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and an analysis of the practices through which Syrians cultivate habits of listening to and evaluating music as “authentic.”

      Walking the streets of Damascus soon after my arrival, I came across a most curious advertisement for a computer company. Computers are readily available in Syria, hardware and software surprisingly inexpensive (much of it bootleg), and computer advertisements widespread in the major cities. However, this particular ad stood out because of its direct appeal to tradition. It depicted a computer tower case, keyboard, and monitor sitting on a glossy table top, but reflected in the table top were images of two large cuneiform tablets mirroring the computer and monitor. Above the image read the words, “Building on the achievements of our forefathers . . .” and the name of the company. The advertisement implied that the computer—icon of technological development—is an extension of early (very early) developments in Levantine civilization. In fact, some Syrian scholars claim that the earliest “computer” was developed in Mesopotamia, meaning a variety of the abacus and the concept of the zero, allowing for the eventual development of binary numbers and, five thousand years later, the electronic computer.

      Notwithstanding these fantasies, the cuneiform computer advertisement illustrates some of the ways in which Syrians assert claims to cultural authenticity and legitimacy through an appeal to particular conceptions of heritage and the past—often the distant past (pre-Islamic, even prehistoric). Other examples include the use of the names of famous Muslim scholars and luminaries in the names of contemporary businesses. One finds an “Ibn Haytham Pharmacy” in every city, named after the great Muslim pharmacist. Likewise, “al-Rāzī,” graces many a Syrian hospital, referring to the great Muslim doctor, while “al-Kindī” movie theaters are found in Damascus and Aleppo, though what the relationship between the philosopher and the cinema might be is unclear. In earlier decades, many theaters and establishments in Damascus and Aleppo carried European names, such as the “Luna Park,” the “Dolce Vita,” and “Versailles.” The heritage names reflect both a modern nationalist sentiment as well as adherence to a law that requires all Syrian businesses to have an “Arabic” name, though what qualifies as “Arabic” is flexible. For example, the proprietor of the “Shām Dān” music shop in Damascus asserted that the words of his shop’s name could mean something in Arabic, Persian, or Turkish, the three sources of the Arab-Ottoman musical tradition that the store features. In Aleppo, musical ensembles carry such names as “The Heritage Ensemble,” “Ensemble al-Kindi,” and “Ensemble Urnīnā,” referring to the famous singer and dancer at the Assyrian temple of Bal.³ One shop in Aleppo combines two well-known Aleppine tastes: “Heritage Sweets.”

      These few examples illustrate some of the diverse domains in which Syrians assert claims to authenticity and cultural legitimacy through an appeal to particular conceptions of heritage. In addition to public culture such as advertisements, political discourse is full of references to the past as part of official practices of legitimization and authentication of state power (see Wedeen 1999). In the realm of the arts, concern with heritage, however it may be conceived, presented, and understood by artists and their audiences, reveals the contradictions of the aesthetics of authenticity in contemporary Syrian culture. In conjunction with systems of patronage and Syria’s major cultural institutions, this aesthetic sensibility constitutes a Syrian “art world” (Becker 1982; Danto 1964) in which artists and intellectuals debate and construct the meanings of authentic culture, the past, and heritage. Of course, different artists and audiences have different notions of authentic culture, the past, and heritage; indeed some reject the conceptions of others as “inauthentic.” Still others reject the discourse of authenticity as false and misleading, arguing for cultural and political forms distinct from—indeed, liberated from—heritage.

      The contradictions of these views and discourses reverberate through the art worlds of contemporary Syria. Around the Arab world and Middle East region in general, the arts play an important role in discussions about the direction of contemporary society and culture.⁴ Conferences from Cairo to Casablanca draw intellectuals to debate poetry, painting, architecture, and music, and how they either reflect an ongoing sense of crisis or provide a means of articulating alternative courses for the future. The concept of authenticity and discourses of a return to the Arab heritage often are deployed by Arab intellectuals as foils to promote or critique modernist projects and identity politics (see Jābrī 1999, 1991; Ṭarābīshī 1991, among others). Debates surrounding Syrian arts participate in these regional intellectual and critical currents.

      Concern with authenticity might be understood as simply a clinging to tradition if not a rejection of modernity. Yet, the turn to heritage in Arab arts participates in a broader concern among intellectuals, artists, and politicians with articulating the contours of a society and culture at once authentically Arab and modern—and neither “Arab” nor “modern” constitutes an exclusive or welldefined essence. Rather, these terms are cultural and political constructions that serve different interests. In the Syrian case, the construction and evaluation of authenticity articulate with conceptions of culture, ethnicity, and the nation that inform debates over postcolonial subjectivities in a variety of contexts.⁵

      By investigating how Syrian musicians conceptualize and articulate their music, my aim is not only to provide ethnomusicological detail, but also to offer an interpretation of Syrian culture through its music, using the music as a window or rather as an “ear” into contemporary Syrian society and culture, and by extension onto debates that echo around the Arab world today. In turn, the Syrian case provides comparative material for an understanding of the aesthetics and politics of musical performance in diverse postcolonial contexts and contributes to a growing awareness of the sonic dimensions of cultural modernity.⁶

      Aleppo and Its Musical Legacies

      What would account for Aleppo’s importance both in discourses of authenticity and in the history of Arab music, past and present?⁷ Although some Syrians questioned my interest in Arab music and even the existence of “Arab” music altogether, almost no one questioned my desire to study that music—of whatever origin it might be—in Aleppo. Many people I encountered in Aleppo and elsewhere in Syria mentioned Aleppo’s status as an important musical capital and the great preserver of Arab musical traditions (Saadé 1993). For many residents of the city, Aleppo’s strong and venerable musical traditions are a source of pride along with the city’s fabled architectural, literary, and culinary legacies. Although Damascus, as a result of the traditional rivalry between the two ancient cities, might challenge Aleppo’s claims to fame in architecture, literature, and cuisine—to name just a few domains—few would challenge Aleppo’s role as a great center for music. Indeed, Damascenes and others from elsewhere in Syria commonly assert their musical identity by praising Aleppo’s achievements, especially in contrast to the more often recognized achievements of Egyptian musicians. Aside from recognizing the “Big Three”of famous modern Arab musicians—the Egyptian artists Umm Kulthūm, Muḥammad ‘Abd al-Wahhāb, and Abd al-Ḥalīm Ḥāfiẓ—many Syrians argue that “true” Arab music is found in Syria, not Egypt. Some even claim that Egyptian music is at best overrated, at worst the root of contemporary depravity and vulgarity in Arab culture.

      Historically, the musicians of Syria have contributed significantly to the development of Arab music in terms of both theory and practice, with Aleppo enjoying a particularly prominent place (Shiloah 1995: 72; Touma 1996: xix).⁸ Known in local discourse as “The Cradle of Arab Music” and “The Mother of Ṭarab,” Aleppo has been home and host to many of the Arab world’s greatest musicians, composers, and theorists.⁹ The great tenth-century philosopher and music theorist al-Fārābī wrote much of his Kitāb al-mūsīqā al-kabīr (The Great Treatise on Music) while resident in Aleppo at the court of Sayf al-Dawla al-Ḥamdānī.¹⁰ While resident in Aleppo in the same period, al-Iṣfahānī wrote sections of the monumental Kitāb al-aghānī (Book of Songs), the first great encyclopedic reference on Arab music and poetry (Shiloah 1995: 72). During my first residence in Aleppo (1997–1998), an enlarged copy of the index to this work could be found on the wall above the card catalogue in Aleppo’s National Library, indexing not just the great work but also its importance in Aleppo’s musical-cultural

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