Music and Emotions in Medieval Islam

How does music affect us? Why does certain music make us cry, smile, get excited or even fall asleep? The short answer to this: We do not know (yet).

Interestingly enough, Muslims in the Middle Ages knew the answer to all these questions. They thought, in the same way the Greeks did, that originally music here on earth was merely a reminiscence of the original and true music in the heavens above us. Before we were born, our souls used to enjoy this music up in the heavens. But here on earth we cannot hear it anymore. Nonetheless, music that humans make, especially if it is good, reminds us mortals of the real music in the heavens, which is why it moves us.

Yet what does it move exactly? Al-Kindi (the first Arabic philosopher, 801–873 AD) will tell you: it moves you because it effects your body that is made of the four elements. Everything on earth is made up of the four elements (except for the soul) and they are: water, air, fire and earth. The human has four humours that correspond to those elements: phlegm, blood, yellow bile, black bile. Each one of them affects different emotional states and the mixture of the four of them constructs the human mood. For example, if the blood is raised in the body one will be more emotional, brave, and playful. If the yellow bile is raised one will become more ambitious and angry.

Al-Kindi then connects every mood with a specific string, mode and rhythm in Arabic music and claims that each one of those rhythms will affect the four humours differently. Was he right? Well, Muslims in the Middle Ages had their proofs. We read about this in the Kitab al-Aghani (The Book of Songs) by Abu l-Faraj al-Asfahani (897–967 AD). Though it is called The Book of Songs it is actually a twenty-four volume collection of roughly 10,000 pages. It took the author more than fifty years to finish it. The moment it was published it was celebrated as one of the finest written works in Arabic. Even today almost every Arab – if he did not read some of it on his own or at school – will recognise its title. The book is a collection of the best Arabic songs with their poetry, rhythm, key, maqam (melodic mode) and – as I argue – the melody. Yes, Arabs knew how to notate music from the early 10th century, but this is another story.

Al-Kindi, according to his theory, recommends some rhythms to calm the anger down. The following story from The Book of Songs illustrates this:

One day the caliph Harun al-Rashid became very angry because someone reminded him of disturbing matters that happened in the past. The singer immediately rushed to sing a song on the rhythm Thaqil Thani, the key al-Sabbaba, and the scale of Majra al-Wusta. The angry caliph was conciliated and he became excited, forgot about his anger, and the gathering continued nicely.

In the same way, al-Kindi claims that certain rhythms fit sad poetry better. In The Book of Songs we read about the saddest love story that the Arabs knew, about Qays and Layla. Almost all the songs about this story are based on the rhythm that al-Kindi named. This is a short version of it: Qays the poet was head-over-heels in love with Layla who was forced, by her father, to marry another man. Qays was devastated and lost his mind and Majnun (the mad one) became his nickname. His family, to keep him indoors, tried to tie Majnun up, yet they set him free because he started to bite his lips and tongue too hard. He became brutish, and lived alone in the wilderness.

While living in the wilderness, he did not speak to anyone. Only if someone said the name “Layla” in front of him, he would start crying and narrating his poems about his lost beloved. Nearly all Qays’ poems are melancholic, focused on his agony and loss. He lived like this for some years, and one day his family just simply found him dead. Layla’s family came to the burial and her father was in shock, for he had not expected that Majnun would die from sorrow. As a result, he felt guilty and cried inconsolably. This made everyone weep and moan and all girls took off their headscarves and yowled. Tradition has it that Arabs never witnessed a funeral where people shed more tears than during this one. While they were kissing and hugging him they found a piece of cloth with a poem that ends like this:

As if my heart is in a bird’s claw – every time Layla is mentioned it clenches strongly

As if all the roads are crushing me in a circle – that never gets shorter nor longer

In my research on The Book of Songs I found a clear connection between the main human emotions and the main Arabic rhythms. The next step, ideally, is to reconstruct these old Arabic songs and listen to them again.

Maksim Abdul Latif, research assistant in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at Utrecht University, is specialised in musicology.