Now imagine all this given musical form by three distinct instruments: the qanun, the ancient 81-string Arabic dulcimer with a sonorous, magical sound. The double bass, an instrument frequently used in early Arabic music and one therefore at home with both Arabic and Western scales. The electric guitar, a symbol of western popular music everywhere from Damascus to Detroit, Los Angeles to Luxor.
By playing Arabic rhythms through a Western filter the unique combination that is Syriana create a sound that begs adjectives: dramatic. Uplifting. Delicate. Powerful.
Syriana has three distinctive artists at its core: Abdullah Chhadeh, Syrian qanun virtuoso and musical innovator whose album Seven Gates was lauded for its beauty and originality. Irish-born double bassist Bernard O’Neill, erstwhile member of Chhadeh’s ensemble Nara, a frequent Real World collaborator and a musician in constant demand. Nick ‘Dubulah’ Page, the half Greek, half English guitarist of Transglobal Underground and Temple of Sound fame and the visionary behind the phenomenal Real World collective Dub Colossus.
Friends for years, the trio came together in creative protest pre-President Obama. “We thought a new Cold War was being foisted upon the world,” says Page wryly. “The Cold War and its iconography had divided East and West. We wanted to bridge it.”
With the qanun representing Eastern classical traditions and the guitar coming in from the West, O’Neill’s double bass became a sort Galatian bridge straddling two continents. Accordionists, percussionists, string players and guest vocalists from Damascus add an extra dimension.
Writing and recording took place at Chhadeh’s London base near Walthamstow market and at Real World Studios in Box, Wiltshire. But it was a ten-day stretch in Damascus, the capital of Syria – a country that along with Iran, Iraq and Lebanon was known in Arabic as Bilad Al Sham – that left an indelible mark.
“You go somewhere which is 5,000 years old and the last 70 years of [Cold War] history just pales into insignificance,” says O’Neill. “Damascus is this clean, vibrant, safe place with phenomenal art and culture and incredible hospitality. The downside,” he adds, “is that a lot of Syrians are forbidden to travel. That fact helped inform our music and lyrics.”
Having grown up relatively unscathed by hostile relations between post-World War II USA, Chhadeh invited Page and O’Neill to stay in his extended family’s big, happy home in the city centre. “I wanted Bernard and Nick to come to Damascus to see my side of things,” he says. “The Western media often bombards people with misleading ideas about the East. I believe people are the same regardless of where you go. I wanted some transparency.”
Ten Days in Bilad Al Sham is a project destined to blossom and develop. Here are tracks such as the string-fuelled Road To Damascus, with its call-and-response vocals, Middle Eastern elements and sublime East/West crossover; and Gharibb (Stranger), a sung, Gotan Project-like meditation on notions of home.