Arab folk music and the natural world have inspired a new symphony from Syrian American composer-pianist Malek Jandali. His music has been performed by the Royal Philharmonic, Baltimore Symphony and Zagreb Philharmonic Orchestras; as a pianist, he has performed everywhere from Carnegie Hall to the United Nations Headquarters. Now his music will be heard in Qatar, as the Qatar Philharmonic Orchestra will premiere his Symphony No 6, ‘The Desert Rose’, at the National Museum of Qatar. The piece seeks to celebrate Arabic culture, drawing on everything from sword dances to the songs of pearl divers. Commissioned by Qatar Museums’ Years of Culture to celebrate the tenth anniversary of this international cultural exchange, Jandali has been working as Composer-in-Residence of Qatar Museums and taken inspiration from the landscape and people he has come across. These inspirations are now widely available on streaming platforms in a recording by the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra under Marin Alsop. I called Malek to find out more…

Ariel view of the National Museum of Qatar by Iwan Baan

How did The Desert Rose Symphony begin? What was the spark for this whole project?

Beauty and truth, and it’s nature which is beauty and truth. What really motivated the whole work was witnessing the eradication of my culture, the rich heritage of the Silk Road and the entire region. Prior to 2010, I had not written a single symphony. Now I have written eight. The real inspiration is urgency: when you lose something, you know the value of it. So, when I witnessed the eradication of all these monuments that are thousands of years old, I started thinking about another thousand years, and the monuments we have today. I started thinking to myself: what’s the legacy? The legacy of my people, of today’s cultural scene in the region? There’s no more impressive monument than the National Museum of Qatar [the country’s national museum in Doha, designed by architect Jean Nouvel and opened in 2019]. It’s inspired by nature’s Desert Rose, a wonder of nature [these form over millennia through the interaction of minerals, sand and water in regions like Qatar]. The desert rose is the first architectural wonder of the desert. I thought to myself we need a symphony to present it and preserve it for generations to come.

The symphony has very universal themes: the beauty of nature and preserving what makes us who we are. Yet it’s also rooted to a very specific place. Is there a duality to this piece and to all your work, something both local and universal?

Absolutely, because we are all connected. The term ‘symphony’ is to ‘sing together’, to ‘play together’, and that’s exactly what we’re doing. I feel lucky that I have this fresh vocabulary and interesting rhythms: the sea music and the land music of Qatar. In Qatar, there are two specific types of music: sea music for boats, and land music. Their sea music is usually more rhythmically focused, as you can’t fit an orchestra on a boat! They have a couple of drums and singers carrying strong themes. The land music features more instruments and is based heavily on dance. We are featuring both types of music in the symphony. This rich heritage of my people is contributing to modern classical music.

How much of this did you know already? What research went into this piece, immersing yourself in the culture of Qatar?

I visited a long time ago for the Doha Debates, as one of the panellists. I was mesmerised by the cultural scene: the museums, the mangroves, the sand dunes, the people. There’s so much going on. There’s the modernity of the buildings and museums, but at the same time the authenticity and roots are preserved in the people. You can still sense that authentic Arabic generosity, kindness and connection to the past. Look at the National Museum of Qatar; it’s impressive but in a humble way, a natural way. It’s not the tallest building in the world; it’s a continuation of the land. It’s in harmony, it’s organic. It touched me as an artist. It doesn’t have a single vertical wall inside or out; with 539 interlocking discs, we have 539 measures in the last movement. I thought to myself, maybe I can add one disc… the album! I’ve spent more than four years researching and exploring the sounds and landscapes of Qatar. Rumi said: ‘wherever you stand, be the soul of that place’. That’s what I try to do wherever I stand.

Do you find that you might hear a church bell, a call to prayer or a street crier – and immediately hear music? You mention the National Museum of Qatar: do you see that and immediately hear music? Is sound very linked to sight, so you travel somewhere and you’re immediately translating it into music?

All the time! That’s exactly what it is, and that’s why I just need silence sometimes because the minute you’re interacting with the world – and always analysing – it’s exhausting. Whether in the plane, on the train, in the hotel, talking to you, hearing the birds… Go to John Cage!

It’s not just about what you’re seeing and hearing, but you mention the passing of time, too. Since 2010, you’ve enjoyed this blossoming of symphonic writing. What changed in you or the world that led to this stream of symphonies?

What changed me are the Syrian children in refugee camps. We are witnessing them drowning in the seas of the Mediterranean, being called ‘migrants’. When you go to the Oxford English Dictionary and define the word ‘migrant’, it says: ‘a seasonal worker looking for a job, or an animal migrating, usually a bird’. Those children and women are not seasonal workers, nor an animal. They are humans. I visited them and brought with me musical instruments, toy flutes and drums, thinking music heals. They rejected all my instruments, as they didn’t need it. I tried to listen; listening is the key. I asked what they wanted and they said umbrellas. Several kids told me that. I brought them all these umbrellas. They wanted to cover themselves when they go to the toilet in the refugee camp, as there’s no privacy. It made me think about the basics that we take for granted every day. I realised that we need to listen to each other and connect more often. That’s what art does. That’s the term ‘symphony’: to unite and play together.

Speaking of those playing together… The Qatar Philharmonic are giving the premiere, and it’s already been recorded by the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra under Marin Alsop. When you look at those two orchestras, is there something that a European orchestra brings to the music that is different to the Qatar Philharmonic?

To me, there’s no east or west in music. How far west do you need to go to call the other side east? Each human has a unique thumbprint. That’s the beauty of music. For a masterpiece like the National Museum of Qatar or a temple, once that artist completes the work, it’s done; but for composers like you and me, having written that music, a fresh breed of humans is needed to present it every time people want to experience that art. It’s unique and timely, every time. That’s what makes music so interesting.

