Zakariyya Ahmad (1896–1961) is one of the most prominent composers of modern Egypt. He is remembered today for having composed numerous songs for Um Kulthum (1904–75) and other lead Egyptian singers, and for his long collaboration with the colloquial poet and political satirist Bayram al-Tunsi (1893–1961). He also had a lasting impact on Egyptian vocal music in the early 20th century, a period defined by technological innovation and changing popular tastes. Although contemporary composers such as Muhammad ʿAbd al-Wahhab (1902–91) were considered “innovative” for blending traditional Arabic music with Western musical elements, Zakariyya Ahmad was counted as traditional: he remained loyal to the maqām (a system of melodic scales) while striving to preserve and develop traditional musical forms with Arabic and Egyptian aṣāla (authenticity). In addition to his musical contributions, Zakariyya Ahmad also played an important role in the Egyptian cinema, both as composer and actor. He was also a political activist, composing songs around national concerns.Footnote 1
In this essay I discuss the contribution of Zakariyya Ahmad to the dawr, a central traditional vocal genre in urban Egyptian art music. The dawr is considered one of the most complex Arabic vocal genres, in both composition and performance, demanding a high quality of singing ability. This genre appeared on the Egyptian music scene in the early 19th century and reached its peak in the late 19th and early 20th centuries when it became the central part of the Egyptian waṣla. Footnote 2 Within this period, the dawr underwent a dramatic transformation, from a flexible structure with ample room for improvisation to a fully composed genre with little space for performer improvisation, until it disappeared from the Egyptian musical scene in the late 1940s. I argue that these changes were the result of technological and cultural changes in modern Egypt in the first half of the 20th century. The need to confine compositions to the time limits of 78 rpm records contributed to shortening the length of the dawr, and the rising popularity of new genres associated with theater and cinema, especially the ṭaqṭūqa (a simple strophic song), caused a change in audience taste. Theater and cinema also created a new market that required compositions limited in length to fit the industry. Just as the recording industry contributed to shortening the length of the dawr, the new market caused many composers to stop composing in the genre. Despite these technical constraints, Zakariyya Ahmad tried to preserve the place of improvisation in the dawr by implanting short vocal improvisation known as mawwāl (pl. mawāwīl), as evidenced in the dawr “In Kan Fu’adi” (If My Heart). From the 1940s onward, the dawr ceased to be a central genre in Egyptian music as a result of changes in audiences’ taste and the rise of innovative, versatile, and often Western-influenced musical forms associated with composers, including Muhammad ʿAbd al-Wahhab, Muhammad al-Qasabji (1892–1966), and others.
In the following, I discuss the life and compositional style of Zakariyya Ahmad, as well as the history of the dawr. I then analyze the dawr “In Kan Fu’adi” as an example of how the composer tried to preserve the genre in a time of massive cultural and technological changes. Finally, I discuss the reasons for the gradual fading of the dawr from the Egyptian music scene.
The Life and Compositional Style of Zakariyya Ahmad
Zakariyyā Aḥmad prided himself on taking musical inspiration from working-class people. He retained his many contacts with the musicians and audiences of the middle- and lower-class quarters of Cairo. . . . His music drew on the style of performance associated with the mashāyikh (traditional religious singers known for their mastery of Islamic vocal music, and maqam-based improvisation), the mawwāl, and other styles considered to be distinctively Egyptian. Zakariyyā used clothing to signify cultural affinity, appearing frequently in a jallābiya (djellaba) rather than the European clothing that was more common in the theater district.Footnote 3
By associating cultural symbols like clothing with musical content, Virginia Danielson not only emphasizes Ahmad’s social class but also his musical authenticity and how much his musical style was inspired by this class. Although the first decades of 20th century were a modernizing period that involved adopting foreign ideas, Zakariyya Ahmad’s middle- and lower-class–inspired musical style would survive to become a site for resistance and the preservation of Egyptian cultural values. For example, wearing the jallābiyya signaled Ahmad’s commitment to traditional values. Following Danielson’s lead, I suggest that the addition of a mawwāl in Zakariyya Ahmad’s dawr “In Kan Fu’adi” was an act of asserting Egyptian musical values in this modernizing period. Even as the recording industry determined the length of the dawr and reduced the space for improvisation, Zakariyya Ahmad insisted on adding a mawwāl considered to be distinctively Egyptian.
