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  • Turkish Cymbals

    GLOBAL HIT
    January 11, 2008

    Turkish Cymbals
    http://www.theworld.org/?q=node/15295


    Al l this week, we've been visiting the Turkish city of Istanbul. It's
    a place where history won't stay in the past. In fact, Istanbul's
    history is playing a big part in shaping the city's future. Some of
    you wrote to comment onour series. Aubree Caunter, of Cleveland, came
    back to the US last August after living in Istanbul for several years.

    Thank you, she writes, for highlighting Istanbul and all its quirky
    charms.Here's another quirky bit of Istanbul for you. It involves
    cymbals -- you know, drum cymbals. In the final part of our series
    from Istanbul, The World's Alex Gallafent explores an industry that's
    both ancient and modern.


    Throw your mind back a few hundred years, to the 17th century. You're
    a visitor to Constantinople, the capital of the Ottoman Empire. Let's
    say you're an important visitor - an ambassador maybe.


    Walking through the Topkapi Palace, you're greeted by these
    sounds. It's anOttoman military band. Usually they play stirring music
    on the battlefield.Today, they're performing a sedate march to welcome
    you to Constantinople. Listen out, in particular, for the jangling
    cymbals high up in the music.



    Jump forward to modern times, and you'll see those Ottoman cymbals
    have evolved. Now they're key to the sound of different
    music. American music. Jazz.

    Say hello to drummer Mel Lewis and his Jazz Orchestra, burning through
    a tune in the late 1980s. In that recording, Mel Lewis is playing
    Turkish cymbals. In fact, more or less the whole tradition of
    cymbal-making in modern music comes from Turkey.

    The Chinese were making cymbals centuries ago, too, but it's Turkey
    that's led the way in modern times.

    Now, you might think a cymbal is a cymbal is a cymbal. Not so. For
    drummerslike Joey Waronker, a cymbal is part of your musical
    voice. Waronker has played with the likes of Beck and R.E.M.

    `I'd be looking for an even-ness of sound, and then a certain amount
    of decay of the sound, like I might want something with a longer decay
    or a shorter decay.'

    That means how long it takes for the sound to die away. Waronker looks
    for other things too. Like whether the sound of the cymbal is sharp or
    mellow. Or whether it's high or low. Each cymbal has a unique sound -
    in fact, some drummers can be identified simply by their choice of
    cymbals.

    `Like Elvin Jones - you immediately know it's him or Tony Williams was
    another one. And they both used old Turkish cymbals but you just knew
    the second you heard it who it was.'

    In case you DON'T know, that's Tony Williams you're hearing right now,
    fromthe Miles Davis album, Nefertiti.

    That rich, pingy ride sound Willams had in the 1960s is something of a
    holygrail for jazz drummers.

    The stick hits are all clear and distinct, but the cymbal doesn't
    sound toometallic or cold. It's a warm sound, you can hear a bunch of
    different colors in the sound, it's like the metal's alive somehow. OK
    - full disclosure. I play drums myself. So it's easy to get carried
    away about these things.

    The point is, your cymbals are YOU. They're a big part of what
    identifies you musically. Drummer Joey Waronker does most of his
    playing in California. But his cymbals come from here.

    This is Istanbul Agop, a cymbal-making company on the outskirts of,
    yes, Istanbul. The craftsmen working here are part of a cymbal-making
    lineage that goes right back to the days of the Ottoman Empire. Part
    of what distinguishes them is that they make all their cymbals by
    hand. A master cymbal-maker, Fatih, takes me through the process on
    the factory floor.

    `This is the casting process - we put copper and zinc together, we mix
    them - and put into the oven which is 1200 degree. And after the
    melting, we put into these cases.

    The exact formula for the alloy is a family secret passed from father
    to son. Each pool of molten metal cools and sets in a heavy iron
    pan. But it's about to get warm again.

    `After we cast the copper, we put them into the oven, we make them
    warmer and softer. Then we put them into this machine to make them
    thinner.

    They thin the sheet of metal seven or eight times.

    `After these processes, we cut the edges off the cymbals and we start
    to hammer them. Each cymbal has 2000 / 2500 hammer hits in one
    cymbal.'

    This is the key to traditional Turkish cymbal-making. Hammering the
    cymbal makes the surface of the metal uneven. That disrupts the way
    the cymbal vibrates when you hit it. And because every cymbal is
    hammered in a slightly different way, each instrument has a different
    sound.

    Well it's not QUITE as simple as that. Lots of other factors play a
    part indetermining the character of a cymbal.

    The weight of the metal, how much alloy is used. Or the taper of the
    cymbal- how thin it is at the edge.

    `They're like fingerprints or snowflakes - there really are no two
    alike.'

    That's Brett Campbell, a cymbal specialist based in Boston. He says
    it's hard to distinguish cymbals hammered by hand and cymbals hammered
    by a computer-guided machine. That's how some of the big American
    cymbal companies produce their instruments: the computer produces a
    random hammering action to getthe same effect as a person.

    `I don't know if I could tell, to be honest with you.' One of those
    big American companies, Zildjian, was ORIGINALLY Turkish. The company
    moved its operations to the US in the 1920s. Today Zildjian sells more
    cymbals than the smaller companies still operating in Turkey.

    Zildjian can legitimately claim its place in the Turkish lineage. And
    theircymbals are generally agreed to be excellent. But there's a
    romance to the hand-made instrument that's hard to deny. Brett
    Campbell hopes traditional Turkish companies don't get TOO big,
    because if they did...

    `You know, they would have to change their manufacturing
    techniqueswhich would change their sound and their mystique - and
    everything would suffer that goes along with that.'

    Right now, Turkish cymbal-makers like Istanbul Agop have achieved that
    rarething - a successful integration of ancient craft and modern
    commerce.

    `They can remain in the old world, while still providing an instrument
    that works in 2008.'

    Before any cymbal leaves the Agop factory, it gets stamped with
    company logo. It reads 'handmade cymbals made in Turkey'. So next time
    you hear some American jazz, go take a peek at the cymbals. There's a
    good chance they'll beTurkish.

    For The World, I'm Alex Gallafent, Istanbul.

    web resources:
    Istanbul Cymbals
    Zildjian
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