Hearts and Minds Three Attitudes Toward Performance Practice and Music Theory in The Yemen Arab Republic

Hearts and Minds: Three Attitudes toward Performance Practice and Music Theory in the
Yemen Arab Republic

Author(s): Philip D. Schuyler
Source: Ethnomusicology, Vol. 34, No. 1 (Winter, 1990), pp. 1-18
Published by: University of Illinois Press on behalf of Society for Ethnomusicology
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Hearts and Minds: Three Attitudes toward
Performance Practice and Music Theory
in the Yemen Arab Republicl
PHILIP D. SCHUYLER UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND

BALTIMORE COUNTY
La premiere preoccupation du theoricien en musique-comme en tout art, en

toute science-est de resumer, de classifier les faits constates dans la pratique.
Or le fait primordial dans toute musique est constitue par les intervalles de
sons qui lui sont propres. Etablir une suite de sons qui serait la synthese de
tous ces intervalles tel est donc le premier souci du theoricien en musique.
(d'Erlanger 1949:1)
T hus begins Baron Rodolphe d'Erlanger's study of Arab scales and modes,
the first part of his "Essai de codification des regles usuelles de la
musique arabe moderne," which, along with a study of rhythm and form,
takes up the final third of his monumental six-volume work, La Musique
arabe. D'Erlanger's opening sentence could well stand as a succinct state-
ment of purpose for the discipline of ethnomusicology. But debate would
certainly arise over which of the "facts witnessed in practice" was, in fact,
"primordial." Naturally enough, the people who actually make the music
that we study have their own ideas on the matter. The analysis of intervals
and scales in the Arab world is an absorbing subject, but my work in the
1The research for this paper was carried out in the Yemen Arab Republic over a period of 18
months between July 1985 and August 1987. Research was supported by grants from the
Fulbright-Hays Faculty Research Abroad program and the Career Development Program of
Columbia University. The paper was written at the National Humanities Center, Research
Triangle Park, North Carolina, under grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities
and the Social Science Research Council. The paper was originally presented at the 33rd Annual
Meeting of the Society for Ethnomusicology, Tempe, Arizona, under the title "Moving the Body
and Moving the Heart: Attitudes toward Rhythm and Melody in the Yemen Arab Republic." I
am indebted to John Chernoff, Peter Manuel, Walter Feldman, Jihad Racy, and George Sawa,
all of whom read earlier drafts of the paper and offered many useful comments and suggestions.
2 Ethnomusicology, Winter 1990
Yemen Arab Republic suggests that it is not necessarily the primary concern
of performers or scholars.
When I first began work in ;anca', a number of Yemeni colleagues and
informants assumed that the purpose of my research was to produce tran-
scriptions of Yemeni melodies. This was a goal that musicians and intellec-
tuals could understand, even if they would not be able to read the results.
But when I acknowledged that notation might well be one of the tools I
would use in my study, the very people who had suggested that I transcribe
told me it could not be done. "People have tried," said one, "but no one
gets it right. There have been experts (khubara') from Egypt, and they said
it was impossible." Others went even further: "There is no theory for our
songs," one acquaintance put it, "just as there is no grammar for our lan-
guage.
From a Western point of view, of course, they were wrong on both
counts. Linguists can, and have, devised grammars for various local dialects
of Yemeni colloquial Arabic. But for Yemenis, like most Muslim Arabs, there
is only one grammar worthy of the name, the grammar of classical Arabic.
Similarly, though Yemenis recognize the existence of an academic theory
or science of music (Cilm al-musiqa), they deny that it can be applied to
their own songs, not because the songs are unworthy, but because they are
beyond analysis.
The science of music has a long and distinguished history in Arab
scholarship, dating back to Al-Kindi's interpretation of Greek theory and
Al-Farabi's experimentation with intervals and his systematization of meter.
Educated Yemenis in general are aware of the Medieval theoretical treatises
through their studies of the history of literature and science. Musicians are
aware of a more recent offspring of the tradition: contemporary Egyptian
solfege, a combination of systematist Turkish theory and French pedagogy,
developed in part under the influence of d'Erlanger.2 This composite theory
has focused on the calculation of intervals, the nature of melodic modes
(maqam), the organization of metric cycles (iqaC), and compositional forms.
In relation to Arab theory and the norms of Middle Eastern (shargi) perform-
ance practice, Yemeni song style is indeed a kind of dialect.
The melodies, meters, and forms of Yemeni music are clearly part of
the same general system that links all the traditional art musics of the Middle
East, but, at least until the 1960s, they developed in relative isolation from
the intellectual centers of Beirut, Damascus, and Cairo. Performers of tradi-
tional Yemeni music never created an ensemble style or an independent
instrumental repertory, let alone a system of musical analysis to account for
the details of their melodic and metric structures. Even today, theory,
whether antique or modern, has little influence on everyday discourse about
music in Yemen; for most musicians, maqam as a musical term refers to
Hearts and Minds 3
pitch level, not melodic mode, while iqaC can refer to any
instrument or, more precisely, to a set of bongo drums.
In this article I would like to look at theory from the per
three groups of Yemeni musicians:3 1) Nashshadin, unaccompanie
who preside over funerals, weddings, and other auspicious o
fannaCnn, solo singer/Cfd-players who perform at weddings
parties; and finally, 3) orchestral musicians attached to the Minist
mation and Culture, whom I will call muwadhdbafin (function
of the musicians who provided data for the article reside in
;anca', and they have much in common beyond their residence. T
a number of ideas about music and even sing some of the sam
different groups regularly share time on the radio, at weddings,
stage at state-sponsored events. Indeed, individual performer
back and forth from one group to another: many afannan began
life as a chanter, and almost every orchestral musician performs
as a solo fannan. Together, the three groups make up the mu
Yemen.
At the same time, nashshadin, fannanin, and muwadhdhbfin can

