Rewind- Trabzon

I came here from Capaddocia, where the only musical experience was while hanging out at a café waiting for my food. The music was geared towards the western tourists, and it sucked. Elton John tried his best to be bluesy, soulful. C’mon, leave that to us, Elton. The sights in the region there were surreal, really. And I fought off a little stomach problem, so it was nice to have a room and nice scenery to take short hikes.

So back on a bus, and off to one of the places that I was really looking forward to musically. Another long 11 hour bus ride, and at this point I was getting good at just resigning myself to long hours of complete boredom and uncomfortability. The one redeeming factor on these bus rides was the hand cologne that the attendant would spray on your hands periodically, or after a rest stop. A great smell and truly refreshing after long, stale hours just sitting there. This particular bus ride was different from the start-it was obvious I was going somewhere not many tourists ventured to, the stares from the people on the bus telling me that, not all of them very friendly. It was coming up on the end of Ramadan, and I was lucky to get on a bus at all, as everyone was traveling to visit family for the 3 day celebration of Eid, or the Sugar Festival as it is referred to in Turkey. So off I went, the only westerner on the bus.

As we approached the Black Sea Coast, it went from dry and hot to overcast and rainy. Vegetation covered the hills and sides of the road, something I hadn‘t seen for a while. We turned on to the coastal road, and we followed the Karadeniz for another couple hours until Trabzon, it raining the whole time. But the nice scenery changed again into urban Turkey as we approached Trabzon, a sizable city.

I had told myself to spend at least a week in Trabzon, to let the music of the region find me, hopefully finding some live music and stores. But as luck would have it, most everything was closed for the first three days I was there, in observance of the holidays. I did run into a music shop that had great kemence and tulum cd’s that I bought and listened to in my room. I familiarized myself more with the odd timings and infectious sounds of the black sea towns. I went to check if any of the live music venues were open, but they weren’t. I did manage to find two shops that were selling kemence karadeniz. One of the shops was selling them from a range of qualities- from cheaply made- to intermediate, playable ones- to professional grade, decorated ones. But again, the prices were steep. And I knew by now that with the kemence at least, it was more about the player than having a superbly crafted fiddle. They looked nice, with fake diamonds inlaid, etc., but that was unnecessary. The kemence karadeniz is, compared to the other Turkish instruments, a basic and rudimentary instrument, but the sounds that come out electrify the dancers and the people of the region.

So my mindset at this point in the trip was to play and look at as many of the instruments as possible, so I could judge what to buy later online. It seemed the most realistic way of buying the instruments, considering if I bought them now, I would be lugging them around Turkey, or paying the high price of shipping them home. And to boot, with the nice people back in Canakkale, I was shown the Turkish version of Ebay, and there were loads of high quality instruments for sale for much less than I was finding in these stores. In addition, as much as I asked, I couldn’t get a clear idea from where these instruments were made. I can of course understand a shop owner being hesitant about telling where he buys his product, when someone could just go buy from that source, so I didn’t prod excessively. But the answers I got were still very vague, only pointing towards the source being from the locality or nearby.

As it turned out, I had some memorable experiences in Trabzon, including an interesting experience with a Turkish communist and the police. I continued to explore the culinary delights of Turkey, now enjoying the different cuisine of the Karadeniz. Highlights were the great, cafeteria style restaurants that served excellent local food, finding a dish of the heart stopping, buttery corn meal dish- kuymuk- that I was looking for, and hanging out in the tea gardens, writing in my journal.

And when in Trabzon, especially at night, the café and restaurants would play the horon music with the kemence taking center stage. This wasn’t just folk music to be relegated to the past. It still very much invigorated the ears of the people here, it was the local music. The 5/4, 7/4 and 9/4 rhythms pumped out into the night, and put me into a kind of trance as I explored the city. Nowhere that I have been in the world yet has put so much emphasis on odd timings as they did there. It was actually unusual to hear a song in 4/4 here, and it lent to the uniqueness of the place, which I’m sure would have revealed more musical treasures had I stuck around more. But I wanted to see Rize, a smaller town down the coast where the music was just as important to daily life. And where the tulum, a Turkish version of the bagpipe, joined the kemence in the enchanting rhythms of the Karadeniz.

If you’re interested in hearing the sounds I speak of, see the videos I’ve posted previously in “Rhythms of the Black Sea Coast”.

