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Numerous words have been written about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, opinions abound incessantly. My social media feeds are inundated with all types of articles, news updates, diverse opinions, debate panels, as well as videos, graphic images of death and turmoil, maps, cartoons and many more - you name it. What is fake, what is true? Is there a truth? Who is right, and who is wrong? Who is considered human, and who is not? Who killed first? Who is religious who is not? Who is better? Who came first? Who is “holy” and who is “cursed”?

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Well, words are words, but music has another dimension, magical - especially in documenting a 'moment in time’. It is an elevated dimension, much more profound, direct and ultimately without boundaries, certainly without borders. I feel that it is my absolute moral obligation to document in music language the scenes that provides such spiritual content while, simultaneously, causing so much grief; this is for all of our wellbeing. The Temple Mount, a holy yet explosive place which is sacred to Jews and Muslims alike, lies at the epicentre of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. For Jews, it holds the utmost sanctity as the site where the first and second temples were constructed and later destroyed. Conversely, Muslims consider it one of their holiest places as well, hosting the Al-Aqsa Mosque. The Jews are praying at the Western Wall, while merely a few hundred meters away, Muslims congregate at the Al-Aqsa.

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At any given moment, thousands of believers from both sides are engrossed in worship and prayer. During Chagim, Eids and Ramadan—significant Jewish and Muslim holidays—the numbers could swell to tens and hundreds of thousands on one or both sides. Despite a strict physical separation between the two, there exists an intangible quality in the atmosphere where everything seems to intertwine—a sensation one must be present for to truely appreciate. The Temple Mount evokes profound emotions, entwining the religious fervour of the two faiths.

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Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed, akin to some of my recent works, was influenced by tragic events that occurred at the time I composed the work. At the time, there were massive clashes between Jews and Muslims at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. The goal I set up in composing Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed was to offer the listeners the opportunity to dive into the emotions of the people at the Temple Mount and ultimately experiencing what they feel. Consequently, Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed serves as a conflicted homage to my hometown, Jerusalem.

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It is my believe that we are all akin to Plato's cave dwellers, grappling with shadows and partial truths in our attempts to understand the complexities of this enduring conflict. Without imposing any agenda, certainly not a political one, my aim in Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed was to deliver through music what could not be brought out in other means. Although my work may invite criticism of all sorts, my rationale was to create documentation for better understanding. Thus, my music is mirroring emotions, energies, musical images, and feelings that actually exist, and in some practical terms, also blend together.

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Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed, divided into two parts, comprises twenty-four interconnected tableaux or musical images/scenes. These scenes serve as a bridge between diverse compositional approaches originating from two distinct and opposing musical traditions. On one hand, there is influence from Arabic classical music and Mizrahi (Arabic-influenced, Jewish) Piyyutim (liturgical songs). On the other hand, the composition draws from European traditions, avant-garde music, and free-improvisation (reminiscent of the school of Cecil Taylor).

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The music is presented to us, the listeners, through the gaze of "the observer" - perhaps it is the divine? (Well, that depends on your perspective.) As if a mirror is being held in front of us to reflect and portray the holiness —“Kadosh Kadosh” — and the endeavours toward redemption, as well as feelings of unimaginable sorrow and anguish, which I term as the “cursed”. The work represents a nuanced synthesis of colours and textures derived from liturgical music and energies. That is taking the perspective of juxtaposing musical traditions and contrasting religions rituals.

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In Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed, I have specifically examined distinct heterophonic textures, including (1) from recitation of the Qur’an in accordance to maqaamat and (2) from recitation of Piyyutim and Baqashot (liturgical poems) of the Aleppo tradition — taught to me by my father— also in accordance to maqamat. I found it profoundly fascinating to observe the striking similarity in chanting practices between Muslims and Jews at the Temple Mount. The maqam employed by the Muadhan (the individual who chants to call Muslim worshippers to each of the five daily prayers), resonates loudly from speakers at the Al-Aqsa Mosque, and the profound voices of the cantors at the Western Wall (utilising alternating maqam for each Shabbat prayer throughout the year).

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Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed begins with an uproar followed by a quiet, unnerving, and asymmetrical rhythmic section growing towards a slow-building climax. This climax reflects the key attributes of the work as a whole: energetic, passionate, and unyielding. The few pauses in the score are full of tension, catapulting continuous forward motion through coherent transition from chordal to heterophonic, multi-voiced sections. The section entitled "Arabic-music like" is naturally woven through a chromatic transition from the first one. The texture travels naturally from 'the east' to 'the west,' reflecting the sounds one hears at the Temple Mount, the 'loaded and explosive place' that inspired the work.

 

In Part 2, a profound contrast emerges between the piano and the rest of the ensemble. The piano semblance chanting of a liturgical peaceful prayer, I am not sure to which side this prayer belongs to - perhaps it is a mutual prayer of both sides. This chanting represents the ‘good’ component of our beings (or perhaps, of the people at the Temple Mount).

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The piano’s chanting-like line faces significant disruption from the rest of the ensemble, symbolising the 'bad' component of our beings (or perhaps, of some of the people at the Temple Mount). Regrettably, throughout Part 2 the ensemble is predominantly covering (taking over) the "liturgical piano'. However, the piano’s distant like voice persists, and one might desire for it to be louder (please), free from the disruption.

 

Epilogue

Kadosh Kadosh and Cursed stands as my 'testimonial work', reflecting upon my contemplation at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem — a site of profound holiness, spirituality and beauty, yet also a place situated at the very heart of religious conflicts between groups of Jews and Muslims, and Israelis and Palestinians. It is soundtrack-like music of the people who are seeking redemption from their own sins.

 

YITZHAK YEDID

2022

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