distinguished from one another on the basis of preferred texts, instrum
tation, vocal style, performance venues, performers' dress, political outl
religious practices, and attitudes toward alcohol-among other thin
2The famous 1932 Cairo Congress on Arab Music, organized at d'Erlanger's behest, was in
mental in reviving (and in some cases creating) an interest in systematic analysis, from Mo
to Iraq. D'Erlanger's report to the Congress, dealing with maqam and iqaC, appeared in
first in the Arabic edition of the Proceedings (Kitab 1933). When a French edition (
1934) was published the following year, d'Erlanger's report was reprinted in the or
Arabic. A prefatory note indicated that the author had not authorized a translation of the a
in anticipation of the publication of his own version in French (Receuil 1934:176). But d'Erla
had in fact died in October of 1932, only a few months after the close of the Congres
French translation of his work on maqam did not appear until 1949, with the publicat
Volume V of La musique arabe, and the translation of his work on iqac (Volume VI) d
appear for another ten years after that. The material was therefore available in Arabic,
in preliminary form, long before its publication in French. In the interim, the approach
Congress in general, and d'Erlanger's work in particular, had had an impact on a numb
modern Arab theorists, including Salim al-Hilu, Fu'ad Mahfuz, and Sam! al-Shawwa (
1988). Yemenis may not be aware of d'Erlanger himself, nor even of the Congress, since
did not send a delegation. But Yemeni musicians who studied in Cairo would certainl
encountered the ideas of his successors.
3Throughout the paper I will use "music" and "musician" in a broad Western sense, to cover
any or all of the groups under discussion. Yemeni Arabic has no term to embrace all three
groups. As I will demonstrate, however, the nashshdin in particular would object to being
called "musicians," even though to Western ears their recitation is manifestly musical. With
the exception of the women's trio in the National Orchestra, all the musicians under discussion
are men. The two women singers that I was able to interview expressed musical ideas similar
to those of thefanninin. But I was unable to get an idea of how women talked about music
among themselves, since their musical gatherings were completely inaccessible to me.
Within the larger world of modern Yemen and the sphere of elite musicians,
the groups represent distinct conceptual and ideological realms.
MusIC AND MUSICIANS IN THE YEMEN ARAB REPUBLIC
For over one thousand years, from 890 C.E. to 1962, Yemen was a
theocratic state ruled almost continuously by a series of Imams, who owed
their legitimacy, in part, to their descent from the Prophet Muhammad.4
Under the Imamate, Yemeni society was highly stratified. As Tomas Gerholm
has pointed out, the ranking of the middle rungs of the social ladder (includ-
ing merchants, craftsmen, and peasants) seems to vary according to th
situation and the reporter, but all observers agree on the upper and lower
ends of the hierarchy (Gerholm 1977:105). At the top, in terms of prestige
if not always actual power, were the descendants of the Prophet (sayyid
pl.: sada) and the judges or administrators (qad4i, pl.: qud4at). At the bottom
were the serving classes of butchers, bathkeepers, barbers (muzayyin, pl
mazayanah), and streetsweepers (khadim, pl.: akhdim, lit.: "servants").
The maziyanah and akhdam were also the principal purveyors of profes-
sional entertainment in rural Yemen, in the Highlands and along the Re
Sea Coast respectively.5
Yemenis, like many other Muslim peoples, have always been divided
in their attitudes toward music. Certain kinds of music, such as religiou
hymns, work songs, and military marches have been accepted almost without
question, while more frivolous songs and instrumental music have been
viewed as dangerous distractions from prayer and labor (cf. al-Faruqi 1985;
Sawa 1985). The debate over music, in Yemen or elsewhere, has never been
a simple dispute between right-thinking religious notables and low-clas
degenerates; rather, the division runs through all levels of society. Over the
centuries, qu4at and sada, including some Imams, have been among th
most avid patrons (and sometimes performers) of Yemeni secular song. But
other rulers and administrators have been more "narrow minded" (muta-
zammit). In this century, under the rule of the Hamid-ud-Din Imams Yahya
(r. 1904-48) and Ahmad (r. 1948-62), licentious singing and the use of
melodic instruments were punishable offences. Mazayanah and akhdim,
living mainly in villages, were generally immune from prosecution, bu
4For a good overview of the long and complex political history of Yemen, see Stookey 1978
The ten qualifications of a proper Imam are listed on pp. 84-85.
5The traditional Yemeni status hierarchy has been a subject of fascination for many wester
scholars. Gerholm's discussion of "The Realm of Status" (1977:102-58) remains the best exp-
lication of the criteria for stratification. Adra's dissertation on dance and tribal identity deal
at length with the mazayanah (1982:42-86), while Walter's dissertation on social inequalit
(1987) focuses on the akhdam. For a comparable study of the status of musicians (and barbers
in Afghanistan, see Sakata 1983.
Hearts and Minds 5
musicians and music lovers in the cities were in constant jeopa

