Amit Gilboa's World of
Middle Eastern Percussion

Here is my article on the Masmoudi rhythm, which appeared in Jareeda magazine. 

Masmoudi: Al'gebra and the Open Desert

The Berbers inhabit the vast stretches of desert between the Nile and the Atlantic coast of Morocco. Calling themselves the Amazigh (Berbers is the word given to them by outsiders), they are grouped into several are grouped into several main sub-ethnic groups, including the Masmoud. It is this sub-group of the Amazigh/Berber population that has given us the name of one of the one of the richest and most interesting of the Middle Eastern rhythms: Masmoudi.

The "i" ending indicates that Masmoudi is something of or from the Masmoud. No written proof seems to explain the exact nature of the connection between this desert people and the rhythm that bears their name. However, once we have examined the musicality of the Masmoudi rhythm, I will attempt to show how fitting the rhythm is to the people whose name it bears.

The classic Masmoudi consists of two dums and one group of taks followed by one dum and two groups of taks. Written out over 8 beats, Masmoudi looks like this:

dum        dum          tak-ka-tak-ka-tak           dum     tak-ka-tak-ka-tak     tak-ka-tak-ka-tak

  1              2              3                    4               5                   6                     7                     8

The reason Masmoudi is such a fertile rhythm for dancers is because of its asymmetrical symmetry. Let us turn to another invention out of the Middle East, algebra, to look at this in more detail. If we split up the 8 beats of Masmoudi into two four beat halves, and then imagine an "=" sign in between the two halves, we can write it out like this:

2 dums + 1 set of taks = 1 dum + 2 sets of taks

This combination of dum dum taks then dum taks taks is asymmetric, but still balanced. On each side, you have three elements. In fact, if we take one heavy dum to be the equivalent of five light taks, then masmoudi is perfectly balanced.

Balanced yes, but not boringly symmetrical. The first half starts off with those two strong slow dums on the first and second beats, clearly announcing that here is a confident, strong, deliberate rhythm, not one to be rushed. The second half is a bit more relenting – we have one strong pulse on the fifth beat, but then the lighter, brighter taks to carry us to the end of the rhythm.

This combination of heavy, unhurried dums and short and longer groups of taks gives the dancer plenty to work with. She can produce strong solid heavy movements corresponding to the dums as well as lighter, more fluid movements corresponding to the taks. Masmoudi offers the dancer a chance to be truly creative, but still follow the drum beat very closely. In the "busier" short rhythms like maqsoum, saidi, and beledi, the dums and sets of taks follow so closely on one another that the dancer has a tough time precisely following every dum and tak. In contrast, the Masmoudi gives the dancer plenty of time to hit every single element. The sight of a dancer perfectly interpreting each element of the asymmetrical but balanced masmoudi is a wonderful experience for eyes and ears alike.

This sense of unhurriedness is expressed in the name, Masmoudi Khabir, by which the rhythm described above is often called. Khabir means "great" or "big", which is appropriate for such a strong 8-beat rhythm. The corresponding Masmoudi Saghir (Small Masmoudi), is also commonly called the beledi rhythm, especially by Middle Eastern percussionists in the United States. The Masmoudi Saghir or Beledi rhythm is written out over four beats as follows:

dum-dum tak-ka-tak dum tak-ka-tak

1              2                3                 4

As you can see, the Masmoudi Saghir is essentially the Masmoudi Khabir squeezed in to half the time. In Masmoudi Khabir, you have two dums then a single dum spread over 8 beats, and in Masmoudi Saghir, you have two dums then a single dum squeezed into just four beats.

As a composer, it's often interesting to play the Masmoudi Khabir and Masmoudi Saghir back to back. This gives the illusion of "compressing" or "expanding" one single rhythm, as if the tempo suddenly changes. In fact, the tempo remains the same but the two related rhythms give a similar feel over two different time signatures of eight beats per repetitions and four beats per repetitions.

So in Masmoudi (referring to the Masmoudi Khabir), we have a rhythm which is strong but deliberate and unhurried, and a rhythm which combines symmetry and asymmetry in perfect balance. With this in mind, we can see how this fits in perfectly with the Masmoud people, especially romantic notion of desert nomads in the vast expanses of the Sahara.

