Quran Reciters

Nelson, Kristina. "Reciter and Listener: Some Factors Shaping the Mujawwad Style of Qur’anic Reciting." In Ethnomusicology 26, 1, 1982, pages 41-47.

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Athough most Muslims perceive recitation of the Qur’an as a unique art, separate from music (in spite of a shared melodic system, maqam/maqamat, shared techniques, aesthetic expectations and economics), the nature of the response elicited by recitation tends to compromise that uniqueness. Two facts give this issue its importance: the suspicion with which some Muslims have traditionally regarded music in any context, and belief in the uniqueness and divine origin of the text, which precludes a musical treatment of the sort to which any other text might be subjected.

Attempts have been made to regulate both the behavior of reciter and listener and the sound of Qur’anic recitation itself in an effort to keep the recitation separate from music, whether sacred or secular. The main thrust of this regulation is on maintaining the primacy of the text. Its divine nature must be compromised neither by the subverting of the performance so that listeners are moved by virtuosic musicality rather than by the significance of the text, nor by the recognized change that music can effect on a text.

In the Arabic song the meter of the text, the melodic system, and the underlying rhythmic pattern (iqa’) all interact. To adapt the Qur’anic text to the built-in rhythmic patterns of a fixed tune would be to deny not only the supremacy of the text, but to deny its very nature and identity, which is characterized by fixed durations. Thus, the imposition of the iqa’ or of a given melody on the Qur’anic text is forbidden, but the use of spontaneous melody, inspired by the text and the moment, is not. The acceptance of melodic recitation of the Qur’an by mainstream religious authorities and scholars is based on the recognition of the power of music to heighten the listener’s emotional participation in the recitation, as well as to contribute to his understanding of the text, thus involving the listener more completely in the experience.

Against this background, I propose to discuss some aspects of the interaction between the reciter and his public, and the role of actual perception and response in shaping the elaborately melodic style of Egyptian Qur’anic recitation known as Qur’an Mujawwad. Specifically, these aspects are: (1) perception of reciter as artist; (2) audience response; (3) reciter’s response to audience; (4) effect on audience expectations of the media’s treatment of reciters.

The Egyptian style of Qur’anic recitation is well known all over the Islamic world; indeed, for many it epitomizes Qur’anic recitation. The style is so well established that most professional reciters in Egypt consider some form of musical training essential to an effective recitation.

The perception of Qur’anic recitation as a unique art is widespread, but is often explained in terms of the art of music. For example, reciters proudly perceive themselves as reciters first, but musical artists second, regardless of the varying degree of musicality in their styles. The art of Qur’anic recitation is often favorably compared to that of singing, not only by the reciters themselves, but by many musicians. Part of the basis of this perceived superiority is the divine nature of the text, but reciters and musicians explain it in more specific terms as well. For example, the reciter’s skill is seen as greater than the singer’s because he must perform within the stricter limitations imposed by the text. The reciter is bound to a comprehensive set of rules governing the oral rendition of the Qur’an. I have heard Egyptian musicians marvel that a reciter could produce such effective music given the restrictions he must observe with regard to each syllable in terms of timbre, duration and pronunciation, as well as structuring of the text. For example, whereas the singer is relatively free to draw a breath regardless of the sequence of the text, the reciter must observe complex rules as to where he may interrupt the sequence of the Qur’anic text, and whether he may continue in sequence or must return to a previous point in the text. In other words, the challenge to the artistic talent of the reciter is considered greater because of the greater limitations placed on his choices as a performer.

Moreover, in spite of the limitations, the reciter is considered more creative and innovative. As one reciter expressed, "Everything the reciter utters [melodically] comes from his head, unlike the singer who has the help of composer, chorus and instruments." Ideally, the recitation is new every time with no imitation or memorization. As Shaykh Ibrahim ish-Sha’sha’i expressed it, if a reciter recites the same verse the same way every time, "some would call that melody-making (talhin), and that is forbidden. You must not even use the same maqam for every mention of Hell." The art of melodic improvisation, once the mark of a perormer’s talent, is no longer so prominent a feature of Egyptian art music, but it remains an essential element of the Qur’an Mujawwad style of recitation.

Artistic sensibility and musical talent are only part of what is required of the reciter, for unlike the singer, he carries a great responsibility for the effect of his rendition. The intent of recitation is to involve the listener totally in the meaning and significance of the Revelation, an intent which goes beyond entertaining, or stirring the emotions. The following anecdote told me by one of Egypts’ most popular and well-regarded reciters, the late Shaykh Mustafa Isma’il, illustrates the difficulties in defining the professional identity of the Qur’anic reciter when only the sound of the recitation is considered. Shaykh Mustafa and ‘Abd il-Wahhab a prominent Egyptian musician-composer, happened to be staying in the same hotel in Beirut. They got together and were talking, and, at one point, ‘Abd il-Wahhab handed the ‘ud to Shaykh Mustafa. Reciting the first line of a poem, he said, "Sing." "I don’t sing," said Shaykh Mustafa. "Go on, sing," said Abd il-Wahhab. "I don’t know how to sing. I only recite Qur’an," said Shaykh Mustafa. Abd il-Wahhab took back the ‘ud. Later he asked, "How can you do the things you do [in reciting], and not be aware of what it is?" "I believe in God," replied Shaykh Mustafa. This story was told to me to point out the homage paid to the reciter’s skill as artist, something of which Shaykh Mustafa was justly proud.