You mention timeliness, and you’ve also talked about preservation: about something that’s in danger of being lost, when you speak about your homeland of Syria. Is this music of great positivity then, or is it borne out of suffering?

Maybe both. I confess to you that I only recently felt the need to come up with these major symphonies and integrate my Arabic and Islamic culture into the symphonic form of Western music. Let’s remind ourselves that the western symphony orchestra is not part of Arabic culture, even though Ziryab – the Arabic music scholar – was the first person to establish a conservatory on the European continent. He was an oud player who fled from Mesopotamia to Spain, established an academic institution in Europe and helped spark the Baroque and the Rococo later on. We are part of the universal music journey; we contributed to the creation and development of ‘classical music’. Music is music; there is no west or east. My ancestors in Syria invented the alphabet of music, before Gregorian chant and all that is taught in music history books. With all respect and sadness, you open a music history book and you don’t see the tablets of Ugarit from my homeland there. I leave it to the reader to answer why. We are part of the universal musical journey, and here, through this meaningful collaboration with Qatar Museums – being the Composer-in-Residence – we are contributing symphony orchestras, and integrating our own Arabic and Islamic culture into Western symphonic works whilst adding this interesting vocabulary.

You’re also a pianist and committed humanitarian. Tell us about Pianos For Peace.

The inspiration was my war tour called ‘The Voice of the Free Syrian Children’, benefit concerts with UNICEF and Save The Children, that travelled from Sydney Opera House to the Cadogan Hall and Carnegie Hall. I felt that I needed to have my own non-profit organisation, dedicated to music and to education. I came up with the name and the logo. In Arabic culture, we don’t say ‘hi’ or ‘hello’. We say ‘peace’: ‘salaam’. Somehow, it’s missing in all that’s going on in the world. The mission of this organisation is to make the arts accessible to everyone; we transform pianos from untouchable blacks and browns into colourful, accessible, unpredictable pianos. They’re not on stage, but in parks and metro stations across the US. We take painted pianos and donate them to underserved areas. We’re in the process of working with refugees in Turkey in the near future. It’s transforming lives through colourful pianos.

What role do orchestras play in the Middle East?

It’s a natural relationship because at the end of the day, we’re all presenting music. What we have been missing is hearing our own music played by these symphony orchestras. What I’m doing today should have been done two hundred years ago, like what Bartók, Smetana and Britten did. I am lucky that I draw on ancient melodies from Syria – specifically from Homs, where I’m from, and from Aleppo – where that music happened to be preserved. It’s authentic. I have written eight symphonies that integrate this amazing culture. The culture of the Silk Road, which was the internet of the era. The Silk Road was not a one-way road: it was east, west, north, south, everywhere. It was the human connectivity of the time. I compare it to social media and the internet. From India to Europe, they exchanged spices, designs, rugs, food… and music. Walk through the streets of Damascus or Aleppo, and you’ll see a synagogue, a mosque and a Roman or Byzantine statue, side by side. With respect, you walk in New York City, where I live now, and you won’t see a mosque next to a church next to a monument from the Roman Empire. It does exist in Mesopotamia, in that region, extending to the region of Qatar: it’s not all desert. We have UNESCO World Heritage sites, now we have a symphony orchestra [the Qatar Philharmonic Orchestra was founded in 2007], seven museums; we are part of the modern cultural scene. Through this music, what we are all doing is changing the narrative. Telling the true story of the beauty of the people of my homeland and my culture.

Do you remember when you first heard a symphony orchestra?

I was born in Germany, and my first six years were in Germany. My dad always played records of Karajan. When I moved back to Syria at the age of six, I was enriched by the folk music of that land, but the classical music stayed with me. I stayed in Syria until the age of eighteen, then studied at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory and subsequently moved to New York. Throughout all these experiences, the result was going back to my heritage. My first album was based on the first musical notation from Ugarit; my latest symphony that we’re discussing is based on the sea music and the land music of Qatar. To me, I always look at my thumbprint and ask myself: why is it unique and what is my duty to contribute to humanity? You’re unique, so you have a duty.

What’s the biggest obstacle facing music and the coming together that you speak of?

I think in general, orchestras around the world need to open up. That’s the only way to survive and progress. We need to listen to each other and collaborate. That’s why it’s called a symphony. It’s an orchestra’s duty to present the music of living composers today. Don’t replicate what happened to Mozart, when Vienna rejected his final symphonies and he died in a pauper’s grave. To continue the development of classical music, the only way is to embrace the unique sounds of other cultures that have always contributed to Western classical forms. Celebrate them.

Do you think the word ‘classical’ is misleading?

Maybe. Once you say ‘classical’, it implies old, steady or unwilling to progress or move forward. Many people have different interpretations. However, I don’t think it’s the term, but actions: actions speak louder than words. Join us in premieres, invite us to premiere our symphonies. Arabic culture deserves to be heard. We have so much musical heritage in the Arab world, in the Gulf and the region of Qatar, but somehow it hasn’t been presented on the international stage. You need freedom and education to integrate the knowledge of music and its theories; you need to study. The more we embrace other cultures, the more interesting it becomes. That’s what Ravel, Britten and Bartók did. At one point, all these boundaries or barriers will disappear; a piece is not ‘Malek’s’ or ‘Qatari’ or ‘Arab’, but once it’s integrated into the symphony orchestra, it’s elevated into humanity and universality. It becomes more than itself. 

The premier of Desert Rose by Malek Jandali

A listening guide to Malek Jandali's Symphony No 6