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Rhea's Interview with Omar Faruk
Tekbilek in HABIBI. For more on Omar Faruk Tekbilek, visit
www.omarfaruktekbilek.com. “Why don’t you contact
him, Rhea? He sounded like such a nice person on the telephone. Maybe he’d like
to add an Oriental dance to his musical repertoire.” “Good idea,” I said, and
promptly wrote down the pertinent information on him, which went into the jumble
of other pertinent information I had amassed on the seminar trail. Back in
Athens, Mr. Tekbilek was put on the back burner, but he was certainly not
forgotten, as his music is very popular here in Greece, and many of my students
as well as the general population listen and dance to it. Then I heard via the
Athens grapevine, a reliable and often succulent source of information, that he
was due to arrive in the city shortly. I immediately contacted Alkis Vafias of
Libra Records, who is Mr. Tekbilek’s liaison in Athens, to arrange an interview. A group of us went to the
Rodon Theater to find a standing room only audience, which, for Greeks, was
surprisingly hushed during the performance. There is a resurgence of interest in
all things traditional in Greece. During the last ten years the country has been
violently pulled into the twentieth century via satellite TV and other
mesmerizing mass communication miracles, and with this trend has come a tendency
for Greeks to neglect there own unique culture. But as the space-age seems to be
catapulting itself to a point of no return and forgetting its roots, a
burgeoning intelligentsia and avant-garde have joined the common man in a
refreshing desire to revive the old, and find a place in their lives for the
things that modern conveniences and the hurley-burly of modern living have
inexorably squeezed out. And so the music and dance so imbedded in the Eastern
Mediterranean soul are again attaining their rightful place. When Faruk came to Athens
to play in this concert, he had chosen some local musicians to accompany him who
are very well-liked and respected here, but what we hadn’t expected to see was
the belly dancer. Belly dancing in Greece is much loved but not very respected,
as the Greeks identify it with a folk form called (by them) “tsift’telli” (taken
from the word chift’telli), and the blatantly sexual way it is performed here is
reminiscent of the lambada. While the Greeks love belly dancing, they don’t
respect it because of its seemingly prurient nature. Greek belly dancing is
generally earthy and fun but not very highly technically developed, nor do the
people seem to want to develop it technically, responding more to the soul
quality of the dance and their wish to express themselves emotionally and
creatively. You can find some genuine Oriental dance in the cabarets, you can
find it in the tavernas, you can find it in restaurants, house parties, hotels,
etc., but in a theater with serious music? Unheard of! It helped that the dancer
was “ap exo” (from out or outside) of Greece. She was a friend of Faruk’s from
Israel, where his music is also very popular. The entire country is touched by
xenomania (xeno=foreign and mania=craze) and are convinced that whatever can be
obtained out of Greece, be it cigarettes or pharmaceuticals, is of superior
quality. So while a Greek would never even have suggested putting a belly dancer
on the same stage with those accomplished musicians in that august setting, if
Omar Faruk Tekbilek wanted his friend with him on stage to bellydance, then in
she was, and the crowd gave her a warm response. I was grateful for the fact
that Oriental dance was finally being performed in Greece on a prestigious
theater stage. “I know this magazine.
