Elia Raza

Back in the 15th century, a painter was famous for painting a flat, golden, almost otherworldly saint, following a simple template formula. Time changed, and his patron wanted something else entirely. He wanted a face that looks like it could turn and speak to you and a body that looks like it has muscle. That shift did not come out of nowhere, but it came from an idea.

Imagine there is a monk singing in a room without any instruments, and in another room there are four or five people singing a song together. The difference is clear between them. The monk will sing just one line of melody drifting toward the ceiling, and others are layering the song into something that sounds almost like a conversation. This is the shortest way to describe the gap between Medieval and Renaissance music, where one era sang alone, and the other learned to sing together.

Music is the best way to express your feelings, and the most attractive form of music to me is Qawwali. Because qawwali is meant to dismantle you and make you think about things in different ways. Such a qawwali is “Bhala Howa Meri Gagri Phooti Re” which is written by Kabir Das (1398–1448) and sung by Fareed Ayaz.