arrested and having their instruments-including radios and
destroyed by the Imams' police.
The republican Revolution of 26 September 1962 officia
the class system and liberated the art of music from roya
There is no doubt that the Yemen Arab Republic today is
mobile, and egalitarian state than was the Mutawakkilite K
Hamid-ud-Dins. Nevertheless, remnants of the old social hiera
be seen in the behavior of the people, and the republican regi
fostered the growth of new elite groups in the military, civil
commerce (cf. ash-Sharjabi 1986:278-91). Although musicians n
arrest for simple possession of an instrument, the governmen
exercise strict control over public performances, and many pr
hold secular music in low regard. Tracts against listening
circulate in the bookstores of $anca'. It is therefore not surpr
nashsbhadn,fannanin, and muwabdbhafin all try to disassociat
in one way or another from the idea of professionalism, ente
even from music itself.
All three groups are, in fact, linked to the upper classes. Nashshadln
andfannainn have traditionally come from the middle and upper levels
of society, and before the Revolution, they performed almost exclusively
for s&da and qud. t. Today they perform for anyone who can reward them
for their services (not necessarily financially), but they still prefer to sing
for an audience of connoisseurs from the old aristocracy. Muwadhdhafin
come from all levels of society, but they are now employees of the govern-
ment, and so prefer to identify themselves with the new bureaucratic elite.
The musicians also gain status through their choice of musical material.
The nashshadin and fannanfn rely primarily on a repertory of songs in
both Yemeni dialect and classical Arabic, written between the 16th and early
20th centuries. This body of sung poetry, composed mainly by sida and
quc4t, is so highly revered that it is known simply as "The Tradition"
(at-turth).6 The muwadhdhafin also perform songs from at-turath, but the
greater part of their repertory is based on the work of modern poets favored
by the republican regime. Although some of these poets have been inspired
by folk models, their texts now form part of a literate tradition.
Musicians from all three groups are nearly unanimous in their belief
that traditional Yemeni music cannot, and perhaps should not, be analyzed
in terms of general Middle Eastern (sargf) theory. But the rationale for
the denial of theory differs in each case and will, I think, help illuminate
the groups' own, less codified, ideas about the nature and organization of
music.
6 Etbnomusicology, Winter 1990
NASHSHADIN
The nashshadin (sing.: nasbshbid) are masters of the word. Although

they are among the most melodious of singers, singing (in the Western
sense) is only part of their work. Like southern black preachers in the United
States, they incorporate a variety of styles in their performance, including
elaborately embellished singing, incantation within a narrow range,
heightened speech, and formal sermons. (In private, they are less solemn,
and some are known as skilled raconteurs of off-color jokes.) On the job
the nashshadin must interpret their texts in both song and conversation.
They are expected to be able to discuss the form, content, and literary
history of their poetry, and they are also expected to be knowledgeable in
religious practice, ethics, morals, and local customs. Their talents are reminis-
cent of the boon companions of the Abbasid caliphs in medieval Baghdad
(Sawa 1989:119), though the nashshadin, of course, carefully avoid any
sacrilege. They specialize in at-turath in its broadest sense, the religious,
literary, and social traditions of the Yemeni people. As the chanters them-
selves put it, their job can be summarized as InshJd wa Irshad-Recitation
and Guidance.
The nashshadin are quite willing to discuss their performance in tech-
nical terms, as long as those terms are literary. Their advice on performance
begins with a discussion of the grammar and vocalization of the text, particu-
larly in the case of poems in classical Arabic. The principles of tajwid, the
set of rules governing the recitation of the Qur'an, provide a further guide
to the proper intonation of consonants and the relative duration of vowels.
This emphasis on grammar and pronunciation is meant to ensure a clear
6The word is derived from waritha, to inherit, and means "an inheritance, or a heritage" (Lane
1984). Although the term is applied most directly to wealth and property, the inheritance may
also include religious practices ("the Traditions of Abraham") or, among tribes, nobility and
glory. Arab Nationalists at the beginning of this century (and Yemeni Nationalists since the
1960s) have broadened the meaning to include "cultural heritage" or "tradition."
In music, the term is sometimes loosely applied to any Yemeni song whose origin has been
forgotten, and the expression at-turath ashshaCbi may be used to dignify "folk" or "popular"
traditions. But nonliterate and village musics are more generally classed as fulklur, while
at-turath is usually reserved for the elite, literate tradition. The most concise definition of
at-turath in music (ar-Rudaini 1978) declares that the tradition encompasses any song whose
text was written by a known poet at some time in the past, and whose melody was passed
down by an unknown musician, also in the past. Disagreement arises over the boundaries of
the past, but all would agree that the Revolution of 26 September 1962 marks a watershed.
No song since then has been added to the canon of at-turath, and many would argue that no
new song ever will be. Although nashshadn, fannanfn, and muwadhdhafin all invoke at-turath
as a source of legitimacy, their attitudes toward tradition mark yet another point of contrast
between them.
For a discussion of the concept of at-turcth in general, see Sahh. b 1984. For at-turath in
Arab music, see Racy 1982 and El-Shawan 1984.
Hearts and Minds 7
presentation of the text, but it also affects intonation, acc

