Turkish music: from Sezen Aksu to Anatolian rock

Turkish music is far stranger and richer than the bouzouki-and-belly-dance cliché suggests. There's the Hafez-quoting classical tradition, the proto-psychedelic Anatolian rock of the 1970s, the heartbreak-in-cassette-form arabesque genre that defined a generation, and the still-alive indie circuit in Beyoğlu. Here's a working primer — what to know, who to listen to first, and where to hear it played live tonight.

Classical Ottoman — the deepest layer

Turkish art music — sometimes called Ottoman classical or Türk sanat müziği — is built on makams (modal scales) far more granular than the Western twelve-tone system. The fundamental instrument is the ney, the reed flute also central to Mevlevi sema; alongside it the tanbur (long-necked lute), kemençe (a small upright fiddle), and ud. The defining 19th- and early 20th-century figure is Tanburi Cemil Bey, whose 1910s recordings are still studied by students at the Istanbul Conservatory. Listen to his "Şehnaz Longa" once and you understand how a single instrument can imply an orchestra.

To hear classical played live: the Cemal Reşit Rey Concert Hall in Harbiye programs it routinely, and the Süreyya Opera House in Kadıköy hosts the State Classical Turkish Music Ensemble several nights a month. Tickets are inexpensive — often under 250 TL — and the audiences skew older and serious.

Arabesque — heartbreak as national soundtrack

Arabesque emerged in the 1970s among the migrants moving from rural Anatolia and the southeast into Istanbul's industrial outskirts. It fused Turkish folk modes with Egyptian orchestral arrangements (hence the name), and its lyrics — overwhelmingly about loss, fate, doomed love, the cruelty of the city — gave a generation of internal migrants a vocabulary for what was happening to them. The genre was banned from state television for years on the grounds that it was "depressing" and "backward." That made it more popular.

The two essential figures: Orhan Gencebay, who effectively invented the genre with his 1968 "Bir Teselli Ver," and Müslüm Gürses, whose live concerts in the 1980s became known for fans cutting themselves with razor blades during the songs — a literal expression of the music's emotional logic. (The cutting tradition has died out; the concerts have not.) Listen to Müslüm's "Nilüfer" or "Affet" before judging the genre. Modern arabesque continues through Ferdi Tayfur, İbrahim Tatlıses, and a new generation of singers like Sefo who layer trap production over the same minor-key DNA.

Anatolian rock — the lost decade

The 1968–1980 period in Turkey produced one of the world's great unrecognized rock scenes. A handful of musicians — most of them under 30 at the time — fused Anatolian folk songs (often centuries old) with electric guitars, fuzz pedals, and a rhythm section that had absorbed Hendrix and the Doors. The result is psychedelic, raw, and unmistakably Turkish.

The four artists you should know: Erkin Koray (the technician — "Estarabim" and "Şaşkın"), Cem Karaca (the political voice and the larger-than-life baritone — "Tamirci Çırağı"), Selda Bağcan (the protest singer with the haunted voice — her 1976 self-titled album is the entry point), and Barış Manço (the populist polymath, also a TV personality, who took the same fusion and made it palatable for a wider audience). The 1980 military coup ended this era; Karaca went into European exile, Selda was imprisoned, the scene fragmented. Modern reissues — particularly the Pharaway Sounds and Finders Keepers labels in Europe — have restored these recordings to their place in global psych-rock canon.

Pop — the Sezen Aksu architecture

Sezen Aksu is the central figure of Turkish pop and has been since 1976. She's a songwriter and producer in addition to a singer; the careers of Tarkan, Sertab Erener, Aşkın Nur Yengi, and most of the dominant 1990s pop voices were structured around songs she wrote for them. Tarkan's "Şımarık" — the song the West knows as "the kiss kiss song" — is hers, structurally. Her own albums are essential; "Gülümse" from 1991 is the standard recommendation.

Modern Turkish pop has fragmented into trap, electro-saz fusion (Mabel Matiz, Gaye Su Akyol), and a still-vibrant adult-contemporary scene. The discovery move: search Spotify for "Müslüm Gürses Sezen Aksu" — the 2006 album where she produced an arabesque legend in a more contemporary frame is one of the great reconciliations in the genre.

Indie and Istanbul underground — the alive scene

Beyoğlu — specifically the streets between Asmalımescit, Galata, and Cihangir — sustains a real live music scene. BaBa ZuLa, the dub-saz-electronic group founded in 1996, are the godparents of this circuit; they still play occasionally at Babylon. Other names to track: Gaye Su Akyol (post-punk meets Anatolian folk, three excellent albums), Cem Adrian (cinematic singer-songwriter), Replikas (long-running art-rock), Manga (heavier rock), and the post-rock-leaning Hayvanlar Alemi.

Where to hear live music in Istanbul

• Babylon — Bomonti, the largest and most consistently programmed venue in the city. Mid-size acts, international and domestic, four nights a week.
• IF Performance Hall — Beşiktaş, smaller, leans rock and indie. The Cuma night programming is reliable.
• Salon İKSV — in the Tepebaşı arts complex, programs jazz, contemporary classical, and the more cerebral pop. Book ahead.
• Nardis Jazz Club — Galata, small and serious. Local jazz musicians of high caliber, occasional touring acts.
• Peyote — Beyoğlu, three floors of live and DJ programming. Anatolian rock cover nights are reliably full.
• Zorlu PSM — Beşiktaş, the larger international-act venue. This is where the touring stadium acts play.

Tickets sell through Biletix and Passo. Book ahead for any name above a club tier — Friday and Saturday nights sell out.

The single playlist that explains the country

If you have one hour: "Şaşkın" (Erkin Koray) → "İnce İnce Bir Kar Yağar" (Selda) → "Yalan" (Sezen Aksu) → "Affet" (Müslüm Gürses) → "Kuzu Kuzu" (Tarkan) → "İstikrarlı Hayal Hakikattir" (Gaye Su Akyol) → "Hicaz Dolap" (BaBa ZuLa) → "Vurgun" (Cem Karaca). That ordering moves chronologically through the country's last fifty years and makes the connections audible.

If music is the lens you're using to plan a trip, stay in Beyoğlu — every venue above is within a 20-minute walk. For broader cultural context, our çay piece covers the social geography that produced this music.

Tagged: cultureistanbulmusic