02 October 2007

BEIRUT: Iraqi musician and vocalist Sahar Taha marked the month of Ramadan with a Saturday evening concert at Hamra's Babel Theater. A diverse range of people filled the auditorium, eager to satisfy their appetite for oriental music. The Babel's intimate space was an apt setting for Taha's warm, inviting sounds and her all-woman band, Azifat Ashtarout. The performers all wore traditional Arab abayas for the show, a visual reflection of the strong traditional cast of their performance.

Taha told The Daily Star that she enjoys singing old Iraqi songs, which she appreciates for their simple note composition and profound meaning.

A talented vocalist and oud player, she graduated from the National Conservatory of Beirut in 1980. "I am not from a musically talented family," Taha says, "but my mother possessed a talent for singing, which she did not develop or pursue because of the restrictions of her religion."

Taha founded Azifat Ashtarout as a progressive measure, to promote the expression of musically gifted women.

The vocalist says that she appreciates songs which convey sadness, allowing her to express feelings drawn from personal experience. She describes painful memories of having to say her final goodbyes to her home in Baghdad, just before the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003. Indeed, her vocal range powerfully captured the tunes' depth of emotion with purity and delicacy of tone.

"I believe these are the kinds of songs I sing best," she says. "My cultural identity can be found in my music."

Although she now lives and works in Lebanon, Taha's music is intimately associated with Iraqi culture and tradition. She performed her opening number with the help of a small Iraqi children's choir.

"During the month of Ramadan," she says, "children would go to the houses in their neighborhood and sing joyously of the spirit of the holy month."

Sahar believes that Iraq's present violence and oppression is killing their cultural identity.

"The meaning of tradition," she says, "especially in Ramadan, has been lost in Iraq."

The heart-rending lyrics evoked the beauty and innocence of tradition through a child's eyes. The song aroused feelings of hope and security, something that has been overshadowed by darkness and misery, she says. As the song ended, the phrase "God save Iraq" echoed in the audience's ears.

The performance's distinctly patriotic theme resonated in Taha's play list. Among the songs performed was "God Let Me Return to My Country," a poem by Abdel Waheb that Taha scored herself.

Taha used the intervals between tunes to tell her audience about the struggle and hardships Iraqi people face every day. She spoke of the essentials they are forced to go without.

"When they are deprived of electricity," she said, "they cannot even find a candle to light."

Taha's soulful oud playing was an appropriate accompaniment for her emotive description of Iraqi suffering. The harmonious blend of female vocals and musical accompaniment were beautiful and seductive. The passionate energy exuded from the musicians' performance of traditional Lebanese dabkeh music earned an enthusiastic audience response.

Jawad Assadi, the playwright-cum-impresario behind the Babel, said in a recent interview that he wants his theater to bring together performing arts enthusiasts. Taha's show suggests his enterprise is off to a truly encouraging start.