timbre, and rhythm. The science of prosody (cilm al-
shape the rhythm of unmeasured melodies. Furthermore,
suitable for a text in a given poetic meter (bahr) can be us
text in the same meter, prosody provides a framework fo
grouping melodies. In short, chanters organize their music
ing to poetic principles.
Although their linguistic analysis constitutes a kind
nashshadn are reluctant to discuss music as such-at leas
terms. They make a clear distinction between inshad (recit
and ghina' (secular song). Whenever I slipped and used
ghina' to refer to their performance (e.g., lamma tigha
sing..."), I was quickly and firmly corrected. Although
like singing, the nashshadn are generally careful to avoid
features of ghina': instruments and musical meter (wa
accompaniment would distract the listener from the text
nashshads own artistry. The nashshadin insist that the
accompaniment since a good chanter can embellish a tu
as any instrument and stretch the text with melismas to fi
completely.
The nasshsdzn stretch the truth a bit when they c
melodies have no musical meter. A performance of insh
with a mashrab (pl.: masharib), a rousing hymn with a cho
a pronounced beat. The bulk of the repertory is made u
qaslda), most of which have an underlying wazn. Many
qasida tunes are also used by thefannanin, who bring ou
Cid, and sometimes add a drum accompaniment. The
this, and in a way they are proud of it, since they believe
originated in inshad. The chanters will even name the
melodies appear in a fannan's performance. In their o
however, the nashshadin try to unhinge meter when th
using extended notes and indeterminate pauses to break
denial of meter, therefore, is not just a convenient fiction; it
The refusal to use the CCd and the avoidance of meter are moral deci-
sions. Instruments and measured music lead to dance, which in turn leads
all too often to intoxication, adultery, or both. This at least was the official
view of music before the Revolution, when the Imams permitted nashshadin
to sing in public for pay while they punished C,id players for performing
in the privacy of a locked and muffled room. Since the Revolution,fannanin
can play freely in public, but their songs, and their character, retain a risque
reputation. The nashshd's semi-sanctified occupation still requires him to
keep some distance, conceptually, from music and musicians.
Stripped of meter and accompaniment, melody alone is innocent of

immoral associations. The nashshadmn can safely praise melody as an en-
hancement to poetry that allows more profound communication than would
be possible through a mere reading or recitation of the text. But unlike
poetry, which appeals to both the intellect and the emotions, the wholly
emotional (and, of course, nonverbal) nature of melody precludes intellec-
tual discussion. As one nashshid explained:
What comes from the heart goes straight to the heart; what comes from the
tongue never gets beyond the ears. A singer is no good if he doesn't sing from
the heart. That takes inspiration, effort, and God-given talent....
In short, a performer's character counts more than his musical knowledge.

The chanters cannot and will not analyze melody. To do so would be to
undermine the spiritual and emotional essence of melody and bring the
nashshiadt too close to profane music. "We can't tell you anything about
our melodies," a nashshad told me repeatedly. "That's a matter for the
fannanin."
FANNANIN7
The crucial distinction between fannan and nashshad lies in the use
of the Ckd. A secular singer may perform religious songs. A chanter in turn
may present erotic poems in an appropriate context such as a wedding,
where explicit sexual references can be passed off as guidance to a young
and inexperienced bridegroom. Once a musician picks up the cid, however,
the performance is regarded as entertainment, not instruction, and the
performer becomes afannan.
The idealfannan sings for love, not money; even a full-time professional
may call himself a hawi (amateur).8 Afannan may earn a living performing
at weddings, and he may gain a following (and a bit of income) from
recordings; but most musicians claim to find their greatest pleasure playing
in private among friends, at the daily gatherings where qat (a mild stimulant)
is chewed.9
7Until the Revolution, a singer/Cid-player was called mughanni or mutrib. These were both
considered to be disparaging terms, since ghina' had been outlawed on moral grounds. Even
after the Revolution, ghin' continued to be associated with immoral behavior. In an effort to
dignify their position, secular musicians began identifying themselves asfannanin (lit., artists).
This semantic ruse was only partly successful; mughanni and mutrib have largely disappeared
from the Yemeni musical lexicon, but the termfanncan has inherited many of their associations
of immorality.
8When used to describe oneself, the term hawi suggests both a refined aesthetic sensibility
and a high social status, implying that the speaker does not depend on public performance
for a living. When used to describe another, however, hawi can suggest a low level of compe-
tence, implying that the person so designated could not earn a living from music if he tried.
Hearts and Minds 9
The topic of conversation at these sessions may be bu

