When groups of Turkish musicians from Istanbul took to the Anatolian roads in the early twentieth century to compile collections of folk songs, they probably overlooked the fact that Istanbul, their city of residence, also had its own folk songs. However, as more and more folk songs from all across the countryside were compiled, numerous folk songs that were assumed to have originated in Istanbul began to appear in sheet music collections. It became possible to hear them on radio programs, find them in commercial vinyls, or used in the film scores. A number of these folk songs can be given as examples: Fındıklı’dır bizim yolumuz, (Our destination is Fındıklı) İstanbul’dan Üsküdar’a yol gider (Çavuş) (A road goes from Istanbul to Üsküdar [sergeant]), Telgrafın tellerine kuşlar mı konar (Have birds perched on the telegraph wires?), Üsküdar’a gider iken aldı da bir yağmur (Kâtibim) (The rain set in on the way to Üsküdar [my dear scribe]), Mendilimin yeşili (Aman Doktor) (The green of my handkerchief [Mercy, doctor]), Besmeleyle biz yangına kalkarız (We put out fires saying Bismillah).1
However, in the case of many folk songs, including the ones above, despite the many evidentiary links that can be followed, such as whether the folksong was recorded as a vocal or instrumental performance by a folk singer within the city limits of Istanbul, or if the sheet music was discovered in the archives of a musician who was a resident of the city, or whether there was a narrative history that the song was composed somewhere in Istanbul, or for some other reason lost to history, it is still not possible to establish a definitive link between these songs and Istanbul.2
This lack of definitive evidence is due to the fact that, according to artists from around Istanbul, during the first quarter of the twentieth century the phrase türkü occupied a place that did not attract much attention in the daily pace of urban life. The folk singers themselves lived in the outskirts of Istanbul, and their reputation spread mostly through their performances at sporting events, coffeehouses, pubs, at country weddings, or occasionally when they performed for local dignitaries. As a term türkü was used to identify anonymous songs sung by folk singers who had immigrated to Istanbul, mostly from Anatolia, but also from other places across the Ottoman State. However, the phrase türkü did not identify any one particular type of poetry, metro-rhythmic and metro-melodic structure or pattern, musical style or form, nor specific types of traditional instruments used in the performance, or the timbre of the instrument, the venues they were performed in, the faith-related purposes and forms of the performance, or any other characteristic that might stem from the cultural differences of the performers themselves.3
Furthermore, when türkü as a genre became increasingly popular with musicians living in Istanbul, they started to be composed in many other maqāms, such as, hosaynī, muhayyar, nawā, tāhir, ushshāq, hejāz, māhūr, rast, musta’ār, gulizār, and karjeghār; they also started to include lyrics which depict a typical village life, with abundant use of words like köy meydanı (village square), köylü kızı (village girl), çoban (shepherd), sürme (kohl), kına (henna), pınar başı (fountainhead), çeşme taşı (fountain stone), koyun (sheep), kuzu (lamb), davul (drum), zurna (pipe) and düğün (wedding).4 With such qualities, kâr and Mevlevi ayini became one among the forms of composition and song5 and they took their places in source books.6
Particularly in the second quarter of the twentieth century, the phrase türkü became more and more prevalent via the printed, audio and video media, firmly taking up a place in the collective understanding; eventually this term took on a kind of integrity of meaning and was acknowledged by different types of musicians and various social sciences. In addition, the endeavors of literary researchers to standardize the terms and technical aspects of folk poetry had an impact on this process. Over time, the lyrics of türküs ceased to be considered as being a purely literary subject; they began to be explained in many ways, such as via the integrity and compatibility of the lyrics and the melody, with particular attention being paid to the recognition and definition of various forms of folk and āşik literature.
During the third quarter of the twentieth century the idea of a türkü crystallized in the minds of Istanbul musicians, instilling in them the idea that they should also search for anonymous türküs about life in Istanbul and record them. Unfortunately, the time for tracking down such historical türküs in the streets of Istanbul had already past. These cultural pearls of daily life, each one a keepsake from the past, had fallen into the eternal oblivion of the dust of history in which public perceptions constantly change. However, recently there has been yet another revival of the effort to recover and record some of the historic folk music of Istanbul. Now, again, attempts are made to find traces of traditional music in this cosmopolitan city. What has been left behind include popular songs, cantos and duets from history, which have now been recorded as simply “anonymous” türküs, as there is no one left alive who can identify the individual musicians who performed them and made them famous.