Zakariyya Ahmad was born in Cairo on January 6, 1896 to a modest religious Muslim family. His father, Ahmad Saqr, originally a bedouin from the Merziban tribe in Fayoum, was sent by his parents to study at al-Azhar and settled in the popular al-Husayn neighborhood in Cairo. Ahmad’s mother was of Turkish descent. Both enjoyed music: whereas his mother loved to sing Turkish songs, his father liked to sing ṭarab, a style of Arab urban art music mainly developed in Egypt in the first half of the 20th century. Ahmad’s parents sent him to a Qur’an school (kuttāb) in the al-Husayn neighborhood when he was a child. Later, he joined al-Azhar, where he studied for seven years. At an early age he participated in religious and musical events where he listened to the greatest Qur’an reciters (mujāwidūn) and singers like ʿAbd al-Hayy Hilmi (1880–1912), Yusuf al-Manyalawi (1850–1911), Ahmad Sabir (1858–1927), and others. He also studied with the master of muwashah (poetic musical genre thought to be of andalusian origin), Darwish al-Hariri (1881–1957).Footnote 4
After World War I, Cairo witnessed a cultural boom, and members of the city’s elite began holding meetings of cultural and musical figures in their homes. Among the most famous wealthy figures was Salih Pasha Thabit, who hosted the greatest singers of the period, such as Yusuf al-Manyalawi and Abu al-ʿUla Muhammad (1884–1942). At those meetings, young Zakariyya Ahmad blossomed.Footnote 5 He then began singing with the Shaykh ʿAli Mahmud (1880–1943) ensemble; later Shaykh Mahmud taught him the basics of tajwīd, a system for learning Qur’anic pronunciation. Ahmad began touring the periphery of Cairo, singing at religious events, and was exposed to Egyptian folk music. This exposure gave him a broad knowledge of folk music styles, which he recruited for his compositions.
Gradually, Ahmad left the world of religious music and moved to the more secular ṭarab style. He began studying with the famous composer and oud player Muhammad al-Qasabji. In his twenties, he met two people who influenced his entire musical career, composer Sayyid Darwish (1892–1923) and the legendary singer Um Kulthum. Ahmad also excelled in composing for the cinema. Beginning in the 1930s, Egyptian musical films became the main medium for composing and distributing Egyptian songs. His first film as a composer of film songs (here, for the Syrian-Egyptian singer Nadira, 1906–90) was Unshudat al-Fu’ad (Song of the Heart, 1932).Footnote 6 The film was directed by the Italian director Mario Volpe (1896–1968). In addition to composing the film songs, Ahmad also played the role of ʿUmar, the villain.Footnote 7 Upon his death on February 15, 1961, Zakariyya Ahmad left behind more than a thousand songs in various genres.
Ahmad’s compositional style is recognized as authentically Arabic. Close examination of his compositions shows that in contrast to other composers, like Muhammad ʿAbd al-Wahhab, he never borrows or includes other musical colors. He was an Egyptian, influenced by his religious studies, mainly the art of tajwīd. Virginia Danielson beautifully describes his musical style: “the melodies themselves were often deceptively simple. Phrases were short, narrow in range, and free of intricate melodic motives. Zakariyya wrote in all of the genres current in his days, and his songs relied upon maqāmāt especially popular in Egypt [such as]: rāst, bayātī, huzām and ṣabā.”Footnote 8 As other composers of his time mobilized Western rhythms, he mainly employed traditional Arabic rhythms. He composed thirty-three adwār (sing. dawr) between 1931 and 1940, almost a third of them for Um Kulthum.
The Dawr in Egypt
The dawr may be considered the most important and unique musical genre of the late 19th and the first decades of the 20th century in Egypt.Footnote 9 This genre appeared in Egypt in the early 19th century, created by Shaykh Muhammad ʿAbd al-Rahim al-Maslub.Footnote 10 Sung by a mutrib (enchanter) and a chorus, the lyrics are usually in Egyptian dialect, and the mutrib is usually accompanied by the classical Arabic music ensemble (takht). Although initially it was both textually and melodically simple, later the dawr became more complex and was set to several maqāmāt. The final form of the genre was set by al-Maslub’s two students, ʿAbduh al-Hamuli (1845–1901) and Muhammad ʿUthman (1855–1900).Footnote 11
Initially, a dawr consisted of two sections, madhhab (refrain) and ghuṣn (verse); its melody was simple and usually based on one maqām and one rhythm.Footnote 12 However, the final form of the genre consisted of three parts, with the second and the third parts subdivided to present different musical materials. In this version, both the composer and the singer had to be very skilled musicians. In the following, I present the classical structure of the form, and then I discuss the dawr “In Kan Fu’adi” to explicate Zakariyya Ahmad’s contribution.