Rewind- Konya

From Izmir, I happily took the slow train, not the bus, for 15 good hours through the dry Turkish countryside. I arrived in Ankara, thinking I’d be able to take another train to Konya- that wasn’t the case. After 2 uneventful- but of course food filled- days and nights in Ankara, I hopped a coach at the ultra modern bus station en route to Konya, just 6 hours or so.

Immediately upon arriving in Konya, I liked the feel. I think because it was night, it was calm, and the brightly lit tomb of Mevlana, or Rumi, was shining in the night as I traversed through the town and made my way through a peaceful graveyard. Konya is a conservative town, and I saw some interesting sights outside of the camii adjacent to the Rumi tomb. One evening during service, the crowd was so big that they filed in rows outside of the mosque. There was at least a thousand people on the grounds of the mosque, all facing towards the entrance as the Imam proceeded through the service. A powerful and sublime sight. At other times the camii was a nexus of activity, usually in the dusk hours and after evening prayers. As it was leading up to the Eid holiday when I was there, people were apt to be concentrating on the religious proceedings there.

I didn’t find the musical depth I had expected in Konya. It seems the music of the Sufi is still a source of pride, but it wasn’t widespread as I thought it’d be. I found a CD shop, but was hard pressed to find any instrument shops, even after many questions and trips out. One time I did stumble upon a small shop with a man making neys, the all important and expressive musical voice of Sufi music. A really lucky find, and I watched him whittle away and fit pieces on the flutes for a few minutes. I should have shot a video of him, but oh well, it didn‘t occur to me in that moment. As I was leaving, I asked him where I could find a kabak kemane, kemence, or rabab. He shrugged his shoulders.

But the next day, I ran into the right person- after finishing my breakfast lentil soup at a small restaurant, I asked the owner where I might find a particular address I had been told about. It was, however, another customer that dropped what he was doing to walk me to that store. It was over a mile away, and we passed his camera store on the way, where he was to be at work that day. When we arrived, he explained to the man working there my intention to find a kabak kemane. I thanked him profusely- it was an extremely generous act.

At that shop I met Mustafa, the worker there. He showed me the kabak kemanes that they had, but they weren’t made well and didn’t work properly, the strings not having enough action to produce notes. So we looked at baglamas, which they had dozens of, and he explained the differences in the types of wood, emphasizing-as had a man in a shop in Istanbul- the importance of dut wood in the body of the instrument for a better sound. Dut, I found out, is apparently a very dense hardwood found in the region. I played a little, and so did another helper in the store. It was interesting that he picked a song in 5/4 to play right off the bat. It reinforced to me the command that many Turkish people have of different rhythms, ones often foreign or hard to grasp to western ears.

After we had finished looking at instruments, Mustafa asked where I was going after Konya. I told him Cappadocia, then the black sea coast, and parts of eastern Turkey, where I didn’t know exactly yet. He took the next hour to tell me of different towns I should go to, and he looked every one up on the computer to show me pictures of the towns and the highlights that I should go for. It was fun hanging out there, as well as being educational, and it was all made possible by the nice man who didn’t ignore my helplessness and took an extraordinary amount of time to show me to that store.
So the next day I was ready to leave, but I left Konya with good experiences in mind.