or car repair, but poetry, music, and dance are never far from
minds. The qat puts musicians and listeners in a mood f
song enhances the effects of qat. Later in the evening, the
Ciud may stir the body as well and move men to dance.
dignified display of tribal identity and masculinity called
1982), but rather a more suggestive, even effeminate dance,
men hold hands and take dainty steps around the room.
dancing is tolerable, if somewhat shameful, even in the
wedding, but it continues to carry a hint of licentiousness.
of night, the musician and his friends may also turn to alcoh
to the anxiety produced by qat and the longing induce
music may indeed lead to the dissolute life that pious (an
ination has attributed to thefannanin.
Their musical and moral differences aside,fannanin share
values of the nashshadmn. Like the nashshiadn, fannani
importance of the text. "The poetry comes first, that's the
thing. Then the voice, and then the CFid." The texts of a
treasured for their profundity, while the first criticism leve
modern performers does not concern the quality of their p
the frivolous nature of their poetry. Without a powerful te
voice has nothing to say.
Furthermore, although most of their songs are measured
an important part of their appeal,fannanin suggest that the
the better the song. The m.dawwel, an extended free-rhyth
said to be the most noble style, suitable only for intelligent
ences in refined circumstances. Early recording artists from
1940s are praised for the elastic treatment of meter in their
by their return to a fixed beat in instrumental breaks. T
of dance music (or rather, danceable songs) in recent years w
cited as an indicator of the general decline of Yemeni
Revolution. These days the mdawwel is used, if at all, to
introduction to a measured song; the measured melodies
performed with less rubato than they were just 30 years ag
free rhythm remains the ideal.
Finally, even thefanrnann seem to distrust the Ciud. Alt
of fannanin are accomplished instrumentalists, virtuosit
it distracts from the focus on the text. In the traditional v
of the instrument is simply to support the voice: "My instr
9For an excellent study of the social, economic, and physiological effect

1987. For a more detailed examination of the relationship between qat an
n.d.
what I say; what I sing, it must play." In practice, the Cid provides a very
spare accompaniment to the singer, outlining the main notes of the melody,
punctuating the principle beats of the meter, and filling out the melody at
the end of each line of text. The singer may also give himself a rest between
lines by playing an interlude based on the vocal melody. The Ctd lends
itself to certain plucking patterns that can be used as repeated riffs between
lines, and the vocal melody itself can be embellished by a variety of right-
and lefthand techniques.10 None of these devices, however, achieves the
status of an autonomous instrumental melody.
The close relationship of Cfid and voice and the absence of purely
instrumental music distinguish ghina' from muslqa. In Yemen, as elsewhere
in the Middle East, muszqa can refer both to orchestral music and to the
science of music (cf. Sakata 1983; Racy 1986). But Yemenis also apply the
term to any nonvocal melody. Among fannanin, "muslqa" often takes on
a pejorative connotation. An orchestral accompaniment dilutes the emotional
impact of at-turath, while purely instrumental music is not even worthy of
consideration: "Music has no meaning without song" was a thought often
expressed in various contexts-most painfully one time as I was about to
try to dazzle an audience with a Turkish samaCT.
Thefanninin avoid muisiqa in the scientific sense as well. The musicians
are largely self-taught, having learned by observation and, for at least the
past generation, by listening to recordings. The learning took place not only
in private, but most often in secret, since to this day most families (including
many musical families) continue to view ghina' as a vice. A young musician
might play for a few of his friends and learn from their comments and their
example, but he would rarely have the benefit of instruction from older,
more experienced performers. As a result, fannanin tend to develop
idiosyncratic styles. Indeed, making a virtue of necessity, musicians stress
that each performer must find his own way and shun the influence of others.
As one performer explained it, "al-muqallid muqayyad"-the imitator is
handcuffed (in his expression).
Thefannanin do have the vocabulary to discuss aspects of their perfor-
mance. Many musicians can identify not only plucking patterns but lefthand
techniques, parts of the instrument, names of strings, and even individual
notes. Although much of this vocabulary is highly localized-limited to a
small circle of associates, or even individual musicians-some of the terms
are widely shared. In Sanca', for example, musicians and listeners alike
readily volunteer the information that a traditional gawma (suite) breaks
10For example, in the technique called salis (fluent, smooth), the spare texture of the basic
melody is filled out with a drone on the top two strings and an occasional bass response. In
tadhbfra, the bass response comes frequently enough to suggest a slow countermelody, forming
a musical "braid" from the low, middle, and high registers.
Hearts and Minds 11
down into three sections-dasCa, wusta, and saric-which c

different dance rhythms. But there is no Yemeni terminology
the details of melody or rhythm. When the discussion tur
fanniann stop using words, preferring to demonstrate rather
Science, in any case, would not get one far with these rhyt
do not necessarily believe that a person is born with rhythm,
is certainly imprinted at an early age with the feel of the musi
tribe, or town. He will never be able to rid himself of this tab
of nature. By the same token, no amount of learning will per
to render the music with the proper Yemeni lawn (style, color
were voiced by many musicians and listeners, but one of the m
expressed it best:
When I go to Cairo to record, I always take along my own d

drummers there know a lot, they're good. They can count
right... well, sort of... but they don't have the rightfeel (hiss); t
theflavor (nakha), the Yemeni flavor.
For most musicians, theory is even less useful when it com

