You couldn’t wish for more grimly appropriate timing. Three days since US president Donald Trump's threat of “disproportionate” revenge against Iran – including the destruction of the country's historic monuments – Arab Christmas comes to this beautiful Baroque church in the heart of London.
Its compere, Palestinian singer Reem Kelani, is keen to point out the political significance of the event, which she and six other musicians (five from the Middle East, one Brit) are presenting. “These songs are our monument,” she declares.
The evening is billed as a celebration of the human voice but with a meld of the Byzantine, Aramaic, and Coptic Christian traditions, and songs and chants which, in some cases, date from the fourth century CE.
First up is Lebanese singer Najib Coutya, whose warmly ringing tone recalls the delivery of the Azan (the Islamic call to prayer). Then comes Nizar Rohana, a Palestinian oud virtuoso whose grave improvisation radiates a wonderful serenity: his silences are as eloquent as his sound.
Syrian mezzo Mirna Kassis delivers a graceful call, followed by a Lebanese chant from Merit Ariane. The Greek Catholic priest Dr Shafiq Abouzayed then delivers a Maronite chant in a massively resonant voice. Jon Banks officiates as accompanist, sometimes on the plucked kanun zither, and sometimes on the hammered dulcimer. When he, Kassis, and Abouzayed perform together, the effect is almost orchestral.
The whole thing makes a perfect evening, rounded off with an exquisite meditation from Rohana on the oud and the Arab version of “Silent Night”, which sounds sweeter than usual with oud accompaniment. The church is full, the audience rapt. I leave making a note to visit the Antiochian Greek Orthodox Church in north London, where Najib leads the choir.
