inherent contradiction between these two premises is accepted, even unquestioned, as long as the right balance of elements is maintained." It is through recitation, after all, that illiterate Arabic-speaking Muslims — a sizable portion — come in contact with the text that forms the central proposition of their lives. The concept of taswir al- ma’na (picturing the meaning), the religious justification for melody, thus comes to play a central role in the public transmission of the Qur’an: "The late Sheikh Mustafa Ismail was considered suspect as a reciter by many Muslims because of his extreme musicality. But one devout scholar told me that, although he used to think that Shiekh Mustafa was ‘too musical,’ he had come to accept him because he knew [the rules of] tajwid… Shiekh Mustafa himself told me that when asked about the reluctance to associate Qur’anic recitation with music, he responded, ‘As long as the rules of tajwid are adhered to, the pauses are correct, the reciter can recite with music however he wishes.’ This statement was broadcast over national television on the programme ‘Your Favourite Star,’ ‘with the imam of Al-Azhar, the president of the republic and countless others listening,’ and Shiekh Mustafa said he challenged anyone to disagree, but never heard a word of rebuttal." Indeed, in the best mujawwad recitations, divine truth is experienced through a unique convergence of elements — musical as well as textual — that transcends, rather than underlines the issue of whether recitation is a form of music. Shiekh Mustafa’s apparently cursory declamation reflects his appreciation of this notion: in his endeavour to transmit the divine text, the reciter should resort to whatever human means he is capable of, the better to achieve an effective communication of its meaning.

Music, in other words, cannot sensibly be thought to undermine the authority of the text; and however extensive its use, so long as the received rules of recitation are abided by, it cannot reduce the scope within which the experience of the Qur’an is said to be an encounter with the divine; rather, through taswir al-ma’na, it enhances it. Yet in the time she has spent in Egypt since the late 1970s, Nelson has noted a decline in the popularity of tajwid and the cult of "star" reciters, like Shiekh Mustafa, who practised it. And in the Postscript to the present edition of her book, she attempts to address this unfortunate decline: "perceptible changes would seem to indicate that a number of factors have succeeded in moving Qur’anic recitation away from the contested areas of melody and personality cult and that the sensibility that values conscious use of artistry to enhance the effect of recitation can no longer be taken for granted." The Saudi influence that informs the popular recitation of such Egyptian practitioners as Shiekh Mohamed Gibril notwithstanding, the implications of the aforementioned changes include "a more socially and culturally conservative constituency" as well as the rise of "a younger generation… charged with the spirit of an activist Islam" that has no use for artistry. For many of Nelson’s contacts, indeed, the period from 1978, the year of Shiekh Mustafa’s death, to the present "represents the waning of the golden age of Egyptian reciters." This change moreover reflects "an artistic vacuum, as much as any shift in religious attitudes;" and indeed, since the last decade yielded nothing comparable to Shiekh Mustafa, it may be that the decline of recitation is not ultimately due to the prevalence of the view that takes issue with the musicality of the tradition in the Sama’ Polemic, but simply to the unavailability of a generation of reciters who could bring the tradition back to life. After all, tajwid, an already fully lionised tradition, continues to thrive on the radio and on television screens as well as in public spaces. The decline in the popularity of tajwid is naturally conditioned by changes in the social and cultural fabric of life as well. Perhaps, like the bards of the Hilaleya epic and the masters of shadow puppet theatre, the maestros of tajwid too are fast becoming something of the past. And in this sense it is cheering to know that, however marginal and lacklustre their status, there will always be a group of people gathered, however quietly, in venues like the Abul-Ela Mosque, to bear tribute to their majesty and power.

Reviewed by Youssef Rakha

Taken from http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2002/568/bo4.htm

Sheikh Abul-Einein She’isha: In tune with Heaven

Profile by Aziza Sami

"The Book was revealed in Mecca, printed in Istanbul and recited in Egypt" (Popular Egyptian saying)

Sheikh Abul-Einein She’isha sat upright on the dining room chair. A smile played across his lips, as he listened to the young boy sitting on the sofa in front of him recite the Qur’an. The sheikh gently censured the 12-year-old whenever he went slightly off-key. "You mustn’t let your mind wander back home to your friends that you play with. It’s not enough to have a beautiful voice. You must have a good ear and know how to listen."

Throughout their dialogue, the sheikh was always encouraging. He knows how to hide his inner disappointment. "A good voice, but no concentration," he commented later.

The session between the 83-year-old She’isha, Egypt’s leading Qur’anic reciter, and the young boy from the Governorate of Sharqiya, was part of an assignment which the sheikh has accepted to present two new young readers of the Qur’an to the president every year. The initiation takes place during the official celebrations of Mulid Al-Nabi (the Prophet Mohamed’s birthday) and Laylat Al-Qadr (the night when the first verse of the Holy Qur’an was revealed).

Despite his grand old age, the sheikh still wakes up every day with the first rays of dawn in order to read five parts ( ajzaa ) of the Qur’an. "You must never part company with the Holy Book, or else it will leave you," he explains.

This silent daily ritual acts as a spiritual catalyst, and enables him to maintain the level of artistic and professional excellence which has made him one of Egypt and the Islamic world’s greatest Qur’anic reciters.

She’isha was born in Biyala in the Governorate of Kafr Al-Sheikh. Unlike most Qur’anic reciters, he went to secular schools at both primary and secondary levels. None of his family members had a religious education, or even recited the Qur’an, though at that time recitation was a common trade in the countryside. "It just grew on me. I’d listen to the reciter at funerals, and stay until I fell asleep under his chair."

So the sheikh slowly learnt the Qur’an by listening to others. In particular, he listened to the great master Sheikh Mohamed Rifaat, who he got to know personally when he came to Cairo as a young man. "It is mainly through proper listening that one knows how the Qur’an should be read. It is not simply a matter of following rules which are laid down in books."

