Listening to Umm Kulthûm
Virginia Danielson, Harvard University

A WELL-KNOWN journalist in Cairo, Rajâ' al-Naqqâsh, wrote that, as a child, he thought "listening to Umm Kulthûm" meant "listening to singing." When the adults around him listened to singing, they listened to Umm Kulthûm, thus "singing," in his youthful experience, equated to "Umm Kulthûm." While this attitude would be rare in Egypt now as listeners have moved other music into the domains of their daily life, Umm Kulthûm remains a formidable presence as she has been for nearly a century.

Umm Kulthûm (1904?-1975) was perhaps the most famous singer of the century in the Arab world. She recorded some 300 songs. Her monthly, Thursday-night concerts were legendary as she extended a single song to last an hour or more, and the concert as a whole extended from 9:30 p.m. until 2, 3 or even 4 in the morning. She was known as an accomplished artist, often characterized as "authentic" (asîl), who honed her talents to the performance of elegant Arabic poetry, clever colloquial verse and moving devotional songs. She was called the "voice of Egypt." When she died, her funeral was reported as being bigger than that of President Jamâl `Abd al-Nâsir. Now, more than 20 years after her death, people still listen to her songs, whether at 5 p.m. when the all-music radio station in Cairo opens its daily broadcast with one of her concert tapes; in the New Opera House, where the state ensembles perform abbreviated versions of her songs; on cassette tapes, where younger artists record arrangements of her songs.

She was a musician who worked in a politically charged environment for most of her adult life. As a commercial artist, her career manifests the engagement of popular culture with politics and economy. Her place in Egyptian society has been constructed by her listeners as much as by herself as they move her recordings into new domains and conceive and re-conceive the meanings of her songs. Memories of her intertwine with beliefs about widely shared social values in Egypt as well as with aesthetics of historic Arab singing.

In the 1990s, her recordings reach a growing international audience, re-released on compact discs. To grasp the impact of this woman's performances and the character of her artistry, what does one choose?

Affinity for her music among Egyptian listeners is often personal. Whereas some songs, such as "al-Atlâl" and "Inta `Umrî," became very popular generally, the choices of individuals often link songs to events or times in their own lives. People remember single lines as having great meaning for them at one time or another.

In broad terms, her repertory falls into groups of songs: her early recordings made during the 1920s and 1930s, which are only available in the 12-minute versions possible on 78 rpm discs; the colloquial songs, or zajal, often by Bayram al-Tûnisî and Zakariyya Ahmad, most from the 1940s; the elegant qasâ'id and love songs composed by Riyâd al-Sunbâtî on texts by Ahmad Shawqî, Hâfiz Ibrâhîm, Ahmad Râmî and others; and the "modern" songs with big orchestras epitomized by Muhammad `Abd al-Wahhâb and also composed by Muhammad al-Mawjî, Balîgh Hamdî and other younger composers. The following works, a small selection from her enormous repertory, exemplify each group.

Bayram al-Tûnisî, one of the outstanding colloquial poets of the century in Egypt, worked often and successfully with composer Zakariyya Ahmad to create songs linked to the grass roots of Egypt. Works and melodies moved with the everyday speech and common entertainments of the country and were at once strikingly familiar and artistically gripping. "Anâ fî Intizârak" ("I'm waiting for you") penetrates the frustration of waiting for what does not happen, of listening to promises never fulfilled. Umm Kulthûm rivets the emotions of listeners with her repetitions of the lines "I want to know that you're not angry, that your heart does not belong to someone else" (`Ayiz a'raf lâ tikûn ghadbân... ) and later with her crying versions of "You promised me years and days and you came to me with excuses and talk" (Tuwa'idnî bi-sinîn...). "Huwa Sahîh al-hawa Ghalâb" ("Is It True that Love Conquers All"), another joint production of the three artists, draws similar emotions together, projects and shares them with the audience. Linguistically and musically, these songs produce decidedly Egyptian culture. The concert recording of the incredibly sad "`Aynî yâ `Aynî," once again a lament of love lost, this time composed in a style reminiscent of historic camel-drivers' songs, will simply reduce one to helpless tears.

At about the same time during and immediately after World War II, Umm Kulthûm sang a group of very different songs, complicated qasâ'id on ponderous themes, for which she became very famous. She was at the height of her vocal skill. Today's listeners remember the sheer power, affect and intensity of her renditions of such lines as "You cannot get what you want in this world by wishing; you must take it by force" (Wa-mâ nîla 'l-matâlibu... from "Salû Qalbî"), which rang out in concerts as exasperation with the political forces of the day increased in Egypt. Most of the texts had been written years earlier by Ahmad Shawqî. Two of the most famous, "Salû Qalbî" and "Nahj al-Burda," were religious in nature, the first intended for the Prophet's Birthday in 1912 and the second a commentary on the 13th-century poem entitled "al-Burda" by al-Busîrî. Both were set to music by Riyâd al-Sunbâtî, a young man at the time who composed film music and taught at the Institute for Arabic Music. The best performances I have heard of these songs (other than those from tapes aired by Egyptian Radio and available only from them or in private collections) are cassette tapes released by Sono Cairo in the 1980s. The recording of "Nahj al-Burda" features a lengthy, extremely dramatic musical rendition at the climactic line, "Oh Muhammad, here is the throne, take it" (Wa-yâ Muhammadu hâdhâ 'l-`arsh...), during which one can hear the impassioned response of the audience.

