To speak of Islam and music, for some, is to consider a rich history that stretches from the mysticism of North African Sufism, to classical Arabic and Persian modal systems, through to the popularised Qawwali of Pakistan and Punjab, explains Carl Morris.

Others will perhaps focus on a traditional Islamic discourse, historically unsettled and divisive, that has long sought to clarify the permissibility, and the very definition, of music. Nonetheless, moving beyond this rooted historicism, researchers working within ethnomusicology, cultural studies, sociology and anthropology have increasingly recognised that music is often located at the interstices of the social forces shaping the experiences of Muslims in a modern, global environment. Indeed, this reading is especially relevant when we consider the unique position of Islam in a minority western context.

Over the last decade and more, Muslims in Britain have increasingly been at the forefront of debates regarding national identity, citizenship, religious diversity and foreign policy, as well as, in parallel, attempting to employ a broader Islamic discourse within the context of secular Britain – a setting that, for many Muslims, is marked by economic disadvantage, religious intolerance, and urban decay. Simultaneous to these developments has been the growth of a predominantly youthful Muslim population – teenagers and those in their twenties – surrounded and connected by the flow of globalised, popular culture. When we consider this confluence – of religion, politics and culture – it is perhaps not surprising that music is increasingly utilised as a means through which to make sense of being both British and Muslim. While academic research has yet to catch up with these developments, we can at least begin to map the contours of ‘British Muslim music’ (a reifying term that must be used with caution), recognising different themes, genres and musicians within this vibrant, cultural explosion.

There is one style of popular music that arguably has strong roots in mainstream Islamic tradition: at a grassroots level, in the mosque and the community centre, it is possible to find amateur musicians performing devotional songs/poems known as nasheeds or naats (particularly during Ramadan). These ‘poetic songs’, usually in Arabic or Urdu, are marked by lyrics praising Allah or the Prophet Muhammad, an emphasis on vocality, and, at most, sparse percussion instrumentation (such as thedaf). In the commercial, public sphere it is the Birmingham-based group Shaam that typifies this musical genre. Having formed in 1997, this group, composed of four young men, is significant in its attempt to represent an Arab-Islamic musical tradition (the nasheed) for a contemporary British Muslim audience. Their devotional, a cappella songs – often versions of Arab or Urdu classics – and light percussion instrumentation, sit easily within a tradition that they hope to keep alive. However, they also attempt to reinterpret this tradition for a British audience, writing, recording and performing English-language nasheeds, such as the popular song ‘Mercy like the Rain’.

While nasheeds are usually typified by this stripped-down musical style, we increasingly find syncretic musical forms that nonetheless locate themselves under the aegis of the nasheed industry. This genre attempts to fuse diverse cultural and religious traditions into an accessible and appealing musical format. Looming over this increasingly popular

style of music is the British-Azeri musician Sami Yusuf. With training in the western classical tradition, including familiarity with a range of instruments, he has additional knowledge of Middle Eastern modal forms (maqams). Lyrically, Yusuf ranges from topics of devotion, through to politics, ethics, and issues pertaining to the status of Islam in a minority Western context. In this sense, his music has a contemporary relevance that chimes with the vast number of listeners attracted to his work. Indeed, recognising that many within Islam believe certain instruments to be haram, Yusuf has broadened his appeal by releasing music in two formats: a ‘music version’ and a ‘percussion version’. This combination of polished professionalism, relevance, and inclusiveness has resulted in Sami Yusuf selling millions of albums worldwide, enabling him to use his influence and fame to promote various charitable and political causes – from disaster relief in Haiti to the struggle in Palestine.

Another striking musical genre emerging in Britain is so-called ‘Islamic hip-hop’. The relationship between Muslims and hip-hop in America has received long-standing attention – in part because Islam was embedded within mainstream American hip-hop from its inception. However, Islamic hip-hop is a comparatively recent phenomenon in the UK, with an increasing number of acts having emerged over the last decade. This genre of music places extreme emphasis on the poetic function of language – often a form of ‘urban patois’ – positioning itself as the innovative vanguard of an ancient tradition in Islamic poetry. Popular acts include Mecca2Medina, Mohammed Yahya and the assertive, hijab-wearing, female duo Poetic Pilgrimage. In terms of lyrical content, Islamic hip-hop tends to be less devotional in the abstract, with a greater focus on individual lifestyle and moral practice. Furthermore, there tends to be an overriding concern with contemporary social and political issues, ranging from the status and role of Muslim women, to popularised political campaigns, such as Palestine. While Islamic hip-hop largely tends to articulate itself in terms of an ethical earnestness, it nonetheless does range from the satirical and the playful through to the challenging and the controversial – including the hip-hop group Blakstone and their call for an Islamic Caliphate capable of protecting oppressed Muslims.

This short article has raced through an overview of popular British Muslim musicians, doing little more than drawing attention to innovative cultural forms and hinting at future avenues for research. Indeed, a number of interesting questions immediately rise to the surface: How do these musicians interact with traditional centres of religious authority? In what sense is an ‘Islamised’ music industry developing? How does this music inform ideas of community and belonging? These questions are just the beginning. Without a doubt, this is a rich and unexplored cultural phenomenon that deserves further attention; for through the study of music we are able to investigate broader issues that relate to Muslim communities in the UK.

Carl Morris is a PhD student at The Centre for the Study of Islam in the UK, at Cardiff University. His research is an ethnographic study that attempts to explore the idea of ‘Islamic’ soundscapes and sound communities in the UK, with particular emphasis on music and British Muslims.