Today, as head of the Syndicate for Reciters of the Holy Qur’an, She’isha oversees the affairs of the 5,000 or so Qur’anic reciters who are syndicate members. Having succeeded in establishing a headquarters for the syndicate, "on a par with any of the major syndicates, like the doctors or engineers," his next aim is to raise the pensions currently received by retired reciters from a mere LE15 every month to LE100. "The People’s Assembly has asked for LE1 million to be allotted to the syndicate, but the government obviously has other priorities. I hope I will live a bit longer, in order to bring about an increase in pensions."

Sheikh She’isha received us in his modest apartment in Al-Sibaq Street in Heliopolis on a Thursday at noon. It is Ramadan. He courteously offered us something to drink, "in case anyone is not fasting".

Soon we heard the call for noon prayer coming from just round the corner where the Al-Khulafaa Al-Rashidin Mosque (the mosque of the Rightly Guided Caliphs) stands. The mosque is only a few metres from the house where She’isha lives, which he built himself in the 1960s. Every day he walks to Al- Khulafaa Al-Rashidin, where he is head of the board. The building has seen several extensions under She’isha’s auspices, and is now one of Heliopolis’ leading houses of prayer. An International Institute for Qur’anic Reciting, also founded by She’isha, stands in its grounds, attracting students from different parts of the Islamic world.

The sheikh does not recite there, however. He saves himself for Al-Sayida Zeinab Mosque, where he reads the "Sura of the Cave" each Friday. "The voice is still not bad," he smiles. And as he speaks, you can hear just the hint of a tremor in this voice which so affects its listeners when it lends its powers to rendering the Qur’an.

While we sat with him, the phone rang almost incessantly. There was no wireless hand-set within reach to make things easy for the sheikh. Each time, he would get up and walk over to the old- fashioned telephone which stood on a table in a vestibule outside the sitting room. Yet despite his age, he remains both physically and mentally agile, in no small part thanks to his adherence to "the sacred ritual" of walking for one hour every day round the Merryland Park not far from his house.

One caller was a reporter from the ruling National Democratic Party’s magazine Al-Liwaa Al-Islami. He asked if it was "wrong" for one of today’s popular young singers to recite the Qur’an.

The question appeared strange to the sheikh. For him, it was clearly a non- issue. "What if a singer recites the Qur’an?" he responded. "Wasn’t Sheikh Mohamed Rifaat the mentor of singers and composers like Umm Kulthum and Abdel-Wahab in the 1920s? Did not the great Sheikh Ali Mahmoud, who was Rifaat’s contemporary, sing with his own voice to Abdel-Wahab, showing him how to move from one maqam (scale) to another, or how to make a difficult transition from one part of the composition to the other?"

The furniture in the sheikh’s living room has mellowed with age. There are photographs everywhere — on the wall, on the sideboard next to the dining table, and on the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. One exquisitely printed black-and-white image shows an elegant and well-built young man with jet-black hair and moustache, dressed in suit and tie: it is the sheikh himself, captured on film in the 1950s. In another picture on the wall, he appears as a handsome youth proudly sporting the medal given to him by the king of Iraq in the late 1940s, Wisam Al-Rafidayn (the Medal of the Two Rivers).

Yet another image from the early 1960s taken at the seaside at Ras Al-Bar depicts She’isha, his eldest son Mohamed Hossam, and his wife — a pretty young woman with windswept hair. How did he meet her? "I married her because I loved her," he says, as if in this blunt statement lay the answer. Then he quickly adds: "She was from Cairo, not from a rural background like me."

The little boy in the photograph is now a grown man. "Mohamed teaches medicine in the United States," explains the sheikh. "He specialises in family medicine, which is an important concept, but one which has still not caught on here in Egypt."

He picks up a framed photograph of Mohamed and his American wife, taken during their wedding, and stands looking at it. He "can’t wait" for them to come with their two sons to visit him at Christmas, he tells us.

The sheikh’s younger son Mahmoud — an agricultural engineer who used to work for the Agricultural Credit Bank — never married. He chose to live with his father after his mother died seven years ago. "I was against this, because he should get married. But he would not change his mind."

His daughter Mona lives in a flat on the floor above him. He will often have his Iftar with her during Ramadan. Mona studied to be a simultaneous translator, but then chose to stay at home and raise her children. Only she, of all his children, has inherited her father’s beautiful voice. None of his offspring recite the Qur’an out loud, he says, "not even as a hobby. They’ve chosen to go on with their professional careers. And if they ever do recite," he adds with a wry smile, "they never do it in front of me."

To receive us, the sheikh is impeccably dressed in a quftan, the traditional garb of men of religion, made from good quality cloth. Still handsome, he cuts a dignified figure. His apartment, however, is extremely simple. Yet he refuses to take any credit for his austerity. "I’m too old really to go anywhere, to travel around the Arab countries or the Gulf and make a lot of money the way today’s reciters do." And of course he is too much a gentleman to mention that none of his "rivals" who are so much in demand can measure up to him in their art.

Today, the sheikh is the last survivor of the generation that grew up alongside the legendary Mohamed Rifaat. His name stands with those of legends such as Mohamed Al-Saifi, Abdel-Fattah Al- Shi’shaai, Khalil Al-Hosari, Mostafa Ismail, and Siddiq Al-Minshawi. The recitation of these great masters demonstrated the supreme beauty of the tradition of Qur’anic rendering, abundant with nuance and expressive melody, which had developed in Egypt. "You know the saying," the sheikh asks, "that the Qur’an was ‘revealed in Mecca, printed in Istanbul, and recited in Egypt’." Though he is quick to add his admiration for the reciting tradition of Iran.

