Cool Stuff #3: Arab World and India
- Jan 23, 2020
- 2 min read
Why does this class keep giving me opportunities to rave about Zelda in some way?
When I learned about the Azan, I realized that I had actually heard it before in a wildly different context: in a musical track for a fire dungeon in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. This track was one among several things removed upon the game’s rerelease due to (to my understanding) backlash from the Islamic community; to feature the sacred Azan, backed with secular music, was blasphemous and overall highly offensive. As a Christian-raised kid, I didn’t understand this very well when I first learned about it; to me, the vocals along with the eerie percussion set the perfect, terrifying scene for the area that featured it. It was too cool to be offensive. Besides, we set our prayers to music all the time: why was it so important?
I understand a lot better now. In the Islamic community, “music” is defined as secular, and that which is sacred – the Azan, the call to prayer – should not mingle with it. The words spoken through the Azan mean so much to so many people; they shouldn’t be used as spooky background noise. I am positive, however, that Koji Kondo meant no harm in using it; he was most likely unaware of its religious significance and appreciated the chilling atmosphere it brought to his music. Here is the original recording.
That's enough of my musical exposure through Zelda for now.
As a lover of woodwinds, the mijwiz immediately caught my eye. I remembered seeing a similar double-pipe on Greek art in one of Dr. V's class, so I wanted to actually hear it. Honestly, the sound was a lot more piercing than I expected; I'm not sure what other instruments I could compare it to. Even with its unique sound, I enjoyed listening to and watching the performers; the way their fingers fly across the flute is absolutely mesmerizing.
Are these entries wildly different with no real transition between them? Yes. I want to talk about konnakol now.
Before this class, I honestly didn't care much for the drums. Or any percussion that wasn't along the lines of a marimba or glockenspiel, for that matter. It always seemed like a simple matter of hit the thing at the right time (thinking over it now, a lot of music can be categorized as "doing the right thing at the right time," so I'm not entirely sure where this idea of simplicity came from). It was listening to kannakol and other complex drumming in class that made me appreciate it far more. Honestly, it's just super cool. I often stumble over my normal speech, so I can't imagine going that fast and reciting such precise syllables.
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