Qawwali
is the ecstatic Sufi music of India and Pakistan. It is similar in
form to other Indian musical genres and is often performed at festivals and
gatherings, but “Sufiana” qawwali has unique characteristics related to its
spiritual function. For centuries, Sufi communities of the Indian sub-continent
have sustained this tradition of qawwali in the mehfil-e-sama, the
“assembly for listening,” which remains a central ritual and practice of
Chishti sufi orders.
In qawwali, mystical poetry and sacred utterances are sung by a group that is guided by one or two lead singers. The singers, or qawwals, use a call-and-response format and a fluid style of alternating solo and group passages characterized by improvisation and repetition. As in all Indian song, this repetition, with slight variations of melody, tone, and emphasis, takes the listener deeper towards intense feeling and release, and beyond that towards the unity within.
Qawwalis may be in Persian, Urdu, early Hindi, or other north Indian languages. Many are in praise of God, the Prophet Muhammad, his friend Ali, or a beloved saint or teacher. Others express yearning for the Beloved, the delight of intense mystical experience, a questioning of institution and dogma, or an existential bemusedness in the face of life’s ever-teaching dance. The accompanying instruments are usually one or two harmoniums, a dholak -- a two-faced drum, and sometimes flutes and zithers. A qawwali may go on for 15-20 minutes, and the music usually develops a dynamic pulse that is propelled and punctuated by the hand clapping of the chorus (a biofeedback system for energizing the heart).
Some musical historians credit qawwali musicians with reinvigorating the North Indian classical music tradition, moving it from the staid grandeur of dhrupad to the flexible and unparalleled emotional vocabulary of khyal and thumri. Others dismiss qawwals as marginal performers singing a hybrid of folk music and liturgy to which they have added some classical refrains and embellishments. To their loyal listeners and followers, though, qawwals have been candles who burn with the flame of the great Sufi poets, as different and as the great as the musicians of any tradition of the people. Indian qawwals have ranged from great melodic improvisers who sang within the classical musical tradition; to poets who composed verses spontaneously, matching mood and moment with mystical inspiration; to hereditary musicians who are repositories of a living tradition and know over a thousand compositions by heart and sing them within a framework of sama protocol with such grace and sensitivity as to make it all seem effortless, exalted, and free.
Our programmes are about singing qawwali, not just listening to it and our approach to learning and teaching qawwali is twofold. On the one hand, we learn traditional qawwalis from the Chishti sufi tradition (such as Aaj Rang Hai Re Maa, Man Kun-to Maula, Allah-Hu) and the Punjabi-Sindhi/Qalandari tradition (Masth Qalandar, Terey Ishq Nachaya). On the other hand we explore qawwali in a creative and primary way, from basics of voice production, raga scales and simple melodies to song structure and rhythms, to improvisation and connection to commitment and flow ... to song.
To make qawwali more accessible, we also work with qawwalis in English. One example is a qawwali based on “Thy Music Causeth My Soul to Dance,” a poem by Sufi Inayat Khan set to music in a Western arrangement by his brother Maheboob Khan. Others are an original composition called “Here We Come Turning” which includes poetry by Rumi, “Just Sit There,” based on the poetry of Hafiz, and “Polishing the Beads,” another original work. All these are open, flexible song frameworks used to explore the potential and dynamics of qawwali.
We also explore qawwali as a spiritual experience, going deep into the meanings of the texts, their connection to our feelings, and the natural movements that arise from the energy of the songs. Like those creative mental tools called mind maps, qawwalis are spirit maps -- non-linear, rhythmic, associative, describing the landscape of our dreams and desires ...
No prior experience, musical training, or vocal and instrumental skill is required. If you have never sung before, and never hope to, this is the place to bring your silence and your desire. You can dance — sing — watch — join in — drop out at any time. Bring a musical instrument if you would like to play it. Wear comfortable, loose clothing to move in. Somewhere in yourself just be willing to listen. Yes, qawwali is music-making, but it is also sama: audition, listening, absorbing, inhering, staying with the threefold unity of text, music, and occasion -- maybe we could call it becoming the music.
I believe qawwali is a brilliant, flexible form that gives us space to
satisfy those parts of us that are often not reached by other practices and
rituals. Qawwali offers a theater for spiritual literacy, for learning and
tuning the metaphors and images, the language and the connections that fill the
space between the Divine and us. Spiritual literacy is about discovering and
describing that terrain that we can then fly across on the wings of the heart
to get from thought and feeling to spirit and surrender.
On a personal level, qawwali gives me a place to sing devotionally without needing to suppress my intensity; the opportunity to improvise and play with the melody and the rhythm; a sustained musical development and landscape from tranquil to desperate and everywhere in-between; a place to integrate my love of poetry and lyrics with musical expression; a place to find and make the spiritual associations that over time become a language describing the home of my soul.
For all of it’s tradition and age, qawwali is a dynamic and contemporary form, one that does not depend on language or even cultural background. I feel that with practice, creativity, and grace we can all make qawwalis that will speak to the heart of every person, so that we see the light “come shining, from the west unto the east.” It is not just about singing but much more ... I have a vision of this form, and all kinds of ideas for new English or free-language qawwalis, and how these can become ways to write poetry, write song, create chants and free-form improvisations and “raps” so that we can free ourselves into a fuller dimension of musical and poetic expression and exploration while we also practice with intention and focus to create a group that is musically strong and able to perform within the form while expanding the form.
Yet there is no doubt that some of the traditional qawwalis are among the most beautiful and moving musical pieces I have heard ... and the electric joy when a good qawwal brings a fresh understanding or a new verse or a breathtaking melodic tangent into a performance is something very special. And the bravery of tireless repetition for the sake of the listener, and the growing understanding that the gathering is happening here and also, at the same moment, There, in the home of the beloved, is rooted in the history of this music and the depth of the teachers and musicians who have held it, inspired it and offered it to all of us.
There is a level on which all musical performance is show, is vain, self-conscious, the child in us shouting “look at me, look at me.” But that’s all right, that’s human. That’s who we are. We are doing this to get the attention of — and share our joy, our thanks with — the Creator who made us this way, gave us these impulses, these needs, and this spirit. I find the dynamic between individual and group and leader in qawwali makes room for doing this almost magically, for starting wherever we are and engaging in a journey that brings us to a place where we open our eyes as if for the first time and discover we are all together, as one, as none, rocking gently on the water in a boat that we all feel is home….