Although a subdued and respectful response on the part of the listeners is the norm, and reciters are criticized for provoking an uncontrolled response, the vocal and boisterous response to a reciter’s personal artistry is common enough to account for one of the main objections to melodic recitation of the Qur’an: it elicits a response inappropriate to the nature of the text. A commonly voiced criticism is that listeners are stimulated by the melody over and above their stimulation by the meaning of the text. A prominent reciter, the late Shaykh Mahmud Khalil il-Husari, told me that reciting with melodies is permissible, "except for the singing [i.e., when it becomes like singing] and abuse of it which results in listeners following the melody and not the meaning."

Still, many reciters consider at least a minimum of vocal response essential to their reciting, citing three primary reasons. First, vocal response is encouraging and inspires the reciter’s skill.

The studio context makes you feel constrained, but people encourage, and there is tagawab (=tajawab), and things come out better than you imagined they could.

The more people there are, the more enthusiasm I have, and all this encourages me, and gives me the right spirit.

In studio recordings the mutual harmony with listeners is missing. In order to make a recording of a quality acceptable to the Radio, I imagine that I am in front of a crowd.

This last comment comes from a reciter whose reputation is limited because his studio recordings, which have the wider audience, are admittedly less inspired than his live performances. There is a consensus among listeners in general that studio recordings tend to be inferior to live performances: listeners would agree with the reciter who said that live performances are "where the great art happens." Second, the reciter can learn or sharpen musical skills by paying heed to listeners’ comments, that is, by correlating the comments with specific phrases. Shaykh Mustafa Isma’il described his own training in these terms:

Among the listeners were a number of musicians and artists. They remark, "Oh he’s doing (maqam) Bayati." "How did you do this Saba?" That’s how I learned. I listened to their comments. I used to recite every night, and they were always there.

Third, reciters also depend on their audience to guide them to the most effective and meaningful recitation. That there is a thin line between making the recitation meaningful to listeners and wooing them with one’s skill is demonstrated by the following comments:

The response of the listeners is also important because the reciter can bring them back if their attention wanders.

The alert reciter is aware of the listeners…is able to know their response to everything, and if they don’t like something, he can change. Even the blind reciter can tell from the crowd. The audience doesn’t have to be hystencal; the reciter can sense the mood and encouragement of a calmer audience.

I like to interact with the crowd, and to do that you have to do what they want.

I can recite for an hour or two and you won’t get bored. I change the melody as I see response. If I see you like (maqam) Saba, I’ll give you a lot of it.

The late Shaykh Muhammad Rif’at (d. 1950) epitomizes the ideal of the Qur’an reciter for Muslims all over the Islamic world in terms of piety, appropriate intent, use of musicality in recitation, and effectiveness of recitation. Mr Husen Rif’at, his son, told me that Shaykh Rif’at felt that everyone has a maqam to which they are particularly responsive, so he tried to vary the maqamat in reciting in order to touch a wider group of listeners (personal communication).

That there is some correlation between a reciter’s attitude to vocal response and the style of his recitation is indicated by the fact that, of the most popular reciters in Egypt today, the late Shaykh Mustafa Isma’il, often criticized for the rowdiness of his listeners, is considered the most musical. Others, such as Shaykh ‘Abd il-Basit ‘Abd is-Samad and Shaykh Muhammad it-Tablawi, often criticized for pandering to the tastes of their listeners or for showing off, exhibit a high degree of virtuosity in their reciting (primarily in terms of breath control and use of the high register). On the other hand, the late Shaykh Mahmud Khali1 il-Husari whose reputation rests on his erudition and on the correctness of his recitation, and who, moreover, denies any influence of the crowd on his reciting, is generally judged by respectful, but subdued listeners as "lacking in art." The reciter who is responsive to his listeners, who acknowledges their role in his training, and who depends on their encouragement for inspiration tends to recite in a more musically virtuosic style. Moreover, the mutuality of listener and reciter response tends to reinforce the musicality of the recitation, and the reciter, in fulfilling the musical expectations of his listeners, also defines them.

The musical expectations of the listeners are further reinforced by the policies of the National Radio and Television Union. In hiring and supervising professional reciters and their work, the supervisory committee (Lajnat al-Qurra) follows a recognized standard of recitation that sanctions musicality. It is common for a reciter who is building a reputation and is encouraged to audition for the Radio to make an effort to master the principles of the maqamat before applying for audition, for he knows that musical skill is required of the Radio reciter. A Radio reciter automatically commands prestige and higher fees: the term, iza’i (one who broadcasts) after his name signals a certain standard of competence. Therefore, since a certain level of musical skill is required of the broad reciter, the Radio policy functions to shape the tastes of the listeners by giving the more competently musical recitation high status.

Expectations are further shaped by the media’s giving some reciters a superstar treatment with interviews, magazine spreads, and guest appearances on talk shows, thus contributing to the whole syndrome of the personality cult with its fierce loyalties, fan clubs, and so on. Such publicity has further helped to blur the line between reciter and singer in terms of the reciter’s professional identity and the listeners’ expectations.

In conclusion, it is intent, expectation, perception and response on the part of those involved in Qur’anic recitation that are crucial in maintaining the ideal separation between the art of music and the art of reciting the Qur’an and in shaping the actual sound of recitation. The intent of the reciter, the expectations of the listener, their mutual responses, and the role of the media all interact to establish and, in the case of the media, to sanction the more musical recitation as ideal. Although the musicality of a recitation need not compromise its separateness from the art of music — indeed, it is generally recognized and accepted that musicality in Qur’anic recitation is important in drawing the listener more deeply into an act of religious devotion — still, there may be some resistance to the forces which encourage musicality in recitation, for it is also recognized that this very musicality may undermine the proper intent of recitation by transforming the act of devotion into mere musical entertainment. It is the personal attitude of the reciter towards these shaping forces which may determine the extent of musicality in his personal style.

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