The muqaddima musīqiyya is an instrumental opening in the main maqām. The main function of the muqaddima is to establish the basic maqām of the sung dawr; usually it is a dulāb (a short instrumental piece that presents a maqām before a song or instrumental piece).Footnote 13
The madhhab usually consists of two, three, or four stanzas (maqātiʿa) sung by the mutrib, presenting three subparts. El-Shawan describes it as follows: The first musical phrase in the main maqām; the second musical phrase in a new maqām; and the third musical phrase in the same maqām of the second phrase or a new maqām. Footnote 14
The ghuṣn usually consists of one or more stanzas divided into four subparts. The first phrase, sung by the main singer, repeats the first musical phrase of the madhhab with new text. Then the ahāt, the singing of the word “ah,” begins a dialogue between the main singer and the chorus. The singer sings a sentence repeated by the chorus, then the main singer sings the ahāt once more but with new musical material, and the chorus repeats the first ahāt, and so on. This part ends with a final ahāt sung by the main singer. The hank, the third subpart of the ghuṣn, might consist of one or more stanzas in another dialogue between the main singer and the chorus, in which the main singer sings a sentence repeated by the chorus and then the main singer sings the same sentence many times with new musical material for each repetition, while the chorus repeats the first sentence of the hank. This part is the most important and developed part of the dawr, where the singer shows his musical abilities. The final part of the ghuṣn is the last qafla, a concluding sentence that consists of one stanza by the main singer in the main maqām.
In what follows, I analyze the dawr “In Kan Fu’adi” (see full transcription below) to show how Zakariyya Ahmad was committed to the classical form of the dawr, how the limitations of 78 rpm records forced shortening different parts of the dawr, and the ways in which Ahmad contributed to the development of the genre. The recording I use for this analysis is by the singer Layla Murad (1918–95).Footnote 15
“In Kan Fu’adi”
Zakariyya Ahmad composed this dawr in 1937, and it was recorded for the Lebanese label Baidaphon by Layla Murad. The lyrics, by the poet Ahmad Rami, are in Egyptian dialect and consist of two parts, the madhhab and the ghuṣn:
A: al-Madhhab
In kān fu’ādi shāf ilhawān widāʿfī ḥubbuh kutr al-asiyya
If my heart saw humiliation and tasted a lot of suffering in his love
ʿUmruh ma yinsā ayyām zamān ma dām shayifnī sʿaban ʿalāyyā
It will never forget the old days as long as it sees me suffering
Yā rayt yā āsī raḥamtī ḥālī fiḍilt āsī sahar al-layālī
If only, you cold-hearted man, you had some mercy on me, I continued suffering staying awake all nights
Ylūḥ khayālak uṣad ʿaynayya tinzil dumuʿī yisʿab ʿalāyyā
Your shadow sways before my eyes, my tears fall, I pity him
Miskīn yā ʿalbī bin al-khayāl wa bin bukāya ’allī garalī
Oh, my poor heart, between the imagination and my cry for what happened to me
B: al-Ghuṣn
Law kunt marra shuft al-wisāl mā kānsh hagrū yukhtur bibālī
If even once, he had shown me some kindness, his abandonment would never cross my mind
Yālli danit al-rūḥ ʿalimtī ʿaynī al-nūḥ
You who tired my soul, you caused my eyes to flood with tears
Wiḥtar fu‘ādī mā bin widādī wa bin ʿazābī min tūl suhādī
My heart became confused between my sympathy and my suffering from all my sleeplessness
Wa khāf yā rūḥī min kutr nūḥī tikhlas dumūʿī wansaʿal-asiyya
Oh, my soul, I am scared the more I wail, I will lose my tears, and I will forget the sorrow
The main maqām of the dawr is bayāt, which confirms that Zakariyya Ahmad relied on maqāmāt that were popular in Egypt, as cited by Danielson earlier. The performance of the dawr includes two main modulations to maqām rāst and nahāwand (maqām nahāwand is equivalent to the minor scale in western music). This form of modulation stands on the sayr of maqām bayāt, and it demonstrates Ahmad’s commitment to work within the classical frame of the maqām. Footnote 16 The composition lays on two common rhythms: the 6/8 yurk samāʿī and the 4/4 wiḥda. Ahmad also used the last line of the first part of the madhhab as mawwāl and a bridge to the ghuṣn. Although usually the mawwāl is sung before the song, here Ahmad uses it as a transition vehicle. Ahmad was the only composer who used this technique in a dawr.
