aqam" is an Arabic musical term that denotes (among other things) the standing point of a poet or singer, a collection of poems or songs and a sequence of notes with rules that define its general melodic development (much like a scale in Western music). If you put all the definitions together, the term's significance is clear: in order to understand Arab music, one must understand the maqam. Although I have listened to a great deal of Arab and other Islamic people's musics over the past few years, I still didn't really understand what the maqam was until I picked up a copy of Charbel Rouhana's The Art of the Middle Eastern Oud, whose subheading is "new perspectives on traditional maqams."

It's easier, I believe, to understand an ancient tradition by studying the contemporary variations of that tradition (rather than starting with the ancient stuff and trying to figure it all out from scratch). For this reason, Rouhana's work is an excellent introduction to the world of Arabic music. Not only does it contain traditional "maqam" song styles, but it is also performed using the definitive Arab instrument, the oud, which is a fretless lute with between five to seven pairs of strings. On top of this, the musician in question, Charbel Rouhana, is considered one of the finest modern performers on the oud (an oudist?). That Rouhana has chosen to offer us "new perspectives" on traditional songs simply means that he's attempted to update the songs for new ears and new tastes. He's added sound effects (like the one that opens the album: the sound of a water pipe, or hookah, in a café in Beirut), there are hints of synthesizers lurking in the background of a few tracks and the various themes examined in the songs deal not with Allah (the western stereotype of Arab music) but with everyday life, like friends, death, and even tourism (yes, tourism: that's the title of track 9).

The focus, however, is the oud, an incredibly versatile instrument, capable of both delicate lyrical passages and blazing bursts of power. For powerful blasts of energy, take "Forward", which features a scintillating oud solo that would make Eric Clapton jealous. For delicacy, take "Wissal", a track is named in honor of Rouhana's late student. It is a somber, melancholy composition; the oud seems to float up and down across the length of the work in a series of repeated motifs, all in different keys and with different emotional emphases. But the oud has a playful side, too, as "Ourakhoutyoun" proves. This track was influenced by popular Armenian music, and comes complete with bouncy, shuffling melodies and funky accordion solos; it's perhaps the most enjoyable song on the work; and the fact that an Arab would be borrowing from Armenian popular music to create "maqam" music is telling: it suggests that the boundaries that separate people (thinks like nationality, religion, sex, age) are easily eclipsed when music is concerned. If only the rest of the Middle Eastern culture could so effortlessly throw aside those boundaries!

I didn't know much about the oud before I bought this work, and, as I said, I didn't really know that much about the maqam at all. But after listening to this disk a dozen or more times and reading the brief but interesting liner notes, I feel that I have a pretty good grasp of Arab music—at least, I know what a maqam is and what it sounds like and how it differs from other musical styles. More importantly, however, I enjoyed the music. It's a beautiful collection of songs that range from the melancholy "Wissal" to the celebratory "Ya Ghosna Naqa" to the "chilling out with my friends" tracks that open the album ("Nara," "Ajami," and "Mouassal"). And, as a showcase for the oud, that wonderful, versatile instrument, it's exemplary.