It was She’isha who was solicited by the mufti of the late King Farouk to recite at the first-ever celebration of Ramadan in the royal palace. This event marked the beginning of his fame. In 1939, at the age of 17, he became the youngest-ever reciter to read the Qur’an on the Egyptian broadcasting service, four years after Sheikh Rifaat had started the tradition. More recently, She’isha undertook, in a purely voluntary capacity, to complete with his own voice the inaudible portions of a number of old recordings by Sheikh Rifaat. It was an arduous task, he remembers, "where recording one letter could take up to five hours."

She’isha was also selected to inaugurate the British Broadcasting Corporation’s Arabic service, and later, he would grace Egyptian television with live broadcasts of his Qur’anic reciting.

When he visited Iraq in the late 1940s to recite at the funeral of Queen Alia, the sheikh insisted on responding to a request from the prisoners at one of the country’s jails that he recite the Qur’an live in front of them. Despite his hosts’ protestations, and their fear for "his life", he went ahead. The experience, he says, was "life-changing" — just as it must have been for many of the prisoners.

For the sheikh, religion is "life itself. It is doing things with love and feeling for others. Sometimes when I see a child weeping," he confides, "I feel that I want to cry too."

This is a faith that may seem far- removed from the feverish obsession with boundaries, with ritualistic right and wrong, which characterises the religious rhetoric of today. But for the sheikh, Islam, along with every other religion, means tolerance, empathy in dealing with others, and a sense of humour with which he refuses to part.

Yet not everything is smooth sailing. Traditionally, Egyptian television has broadcast the sheikh’s sublime azan call for sunset prayer each day, and during Ramadan the call would be preceded by a Qur’anic recital. Yet this year, abruptly and without warning, these appearances were cancelled, only a few days before the Holy Month began, for no apparent reason.

The sheikh confides in us that the decision was not only hurtful, but he still does not fully understand why it was made.

Still, there is the Qur’an. When he recites the holy text, which he has recited countless times in the course of his long life, he still dwells upon the interpretation of the verses and seeks a deeper understanding of their meaning. "When you recite the word ’sky’, it must be on the right note, so as to bring the listener the sense of loftiness," he explains. "And when you recite the word ‘earth’, the tone must go down a bit and convey the expansiveness of the earth as it spreads out before you beneath the sky, as it says in the Holy Qur’an."

Once again, we heard the sound of azan al-’asr, the call to afternoon prayer at the Khulafaa Al-Rashidin Mosque, floating in through the window, as if from afar. "It is a question of feeling," says the sheikh, simply. "You must be moved by what you read, for others to be moved by you."

Taken from http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2004/715/profile.htm

Mostafa Ismail By Manal el-Jesri

1905 Mostafa Mohamed El-Mursi Ismail is born on June 17 in Mit Ghazal, a Gharbeya governorate village. 1911 The young Mostafa starts learning the Qur’an in the kuttab of Sheikh Abdel Rahman Abul Einein 1913 Mostafa moves to the kuttab of Sheikh Abdallah Shehata 1915 The 10-year-old becomes a celebrity reciter in his village, as his voice starts drawing listeners. 1917 Sheikh Mostafa Ismail finishes studying the art of tilawa and tajwid with Sheikh Idriss Fakher. He later moves to Tanta to study at the Religious Institute, after an Azhar Sheikh hears him recite in Oteif mosque. The young Sheikh embarks on his career as a reciter. 1920 He receives 70 pt for his first official three-night aaza [mourning] event. 1925 He recites during the aaza of one of Tanta’s richest men, Hussein El-Qasabi, and soon becomes a celebrity all over rural Egypt. 1927 He recites at the aaza of national leader Saad Zaghloul in Damietta. Meets his wife, the mother of his six children, and is also heard by all of Egypt’s pashas. He has to open an office in Tanta to organize his schedule. 1943 He recites in Cairo for the first time. Despite the war waged against him, he soon becomes the toast of the capital, and a radio star. 1944 He becomes King Farouk’s favorite reciter. His famous recitations from the King’s palace every Ramadan were heard by radio listeners all over the Arab world. Sheikh Mostafa becomes known to all Muslims, and travels all over the Arab world. 1947 He becomes Al-Azhar’s reciter, a prestigious post. 1965 Receives the Distinction Medal from Gamal Abdel Nasser, who had also made him his official reciter. Om Kolthoum and Mohamed Abdel-Wahab receive their medals on the same night as Ismail. 1977 Ismail travels to Jerusalem with President Anwar Sadat. Although the visit brings about attacks from all over the Arab world, Sheikh Mostafa realizes one of his dreams, to recite the Qur’an inside the Aqsa mosque. 1978 On Dec. 22, he recites the Qur’an for the last time in Damietta. Dies on Dec. 26.

Taken from:  http://www.egypttoday.com/article.aspx?ArticleID=5910

The Imam of Quraa Once, Sheikh Mostafa Ismail’s recitation of the Qur’an was enough to stop anyone in their tracks. Today, on the centenary of his birth, his followers are struggling to keep alive his tradition of melodic recitation. Will religious conservatives relegate an Egyptian tradition to the dustbin of history? By Manal el-Jesri

One day, a stranger happened to be passing through the village of Mit Ghazal in Gharbeya governorate when he heard the voice of a little boy reciting Qur’an at a kuttab. The man stopped, then took the boy home, along with his tutor, to speak with his father, where he advised the father to keep teaching the child the Qur’an because he was going to become one of the best reciters in recent history.

That was in 1911 by 1920, the little boy named Mostafa Ismail was well on his way toward becoming one of the most celebrated Qur’an reciters Egypt has ever known.

“You have to know that his voice at the very beginning was very different from what you hear in available recordings,” says Sheikh Mostafa Ismail’s son, Wahid. “The earliest recitations available are from the 1940s but he became a professional in 1920, at the age of 15.

“Twenty years ago, I met a man who had known him at the time. He told me, ‘I swear to God your father’s voice when he was 18 was the most beautiful voice anyone had ever heard. If a bird was flying over the sowan [tent set up for bereaved to receive condolences], it would have stopped in mid-air to listen,’” he says.