Usually, dawr start with a dulāb or muqaddima musīqiyya, as in “Kadni al-Hawa” (Love Deluded Me).Footnote 17 In this dawr, the muqaddima is fifty-two seconds, but in the dawr “In Kan Fu’adi” the shortened muqaddima extends for only nine seconds (three musical bars) on the main maqām (Fig. 1), a result of how the dawr introduction was compressed to accommodate recording limitations. Although the performance of “Kadni al-Hawa” lasts for twenty minutes, the recording of “In Kan Fu’adi” lasts for almost six minutes.
Figure 1. Short muqaddima of “In Kan Fu’adi” in maqām bayāt. Transcription by the author.
The first singing part starts on bars 4–24 (see Fig. 2, the full transcription of the dawr) where the composer introduces the main maqāmāt, bayāt and rāst, which falls in the sayr of maqām bayāt. The mawwāl starts its free rhythm on bar 25, and the ghuṣn starts at bar 29, continuing through the end of the dawr. This part includes the ahāt (bars 38–50) and the hank (bars 51–86). Ahmad then moves to a shortened ahāt (bars 87–96). The dawr ends with the last phrase on the main maqām (bars 98–103). To conclude, this brief analysis demonstrates how Zakariyya Ahmad was committed to the maqām behavior (sayr), the classical form of the genre, and the place of improvisation (by adding the mawwāl), and how he tried to preserve the tradition and at the same time shorten the dawr to fit onto a record.
Figure 2. Full transcription of dawr in “In Kan Fu’adi.” Transcription by the author.
The Disappearance of the Dawr
Two main factors were responsible for the changes in Egypt’s early 20th-century musical life: the rise of musical theater and changes in recording technology.Footnote 18 At the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th centuries, musical theater emerged as a central site of entertainment for Egyptians and was responsible for a change of audience musical taste.Footnote 19 Gradually, Egyptians shifted from an intimate tradition of home concerts, primarily associated with elites and accompanied by the takht, to large ensembles in concert venues available to broader range of classes. At the same time, the theater became the major source of income for writers and composers, reducing the number of composers working in complicated forms like the dawr. Without audiences or composers, the dawr struggled.
Changes in technology further undermined the dawr as a genre. The limitations of 78 rpm records demanded shorter versions of the genre, meaning less opportunity for the improvisation that live performance enabled. Whereas a live performance of a dawr could last over twenty minutes, now, because each 78 rpm recording was limited to two to three minutes, each dawr had to be recorded on a number of record discs.Footnote 20 This led to the presentation of many adwār in truncated forms. Further, audiences listened to these recordings on their own phonographs instead of live performances by musicians. Without the interaction between the performer and the audience, performing the dawr suffered the absence of ecstatic feedback, the aesthetic foundation of Arabic music in general and of the dawr in particular.Footnote 21 This change of performance context caused a decline in the prestige of the long wasla that characterized musical life at the end of the 19th century, further undermining the popularity of genres like the dawr.
To conclude, the dawr as an authentic Egyptian genre survived until the 1940s thanks to Zakariyya Ahmad, the last major composer of the genre. Ahmad’s background, associated with the world of tajwīd and the mashāyikh, gave him a solid musical base that charted his path. His studies with the famous musicians and mashāyikh of his time gave him an immense knowledge of the theory of maqāmāt. This skill contributed to his unique style and musical aesthetics, which were considered authentic and Egyptian. As his composition “In Kan Fu’adi” demonstrates, he attempted to preserve the authenticity of the dawr as an Egyptian form despite the constraints of new recording technologies and the resultant changes in audience taste.
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