<span>As well as being the overarching term for the plaintive, improvisational and melodic Arabic music </span><span>that </span><span>dates back to the 14th century, maqam also translates into English as "place". Iraqi-American composer, jazz trumpeter and santur player Amir ElSaffar </span><span>understands this dual meaning better than most. </span><span>He grew up near Chicago</span><span> and often listen</span><span>ed to his father's jazz LPs</span><span>, developing a</span><span> </span><span>love of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald early </span><span>on. </span><span>ElSaffar's mother also taught him to play American folk songs on a ukulele. And yet, by his mid 20s, ElSaffar was heading to Iraq to learn more about maqam</span><span>, mere months before the Iraq War. </span> <span>"It was a tense moment," he</span><span> says. "Here I was, travelling on an American passport, exploring Arabic culture, learning to speak Arabic, researching Iraqi maqam. People would ask me what I was doing </span><span>– I went right into the eye of the storm."</span> <span>What ElSaffar was doing, he says, was discovering the "origin of something". Not </span><span>only was he learning about his </span><span>ancestry, </span><span>he was discovering more about the maqam of Iraq. "It maintains something ancient," he says. "It's connected to the beginnings of western and </span><span>eastern music</span><span>. Every sound resonates and after a while, you can almost hear Bach, Beethoven, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong … all these musical experiences I had, </span><span>I could centre in maqam."</span> <span>And so began a lifelong relationship with a musical form that permeates everything ElSaffar does. </span><span>Next Saturday, he will bring his </span><span><em>Luminiscencia</em></span><span> project, which combines flamenco, electronics and maqam, to </span><span>the Shubbak Festival, London's "window on contemporary Arab culture". ElSaffar </span><span>says </span><span>he learnt about </span><span>Spanish culture</span><span> through his mother, who taught Spanish literature, </span><span>while </span><span>he </span><span>also became sufficiently intrigued by the similarities and differences between maqam and flamenco to make four research trips to Spain. </span><span>Much like his visit to Iraq, he </span><span>immersed himself in the music, t</span><span>ook lessons in harmony, learn</span><span>t the form of flamenco and </span><span>how its rhythmic cycles worked. </span> <span>"Sometimes they're very obviously reminiscent or even have historical ties to maqam and the music of Islam," he says. "But other elements are from jazz and other western harmonic forms</span><span>, especially in the 20th-century influence of [flamenco guitarist] Paco de Lucia. There are a lot of connections with African music, too, and it's a bit mysterious; nobody really knows where these patterns come from."</span> <span>ElSaffar </span><span>– as you might expect </span><span>of someone with a degree in </span><span>trumpet performance from DePaul University in Chicago </span><span>– can talk all day about the musical theory and harmonic ideas behind maqam and flamenco. </span><span>But </span><span>the music's emotional, performative core is </span><span>also importan</span><span>t to </span><span><em>Luminiscencia</em></span><span>, which is supported by </span><span>Abu Dhabi Festival</span><span>,</span><span> </span><span>with flamenco dancer Vanesa Aibar </span><span>play</span><span>ing a key part </span><span>in the performance. </span> <span>"Vanesa is part of the ensemble," </span><span>ElSaffar says. "The sound needs to be physically embodied somehow</span><span> and I wanted her to provide the visual component of that. </span><span>The vibrations flow through her and she</span><span> respond</span><span>s to them, reflecting what's happening. There's not a literal storyline to </span><span><em>Luminiscencia</em></span><span>, but there is a sense of progression from this deep, heavy, wide-open abyss to powerful ecstasy. And Vanesa is the focal point, where all the energy from the music coalesces."</span> <span>In Spanish, this soulful, deep emotional state is called "duende"</span><span>, while in maqam the similar state of ecstasy is referred to as "tarab", </span><span>with the idea being that the audience </span><span>is </span><span>put into a collective trancelike state by the music. Effectively, this is ElSaffar's aim, to loosen physical ties to a bricks</span><span>-and</span><span>-mortar </span><span>venue and </span><span>create music that </span><span>engulfs </span><span>his audience. </span> <span>This was also the aim of his la</span><span>test album, 2017's </span><span><em>Rivers Of Sound: Not Two</em></span><span>. </span><span>It featured 17 musicians from a variety of musical traditions</span><span> and combined Middle Eastern music with jazz. "I guess everything I do, even if it's other traditions and musical languages, fits into a larger 'jazz' way of life," he</span><span> says. "It's always been such an open form of music</span><span> and if you look at [Juan Tizol and Duke Ellington's jazz standard] </span><span><em>Caravan</em></span><span> there's a real connection with the Middle East, too. It might seem superficial, but it was meaningful</span><span>, as was Ahmed Abdul-Malik's </span><span><em>Jazz Sahara</em></span><span>. </span><span>People were taking little bits of information from elsewhere, incorporating them into their musical worlds and making something new and fresh out of it."</span> <span>That is probably the best way to </span><span>describe ElSaffar, too. When we speak, he</span><span> says he has been </span><span>preparing to go on a research trip to Tunisia to explore stambeli, a niche form of ritualistic sub-Saharan African music, so he can gather some musicians together for a project later in the year. </span><span>Next year, he says he hopes to do something similar with South Indian musicians </span><span>and the tradition of raga. "I'm branching into unknown territory and finding ways to connect it with the music I'm most familiar with," he says. </span> <span>And that music is</span><span> always</span><span> maqam. </span><span>ElSaffar says it was never his intention to use this </span><span>genre, this musical way of being, to cross cultural boundaries, but </span><span>because of his own heritage, </span><span>it was perhaps inevitable. On his 2015 album </span><span><em>Crisis</em></span><span>, he used maqam and jazz to reflect on a region in turmoil. Or at least, he realised that afterwards.</span> <span>“What I witnessed in the Middle East, I wanted to document and process,” he explains. “I didn’t even know I was doing it at the time; I was naming the pieces as I was playing them at the Newport Jazz Festival because it was only then I could understand what the music meant. Often there’s something much bigger going on with my music that I’m not even aware of until it’s being performed.</span> <span>"</span><span>I happen to be Iraqi and American and for a long time now those countries have had a relationship that has been contentious and defining for the Middle East</span><span>. That's been a source of tension for me. But it's divisive. </span><span>My approach is to process and express all th</span><span>ose things through music</span><span>, which is a place that can bring people together. </span> <span>After all, music highlights a fundamental unity and interconnectedness.”</span> <em><span>Amir ElSaffar will perform ‘Luminiscencia’ </span><span>on July 6 at London’s Lilian Baylis Studio </span><span>as part of the Shubbak</span><span> Festival. For more information, visit </span><span>www.shubbak.co.uk</span></em>