This year marks the centenary of the Sheikh’s birth (he came into the world on June 17, 1905), and while the anniversary has not been celebrated by the official media — except in a short segment on the daily talk show El-Beit Beitak — Sheikh Ismail’s fans and family are certain that the future will only bring more appreciation of his musical genius.

The unofficial celebration in June at El-Sawi Cultural Center suggests their hope-infused prediction may yet come true: It was very difficult to find a seat that night, and many people had to sit on the floor or stand at the back of the room.

The why of it all is simple: Egyptians have, throughout history, appreciated Qur’an recitation not just for its divine nature and meaning, but also for its aesthetic attributes. In The Art of Reciting the Koran, published by the AUC Press in 2001, musicologist Kristina Nelson writes: “Although the ideal recitation may not be called music, a certain musicality, such as use of melody and vocal artistry, is not only accepted but required to fill the intent of the ideal. This requirement is based on the recognition of the power of music in general to engage the emotions and thus involve the listener more totally in the recitation.”

While a select group still appreciates the aesthetic values of Egypt’s reciters such as Sheikh Ismail, Abdel Baset Abdel Samad, Mohamed Rifaat, Siddik El-Minshawy and Abdel Fattah al-Sha’sha’ii, more and more Egyptians are shying away from the distinctly Egyptian melodic recitation, most of them motivated by a pernicious conservative undertone in society.

Indeed, religious conservatism is leading some Egyptians reluctant to purchase or seek out this form of recitation, driving them toward drier, less musical forms that originated in Saudi Arabia. The Saudi model of hijab and even thinking has overtaken recitation as well. During Ramadan, we hear recitations that follow the Saudi (also known as the Hudhaifi) model on national television. For many, as Nelson points out, this reflects an artistic vacuum as much as it does a shift in religious attitudes. Egyptian recitation should be viewed as part of the Egyptian identity, which some fear is fast dissolving.

One way to maintain it would be to celebrate our great talents —talents such as Sheikh Mostafa Ismail.

The Followers

Ahmed Mostafa is Sheikh Mostafa Ismail’s biggest fan and collector. Finding his building on the winding and crowded Terat el-Gabal Street was as difficult as finding his specific apartment was easy — the sound of a beautiful Qur’an recitation filled the air. The voice, pure and clear, was unmistakably that of Sheikh Ismail, Egypt’s renowned reciter and arguably one of the most important voice talents of the 20th century.

Ahmed Mostafa, who is said to have over 1,000 live recordings by the late Sheikh, is working hard with the late Sheikh Ismail’s family to keep the star reciter’s memory alive.

Enter the collector’s apartment and you’ll be greeted by a living room full of visitors. Youssri El-Zayet, a friend of Ahmed’s, welcomes us in. I sit next to a young girl by the name of Somaia, who is 10 years old. The famous Qur’an chanter Sayyed El-Qadi sits across from me, as do Somaia’s father, uncle and Qur’an tutor. Ahmed Mostafa, who can’t seem to sit still, flits about turning on more Qur’anic renditions by Sheikh Ismail.

He is too busy doing a number of things at once, and talking to him is proving to be difficult. At last, he sits down and begins helping

Somaia recites the Qur’an. He says an aya (verse) and she copies it, trying to stay within the same maqam. (The maqam refers to the melodic system of Arabic music. A maqam is not a scale so much as a group of pitches that manifest characteristic melodic patterns and some hierarchy of pitch organization, as Nelson describes in her book.) Somaia is here today because Ahmed Mostafa is preparing her for Ramadan, when she will be reciting on Al-Fajr channel, for which he works as a consultant.

“I like Sheikh [Ismail] because he has the most beautiful voice,” she pronounces. “He is a karawan [nightingale]. I like his style and try to sound like him.”

Like Ahmed Mostafa, El-Zayet too is a collector of fine recitation. Unlike his friend who listens to no one and nothing but Sheikh Ismail, El-Zayet can appreciate different voices.

“Ahmed’s father, Mostafa Kamel, was one of Sheikh Ismail’s close friends, and one of his sammee’a [listeners]. Ahmed inherited this love. He literally grew up on the Sheikh’s lap, and would accompany his father to events where the Sheikh was reciting. As a teenager, he took a recorder with him to events, which is where his recordings come from today,” El-Zayet explains.

“Yes, it is true. I do not listen to anyone else,” admits Ahmed Mostafa. “When you get used to his voice, it is difficult to pollute your ears with anything else. My blood pressure goes up if I hear anything else.”

Ahmed Mostafa first met the Sheikh in 1949. “I was nine at the time. I heard him recite Suret El-Kahf [The Cave]. I enjoyed it very much. It was intimidating. People would scream and shout at each repetition, and my father would say ‘Aayy’ in a certain maqam. The Sheikh told me ‘This “ay” would ring in my ear, [shutting out] all the noise of the people.’ My father then taught me the maqamat. At 16, I saved enough money to buy my first recorder. Then I would follow the Sheikh to the Delta and Upper Egypt cities and towns. But before me came a number of fans who made recordings as well. First there was Ibrahim El-Kahky, then Saad El-Dhahabi, and before them were Ibrahim Qassem and Amin Bek Saeed. Today, I have 1080 hours of recordings. The [state-run] Radio has only 12,” he says.

A family affair

On one of Zamalek’s now-crowded streets is the home of engineer Wahid Mostafa Ismail. It was in this apartment that Sheikh Ismail lived before he moved to his famous villa a few streets away. The place of honor in their living room is dedicated to a glass case holding Sheikh Ismail’s memorabilia.

Seeing the emma [turban] and kakoola is, for some reason, a very moving experience. “He wrapped this turban around his head the last time he wore it. It has been kept intact since then,” Amani, Wahid’s wife, tells me.

