Other Voices, Other Worlds: Middle Eastern Music in Denmark

Part 1 of 2

It is one of my first nights in Copenhagen, and I'm at the steps of the Forum Metro Station. People rush by me under street lamps shrouded in the ever-present haze of Danish rain, their collars turned up to the cold.

Above my head is a mammoth billboard ad for the upcoming Gwen Stefani concert. In the street, a car idles at a red light with windows cracked, despite the weather. From the open windows comes the smooth legato of a strange music. I listen, thinking it must be some remix of an Akon song, which seems to be all the rage here.

But no, not Akon this time. It's in Arabic.

In this moment, culture shock hits me. It's only when the uncanny lurks under a nonchalant surface that I feel uncomfortable here. Standing there, the situation is so close to normal — bass from a car and an ad for Gwen Stefani. Yet, Miss Stefani is not playing Milwaukee. She is playing Copenhagen. The thumping bass from the wet street is not Soulja Boy, and no one is ghost-riding to "Crank That." The music I hear is in a language that is as foreign to me as Danish.

But it is exactly this overlap of cultures that I was surrounded by at that moment that has spawned one of the fastest growing music scenes in Europe. This strange combination of Middle Eastern and European traditions has become an inescapable sound here.

The plan that night was to go to a club featuring local hip-hop artists, so I waited at this station that is nestled in between the ritzy Fredriksberg neighborhood and the multi-ethnic N?