As far as I can determine, the old masters (al-qudama') had
terminology for melodic types; for example, the term maCna
thematic intent) could be applied to a melodic type, contour, sp
or a combination of text and melody, that is, a song. For t
melodies were (and are) identified by the titles of the song
panied, but this could be problematic, since most texts c
several different melodies. Like nasbsbadin, fannanin
melodies according to poetic meter, but they are more like
intuition and experience than by actual analysis of the bab
verbalization about melody was at best a waste of breath:
Just shut up and listen! You'll never understand if you keep ask
What I say doesn't matter. You'll get your answers from the po
Cid, and from my voice.
Thefannanin's resistance to analysis is grounded in their

purpose of song. Again like the nashsbadin, they believe th
go "from heart to heart, not from lips to ears." For a traditio
proper performance can only grow out of empathy between p
listeners that must be developed, at the very least, by hours o
leading up to the first song. From the conversation, thefan
mine what to sing and, in general, how to sing it. His cont
interpretation, which should reveal both his character and his
The text is supposed to be inviolable, but performers can
individuality in the choice and order of poems sung; even
text they may, through inspiration or forgetfulness, introduce
other poems. Rhythm, too, allows relatively little variation since it is tied to
known meters and may be used to accompany dance; nevertheless, though
thefannanin treat rhythm less flexibly than do the nashshadmn of today or
the fannanzn of past generations, there is still room for shifting accents
and some stretching of the meter. Personal expression, however, is given
its freest rein in the domain of melody, not only in the matching of a text
to one of the several melodies appropriate to its poetic meter, but also in
the rendition of the melody itself and the intonation of different pitches.
In short, each performance should be unique, the product of the interac-
tion of specific individuals on a specific occasion. I once asked afannan-a
man with a fine ear, a solid background in the tradition, and some knowledge
of theory-to name the maqam of a certain song. "Which melody?" he
replied. "Who's singing it? When?" In his view, there could be no fixed
relationship between a specific melody and a general melodic type, much
less a definitive transcription of an entire song. The individuality of the
performer and the uniqueness of the performance would not permit such
abstract analysis.
MUWADHDHAFIN
The muwadhdhafin are employees of the Ministry of Information and

Culture-conservatory teachers, members of the National Orchestra, st
composers, and administrators.11 A number of musicians take on more th
one of these roles, and a few fill all the functions. Some also work outside
the Ministry, in music or in other fields from the army to video repair. Bu
it is their employment by the government that gives them a regular salar
and a status higher, in principle, than that of a mere "artist."
The muwadhdhafin are advocates of musiqa, in all senses of the word.
They have neither the moral objections of the nashshadin nor the aestheti
reservations of the fannanin toward orchestral music. Indeed, a taste
contemporary Middle Eastern music and an ambition to compose and p
"As performers, such musicians would be identified asfannanin ("artists"), not muwadhdh
("functionaries"). Indeed, elsewhere in the Arabian Peninsula, expatriate Yemenis practic
type of music described below without benefit of government support. Furthermore, e
"folk" musicians may be employed by the Ministry of Information and Culture, thus qualify
as government functionaries. The term muwadhdhafin is therefore somewhat contrived,
it is, nonetheless, a useful designation for a valid category of musicians. Within the YAR
government is the sole patron of orchestral music, "traditional" or otherwise. While a num
of Ministry-supported musicians have flourishing careers in the private sector, orchestral
formers as such have no role outside the official circles of the conservatory, radio, televi
and state-sponsored stage shows. Finally, government musicians do describe themselv
muwadhdhafin in nonmusical situations-when waiting for their salary checks, for exam
or during a late-night encounter with a policeman. Therefore, I use the term muwadhdh
both to distinguish these musicians from otherfannanin and to emphasize the impor
of state patronage in the development of orchestral music.
Hearts and Minds 13
form in shargi style has led many of them to study in the con
Sanca', Riyadh, Cairo, and even Bucharest and Leningrad. Few m
fin are deeply involved in muszqa as science, but their vocabular
style theoretical terminology is more extensive than that of the
colleagues. They accept the possibility of musical analysis, and t
respect for the discipline of theory.
As government functionaries, the muwadhdhafin are charge
task of creating a national musical identity for the Yemen A
both at home and abroad. At-turath is certainly an element of
and part of the musician's mandate is to bring the tradition int
world. But at-turath is still associated with the old social h
cannot, in any case, express all the messages that the Ministry of
wishes to convey. Therefore, the ministry also commissions new
year to celebrate religious and, especially, political holidays. New
also created to commemorate special events, like the annive
President's election, the rebuilding of the Marib Dam, or the visi
delegation to another country. The image that the Ministry see
is that of a country reaching for the highest levels of social, c
economic development while remaining deeply rooted in its
heritage.
The very existence of the National Orchestra demonstrates modernity:
no such ensemble existed in North Yemen until the 1970s, and many of the
instruments (like the qanin, nai, and accordion) were unknown in the
country before the Revolution. Much of the orchestra's repertory consists
of pieces in contemporary Egyptian style, but the ensemble displays its
Yemeni "authenticity" ('sala) by performing new compositions based on
Yemeni folk melodies, in addition to orchestrations (tawziC) of at-turath.
Extracted from their original contexts and homogenized by orchestration
and electronic mediation, these performances are meant to represent the
unified culture of the modern nation, free of past associations of class,
ethnicity, and religious sectarianism.
The muwadhdhafin maintain that their orchestral work is consistent
with many of the traditional values of thefannanKn and nashshadTn. The
functionaries claim to follow the hierarchy of text-voice-instrument, al-
though they clearly put more faith in instrumental embellishments than do
their traditionalist colleagues, and they value technique (and technology)
more highly as well. The muwadhdhafin insist that they, too, sing from the
heart, even when their songs celebrate the interests of the state. Indeed,
muwadhdhafin argue with some justice that state patronage affords them
true freedom of inspiration. Staff composers receive their monthly salary
regardless of whether there is a need for their services. Even though their
recorded performances may be heard and seen by millions over the course
of time, featured performers can regard the recording session as a private