Many people have tried to understand the genius of Sheikh Ismail’s voice, and Wahid starts to explain why, recalling an evening that took place 50 years ago, when he was 12. “We had some Lebanese visitors at home and they wanted to meet Mohamed Abdel-Wahab [the great musician]. My father asked me to accompany the driver to his house. As I knocked, Abdel-Wahab himself opened the door. He was very tall, and asked me who I was. When he found out I was Sheikh Mostafa’s son, he told me: ‘Do you know that your father is a genius?’ I s ‘Well, people say so’.”

As soon as he turned professional as a teenager, the reputation of the brilliant Sheikh spread from his village to the surrounding villages and from there to Tanta and to the whole of rural Egypt. “Until the early 1940s, my father did not feel the need to go to Cairo. This is why when he was asked to go to Cairo in 1943, he asked for LE 20. He knew that the competition was very severe in the capital, and he was satisfied with his fame so far, but the family agreed to his exorbitant price,” Wahid remembers.

Once he was heard in Cairo, he became the most coveted reciter in the country within a matter of days. His fame was only enhanced after King Farouk heard him on the radio and asked him to recite at the Royal Palace during Ramadan.

But his fame also brought him some enemies. “A certain famous sheikh of the era would refuse to give my father any chance to recite if they happened to be at the same event. He would keep going until everyone left. In one such event, the famous Sheikh Darwish El-Hariri, who taught Om Kolthoum, arrived with a group of artists and musicians, and insisted that my father recite even though it was already midnight and the workers were removing all the chairs in the sowan. My father then recited until 3 am. When he finished,” Wahid remembers, “El-Hariri declared he was the best reciter he had ever heard.”

As fellow reciters came to know the sheikh, they also came to love him.

“All the big names you hear about treated him with respect. Any leila [event] was his leila, and they sat there listening until he finished. He was very polite and soft-spoken and very funny too, which is why everybody loved him,” says Alaa Hosni Taher, his grandson, an EgyptAir flight attendant and a Qur’an reciter who follows in the footsteps of his grandfather, the great Sheikh Ismail.

Imam of Quraa

Taher was 20 when his grandfather died. “I used to go with him everywhere until he died. He knew I could recite, but I never asked him to sit and listen to me. Yet he would often ask me to recite a part he had read in a certain event. He would often be amazed, wondering how he achieved such a difficult note. ‘I wouldn’t be able to say it again if I wanted to,’ he would tell me,” Taher remembers.

Dr. Ahmed Neaynae, the famous Qur’an reader, once told noted composer Ammar El-Shereii: “Mostafa Ismail is not just one sheikh. He is several methods and sheikhs in one. You can find all musical forms in his recitation. Whenever I hear a sheikh say something, I remember that Sheikh [Ismail] had said it before. Reciters have failed to come up with anything new after him. He moves easily between maqamat, and never went off tune. The listener’s ear never feels tired of him, because he always intrigues his listeners. He is creative in his qafalat [endings]. I can often predict qafalat, but his are always unexpected.”

Late great composer Abdel-Wahab was of much the same opinion: “He was big in his art, he was big in his management of his voice, and was the only reciter who surprised listeners with unexpected maqam routes,” he once declared.

In his Dream TV program two years ago, El-Shereii tried to analyze the sheikh’s musical genius by replaying a few short recitations. “His recitation was miraculous, and he was a musical miracle as well. He was unique.”

Analyzing a different verse, the composer says: “He would go up to the very highest notes of the maqam, and he would do it with ease, enjoying himself. It is enough to drive you crazy. This man must have understood music very well, and must have meant what he was doing. He uses saba maqam at first to demonstrate huzn [sadness], then moves to the C, or agam, and then he takes his voice high up the notes when he says al-samaa (the sky) If this were not a musician, then we the musicians know nothing, and must go home. He knew what he was doing and did it depending on his knowledge of the [seven] qira’at [readings] and his very special expressive ability.”

Taher has dedicated most of his time to preserving his grandfather’s heritage by compiling his photos, recitations and everything that was ever written about him.

“He wasn’t called the Imam of Quraa for nothing,” Taher claims. “His genius was in his ever-varying recitation, which changed according to the atmosphere. His reading in Egypt was different from his reading in the Levant, and his reading in Cairo was different from his reading in Alexandria or Upper Egypt. Maqamat change according to the geographic area. In Indonesia, for example, they love the hogaz maqam, and they imitate my grandfather’s hogaz readings. But Sheikh [Ismail] was able to jump from maqam to maqam with great ease and beauty. Om Kolthoum was infatuated with him and would often ask him if he ever learned music. He said no, it is divine work, and just comes to him this way,” Taher says. “This is why he was always tense before any leila. A genius never repeats himself, but improvises as the moment decrees. He often ascended the dekka without knowing what he was going to read.”

A prince of tajwid (the system that codifies the divine language and accent of Qur’anic recitation in terms of rhythm, timbre, sectioning of the text, and phonetics, as Nelson explains), Sheikh Ismail told Nelson that, “The better one can use the maqamat, the more effective one’s recitation recitation without melody is of no benefit.”

He also confided the secret of his method, a method that today is taught to all young reciters. “With a low beginning, little by little [the reciter] takes hold of himself I entered on maqam hogaz with adab [politeness], not a rude awakening, but a polite knock.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Mostafa.’

‘Welcome, etc.’

These are manners, not rushing in on an open door when madam is sleeping.”

The Sammee’a

Back in Ahmed Mostafa’s apartment, we are joined by Sheikh Sayyed El-Qadi who, as a teenager, met Sheikh Ismail in 1962. El-Qadi believes Sheikh Ismail’s listeners were an important factor in making him what he became.

“Back in the past, the listeners were often as famous as the reciter. Many of them, who were talented musicians like Mostafa Kamel, Ahmed’s father, taught the sheikh the art of maqamat through their comments. This is why Sheikh Mostafa enjoyed reading in mosques or among people more than he liked reading for the radio. His audiences encouraged him, so he knew he was doing well. He enjoyed their comments.”

