On the first Thursday of each month, for decades, streets across the Arab world grew quiet. Families gathered around radios to hear Umm Kulthum sing from Cairo.
Umm Kulthum was born in a village in the Nile Delta of Egypt, around 1904. Her father was an imam who sang religious songs at weddings and festivals. He noticed his daughter’s extraordinary voice and, to allow her to perform, dressed her as a boy. As a child she recited the Qur’an, which trained her pronunciation and breath control.
Cairo
In the 1920s, she moved to Cairo and began performing and recording. She worked with the leading poets and composers of the day, and her performances of classical Arabic poetry set to music made her a star. By the 1930s, she was the most famous singer in Egypt.
The concerts
Her monthly concerts, broadcast live on radio, were legendary. A single song could last an hour or more, as she repeated lines with endless variation, responding to the audience’s cries of delight. Listeners called the state of emotional ecstasy her singing produced tarab.
Enta Omri
In 1964, she recorded “Enta Omri”, meaning “You Are My Life”, composed by Mohammed Abdel Wahab. The collaboration between the two giants of Egyptian music was hailed as a historic meeting, and the song became one of her most famous.
Egypt and Nasser
Umm Kulthum was closely associated with Egyptian nationalism and with President Gamal Abdel Nasser. After Egypt’s defeat in the 1967 war, she toured the Arab world and Europe, donating proceeds to the Egyptian government.
Death
She died in Cairo in February 1975. Her funeral drew millions of people into the streets, among the largest gatherings in Egyptian history. Mourners took the coffin from its official bearers and carried it through the city.
Legacy
Umm Kulthum remains one of the best-selling Arabic singers of all time. Her recordings are played daily on radio stations and in cafés from Morocco to the Gulf. Musicians far beyond the Arab world, including Robert Plant, have spoken of their admiration for her.
Africa’s voice
As an African artist, she is often left out of lists focused on sub-Saharan music, but her influence on North African and Middle Eastern music is unmatched.
She sang in long, slow waves until audiences wept. Half a century after her death, Cairo taxi drivers still play her at dusk.
