Voices of Beyoğlu

 

 

Yazı/Text: SİBEL KİLİMCİ Fotoğraflar/Photos: NURCAN VOLKAN

 

Music is the heartbeat of life... Istanbul’s heart beats in Beyoğlu, sometimes at 9/8, sometimes at 2/4 time...
And every once in a while, completely out of beat...
Just like Istanbul... Lend an ear to buskers if you wish to understand life, and to Istanbul to understand the musicians...

 

Voices of Beyoğlu rise from the ground to bring joy to the street.

 

Beyoğlu rushes you forward, like a forceful river. You hear every tongue on earth, see the most interesting faces and every shade of skin colour under the sun, as well as come across all that is beautiful and all that is not, as you run through the course of this river...

Restaurants radiate mouth-watering aromas that mingle with music emanating from the book and music shops; Beyoğlu is like an equitable living creature. Humanity has succeeded where laws have failed: On the street, everyone is equal. This equality and peace last so long as you’re prepared to respect your fellow humans and understand their languages, body and soul, as well as what might trouble them. This unlikely and at the same time entertaining mixture of humanity includes well-meaning, tipsy tourists, ready to accept all at face value, thinking themselves in some exotic and fun paradise, well-‘ard thugs, wild young people trying to distance themselves from their families’ value sets, intellectuals, shanty-town urchins, transvestites, pick-pockets and designer-label fans, toting Gucci or Dolce and Gabbana. The street’s spirit permeates all. Music is equally free in Beyoğlu, despite all the efforts of those who would obstruct it. Bars hidden in remote corners play host to young musicians, never before heard anywhere else while the streets harbour brand-new voices. Siya Siyabend, for example, the band that sang “They know nothing, they want to see nothing; look at these ignorant people, they own the world, yet name you cruel if you don’t belong, Khayyam, my friend” in Fatih Akın’s “Crossing the Bridge.” Siya Siyabend, the band that was founded in 1994 by Bison Murat and Dede Murat whose each and every member resembles a literary hero, proud and indomitable, singing his own words freely, upends musical rules and blends the traditional with the unusual. The majority of their repertoire consists of folk poems, sufi tunes and their own compositions. Flying in the face of the speedy course of either Istanbul or Beyoğlu, they sing what they know about. They view earning money as somewhat embarrassing; money only serves to save the day. Dervishes to the life-weary and tramps to the police: The band has already issued a few albums though they reject the music industry and prefer to make music on the streets. In the same musical fraternity is Karagüneş (Amargi), founded in 1997 in Ankara. They accompany Siya Siyabend in Istanbul. They make their own albums and sell during street concerts. Brothers Önder and Özgür get together with Ceyhun and Gencer to form the backbone of the band; every so often, a ‘guest’ musician will take his instrument and join them. You need to walk towards Tünel and pray if you want to hear them play. Odakule is one of the favourite locations for Beyoğlu’s buskers: The arcade that lets the sharp Golden Horn wind -that soughs around the tower block- into Beyoğlu always resonates with the sound of music. This is usually a Rock song in Turkish. It is highly likely that a group of young people will have sat on the ground, one or two of them wielding guitars, singing. Eren and Şahin are two such musicians you might come across at Odakule: Both are studying Management at the Uludağ University. The young people around them are mostly Kasımpaşa Lycée pupils... In other words, they even have a fan base. Eren says, “We’re here to make money.” One of the most intriguing buskers on the street is Fırat Çağla; you may usually see her sitting before a bank, guitar in hand, down the road from Odakule. Her head modestly covered, she wears a long raincoat, looking as though she’d stepped out for a brief moment before going back to her cooking, still on the cooker... That her relationship with the guitar is somewhat new is evident from her playing. 44 years old, she has a long history of singing folk poems and songs on the stage and in folk music bars. Now she sings on the street, in a calm part of Beyoğlu, far from the madding crowd. She tries to resist the change that befalls all, endeavouring to share her music with the people on the street. The Selda Bağcan-like resonance of her voice stands out in the noise... All that she wants is to be able to sing her songs without needing help from anyone. She carries photocopies of clippings and old photos to show those interested. The woman in these photos sports a head devoid of a scarf; her outfits have short sleeves. We ask about her current hijab-like outfit; when did she cover up? “On the street, it’s been a year now. I took a few things to heart and then covered up...” People in search of a living, flute or lute under the arm, flock to Beyoğlu. Ask them if music brings in enough, and they reply, “Can’t complain.” They all have their dreams and aims; sometimes their instruments offer their only hope... Should you ever find yourself down that way, you might like to sit down next to a busker to observe the street from their viewpoint... Only then you might grow to appreciate just how hard it is to exist on those pavements where how you look, what you are or what you might become do not matter one bit. You might also experience the privilege of being quite ordinary...

 

Kids of beyoğlu; some earning life by drumming, some getting ready for life by watching.

 

Voices of Beyoğlu, refugees making music beneath the caring shade of night.