Taher begs to differ, for he believes his grandfather was in total control of his tools and was often unaware of the listeners, because when he went deep into his recitation he entered an altered state. “I think he affected his listeners, not the other way around,” Taher offers.

Although they may disagree on some points, both believe in Ismail’s genius. And part of his genius was his ability to repeat the same word or group of words several times, each time with a different melody.

“When I do a high passage and feel it is not up to its potential (not ripe), I do it again — still not right — again — OK. I keep repeating until it is good. I am aware of the presence of critical listeners,” Ismail himself explained to Nelson. Which is why a normal recitation session would take him anywhere from 90 to 120 minutes, sometimes even longer. On some nights the Sheikh was known to recite for three to four hours.

Sheikh El-Qadi then suggests that Sheikh Ismail lived in an era where a number of great musical talents existed, such as Abdo el-Hamoly, El-Manyalawi, Om Kolthoum, Mohamed Abdel-Wahab, and great reciters like Mohamed Rifaat, Mansour Baddar, Abdel Fattah El-Shaeshaey and others. “He had listeners who could move stone, and an atmosphere that encouraged uniqueness. It was a beautiful era. He had to come up with something new,” he explains.

El-Qadi’s words are blasphemy to Ahmed Mostafa’s ears. “Do you think El-Bahtimi, El-Minshawi or El-Seifi had it in them to recite like Sheikh [Ismail] and did not? His talent was divine, it came from above. They were nothing like him,” he interjects heatedly.

At this point his guest starts getting angry. “I have nothing to do with what you are saying. Seriously, this is not a joke. I do not like those who treat the Sheikh like the Ahly or Zamalek clubs. Let’s be serious, Sheikh Mostafa was surrounded by beauty. When I have to recite some ibtihalat [religious chants] for the fajr radio broadcast, I try to busy myself with my absolutions so I do not have to listen to the reciter preceding me. It ruins your hearing. Sheikh Mostafa must have benefited from his era,” El-Qadi charges.

Haram or halal

The new musical forms he came up with sparked an even more heated debate questioning the appropriateness of his style to a sacred text like the Qur’an. “The late Sheikh Mostafa Ismail was considered suspect as a reciter by many Muslims because of his extreme musicality. But one devout scholar [Dr. Hasan El-Shafei] told me that, although he used to think that Sheikh [Ismail] was ‘too musical’ he had come to accept him because he realized that Sheikh [Ismail] knew his tajwid; “There is no denying the musicality of the religious text, and as long as tajwid is used, and music does not distort tajwid or distract from the text, it is acceptable,” wrote Nelson. “Sheikh Mostafa himself told me that when asked about the reluctance to associate Qur’anic recitation with music, he responded, ‘as long as the rules of tajwid are adhered to, the pauses are correct, the reciter can recite with music however he wishes.’ This statement was broadcast over national television on the program Your Favorite Star with the ‘Imam of Al-Azhar, the president of the republic, and countless others listening,’ and Sheikh [Ismail] said he challenged anyone to disagree, but never heard a word of rebuttal.”

Sheikh El-Qadi is quick to recite a number of hadith to prove that Islam actually demands the Qur’an be recited with melody. “If a verse is read by a scholarly reciter who has studied then he will say the words right even if they are melodious. When you come to think of it, we use melody in our speech. Does this take away from it or add to it? The thing is not to forget the sacredness of the Qur’an, which Sheikh Mostafa never did.”

The Future Sheikh

A young man sits next to Sheikh El-Qadi. His face seems familiar, and I find out he is Yasser El-Sharqawi, a 20-year-old and already a rising star in the world of Qur’an reciting. Ahmed points him out, “Yasser is going to become a big star, don’t you think so, ya Sayyed?” The Sheikh nods his head. Yasser looks down in obvious embarrassment as he blushes profusely. “He sounds just like Sheikh [Ismail] to the untrained listener. Just the fact that he puzzles you a little is an honor enough for him. He will definitely fall after a while, because Sheikh [Ismail] was a gift from God,” Ahmed adds.

El-Sharqawi is fast becoming known through Al-Fajr channel; he’s a devout fan of Sheikh Ismail, and rarely listens to other reciters.

“Sheikh [Ismail] is unique, and very modern. His style is his own, and the melodies he recites once he never recites again,” he says. Three years ago he met Ahmed, who was impressed by his voice and decided to help him become a better reader. “He helps me manage my voice. He teaches me how to start with bayati, then go up (the scale) slowly, then go down again and then warm up to the high notes once more,” El-Sharqawi says.

His dream is to become a renowned reciter, his chosen profession, which he plans to take up fully after he graduates from Al-Azhar’s faculty of Shariah and Law. Whether it is a lucrative enough business is an open question. El-Zayet says that thanks to famous reciters alive nowadays, such as Sheikh Tablawi, a reciter can charge anywhere between LE 700 and LE 10,000 per night, depending on how famous he is.

El-Sharqawi has passed his tests at the Egyptian Radio and Television Union’s Quraa committee, where he explains he tried to come up with new forms for recitation: “I do not imitate Sheikh Mostafa. Although I love him and I belong to his school, I also try to come up with something new, just like he did.”

The young reciter is going to spend this coming Ramadan in Germany, where he will celebrate the Holy Month with that country’s Islamic community.

He recites some verses for us. At first, he gave us a rendition of Surat Al-Doha in the murattal style (faster, less melodious than tajwid). Afterwards, he continued in the tajwid style. His recitation moved everyone. Ahmed kept shouting “Allah ya walad ya Yasser!” every time the young talent improvised well, which reminds him of the live recordings he has of Sheikh Ismail’s readings.

Every time he showed his appreciation, El-Sharqawi’s reading seemed to improve. The relationship between a reciter and his listeners has rarely been clearer.