occasion, isolated from clamorous crowds of the sort they would encounter
at a wedding. Even orchestra musicians have good reason to be grateful to
the government; their ensemble work and their rehearsal schedule-five
hours a day, five mornings a week-restricts their freedom of inspiration,
but they do receive a monthly salary, exposure on television, and the oppor-
tunity to travel.
In orchestrating at-turath, the muwadhdhafin say that they are trying
to preserve the tradition by modernizing it. In the process, however, they
must confront the limitations of theory and the compromises required by
tawzzc. For example, most orchestral musicians can count out the traditional
meters easily enough, identifying the two versions of dasCa as 11/8 and 7/8,
wus.ta as 4/4, and sariC as 8/8. But, as an earlier quotation indicated,
muwadhdhafin share the traditional view that the essence of meter lies in
its feeling, which cannot be measured. Yemeni melodic types are still more
elusive, even for conservatory-trained musicians. The principal mode, esti-
mated by performers to account for at least 80% of traditional melodies, is
often equated with the Egyptian maqam .Husseyni (D Et F G A Bb C d).
Yemeni melodies, however, follow an outline or contour (sair) quite differ-
ent from that of their shargi counterpart; the tunes start and finish in unusual
places, and take off in unexpected directions. Furthermore, the scalar equiva-
lence is not exact. The second degree is slightly flatter than mi naturil or
bekar (i.e., naturel or becarre), but slightly sharper than the Middle Eastern
sika (that is, segah or Es). Even more unusual in shargi terms, thefa falls
between natural and sharp. Thus, depending on how a listener interprets
these pitches, the main Yemeni melodic type may be variously described
as being "like" husseyni, bayati, or even bijaz. Similarly, the ambiguity of
the mi andfa means that the second most common mode can be identified
with either rahat al-arwva (B0 C D E Ft G A b$) or Ciraq (B0 C D Eb F
G A b$). The situation is further complicated by the tendency of traditional
musicians to exercise their individuality precisely (or, perhaps, imprecisely)
in the intonation of these ambiguous degrees.
The variation and lack of precision in defining modes and scales would
not have surprised d'Erlanger. In a sense, his work is a compilation of the
divergences among performers and theoreticians of the late 19th and early
20th centuries. Early in his study of "l'echelle generale des sons," he noted
that even after the scale degrees had been measured with a sonometer, "les
resultats des experiences... n'ont jamais obtenu le suffrage de la majorite
des musiciens" (1949:5).
Orchestration, of course, allows no such variation among the individual
performers; a unified ensemble requires standardized pitch and intonation.
In practice, the orchestra tunes to the accordion. This instrument is msayyak;
Hearts and Minds 15
that is, certain pairs of reeds have been modified to produ

when pushing in, and Et (sika) and Bb when pulling out.
scale falls into the equal-tempered quartertone system of Egyp
accordion was reconstructed. This departure from tradition
to upset musicians or listeners. Though many Yemenis disappr
no listener ever complained to me about the problem of intona
they simply lacked the vocabulary to express their discomfort
however, the tempered quartertone scale is just one more accep
of the flexible Yemeni system. A professor at the conservatory
suggested that he would like to have the accordion, the qanun,
keyboard instruments redesigned to produce scales with a
feeling. But, though he always insisted on taking his own drum
the same man was willing to accept the intonation of Egyptian
cians.
TawziC imposes other, more serious constraints on at-turath. The

melody line, as well as the melodic type, must be standardized. From among
all the possible tunes and variants that could be matched to the text, only
one or two will be chosen for the orchestral setting. The orchestra seldom
performs a full gawma, nor can it offer significant variations from perfor-
mance to performance, much less from line to line of the poetry. To be
sure, the melody chosen is often the most common setting for a given text,
but some functionaries would eventually like to see the ministry version
established as the only acceptable rendition. Moreover, though some perfor-
mances feature a solo singer backed up by the orchestra, the arranger often
takes the text and divides it between two trios of male and female singers.
Ostensibly, this shows respect for at-turath, placing it above the idiosyn-
crasies of a single performer; but the effect is to obscure the clarity of the
text and rob the performance of individuality. Finally, in order to add variety
to the performance and make their presentation of at-turath comparable
to the modern Egyptian "patchwork" style (cf. Racy 1982:398), arrangers
often append their own instrumental introductions and interludes to the
traditional songs.
These innovations are undoubtedly the result of Egyptian influence,
and more specifically that of CAbd al-Halim Nuwayrah's Firqat al-Miusiqa
al-CArabiyyah. Not only have the most important Yemeni arrangers studied
in Cairo, but Egyptian musicians have served as conservatory teachers and
advisers to the National Orchestra in SanCa' since the mid-1970s. Indeed, a
statement by the Egyptian Ministry of Culture could serve as a summary of
the goals of the Yemeni National Orchestra, namely:
the revival of the authentic turath... and its presentation in its purest form,
using a scientific style which does not involve any repetition or boredom.... In
presenting al-turath... we aim at... preserving its melodic and rhythmic es-
sence and ridding the musical performance from the factors of distortion and
improvisation by presenting a uniform rendition of each composition which is
respected by all performers. (Egyptian Ministry of Culture, translated and quoted
in El-Shawan 1984:278)
Even without the addition of new instrumental melodies, the orchestra-

