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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

2section 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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