One of the last places you’d expect to discover a new band is in The Wall Street Journal, but that’s where I first encountered the Brooklyn Qawwali Party (BQP). In an article that appeared this past February, Martin Johnson, who writes about jazz and popular music for the Journal, spoke with BQP founder and percussionist Brook Martinez about how he came to adapt the Sufi devotional music of a legendary Pakistani singer to make it the repertoire for his 11-piece big band, composed entirely of jazz musicians. The article noted that the band was scheduled to play in Park Slope, Brooklyn during the upcoming weekend. Because I live in the neighborhood, and because my interests had been piqued by Johnson’s article, I decided to go.

Credit: Jacob Blickenstaff for bqpmusic.com

Now, here are two distinct possibilities: the first is that I might just be the worst person to write this music review. I’ve never had particularly sophisticated taste when it comes to music. I fully confess to playing Jack Johnson’s Curious George soundtrack on my iPod every day for an entire summer on my walk to the office. I think I get my musical narrow-mindedness from my dad, who is satisfied driving to work with a rotation of talk radio and the two CDs he keeps in his car—a Christmas album from Manheim Steamroller and the soundtrack to the Broadway musical, Spam-a-Lot.

The second possibility is that I might just be the perfect person, or at least an acceptable one, to write this review. I am certainly not a music critic, but I do know what I like when I hear it. It was with the hope for this second possibility that I went to see the Brooklyn Qawwali Party.

That Saturday night, I slid along the back wall of the tiny performance space at Barbes, the bar and music venue in Park Slope. Under a red painted tin ceiling with bare bulbs for lighting, I peeked over the shoulders of those in front of me to get a glimpse of the band, a large group of Caucasian men and one Caucasian woman.

The sound was like nothing I had ever encountered, although comparisons have been made with a Brooklyn-based Afrobeat ensemble called Antibalas. BQP’s repertoire is adapted from the music of the legendary Pakistani vocalist Nusrat Fateh Ali Kahn in a unique blend of jazz and Qawwali. Of course, it probably goes without saying at this point that I really don’t know my Nusrat from my Ratatat (though I suspect I may not be alone here). Yet it was immediately clear to me that the band had a deep understanding of, and appreciation for, the spirit of the original musical repertoire, even if they didn’t understand the original words.

Qawwali music has its roots in Sufi mystical poetry dating back about 700 years ago, in regions of South Asia that had a distinct Muslim presence. “The melodies are virtuosic yet soulful, technically astounding yet emotionally concentrated,” says trumpet player Jesse Neuman. “Despite its mystical themes, exotic harmonies and twisting Urdu incantations, the essence of Qawwali music is both approachable and universal.” As with all things one wishes to appropriate, you have to respect where those things come from before you can take them in a new direction.

While Qawwali music dates back hundreds of years, Brooklyn Qawwali Party’s origins were born in the mind of the now 33-year-old Martinez. The Park Slope-based jazz percussionist was first introduced by a friend to the music of John Coltrane as a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. The spiritual element that Martinez heard in Coltrane’s music and that of other jazz greats captivated him more than any pop music ever had. His interest eventually led him to transfer to New York University, where he studied jazz and contemporary music. In New York, Martinez began to regularly take part in free jazz collectives, but something about the performances was lacking for him; the music wasn’t connecting with the audience, he recalls. Martinez took a part-time position at the World Music Institute, a leading presenter of traditional dance and music, and it was there that something important happened to him.

In the Institute’s library of discs, he discovered the work of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (1948-1997). Khan had been known for the way he transformed and modernized the traditional devotional music of Islamic culture. His music captivated Martinez. With access to an enormous catalog of the artist’s work, Martinez began to create mix tapes for himself and for musician friends. Noting that others seemed to share his enthusiasm for Kahn’s music, an idea began to take form. In many ways, the Eastern devotional music he had discovered was a perfect, if seemingly improbable, complement to the Western jazz he was familiar with. As Martinez describes it, each form consists of a simple melody enhanced by artistic improvisations. In Qawwali, this melody is expressed in song, typically in the Urdu and Punjabi languages. Lacking the language of the traditional music, the melody could alternatively be expressed with instruments.

In 2004, the Brooklyn Qawwali Party was born. With five horns, guitar, bass, harmonium, and three percussionists, the music is vibrant and exciting. The solos are passed around from instrument to instrument. The hand clapping of the audience, too, is treated almost as another instrument. Hand claps are not incidental to the music, but are integral to its energy. According to Martinez, the group actually has dedicated clappers, an element apparently shared with Qawwali.

Above all, the musical scene I witnessed was one of communal joy that seemed almost celebratory, an unlikely mix of music and musicians that just seemed, happily, to work. And then there was me, having made my way into the crowd on that frigid night in February, glad to be an unlikely audience member among them.