tion of at-turath represents a significant departure from traditional perfor-
mance practice. Despite their expression of traditional values, the performers
emphasize instruments over singing, and singing over text. As members of
the orchestra, many do not sing at all, and even some star singers are better
known for the virtuosity of their Cid-playing than the expressiveness of
their voices. All the performers must, in principle, surrender their individu-
ality to the unity of the group. Naturally, the spontaneous inspiration essential
to the nashshadin and fannanin would be inappropriate in the workaday
world of orchestral musicians. The muwadhdhafin themselves often sense
the disparity. As one member of the National Orchestra put it, "ma isir u
ma ishirsh," "it doesn't really work and it doesn't enchant."
The science of music in itself cannot be held to blame for the shortcom-
ings that some listeners find in modern performance style. Several compos-
ers and arrangers, in fact, maintain that Yemeni musicians do not know
enough theory; these critics note that the members of the National Orchestra
prefer to learn new pieces by oral dictation rather than written transcription.
For traditional musicians, however, any academic approach simply indicates
an inability to create music the old-fashioned way. For them, theory can be
seen as a tool for regimentation of music and as a symptom of a mechanistic,
rather than a spiritual, approach to song.
CONCLUSION
The nashshdin, fannanin, and muwadhdhafin have a great deal i

common. Each group practices a style of music created for (and often
the rulers of different regimes; and though regimes and literary styles m
change, all three groups make use, in varying degrees, of a body of te
and melodies known as at-turath, "The Tradition." The musicians all learn
their repertories, traditional or modern, primarily through written texts and
aurally received melodies. Finally, like the Yemeni population in general,
the musicians all profess a preference for poetry over music, for vocal music
over instrumental, and for depth of expression over virtuosity. According
to the statements of my informants and my own observations of practice,
these are the "primordial facts" of music in Yemen. Yet despite their cultural
similarity and geographic proximity, the three groups of musicians stand at
a considerable distance from one another socially, spiritually, and musically.
This diversity is reflected in their attitudes about the nature of music and
the value of theory.
Hearts and Minds 17
The nashshaddn place their emphasis on text and deny that

song. They continue to view ghind' as a vice whose practice is
with their position as moral arbiters and defenders of at-turat
the feeling of musicality, the nashshadfn avoid the use of inst
consciously break the rhythm of their melodies by extend
sustained notes, and indeterminate pauses. There is no place
their work.
Thefannanin stress the expression of emotion in song, w
instrument unified in the service of the text. Learning in soli
forming as soloists, thefannanzn have little use for mzusqa
believe that the extraneous clutter of orchestral music and the
of theory can only inhibit inspiration and diminish the power o
they wish to convey.
The muwadhdhafin also recognize that Yemeni traditional m
fully compatible with the Egyptian style of performance or sha
of analysis. But they need the clutter of muszqa to give their
presence and an impression of modernity, and they need
theory to help coordinate the clutter. Their effort to moderni
has met with some success. Many Yemenis, Saudis, Gulf Ar
Egyptians take considerable pleasure in the orchestrated versio
tional Yemeni songs. But it is important to remember that, by it
such a presentation of at-turath contradicts the ideals of Yemen
In the end, my first informants may have been right. Y
plenty of ideas about music, some of which, like the organ
suite by dance meter or the classification of melodies by poeti
the form of a consistent, coherent system. But these ideas do
what they (or d'Erlanger) would consider to be a science o
does theory, as taught in Cairo, successfully explain the facts of
melodies, or forms. Above all, what matters most to the listen
and the emotion-cannot be put into words or scratched on a st
really, magnetized on tape.
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within a Contemporary Framework'?" Ethnomusicology 28/2:271-88.
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1949 La musique arabe, Tome cinquieme. Essai de codification des regles usuelles de la
musique arabe moderne: Echelle generale des sons-Systeme modal. Paris: Librairie
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Hearts and Minds Three Attitudes Toward Performance Practice and Music Theory in The Yemen Arab Republic

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Hearts and Minds: Three Attitudes toward Performance Practice and Music Theory in the

Yemen Arab Republic

PHILIP D. SCHUYLER UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND

La premiere preoccupation du theoricien en musique-comme en tout art, en

At the same time, nashshadin, fannanin, and muwadhdhbfin can

MusIC AND MUSICIANS IN THE YEMEN ARAB REPUBLIC

musicians and music lovers in the cities were in constant jeopa

The nashshadin (sing.: nasbshbid) are masters of the word. Although

presentation of the text, but it also affects intonation, acc

Stripped of meter and accompaniment, melody alone is innocent of

In short, a performer's character counts more than his musical knowledge.

The topic of conversation at these sessions may be bu

9For an excellent study of the social, economic, and physiological effect

down into three sections-dasCa, wusta, and saric-which c

When I go to Cairo to record, I always take along my own d

For most musicians, theory is even less useful when it com

Thefannanin's resistance to analysis is grounded in their

The muwadhdhafin are employees of the Ministry of Information and

of time, featured performers can regard the recording session as a private

that is, certain pairs of reeds have been modified to produ

TawziC imposes other, more serious constraints on at-turath. The

Even without the addition of new instrumental melodies, the orchestra-

The nashshdin, fannanin, and muwadhdhafin have a great deal i

The nashshaddn place their emphasis on text and deny that

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