The Masmoudi rhythm is unhurried and deliberate, for one usually doesn't run in the desert, but rather moves on towards the destination relatively slowly. But this unhurriedness is not laziness or sloth, but rather a strong and deliberate movement forward. This fits the Masmoudi rhythm perfectly – the rhythm is slow, but not soft and unhurried but not lazy.

Secondly, the desert can be a monotonous place of unbroken dunes lacking just about any differentiating features. In such a landscape, one would want to avoid a rhythm that repeats itself after two or even four beats – why have such repetition in a rhythm when the landscape is repetitive enough. On the other hand, one would not want to wallow in complete randomness either – it is comforting to impose some semblance of order on a dangerous wilderness. The Masmoudi rhythm achieves this perfect balance of asymmetry and order.

Thus, the Masmoudi can represent the unhurried and deliberate treks through the desert and the natural human reaction to the undifferentiated and potentially dangerous landscape. In more practical terms, the Masmoudi rhythm, unhurried, deliberate and asymmetrically balanced, offers a wonderful richness to musicians and dancers alike. 

 Back to top

Here is my article on the Ayub rhythm, which will appear in Global Sheikh magazine. 

Trance Dance Ayub

The Ayub rhythm, also called the Zar, is the simplest and yet also the most spiritually powerful of all the Middle Eastern rhythms. 

The rhythm's simplicity stems from its alternating dums (bass notes) and taks (high notes). No complex patterns here: Ayub is a single dum followed by a single tak, and then another dum followed by another tak. Anything simpler could barely be called a rhythm!

In fact, Ayub is just a little bit trickier than a simple staccato of dum-tak-dum-tak. What makes Ayub distinctive is the tiny delay between that first dum and the next tak. So the rhythm comes out as dum…tak-dum tak, dum…tak-dum tak. It's a tiny shift – just a single sixteenth note, musically speaking – but that slightly delayed tak is what makes Ayub a rhythm, and not just a monotonous dum and tak one after another. 

As a two-beat rhythm, is shorter than the more common 4-beat rhythms like maqsoum or saidi and just a fraction of 8-beat rhythms like masmoudi or ciftitelli. Significantly, within the rhythm's two counts are two loud and evenly spaced dums. These constant pounding dums are what give the Ayub its driving force. One after another, wave after wave, stroke after stroke, relentless, hypnotic, mesmerizing. 

The spirituality of Ayub stems from these hypnotic, pounding dums. Ayub is most often associated with the trance dances of the dervishes. The dervishes whirled themselves into a religious ecstasy, and it's easy to see how useful the Ayub rhythm can be for that. The energy of the pounding dums driving the dervish on, the hypnotic pattern inducing the trance. If any rhythm is designed for whirling dervishes, then Ayub is it.

In my drum classes, we have experienced this for ourselves. When it's time to really practice the Ayub, we'll play it for 10 or 15 minutes at a stretch. At the end of it, we have to wake ourselves out of a mild trance. 

While the Ayub is used in Turkey to drive dervishes into a higher spiritual plane, the identical Zar rhythm is used in Egypt and Northern Africa to drive away evil spirits. The Zar can be played as part of the sacrificial ritual which purifies an area of evil spirits, or it can also be played as an exorcism of an individual person. Usually played more slowly than the Ayub version, Hossam Ramzy describes the Zar, as "very spooky".
 

Both the musicality and spirituality of the Ayub/Zar are reflected in the movements today's belly dancers use to interpret the rhythm. When played slowly, a common dance movement is to fling the head side to side - on a dancer with long hair, the effect is especially stunning. Some claim that this represents the fact that a spirit being exorcised by the Zar ritual clings on to the hair as a last resort and must be flung off before the possessed dancer is finally free. With a fast Ayub, dancers will often turn – whirling themselves around in the same frenetic pace (although usually with much more grace) than the dervishes of old. 

Ultimately, Ayub and Zar show us the power of rhythm. A simple alternation of dums and taks can take a dervish closer to heaven or can drive an evil spirit away from earth. Harnessing this power into our drumming and dancing, we can take an audience to a higher level as well.

 Back to top