I’ve been a subscriber for ten years,” said Faruk. Whew! That initial exchange
being over, we chatted and parted, he to finish the show, and I to enjoy the
last part of the concert. When we met again on
Sunday evening I expected to see an exhausted person before me, as he had
recently completed a transatlantic trip and just performed two back-to-back
concerts. But instead I was greeted by his rested kind and gentle face, full of
composure, yet somehow eager and inquisitive. Alkis Vafias had pleaded with me
to include the other musicians in the interview. He felt it was important for
the world to know that here in Greece, in the Middle East — where the
Arab/Israeli conflict has persisted for decades, where Iran and Iraq have been
in conflict with themselves and the West, where Yugoslavia has been blown apart
in front of the world’s eyes, where Turkey and Greece (or their governments, at
least) are close to the cutting edge of overt hostilities, where many remain
bitter about the expulsion of the Armenians from Turkey — that here, at least,
were musicians from Turkey, Greece, Egypt, Armenia, Israel, all working together
and making wonderful music. Indeed, such collaborations must be lauded in a
world that seems intent on fragmentation. But it was obvious who the
star was, and the other musicians retreated into the background to read and
exclaim over the editions of Habibi I brought in. Mr. Vafias asked me if he
could keep one and I sadly had to decline. They are the only ones I have, a
precious link to the world of Arabian dance back home and elsewhere. So, tape recorder turned
on, we started the interview. I was aided in the endeavor by Andromachi, my top
dancer in Athens, who has also done much journalistic work, and wanted to
interview Faruk for the Greek newspaper Eleftherotypia (The “Free Press”). Omar Faruk Tekbilek was
born in Adana, Turkey, in 1951, to Turkish father and Egyptian mother. His last
name, Tekbilek, was not the original name his father was born with. As a young
man, he had fallen under a train and had lost his hand. “Tek” means single and
“Bilek” means hand, and Faruk inherited this new name. As he explained it to me,
Omar means “life,” and Faruk signifies “he who can distinguish between good and
evil, he who understands instinctively the meaning of justice without being
swayed by the opinion of others.” Faruk’s first teacher was
Ismet Siral, who played flute and saxophone in a blend of folk and jazz. Ismet
was a pioneer in the blending of traditional music and jazz 25 years ago. This
idea of musical fusion is slowly being accepted, and is becoming popular in
Greece today in a number of smaller coffee houses and bars. In 1969, he studied with
Burhon Tonquch, who helped shape him into not only the musician that he is, but
the person that he was to become. Burhon was a jazz player with hundreds of
students. Faruk was lucky (his words), and was accepted as a student. Burhon saw
that Faruk knew many instruments and made him study percussion as well. To aid
him in this he insisted that Faruk listen to Gene Krupa. He also made him
continue his study of written music, which had a profound affect on Faruk’s
life. Many people in the Middle East are brought up as children to play musical
instruments, and can play them both beautifully and in time. But most cannot
read music. This skill is considered so important, that in Greece anyone in a
musical ensemble who can read music is awarded the title of “maestro,” even if
he is not the best musician of the lot. Since moving to the United
States, Faruk has recorded or appeared with several noted musicians, including
Arif Mardin, jazz musicians Don Cherry and Karl Berger, and rock drummer Ginger
Baker. He has made concert appearances worldwide, including Lincoln Center in
New York, the Kool Jazz Festival, the Creative Music Festival, and several
international music festivals, among many other appearances. Since the early eighties,
Faruk has been very active in the belly dance world. He recorded five albums
with dancers in mind with his Middle Eastern band, the Sultans. In 1984, their
Volume One was selected by the readers of Middle Eastern Dancer as best album,
best Middle Eastern band, and best album cover. They have played at Rakkasah, at
Magaña Baptiste’s festival in San Francisco for four years, and for such dancers
as Suhaila Salimpour, Morocco, Ibrahim Farrah, Elena, Serena, Lala Hakim,
Dahlena, Amaya, Kashmira and Phaedra, among others. Although Faruk has
recorded with some of the biggest names in the Middle East, such as Ofra Hazra
and Simon Shaheen, he is best known for his work with producer/guitarist Brian
Keane. The two first met on Keane’s landmark sound track (see review in Habibi,
Volume 12, No. 3, p. 34) for the public broadcasting system production, Suleyman
the Magnificent, the story of the great Kanuni. Keane saw Faruk working in
Fazil’s International in New York, and when he needed a Turkish musician, he
chose Faruk to work with, not only because of Faruk’s facility with wind
instruments, but also his ability on a wide range of string, percussion and
other instruments. Since the Suleyman
project, the Tekbilek/Keane association has continued. They have worked together
on the critically acclaimed recordings: Fire Dance and Beyond the Sky (See
reviews in Habibi, Volume 12, No. 3, p. 34-35). Faruk’s debut as a solo artist
occurred on Celestial Harmony’s Whirling, where Keane played guitars,
synthesizer and bass, in addition to producing the album. In a review of
Whirling in Pulse! (December, 1994, page 196), Linda Kohanov says: “Whether he
is rearranging a traditional Sufi motif or performing an original tune,
Tekbilek’s sound is both thoughtful and erotic as it combines the melismatic,
trance-inducing power of Middle Eastern styles with subtle enhancements that
give the project a western accessibility and polish without taking away from the
profound sense of mystery his musical heritage evokes.” In 1995, Faruk recorded
Fata Morgana with Australian percussionist Michael Askill for Celestial
Harmonies. Faruk’s second solo recording, Mystical Garden, was released on
Celestial Harmonies in May of this year. True to his profoundly mystical nature,
it includes the chanting of all the different names of God. But this unassuming man is
not only a musician. He proudly states that he has been married for twenty-one
years, has an eighteen-year-old son, Murat, who has played darbukah from the age
of five, and two daughters, Pinar (14) and Deniz (15), who play piano and sing.
