There is a myth in the Moroccan village of Jajouka, which has defined its culture for what the writer William Burroughs estimated to be four millennia. The story tells of the Greek god Pan appearing to a shepherd, requesting he perform upon his rhaita pipe to make the god of pasture dance. Accepting this demand, the shepherd’s music pleased Pan, who in turn gave the man his blessings to represent the god’s spirit through the rhaita.
From that day onward, the shepherd’s family upheld this tradition, which has brought Jajouka a gargantuan international following. Their ritual, known as the Boujeloud lasts for days on end, with the twenty man-strong Master Musicians of the Pipes of Pan still entertaining the god, whose spirit takes the form of a dancer clad in goatskin.
Today, the honour is believed to belong to Bachir Attar, who heads the brotherhood of Jajoukan pipers. Yet, this matter of succession led to a schism between Attar’s fellowship and the Joujouka faction, under the late Mohammed Hamri during the 1950s, when both men attempted to proclaim himself as the rightful representative of Pan.
It almost becomes a question of whose guests held more artistic credibility, building upon the groundwork set out by Bachir’s father and Hamri’s uncle, Hadj Abdesalam Attar, who brought the late Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones to the village, in order to produce the cult album, Brian Jones Presents the Pipes of Pan at Jajouka. However, this move made a hip counterpoint to the Beatles sitar obsession, and as a result, the Attar name became a brand, which Bachir has continued to utilise in his global expositions.
The two can justify having benefitted Sufi trance music in one way, or another. Bachir gave the groups further renown through world tours and collaborations, with musicians such as Patti Smith. However, purists undoubtedly frown upon such exploits, citing Hamri as being the more devout of the two in preserving the village’s culture. They argue that Bachir may have cheapened the name of Jajouka, turning a ritual into a “scene”, endorsed by hipsters and, hence, hold Hamri in higher regard for introducing Burroughs, Paul Bowles and the artist Brion Gysin to their sound. This trio quickly became instrumental in mapping the musical lineage through anthropological studies a decade prior to Jones’ retreat from the Stones’ drug scandals in Britain. Therefore, many feel that an intellectual connection gave Hamri’s leadership an upper hand in authenticity, as opposed to Attar’s apparent marketing scheme.
In spite of this criticism placed upon Attar however, it would probably take someone a lifetime of sifting through their music to actually find anything in the sound that could be easily marketed. Theirs is a style so ferociously mind-bending that the West has often labelled it “the Music of the Devil”, adding to this are the complex rhythms and melodies which repel as many listeners as they captivate. Nevertheless, for those prepared to challenge their musical norms, the experience is unlike anything on Earth, hypnotising the listener into feeling that they are lost in a realm beyond time.
The artist Brion Gysin captured this feeling perfectly; upon first hearing the music he exclaimed, “This is the music I want to hear for the rest of my life.”
The Sufis sound is not one of restriction in terms of standard musical structure, but rather an unpredictable journey, which flows without a hint of ceasing, trapped in a series of locked grooves, phasing in and out of sync for an eternity.
Some call it diabolic music due to its dramatic dynamics, but for the Sufi population, it is a transcendental experience, which once past the initial shock of its high-pitch, polyrhythms and sheer volume, becomes an atypical ambience beamed in from another world entirely.
