Awkward Utopia

I’ve long argued that both the Ottoman Empire, and in particular, the Byzantine Empire, have been underrated and woefully under-studied by scholars. With the exception of Dumbarton Oaks, it just hasn’t seemed terribly fashionable to spend one’s life’s work on these long-lasting kingdoms of yore. Even Dumbarton Oaks, however, plays a key role in the art field. For instance, the institution is often consulted by those purchasing objects of dubious provenance in Italy, Greece, Turkey, or thereabouts.

In terms of cultural heritage, modern Turkey usually traces its heritage to the beginning of the Ottoman Empire, truly founded perhaps at Constantinople’s fall as a capital of Christendom. At a time when Turkey’s musical scene may be best known to the West by its entries in EuroVision, a struggle of the tartest of tart pop, a herald of the people’s heritage brings music of the Ottoman Empire back:

Ottoman styles and cuisine are increasingly de rigueur. In Beyoglu, the hub of Istanbul’s alternative art scene, street musicians are trading in their guitars for ouds (an oriental string instrument) and the ney (a flute traditionally played by dervishes). From this fertile mix, Mr Weiss has added three Turkish musicians to his mainly Arab al-Kindi ensemble. The fruit of this collaboration is an ambitious double album “Parfums Ottomans” that purports to render Ottoman court music in its purest form. The virtuosity of Mr Weiss and his fellow musicians is beyond doubt. “Parfums Ottomans” is an intoxicating journey back in time: it is easy to visualise the sultans reclining on their divans smoking water pipes as they listen (much as Mr Weiss, clad in oriental pyjamas, does on the pink velour floor cushions of his Istanbul home). The complexity of the music, plaintive and repetitive, shines through, thanks to the uncluttered performance of his ensemble.

The market in the United States may be more receptive than ever as well. Lately, various jingles of “Oriental” origin have permeated some successful albums by artists here. Kelly Rowland’s “Tell Me” comes to mind as does the entire Harem album by Sarah Brightman. Although Harem is not considered Brightman’s finest work, according to former UESer Phuong Van, I consider it pretty good.  The extent to which these songs derive any of their jingle from Ottoman origins is completely unknown to me, but I like the direction the music is taking and look forward to more exchanges with this unexplored culture.

In the next post, I take on a topic I am even more unqualified to discuss: Ottoman economics.