Because his wife felt that music would not provide a dependable living, Omar
decided to work for Hickey-Freeman Co. (which he points out was run by a German
and a Jew, strumming again the theme of intercultural tolerance that has played
throughout his life). He pressed and cut clothes eight hours per day for
seventeen years, but the menial nature of his job did not bother him because he
believes in learning and serving. He says that his day job “made my family life
possible. I am grateful to have both.” However, his job as a cutter led to him
cutting off the tip of one of his fingers, and he became disappointed by the
treatment received at the hands of his bosses. Just at this crucial time in his
life he was offered a five year contract with Celestial Harmonies, which gave
him the economic security to leave his former job and devote himself
wholeheartedly to his music. Faruk’s commitment to
music runs deep. When I asked him what it was like to be involved in the
Suleyman the Magnificent production, rather than talking about himself or the
music, he explained how he was drawn to the project because of the story of
Suleyman. Suleyman ruled Turkey for 46 years in harmony and peace during the
Ottoman Empire when many bridges and mosques were built. This increased the
opportunities for contact between and blending of different cultures, as travel
from one end of the empire to the other became safer. (Interestingly enough,
Faruk will also soon be playing at Vernon University for a production of a play
by Shakespeare about Pericles, who is more often referred to in Greece as having
himself reigned over a benevolent time full of peace, harmony and creativity, a
time known as “The Golden Age of Pericles.”) It would seem that both
Faruk’s motivation and fate lead him to participate in endeavors which embrace
the ideas of peace, brotherhood and creativity. He feels that it is possible,
particularly through music, to get along with many diverse peoples, cultures and
ideas. The fact that he has been interested in playing with musicians from many
different cultures is much more important here in the Middle East than it is in
America, where everyone has been melting in the same pot for some time. Here it
seems that music and dance are playing a more important role in the process of
peace, understanding and reconciliation than the politicians are. “I view myself
as a peace messenger,” declared Faruk. “I represent no nationality when I play.
Music is the universal human bond. Face to face, we have no differences. I am
lucky to be a musician. It is for this I pray and say ‘Thank God.’” Faruk is a major exponent
of the new “World Music” that blends various ethnic and musical traditions into
a harmonious fusion. When asked in a previous interview by George
Christodoulopoulos in “E” Magazine in Athens about critics of this movement who
complain about the negative consequences of meddling with musical traditions,
Faruk responded: “There have always been such musicians, who claim that we must
‘hold on to our traditions, we should let them be.’ We, however, believe that
this is what we have been doing all along. We are members of a new generation,
we do not live 6,000 years ago. As a musician, I experience freedom. I am free.
I want to communicate all the goodness my tradition has given me. My generation
makes use of western harmonies, synthesizers. It creates contemporary sounds,
world music...Eastern music is monophonic. We put in the melody, the Westerners
add the harmony...You see, the Armenian, Greek or Egyptian melodies are very
difficult to come across to a mass audience if they are played in a purely
traditional manner. We hold on to the traditions, but we have been influenced by
contemporary sounds... Music is our common language. So we leave aside our
differences and concentrate on our common points, emphasizing them. With this we
become more broad-minded.” Faruk’s inspiration for the words to the title track on Mystical Garden were inspired by “the unity of the mystical life. The garden is an island surrounded by the ocean of sincerity, everyone with their sincere hearts chanting God’s name in their language. In essence, we are the flowers owned by the one and only Gardener.”
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