Coveted memories

Those who may want to hear for themselves face one mammoth obstacle — there are hardly any recordings of the Sheikh’s heritage. Only 18 tapes are available at Sawt El-Qahira. “We have some financial problems with them, which is why they do not print enough of Sheikh Mostafa’s work,” his son Wahid says. Taher points out that also available on the market is the complete mus-haf (Qur’an) in the murattal style, which makes it easier for students to follow and study. But the rare live recordings, which collectors savor and boast about, are very difficult to come by.

And it’s not just his recitations that seem to be lost. Where is his beautiful azaan? Why do we never hear it on television? Queries Wahid. “Where are the 700 tapes the radio has by him?” According to the Sheikh’s family, we are now witnessing an era of decline. “But it will end, and then people will start looking for my grandfather’s work,” Taher believes.

Wahid too is confident of this. “My father once said to me, ‘Do you know? One day, people will appreciate your father,” he tells. That was at a time when Sheikh Mostafa was met by heads of state wherever he went, and people treated him like a superstar when he walked down the street.

Ahmed Mostafa is as guarding of the Sheikh’s heritage as his family. He willingly copies out tapes to friends and acquaintances, making use of his extensive sound equipment, which he uses for nothing except the works of the reciter.

In the meantime, the Sheikh’s family holds on to the extensive rare recordings they own. “Now is not the time to release them. People are not ready. We want the young people to know who Sheikh Mostafa is, and we are looking for the way to do it right,” Wahid ends. 

Taken from http://www.egypttoday.com/article.aspx?ArticleID=5909

The Best of Shaykh Mustafa Ismael

The following is a list of selected Quranic recitations of Shaykh Mustafa Ismael.

Ghashiyah Listen to Surah Haqqah from this file, at 42 minutes

Hajj

Hud Surah Hud from this file is simply great. Its a 2 hour long recitation.

 

Information on the world’s renowned Egyptian Quran reciter (Qari al-Quran), Shaykh Mustafa Ismael

Malak al-Qurra, Shaykh Mustafa Ismael

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael was born in a village called Mit Gazal, a village near
Tanta in Egypt on 12 June 1905.
His parents named him Mustafa Muhammad Nursi Ismael, and little they knew
that their new born son will become the world’s most famous Qari (Quran
reciter), and his name will be associated with Quran all over the world.
Shaykh Mustafa Ismael focused on Quran at an early age and when he
became 10 years old he became a Hafız. He went to Ahmadi Institution at
Tanta and learned Tafsir (exegises), Qirat (science of recitation) and Fiqh
(Islamic jurisprudence).
After that he devoted his whole life to the service of the Quran and, therefore,
was highly respected by everyone. It is noted that once he recited the Quran
at a very large gathering and thus became very popular among the people.
His son Wahid Mustafa said: Somebody pointed at my father and said that
this young man recites the Quran well. My father was to recite for 10 minutes
with Shaykh Rıfat but since Shaykh Rıfat liked it so much, my father recited
for an hour and a half.
His increasing popularity, his life and becoming very popular Qari is all by
Allah’s will. Around 1940’s he was recognized and respected by almost the
whole of Egypt. But his fame never changed his personality.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael among the crowd

Reciting the Quran at the radio station is another interesting story. The Qari
who recited the Quran from Egypt radio became ill and instead Shaykh
Mustafa Ismael was put on the radio chair to recite. King Faruq was one of the
audience. King Faruq liked Shaykh Mustafa Ismael so much that he
requested him to recite Quran during the Ramadan for himself. He was now
King’s Qari.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael and Shaykh Abu al-Enein Sheisha in the
company of King Faruq

For the birth celebration of Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings of Allah
be upon him), a none-profit organisation organised a programme and Shaykh
Abdul Fattah Shashi was to recite the Quran but because Shaykh Shashi
became ill, they tried to find another Qari as good as him. When they decided
on Mustafa Ismael he knew that this was a turning point of his life and of
course he was very happy about it. Also this programme was going to be on
the national radio station and was going to be on-air for 30 minutes. He was
worried because he got used to reciting for hours and now he would have to
reach the same success in just thirty minutes. Members of his household saw
that he was practicing against 30 minute limit.

On the night of the programme, Shaykh Mustafa Ismael was received very
well in the Husayni Masjid. Those who had listened to Shaykh Mustafa Ismael
before were also among the crowd, and they supported him all along. This
programme also helped Shaykh Mustafa Ismael to establish himself as the
number one Qari in Egypt.

Years that followed, were the years that Mustafa Ismael’s fame rose and rose.
So many times presidents invited him at their Palaces to recite the Quran. He
had invitations from overseas and he mesmerized people over there as well.
In the year 1947, at the peak of his fame, he became the Qari of the al-Azhar
Mosque.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael reciting in a Masjid.

People of Egypt became very much interested in Mustafa Ismael. Mosques
would fill up with people where Shaykh Mustafa Ismael recited the Quran. No
one would leave the mosque until Shaykh Mustafa Ismael completed reciting
the Quran. He would recite for more than two hours and most significant thing
was that the perfection of his voice showed no decrease. People were curious
as to how he maintained his voice without taking any medication.
He received many plaques and achievement medals from the Arab and the
Muslim countries.

In Turkey
Shaykh Mustafa Ismael came to Turkey in 1961 and 1969. In 1969, his first
stop was Ankara. He was going to stay in Ankara for 15 days and another 15
days in Istanbul. Then he was going to visit other big cities of Turkey.
However, he was not happy regarding the amount of people who came to
listen to him in Ankara. Therefore, he immediately set off for Istanbul. And
Istanbul mesmerised him.

President of Turkey invited him at his palace and gave a special present
which was golden lettered Quran.