Rewind- Izmir

From Canakkale to Bergama. The ruins of Pergama were amazing. I went early in the morning and imagined what it would have looked like in Roman times. Of course I’m glad I went, but not much in the way of music while I was there. After two days, I made my way to Izmir, the third largest city in Turkey.
In Izmir I met Tuba and Kursat Terci. Tuba was the cousin of Cem Egesel, who I had stayed with in Canakkale. If it wasn’t enough to be introduced to all those kind people at his school and then meeting Filiz Bodur, he made sure I went to visit Tuba, his cousin. Her husband Kursat was a classical guitar teacher at the conservatory of music at the private college there, and Cem figured he’d be a great resource to learn more about the traditional music forms of Turkey.
I met Tuba, Kursat and two of their friends the first night for a fantastic dinner of mezes- my first time- I had been told of this dish, or dishes, a Turkish specialty. The plan was to go see an open air jazz performance by a band from Istanbul afterwards. On the drive over, one of their friends asked me if I had read the author Tom Robbins as it was one of her favorite authors. It was a surprising question, being so far away from home, but also because he’s one of my favorite authors and I wondered how his quirky and creative use of the English language would translate into Turkish. Damn, gotta love things like that.
The space for the concert was an old factory converted into public grounds. It was nice. The band mainly performed jazz standards, and the lady sang the familiar songs with a heavy Turkish accent. The people were diggin’ the western sound and the band played well, but lacking the latent force and backbeat that makes a good American jazz band so rewarding to listen to.
During the concert, Kursat relayed to me the complex history of the Turkish Republic in relation to the music of the country and incidentally at his school (see previous blog entry). It was incredibly enlightening both towards the history of the region, but of the role music has played in the psyche of the people in this land.
The next day I went to meet Tuba and Kursat at their school. They both were professors there. Kursat a music teacher as I mentioned, and Tuba an English literature teacher. Tuba and I had a great talk over coffee and lunch while we waited to meet up with Kursat. She told me of her amazing journey towards teaching, which included her quitting school before high school. The way she was being taught didn’t jive with her way of learning, and she was aware enough to do something about it then. Years after, after finding out what her true passion was, initially being spurred by interest in Native American studies (the way she was led to this is another fascinating topic on it’s own, but personal to her I think), she quickly finished her high school degree, going on to college then finishing her graduate school work in her mid 30’s. She is now a professor at a major college. It was inspiring not for the length of education or the type. It was inspiring because of how she did it. She only went through with intensive class based learning when it was something she felt was important. Before that she read voraciously and was led to a lifelong passion. I related not only to her disenchantment with general classroom learning in the teenage years, but also found inspiration from her in finding her passion and following it no matter what the age. We tend to think life comes in chunks and phases, and that those phases correlate to certain ages. While sometimes true, it’s great when the rules are broken, showing that this life still contains many surprises and we can learn things at unexpected times.
The intention that day was to go to the traditional music section of their school and meet with one of the instrument makers there, possibly talking to professors as well. But it was bad timing as it was a friday, and everyone had went home early. I wouldn’t be around on Monday when they resumed studies. Damn, but it was a rewarding trip nonetheless. Although I didn’t get to see any traditional music in Izmir, I learned many things from the great discussions I had.

Past and Present

In Izmir, I had met Toba and Kursat Terci. Toba was the cousin of Cem, whose house I stayed at in Canakkale, with his wife Basak and son Dogu. That night, Toba, Kursat, me and two of their friends were all sitting on the grass of a factory turned public space. The old windows of the brick buildings were lit up in a soft red, and it gave the sprawling place an eerie congruity. It reinforced that it was out of use, but now used for something entirely different. A good use I think-cafes and an outdoor stage, where acts played in open air concerts.
The band playing that night was a jazz quartet. They were playing standards and the woman singing was belting them out in a loud, smoky, Turkish accented English. The band was alright, but they were missing the backbeat, the subtle force that makes us Americans unique in the music world.
I was to there to meet Kursat, who was a classical guitar teacher at the university, and it would be a possible chance to track down some Turkish instruments. The plan for the next day was that we head to the university and go to the traditional Turkish and folk music section of the conservatory. There we could watch luthiers making hand made traditional instruments, and meet some of the teachers and students of these musical forms. Kursat, however, let me know that his school, the western classical section, was kept ideologically separated from the traditional school. He said professors and students of these schools rarely interacted and shared their music. And he explained how it actually was related to the political history of the young Turkish republic:
Bear in mind I don’t have a perfect memory-far from it- and that this is nowhere near an exhaustive history; But he explained it something like this:
The long and incredibly varied history of these lands is reflected in the dozens of folk forms found in Turkey. Influences come from all around this region, incorporated over the last few thousand years. About 700 years ago, the Ottoman empire tightened it’s grip on the surrounding area, and maintained that grip for 600 years. The breadth of the empire, consisting of present day Greek, Persian, Middle East, Arabian, and North African lands, influenced the Ottoman culture, and you see that reflected even today in the food, music and traditions of the Turkish people.
Over time, and especially during the very complicated political events of the late 19th century, into the 20th and in large part because of the first world war, the Ottoman empire dwindled, and was and sectioned off by European powers (pick up a history book for this part). The dramatic beginnings of the Turkish republic involved Ataturk and his army essentially saving Istanbul and Thrace- the remaining parts of the once huge Ottoman empire- from attacking Greek and European powers, along with the remnants of the defeated Ottoman rulers. These dramatic years alone are a source of great pride for many Turks, not to mention what he did afterwards, and what lead Turks to claim Ataturk as the father of their nation.
He then, in the 1920‘s, instituted major reforms, such as outlawing Arabic and creating a roman based Turkish alphabet. Also making the new government secular, breaking with the religious rulers of the past, outlawing the traditional Islamic dress of men and women, and giving women the right to vote before European nations did the same. It didn’t stop there. It was a sudden and forceful shift, and essentially a shift towards the west.
And, as Kursat explained, the political necessities of the new republic- when Ataturk founded a new state going away from the traditions of the past- made it necessary for Turkey to look away from it’s traditions and folk forms a little. In the supposed interest of a successful nation, Ataturk banned many traditional Turkish cultural expressions. Kursat further explained that folk music, and the music of the Ottoman empire, was not as valued as before, and sometimes associated with the “sick man of Europe”, as the Ottoman Empire grew to be known in the late 19th century. So entered western classical music, among other forms of western music. The changes instituted in the 20’s made it possible for these forms to thrive here, while certain folk forms languished.
But now, he said, this was changing, and as an example, he used the folk section of the conservatory. This was a relatively new idea in a major university, and there was now a struggle to reconcile the paths of these two very different musical forms in the school. Now, he said, Turkish people were reaching back to their roots, and becoming more interested in the folk music. He thought this was necessary- to reconcile these two histories, these two ideas. So as good as this was, the intentions and ideologies of the two sections of his school were still at odds. He said that most people in the two respective schools didn’t interact with the other, and the sharing of knowledge between the schools was limited.
He related this to present day Turkey, where people are proudly reaching back to their roots, while at the same time reaching towards the west, EU accession being the prime issue.
The way I made sense of it, it seemed that now that the Turkish people have a functioning, stable and in many ways self sufficient country has allowed them to look back and be proud of who they are, but they still have to contend with an ever changing world. One in which the ideas and money of the west are always beckoning from next door.