Istanbul is a cosmopolitan city with an ever-changing population and demographic structure, a city that throughout its history has received immigrants not only from Anatolia, but also from many different countries. Throughout history this imperial city has been the stage for numerous social, political, cultural and economic events. Moreover, just like other cities of similar magnitude, Istanbul has its own distinctive identity, composed of the sights, smells, sounds and experiences of the city itself.
This cultural heritage, generated from the experiences of everyday life and shaped through the ages, is transmitted from one generation to the next. This heritage invariably has a life that is longer than the average human life. The religious and/or non-religious traditions are protected by the heroes of everyday life; indeed, the continuity of life cannot be understood with short-term observations. Furthermore, the common understandings of what a türkü is have become intertwined in the fluid identities of cross-cultural fusions, with attempts to attach new meanings and give new shapes, and a diversification in the methods of transmission. Additionally, songs and poems that at one point were popular may, over time, become symbols of historical prejudices, conscious or unconscious approaches, and most importantly, of differences in “memory” and “perception”.
As such, Istanbul’s türküs may be defined as works of music that convey the perspectives of their time, songs that were largely shaped according to the circumstances of their era.
For example, türküs attributed to the Istanbul of the twentieth century are different from the türküs and varsakis7 that were composed and collected by Ali Ufkī in the 1650s. Indeed, even while the türküs, semāīs, and varsakis of the leather-covered notebooks from the eighteenth-nineteenth centuries, discovered and published by Sabri Koz, are more reminiscent of twentieth century türküs in terms of form and style, there are still some disparities between them.8 Differing perceptions of “new”, “old” and “popular” influence and manipulate the feelings and thoughts of the musicians as well as of the listeners. In other words, the differences in understanding brought about by time does not shorten the distance between two different eras, but rather gives it a greater importance in which it takes priority over the verbal and musical identity of the türkü itself.
In this regard, it is critical that the following questions be asked:
Do the lyrics of the türküs attributed to Istanbul reflect the forms of folk poetry, are they based on the language and style of the city and do they have a connection with the customs and traditions of daily life in Istanbul? Is it possible to describe the türküs as the musical works of an antique city, as works that have not been learned from records, tapes, or cassettes, or from devices of mass-communication, such as cinema, radio or television? Are the türküs works the composer of which is unknown or works that did not have a composer?
One should note that according to musicians, there are approximately 100 musical works that are categorized as “Istanbul türküs”. A majority of these works have been transmitted from the nineteenth century to the twenty-first century; however, the overriding emotions and artistic perceptions date from the twentieth century. At the heart of the circumstances that created the majority of these works was the Istanbul nightlife in the post-Tanzimat period.9 While there were public performances that were accompanied by music, such as karagöz & hacivat (shadow theater), traditional Turkish folk theater, puppet shows, improvisational theater, variety shows, musicals, operettas, cantos, duets, quartets, impressionists, at the same time were the tulumbacı/çalgıcı (firefighters/instrumentalists) coffeehouses, the âşık fasils, and ensembles. Additionally, the battle between divan poetry, semāī, kalenderī ballads, yıldız, folk quatrains, destan gözyaşları and muammā raged. A variety of instruments, such as davul (drum), zurna (pipe), gırnata (clarinet) and string ensembles were used at events such as wrestling and cirit (javelin) matches, weddings, fairs or promenades, while other folk songs were performed in other venues, such the Naum Theater, the Casablanca Club, at private companies, and musical countryside entertainments.
Indeed, even today music can be heard all over Istanbul. There are entertainment venues, both indoors and outdoors, available to entertain Istanbul residents in all seasons and at all times. Moreover, because of this availability, some folk songs that are based on the character types of salesmen or artisans have been brought together into scenarios and plays, creating original musicals.
The existence of anonymous works which describe urban neighborhoods, roads, alleys and dead-end streets with lyrical creativity - performed in the dialect of the character depicted, such as the Anatolian, the Armenian, the Greek, the Jew, the Albanian, the man from Kayseri, the Laz, the Persian, the Kurd, the lout, the drunkard - are also surely based on these traditional entertainment motifs.
In a similar vein, in Istanbul the unusual singing styles of some of the Ottoman State’s non-Muslim singers, whose distinct nature stemmed from their charming Turkish accents, have been etched in the people’s memory. Their voices can still be heard, primarily via audio recordings,10 but also on records and in cinema films, taken from the urban entertainment of the past and the city’s traditional folk arts.