He stayed the whole Ramadan of 1969 in Turkey. He said that he loved the
people of Turkey. He also said “the people of Turkey are very respectful
towards the Quran and they are very quiet and respectful during recitations.”
One of the audience was Doctor Emin Isık from University of Marmara. Emin
Isık says “When we heard that he was going to recite in Suleymaniye Mosque
we rushed to listen to him. He recited the Quran for thirty minutes after
Taraweh prayers. Unlike people of Ankara, we had known Shaykh Mustafa
Ismael very well. People filled the mosque completely. Mustafa Ismael said “I
travelled all around the world but never saw anything like the audience of
Istanbul.” He was very happy about the crowd’s love for the Quran and the
beauty of the Mosque.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael’s son, Wahid

According to his son Wahid, Shaykh Mustafa Ismael was delighted to be in
Turkey. When they asked him “Would you recitee Quran to us?” He never
refused to do. Even when they asked him to recite Quran outside the Mosque,
he never said no.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael visited Masjid-i Aqsa in 1977. President of Egypt
Anwar Sadat invited Mustafa Ismael in his visit to Quds. His recitation of the
Quran in Masjid-i Aqsa was broadcasted on television and whole the Muslim
world was able to watch him reciting the Quran.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael in Jerusalem

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael had moments in his life which he never forgot. One of
them was the moment when he recited the Quran in the company of King
Faruq. The other one was the examination of being a Qari.

Other qurra (Quran reciters) also loved Shaykh Mustafa Ismael and respected
him very much. Egypt’s famous qurra such as Shaykh Abdul Basıt Abdul
Samd, Muhammad Siddiq Minshawi and Shaykh Kamil Yusuf were very
respectful to Shaykh Mustafa Ismael.

Singers listened him

Even singers were among the ones who listened to him. One of the most
popular singer Ummul Kulthom was one of them. Musicians were amazed
during his recitations. They used to exclaim “He is doing Bayati…right now
Nahawand. He started Saba. Now Rast”.
He went and recited the Quran in America, France, Canada, Germany,
Turkey, İndia, Pakistan, and many other countries.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael with Qari Khushi Muhammad of Pakistan

The way Shaykh Mustafa Ismael recited the Quran has opened up a new era
in Quranic recitations. Even today many Qurra follow the way he recited. The
most important things in his recitations were: the way he started the Ayah, the
way he stopped the ayah, and the way he was able to show the depth of the
meaning of the Ayah with his voice.

In short he felt the Ayah when he recited
it. He understood the meaning of the Quran very well. He was increasing his
voice little by little in the Ayahs about hell and punishments or Ayahs of
Heavens. This added even more flavour to his recitations. He used his voice
perfectly. When the audience listened to him they felt that the Quranic Ayahs
were just being revealed.

Those who listened to Shaykh Mustafa Ismael saw: “Before he starts his
recitations, He sits and focuses for half an hour as if he is meditating. When
he starts reciting, it would take him another half hour to get warmed up.
Before he starts he makes sure his soul is ready for the recitation.” Famous
Egyptian writer Faiz Halava says “In Mustafa Ismael’s voice, the Quran is
even deeper than the deepest ocean”.

Sheikh Mustafa Ismael used to recite the Quran for 1-3 hours. One night he
even recited for 6 hours without any breaks, without deforming his voice. Not
even one person left before he finished his 6 hour long recitation. Egypt’s
famous Hafiz Dr. Ahmad Nuina started reciting the Quran by copying Sheikh
Mustafa Ismail. According to Ahmad Naina, Shaykh Mustafa Ismail is the best
Qari of this Century.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael’s closest student, Dr. Ahmad Nuina

Shaykh Fatihi Maligi is another student of Sheikh Mustafa Ismael. Shaykh
Fatihi studied with Shaykh Mustafa Ismael for 8 years. According to Shaykh
Fatihi: “Mustafa Ismael was a poll (north /south poll - top point - the best etc)
in recitation. Years and Fame never changed him”.

Fath-u-Allah Gülen said: I desired to listen to the Quran because of Shaykh
Mustafa Ismael. I saw him reciting the Quran in Makkah and Madinah.
Besides that he was a master of the Quran, he was also master of music. Not
many people had a voice like he had. He had a voice which never bothers
you. Many people developed a desire to listen to the Quran because they kept
listening to him on the radio. There were many famous Qurra (reciters of the
Quran), such as Shaykh Abdul Basıt Abdul Samd, Muhammad Siddiq
Minshawi, Shaykh Kamil Yusuf, and Muhammad Rıfat but Mustafa Ismael
was different. None could say ‘it would be better if he recited it this way’
because Shaykh Mustafa Ismael would recite it perfectly. He was a Qari with
golden a voice.

Famous Hafız from Egypt Shaykh Ali al Dabbaa says: “He was a star of the
century. The increasing of his voice, the decreasing of his voice, knowing all
seven Riwayah (narrations) best, were his outstanding ability over other
Qurra. He was able to maintain the peace in his voice for many hours.
He was a lover of the Quran. His wish was to remain a recite of the Quran
through out his life. Allah granted him his wish.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael reading the Quran in his bedroom

73 years under the shadow of the Holy Quran.

On December 26, 1978…Century’s best Qari was about to spend the last
hours of his life. Even the night before he became ill, he was reciting the
Quran at a ceremony.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael passed away peacefully on 26th December 1978, and
thus an end was put to the golden era of Quranic recitation.

Shaykh Mustafa Ismael’s final resting place

Although we say that he has passed away, he is still with us and still reciting
the Quran with his recordings.

May the Merciful Allah shower His blessings on the soul of Shaykh Mustafa
Ismael and grant him a peaceful abode in Paradise next to the prophets, truthbearers,
martyrs and the righteous people. Aameen.

You can find most of Shaykh Mustafa Ismael’s videos & audio recitations, his Mujawwad & Murattal sets at http://www.quranreciters.com/od3/files.php?cat=2