Rewind- Canakkale

While staying with the Egesels in Canakkale, I was extremely well taken care of. Their company and the food served was excellent. And after learning that the purpose of my trip was musical, they showed me everything they could about Turkish music.
This started with watching the excellent traditional music programs on the different channels of Turkish national TV. There were at least 3 channels dedicated to documentary type musical shows each night.
The next day, Cem took me to the university where he is a professor of agriculture, specializing in genetics. Not only was it interesting to talk with him, but he introduced me to multiple people there tied to the music department. Every one of them went out of their way to give me names of musicians, or help me find them and their performances on youtube (which wasn't blocked on the university server). One gentleman, who was a violinist and collector of traditional instruments, was currently learning how to play the classical kemence. He called his teacher and asked her if we could meet up later that night. She said yes, and we agreed to meet that night at 9 at her husband's shop.
Undoubtedly, this was one of the musical highlights of my trip. I feel very lucky to have had the chance to meet and listen to Filiz Bodur play the classical kemence. I posted one video of her on a previous post, but here are a couple more:

Filiz Bodur- Kemencevi from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

Filiz- Tango from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

The other people in these videos are Basak Egesel and their child Dogu, and the nice guy who introduced me to Filiz. I'm sorry, but I forgot his name.

The morning that I left Canakkale, Basak wanted us to stop by her work. She worked at the directorate of agriculture for Canakkale county. It was very interesting to talk to her about the similarities and differences of agriculture processes to ours at home- including the budding organic movement in Turkey that was being spearheaded on two islands off the coast near Canakkale. Her idea was to have me play some music from the states for the people she worked with. As it was pretty early in the morning, I wasn't enthusiastic about this surprise concert at first. But seeing as I was treated to such hospitality, and fortunate enough to see such good music while I was there, I swallowed my reservations. And it turned out to be a great experience. I played some folk and bluegrass music, a couple originals of mine, and two Turkish songs- all I knew then. Her fellow workers seemed to like it, and it created a connection that language couldn't. We said goodbye with smiles and warm feelings shared. And like that, Cem, Basak and Dogu saw me off on a bus towards Pergamon and Izmir.

Rewind- Istanbul

The music going through my head, the sounds that I’ve heard in the last two months. So varied, so diverse, it’s tempting to try to tie them all together, to learn some collective lesson from them all- to claim that they all have a common strain. To a certain extent they do I think, but the beauty is that each type of music I heard represented a unique influence of culture and tradition. Now I’m in the Dominican Republic (of all places after the middle east) visiting a friend, where I’m looking forward to hearing salsa, bachata, merengue and other Caribbean rhythms. However this is mostly a chance to stop, relax and meditate on what I’ve experienced. So…

The trip started in Istanbul, where initially I was in awe of the ubiquitous muezzin call. The strong but sonorous a-capella song would echo throughout the city, repeated by the next mosque nearby. It seemed to dominate life and set a schedule for the day. Of course, that’s the purpose, to remind people of the need to pray; but I think because it was all new to me, I was in awe of the exotic nature of it. Here is the muezzin call during the busy Iftar festival outside the Blue Mosque:

Iftar Festival, Muezzin Call-Blue Mosque from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

Even though I had told myself to take a day or two to adjust, the second day there I went in search of the instrument shops near the Galata tower that I had researched and read about before. It was an amazing, winding street, going down the hill from the Galata tower, lined with 30 to 40 different music shops. There were baglamas, kabak kemanes, Turkish rababs, classical kemences, kemence karadeniz, ouds, kanuns, violins, tamburs, neys, darbukas, cumbus, and other instruments as well. I was like a kid in a candy shop, and I tried to soak up everything I could from the shop owners about the price and quality of these instruments. The highlight was the kabak kemane made at the Conservatory of Music at the University of Istanbul. It was very nice, but he wanted 650 Lira for it. Even if I talked him down, it was too expensive for me, and it would be hard to sell for a profit back home.

The first live music I heard was on the way back that day, the group busking off of Istiklal Caddesi:

Zaragune from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

The next day I saw what I think was gypsy music being played as an advertisement outside of a restaurant:

A Very Good Advertisement-Istanbul from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

And the music at the Iftar festival outside of the Blue Mosque

And when Yesim took me to the mall, there was a trio playing old Ottoman classical music, with tambur, classical kemence and the singer playing the tef.
On a walk back home to my hotel one night, I saw a little shop, owned by a man, Oktay Bulgu, who was making traditional Turkish instruments as well as artwork he displayed on the walls. He was a very interesting guy, and he told me a little about the difference between the forms of Turkish, Arabic and western music. He talked about maqams, the uniqueness of the Turkish scale and song structures found in the music. It was great to meet him, and see the work he was doing. He had a nice Turkish rebab that he had made, but he was definitely after the tourist dollar, charging way too much for the instruments and the lessons he offered. I decided not to buy an instrument from him or take a lesson, and hold out hope that I could find something similar but cheaper down the road. Whether that was the best move, I'll never know- maybe I'll have to go back! But as I was leaving, he told me to look him up on youtube- I didn't have a chance to do that until now. This is a clip of him at his shop on national Turkish TV-which has outstanding musical programs by the way.


Over the next couple days, after asking around some more, I found out that there might be another spate of music shops in Istanbul. I set out twice looking for this area, and found it the second time. There were about 5 different shops here, a couple of the bigger ones selling western instruments, and if there were any traditional instruments, they were cheaply made. But I found two smaller shops that were selling traditional instruments, and had the chance to talk with the owner of one. He basically had all the instruments I was looking for, but only one very high quality one- he showed me a very nice kabak kemane, letting me play it and get a feel for this instrument. Whether handmade or not, I look back now and realize how lucky I was to be able to aquaint myself with all these instruments over the first week being there. I probably should have bought one or two instruments from there as well, but I had a mind to find handmade instruments from the people actually making them- no music shops or middlemen. Perhaps naively, I expected these people to be outside the big city; but I had expected cheaper prices as well, so I waited. It also occurred to me at this point that it would be possible to contact all these people via email and have instruments shipped back home if I wanted to. So I collected all their contact info if in the future I go this route.

Tel Aviv

I heard a few musicians play here, including an accordionist playing klezmer. It was great but I didn't have the camera. This clip is good though because it also shows a slice of Tel Aviv city life- the people as they busily pass by, the cars rushing behind me, the graffiti on the wall- juxtaposed with Violin Man's slow, melodic song.

Violin Man- Tel Aviv, Israel from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

And while sipping coffee at a cafe in nearby Jaffa, I noticed the music. It had a Turkish and central Asian sound. I asked the owner and he told me their name- Diwan Saz. They're an Israeli band recreating traditional Turkish, Azeri, and Persian songs. They're using instruments that I was looking for like the kabak kemane and bowed tambur, among others. It was interesting to me because like me, they're not native to those countries, but have an appreciation for the music. And it seemed appropriate I would hear that right before I left the middle east. Almost a bookend to the trip in a musical sense. Here's a video they made:

Journey

This trip was based around the idea of music. Of finding specific instruments and also documenting the different musical expressions of the cultures I ran into. To that end I have found so much, and have been infinitely fascinated by the new sounds. So you’d think they would completely occupy my mind.
It’s funny the actual music going through my head. For instance:

The night before going through the Petra ruins, I was joking with fellow travelers that we’d be humming the Indiana Jones theme while running through the ruins. But something went horribly wrong, and the theme from Dallas got stuck in my head. As hard as I tried to remember the Indi Jones song, fuckin' Dallas would spring up again as I bounded across rocks and ruins. Good lord!
And now, in Jerusalem, I’m rockin’ to the sounds of some metal that a friend sent over email, and while walking down the street, singing “Lights” by Journey. I think it’s the two month homesickness that I heard about. But it struck me how perfect that song was for my situation, so here it is, in all it’s poetic supremacy, by a group of traveling balladiersmen from the same town as I:

When the lights go down in the city,
and the sun shines on the bay,
ooh i want to be there, in my city,
oh-oh oh-oh-oh

So you think your lonely
well my friend I'm lonely too
I want to get back, to my city by the bay,
Whoa-ooh-oh, oh-oh-oh

Its sad ohh,
there’s been mornings out on the road without you,
without your charms
oh-oh-oh-oh nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah,
oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

When the lights go down in the city
and the sun shines on the bay
ooh i want to be there, in my city, oh-ooh-oh-oh
Whoa-ooh-oh, oh-oh-oh

Pretty sure I got all the ohhs and ohs, it's very important with Journey, that's their specialty.

It’s not surprising I’d miss home. It’s hot as hell here (appropriate in the holy land) and there are only rocks. I think about the refreshing breeze of home, the wonderful escape of the green hills across the bay, the endless waters of the Pacific, and the people and places that make it home. While the wind chilled me to the bone before and that damned city was so frustrating, I’m missing it a little. But I left for a reason, and I’m finding even more reasons now, so I’m gonna give it some more time. In the meantime, thank God- or Allah or Yahweh, or whatever the hell they’re calling him or her or it in the next town- thank you for music. I don’t need a religion, I just need a good song, like this one. And... maybe a little time in the Dominican Republic, yeah, maybe that.

This video was filmed in my other hometown. Watch Neil rock out with the Jewish fro!

Jerusalem's Music

There's a decent bit of music on the streets of Jerusalem. Saw this mandolin man at the beginning of Ben Yehuda St., which is lined with shoppers and buskers. Some groups of youngsters with guitars play and sing just for fun. Kinda nice. The Arab music plays in the shops lining the Muslim souq in the old city, and one of my favorite experiences was of an a-capella Islamic song played on someone's cell phone on the way to Bethlehem in a sherut. There's no denying the western vibe of some of the Jewish parts of town- it's not unusual to hear a very American brand of English being spoken. Not surprising, but to hear this song was. It's a band playing what sounds like the old American folk song Big Rock Candy Mountain. Interesting because the song was about a hobo's hopeful but sarcastic version of paradise- might be a good analogy to this place.

Hard Rock Candy Mountain- Jerusalem from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

Bedouin Music at Petra

A very serene experience. Two musicians played the rebab and flute in the towering ruins of the Treasury. Beautiful.

Rebab at Petra from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

Yacine in Damascus

I met this very nice man in Damascus. His name is Yacine, and he's Kurdish. Originally from around Diyarbakir, Turkey, he lived in Lebanon for a while, and now in Damascus. He stopped me in the Damascus old city, and invited me to hear him play music at his apartment. It was a great experience, more so because he also had a Rebab at his place, one of the instruments I am looking for. He played this, the baglama, and the flute, showing me Syrian, Lebanese, and Kurdish songs. I was able to play the rebab as well and then picked up the drum to accompany him on baglama.
Then after he helped me find a place for my laundry, we picked up some fuul, prepared the herbs (mint, watercress) at his place, ate and played more music. An amazing experience and an extremely welcoming man. He wanted nothing more than to meet and learn what he could from a foreigner, while showing me some of his culture.

Kemal Kabbani Concert

I was walking down the street in Aleppo, and almost passed up a music store. Something made me double back, and I'm glad I did. The nice old man in the store played CDs of the unique music of Aleppo for me and sold me a few albums. Then I asked if there was any live music in the next couple days. He went to check a concert poster he had in the store. Excitedly, he said there was a concert tonight! And by a student of the most famous Aleppo singer and musician, Sabah Fakhri. "Enjoy- I was very lucky", he said, and also- it was free. So I went to the concert, it was amazing of course, and an insight into some parts of Syrian culture. This is a little bit of what I saw:

Kemal Kabbani Orchestra in Aleppo, Syria from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

Kemal Kabbani Orchestra-Aleppo, Syria from Jason Williams on Vimeo.

Mardin Music

I walked past this music shop in Mardin where these two guys were playing Kurdish music. Lucky timing.

Mardin Music from Jason Williams on Vimeo.