Tarab: The transcendent power of music

"Notes fly so much farther than words. There is no other way to reach the infinite."

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Tarab (Arabic)

Have you ever been moved by a musical performance in a way you can’t quite explain?

I’ll admit: I’ve never really *gotten* musical theater. But several years ago, I was spending a lot of time in New York and decided I should probably go see a Broadway show. A friend recommended Come From Away. It tells the story of a small Newfoundland town that came together to support stranded airline passengers in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. When I sat down to watch the show, I expected a powerful story told in an entertaining way. What I didn’t expect was how moved I would be by the whole performance. It wasn’t just the story  — it was the dancing, the drumming, the synchronized spirit of it all. Looking up at the stage, I was enchanted. A burst of energy seemed to cut through the music and the hazy yellow lights, totally engulfing the crowd. I had goosebumps through the whole thing, and I knew everyone else in the theater felt what I was feeling.

There’s an Arabic term that describes this feeling: Tarab. It relates to the ability to be deeply moved and emotionally transported by music. At The Michigan Daily, columnist Yasmine Slimani explains:

“Loosely translated to ‘enchantment,’ tarab is an Arabic word describing a deep, stirring musical performance that launches the audience into a trance-like state of ecstasy.”

Some extend tarab’s definition to other performing arts, like live poetry or dance. Whatever the medium, tarab seems intentional  — the goal for artists is to create an intense emotional connection with the audience, which is why it’s often experienced in a communal setting where people can come together and experience it live. Tarab isn’t limited to just joyful or happy emotions; it can also evoke melancholy or a bittersweet longing. For example, this piece from the BBC describes the importance of tarab in Aleppo, where it’s become a “life support" in a time of crisis.

Like a lot of untranslatable words, tarab seems difficult to translate even in its own language. Maybe because it describes something that’s beyond the confines of language  — something you can only feel. “Though the conditions of tarab are difficult to explain, it moves us all in a way that does not need to be entirely understood,” Silmani continues. “In its enigmatic nature lies a comforting sanctity: a shared, almost holy experience that connects us all.” 

From the archives

Dealing With Impostor Syndrome When You’re Treated as an Impostor (the New York Times, 2018): “Last May, I walked into a room of impeccably dressed journalists at a media event in Los Angeles. I tugged on my pilly cardigan and patted down my frizzy bangs. When a waiter presented a tray of sliced cucumbers and prosciutto and asked, ‘Crudité?’ I resisted the temptation to shove three of them into my mouth and instead smiled and replied, ‘No, thank you.’ I was focused on the task at hand: pretending not to be a fraud among this crowd of professionals.”

What’s new?

• I read: How to Write a Book While Parenting by Isabel Mader. “You will realize, after a certain point, that you have spent thirty-seven minutes looking at the routines of other writers and you have, once again, written nothing,” Mader writes.

• Also, I enjoyed How "Open-Eared" Are You? by Rob Walker, which makes the case for stepping outside of your musical comfort zone. Weird Al, anyone?

• I loved helping to write and produce this Hidden Brain episode on Learning From Your Mistakes. As Toni Morrison said, “Failure is just information.” How can we get better at using that information to our advantage?

 — Kristin