Indeed, these songs, communicating the customs and traditions associated with different quarters of the city to the populace, were present at a time when public transportation was limited and a comfortable standard of living was rare; it is probably on account of these traditional artists that the masses are familiar with these türküs - even a common citizen often knows them by heart. Due to these popular musicians, works that arose from daily traditions, after being shaped by the conditions and needs of the day, became engraved in the collective memory.
All of these examples bring to mind the Istanbul of the recent past, which is engraved in the collective memory. Moreover, this phenomenon seems to be a rather important part of traditional music in the collective cultural life of Istanbul.
Even today, there can be no question that “Istanbul” is a unique phenomenon, a legacy that stands apart or one that is reminiscent of empires. It is, therefore, no coincidence that people around the world are able to hear musical folklore that speaks the name of Istanbul, particularly in Anatolia, the Balkans, the Caucasus, North Africa, the Aegean Islands, Cyprus and the Crimea.
For example, according to Reşat Ekrem Koçu,11 the birthplace of the türkü Kâtibim is Istanbul. The topic, the lyrics, the pre-existing melody that was adapted to the lyrics; all took place in Istanbul. But it is also sung in local dialects in Anatolia, as well as in some Balkan and North African countries. Harkening back to traditional Üsküdar and evoking memories of Istanbul, Kâtibim has now become a symbolic song that resists time.
It is also significant that in studies of Turkish türkü, meaningful phrases that refer directly to Istanbul have been discovered. Some examples of these are; İstanbul tarzı (Istanbul style), İstanbul ağzı (Istanbul dialect), İstanbul havası (Istanbul airs), İstanbul yapımı (Istanbul composition), Istanbul zeibek (written in Istanbul) in Erzurum, ve İstanbul ağzı divan (Divan in the Istanbul dialect) in Kastamonu, Beşiktaş tarzı aşık ayakları (Beşiktaş style minstrel tempos) and the Aman adam (O man) style of folk quatrain battles, normally particular to the semai coffeehouses.12
It is poignant that we can observe the historic heart of Anatolia folk singers who, even today, joyfully sing the couplet of Getir sâkî mey-i enguru el tutmaz ayak tutmaz (O cupbearer, bring me the wine; the hand cannot resist, nor the feet) or Sâkiyâ câmında nedir bu esrâr (What is the secret in your goblet, O cupbearer?). These lines were written in the nineteenth century by Dertli the minstrel, a famous reis (chief) of Istanbul’s coffeehouses.13
There is a distinctive spirit in Istanbul’s folk songs, reflecting the everyday life of the city. This spirit, which has thrived in the historical heart of Istanbul for centuries, is always fresh, always young.
The folk songs of Istanbul can be compared to the story of a young mother who sings her baby the same traditional tunes that she learned from her mother, interspersing them with the contemporary affectionate words from her day. Just as in this hypothetical example of mother-daughter transmission, products of cultural heritage, passed down from generation to generation, themselves become self-renewing sources of Istanbul’s oral history that nourish the spirits of the city dwellers.
An example of this oral history can be found in the türkü of the peddler14 who sells the fans he made from crow feathers, singing, Karga da seni tutarım/Kanadını yolarım/Yelpazeler yaparım/Mini mini çocuklara satarım (Crow, I catch you / I pluck your feathers/ I make fans from them / And sell them to small children). Folk songs, ballads and quatrains, laden with tradition such as this one, were traditionally sung by the sellers of salep, candied apples, simit, boza, water, majoon, halvah, ice-cream, pickles, roasted chickpeas and fortunetellers in the bygone days of history.
Moreover, other sources of Istanbul’s oral history can be found in the tunes sung by the pipe and whistle sellers, who would be followed by a long line of children as they played on their wares; the cry of the wandering story tellers who wrote and told their own stories as well as that of beggars who tugged at the heartstrings of those who listened, and the children’s hymns of the amin processions.
The children’s tongue-twisters and nursery rhymes– accompanied by little pitchers that produce the sound of birds when filled with water, painted tambourines, spinning tops, and toy blowguns - are also the folk songs of Istanbul; for example, the children’s song about rain which tells us how the Black Maid looks out her window at the flooded streets.
So too are the harmandalı tunes played for the tightrope-walker by the gypsy violinist in the circus established in Arnavudunbağı, the folk dance tunes of the child dancers, and the gelin ağlatma, gelin çıkarma, gelin bindirme havaları (tunes played as the bride leaves her parental home) by the zurna player.
There is a never-ending list of Istanbul’s folk songs!
