By heart: A nerdy post about my favorite qaris

Like most Muslim kids, I was expected to memorize at least a few chapters of the Quran. Unlike most Muslim kids, my mom – who had taught herself Arabic and the rules of its pronunciation in her adulthood – wanted me to memorize it all.

We quickly learned that I was not an especially gifted memorizer. Other kids could memorize a page in thirty minutes; I used to spend three hours a day trying to make the verses stick in my head. Early on, though, I realized what did work for me.

Listening for a melody. Just like you would with a song.

The Quran was an auditory experience first and foremost, after all. We’re encouraged to recite it and make it sound as beautiful as your throat will allow. I am no singer, but I like to think I can recite. The rules for singing and reciting are completely different. The melody of the Quran is improvised. It does not use the chromatic scale. There’s no one tune to follow. The same qari, or reciter, will come up with a million and one melodies for one chapter. He or she (big emphasis on the ‘she’ – the chain transmission of the Quran is full of female links) will take the same words and make you feel something different every time.

So when I was memorizing, and every time I got to a new chapter, I’d hold “auditions.” They went something like this:

Me: *cracks knuckles*
Me: *opens YouTube and www.quranexplorer.com/quran
Me: LET’S SEE WHAT YOU GOT, GENTLEMEN

Usually, I went straight to Sudais and Shuraim. I still don’t know whose idea it was to combine them, but there you go. I always liked Sudais better. He gets so hype (that’s the only way to describe it). Like in Surah Shuara, or Surah Saffat, or Shura. He sounds so joyful. Like he wants to fly.

Of course, this is speculation on my part. Maybe it’s just that he made me feel like I could fly.

(My friend, meanwhile, says that Sudais scares her. This is also understandable. He yells into the mic a lot.)

Then there was Salah Bukhatir – who can be slow and sweet, but can just as easily become a whirlwind. He helped me through the largest and longest surahs. Him, Sudais, and Shuraim all enjoy the greatest infamy in my memorizing journey. In their favor, the auditions were always rigged.

But then there were the one-hit wonders. Mishary Rashid al-Afasy is everyone and their grandma’s favorite, but I only ever listened to his recitation of Surah Insan – faster than his usual pace, and he goes high with his voice instead of his trademark low and deep. Idrees Abkar’s passion made it easy for me to master Surah Nisa‘s dizzying verses on marriage, divorce, and inheritance. Khalid al Jalil reciting Surah Noor gives off mosque-in-Ramadan vibes (if you know you know). Slow, sleepy Sheikh Hudhaify recites Surah Dukhan like it’s a lullaby. Fatih Seferagic is the opposite of Hudhaify – energetic enough that if his voice had a physical weight to it, it’d probably break through the roof or something.

Then there’s the people who get honorable mentions. They have a special place on my epic Quran playlist.

Saad al Ghamdi sounds almost mournful when he recites Surah Saad, is steadily rhythmic with Surah Rahman, and is a little of both with Surah Anbiya. Moutasem al Hameedi cries a lot when he recites, and for some reason they never edit it out. But everything he puts out there – especially his recitation of Surah Furqan and Surah Aali Imran – is the equivalent of someone’s relaxing Island playlist. Ahmed al Ajmi on Surah Yusuf and Surah Maryam (!!!) is FIRE. No one will ever be able to un-convince me that Imam Fadel has a voice that twangs like a guitar.

My hands-down favorite was, and still is, Abdul Karim Edgouch, whose voice we have preserved on several autographed CDs. He has Moroccan lungs and talent that doesn’t get enough attention. His voice locked into my memory all of Juz (section) 26 and 28. His recitation of Surah Taha is light and bouncy; his recitation of Surah Israa is like the light trails on fast-moving cars; his recitation of Surah Munafiqun is as sweetly bitter as dark chocolate. When he recites Surah Noor, his voice dances like a candle flame. He doesn’t upload a lot to YouTube. I guess the responsibility is now on me to rip off those CDs and make videos out of them.

Are you still reading this? I’m impressed. And I thank you sincerely for sitting through a poorly disguised fangirl essay. I’m going to admit right now that I don’t know how to end this post. Godspeed if you’re still plowing through my clumsy conclusion.

In conclusion (because this, according to my teachers, is the Way to End an Essay), I hope I’ve done my favorite reciters justice. There are a million and one people who write about the way their favorite musicians make them feel.

There might as well be someone who pages homage to the qaris, too.

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