Partly resulting from his work on these qasâ'id, Riyâd al-Sunbâtî became the most accomplished musical neoclassicist of the century, regarded as a "genius" at working with complex poetry. He wrote many other qasâ'id and colloquial love songs during the rest of Umm Kulthûm's life. His "al-Atlâl" ("Traces") has become a signature tune for her. Mere snatches of the tune evoke her memory among listeners. The text was written by Ibrâhîm Nâjî and published in the late 1940s. Umm Kulthûm reworked it substantially (to the consternation of literary critics at the time), and al-Sunbâtî set it to music in 1966. Lines of love such as "Give me my freedom, set free my hands that I might give you everything, I will hold back nothing," were moved by listeners to signify the repressions of the late `Abd al-Nâsir years and the anguish of the defeat of 1967. Thereafter, Umm Kulthûm sang "al-Atlâl" throughout the Arab world and in Paris in her series of concerts to replenish the Egyptian treasury. The neoclassic qasâ'id, almost all composed by al-Sunbâtî, formed the bedrock of her reputation for command of the Arabic language and its literature. They helped enable her wide acceptance throughout the Arabic-speaking world.

`Abd al-Wahhâb's enormously popular love songs for Umm Kulthûm are almost too well-known to mention. Characterized by long instrumental sections, shifting styles and rhythmic patterns and adaptations of varying Arab and western styles in the same song, they depart from the styles of her other composers. "Inta `Umrî" is probably the most beloved. My own favorite is "Wa-Dârit al-Ayyâm" ("The Days Passed"), a sad song (that nevertheless features an important waltz-like section in the middle), released just before the death of `Abd al-Nâsir, that has become emblematic of the fondness for him that still exists in some quarters. The lines "If I run from my heart, where would I go? Our sweet nights are everywhere. We filled the world with love, we two and we filled the world with hope" (Ahrab min qalbî...) may at once contain the bittersweet memories of love lost, of the late president and the famous singer and of the lived experience of a time gone by.

The younger composers with whom she worked in her later years all professed the influence of `Abd al-Wahhâb yet composed in distinctive voices. In particular, Balîgh Hamdî wrote pleasurable, sweet and accessible melodies. Muhammad al-Mawji's songs perhaps lay closer to Zakariyya Ahmad's, rooted more deeply in the aurality of local traditions.

Since her death, Umm Kulthûm's first and early recordings have been re-released on compact discs. One can hear the many and different voices of the young singer. "Tala` al-Fajr" manifests a harsh nasality in the still-in-training voice. Umm Kulthûm began this recording with a layâlî (an improvisation sung on the syllables "yâ layl, yâ `ayn"), which she rarely did in later years. "Mâ lî Futint" manifests the truly remarkable virtuosity and range of the young voice, and "Afdîhi in Hafaz al-hawa" exemplifies the neoclassic qasîda that marked her repertory even in its early years. (The religious songs for which she was well-known for singing at saints' day celebrations as a child were not included in her early recordings.)

Listening with feeling to these performances can be difficult for students (as indeed the patience of young Egyptians has been taxed in the effort). The long performances are built gradually, line by line, phrase by phrase and sometimes word by word. Attention to nuance is necessary. As Jihad Racy, Salwa El Shawan and many others have pointed out, "listening" to Arab music is historically a holistic experience and an active engagement, following the details of melody and text and responding to what is heard, perceived and felt. For newcomers to the music, this process may best start with one or two lines at a time.

Listeners often say that Umm Kulthûm never sang a line the same way twice. Performances differ; not every one is as effective as another. Umm Kulthûm herself was aware of this and tried to control which were released and which not, indeed which parts of performances were used in recordings and which not. Even recordings labeled "live" were often heavily edited and were sometimes composites of several performances. Re-presenting a performance from our present vantage point is difficult. Still, Umm Kulthûm did not succeed entirely in her efforts at control of quality; it is possible to purchase a relatively boring performance, and listeners should not assume that all releases are interchangeable. To complicate matters, the compact discs released by Sono Cairo, the Egyptian state record company, are not always the same performances available on cassettes from the same company in Cairo.

Videos of performances present similar problems. Those available in North America originate from many sources, most unidentified, and one has to simply watch each one to know whether the quality of the reproduction is acceptable and whether the performance is particularly affective.

With these caveats in mind, listening to this music is wonderful and rewarding. Arabic song is one of the world's great classical traditions. Umm Kulthûm's recordings bring us closer to knowing this art.

List of Recordings

Anâ fî Intizârak (compact disc, Sono Cairo, Sono 142-E)

Al-Atlâl (compact disc, Sono Cairo, Sono 101)

Wa-Dârit al-Ayyâm (compact disc, Sono Cairo, Sono 103)

Huwa Sahîh al-Hawa Ghalâb (cassette tape, Sono Cairo 006)

Inta `Umrî (compact disc, Sono Cairo, Sono 102)

Nahj al-Burda (cassette tape, Sono Cairo 85058)

Oum Kaltsoum [anthology of her early recordings] (8 compact discs, issued separately), Les Artistes Arabes Associés/Club du Disque Arabe AAA 005, AAA 024-030)

Salû Qalbî (cassette tape, Sono Cairo 81001)