The tunes played to accompany the henna-night ceremonies for the bride in her home, those that praise the bride, tunes played to accompany the bride’s dancing, the folk song of the Turkish bath attendant...15 The joy of the young women who encourage their mother-in-law to dance accompanied by the heyamola.16 Tunes that accompanied wrestling events or cirit tournaments, and tunes of Köroğlu, çeng-i harbî, Cezayir, Hey Gaziler, Gençosman and Sivastopol were played in the public squares with two drums and two zurna. The reverberations of the clarinet, the çifte (double flute), the çığırtma (recorder), the kaval (shepherd’s flute), the Turkish bozuk (bouzouki), the çöğür (short-neck saz), the bulgari, the five-stringed, six-stringed, or four-stringed saz, the naghara drum, and the zilli maşa17 played on the benches before mansions and coffeehouses.
The türkü of the former Istanbul can be learned from the residents of the city. From the neighborhood watchman Pala Hıdır, from the housewife Ulviye Teyze, from the porter Hasan Efendi, from Hamdi Bey, retired from the waqfs, from the Bektaş baba from Eyüp Avni Baba, from the cobbler Recep Amca, from the farmer Hüseyin Agha, from the börek seller Nazif Dayı, from the gypsy fortune-teller Benli Naciye, from Kızılbaş Haydar Emmi, from 75-year old Hacer Teyze, from the retired teacher Nazike Hanım and from the bootblack Hasan Amca.
Certainly This is the Case!
Under Istanbul’s sky resound the folk songs of Abbas Agha, the palace gardener, and those of Geda Muslu, a Janissary poet, side by side. On the same bench, the santur of Ali Ufkī Bey speaks tenderly to the tanbour of Mustafa Çavuş. The tavern tunes of the author Ahmed Rasim Bey (d. 1932) fuse together with the Greek folk songs of Ercüment Ekrem Bey (d. 1956), becoming another folk song that belongs to Istanbul.
At the same time, Istanbul also gave rise to folk songs that were pertly performed by the brazen gypsy girl, beloved of Osman Cemal Bey, in a tent pitched on the Tatavla (Kurtuluş) Ridge. Also, divan poems, yıldızes, and mustazads were poignantly played and sung in tulumbacı coffeehouses by Ahmed Cevat.
Türkü that came with the immigrants from Skopje, Bitola, Thessaloniki, Didymoteichon, Crete and Buda fused with the songs from Balıkesir, Bursa, Konya, Kayseri, Ankara, Trabzon, and Kastamonu, eventually becoming uniquely the property of Istanbul.
There are many tragedies to be heard in the türkü of Istanbul. Those who listen learn the heartbreaking story of the son of a bey who was ambushed and attacked in Aksaray, and the story of Beyoğlu burning to the ground while people look through Balat Gate. There are other sad stories as well; the gathering in the Turkish bath, the love of the nātur (female washer) for the külhancı (furnace stoker), and the pleasant chats of the tipplers who ate watermelon while drinking 1,000 cl of raki in a cross-shaped pool. The misfortunes continue to be shared with song lyrics that tell stories of an unfortunate young man who, at the beginning of the week, married a street mistress who was complained about being harassed by a local hoodlum; shortly after he went to his grave instead of the bridal chamber. To add insult to injury, the poor guy had expected help from Cemil Bey of Tekirdağ.
Unrequited love is always a trial, as we see when Cemal Baba’s divan, “Şem’-i hüsnün nârına pervâneyim ben sen nesin/Târ-ı zülfün bendine divâneyim ben sen nesin” (A moth around the fire of your beauty am I, what are you? / Mesmerized by the locks of your hair am I, what are you?) became partners on the coffeehouse bench with the folk poem of Derūnī Ahmet, “Gidip ağyâra yâr oldum benim hâlim harâb oldu” (I became intimate with the distant ones, and I ruined myself)...18
Finally, we see how Yunus Emre’s intimate conversation with the water-wheel, “Böyle emreylemiş Çalap/Derdim vardır inilerim” (Thus has ordained the Deity / I have a trouble, so I moan) has merged with Bektashi hymns, hıdrıllez folk songs, yelteme tunes, nevruziyes and bahariyes.19
The final tragedy is ours, as we see that yesterday’s folk songs have become birds and flown away for good. We have only a few pieces of sheet music left as mementos of the grandeur and majesty of the capital of an empire that once ruled three continents.
1 Although famous today for the first line: “Yangın olur biz yangına gideriz” (When there is a fire we go [to put it out), according to a note in a sheet-music publication from Istanbul Conservatory, entitled Sheet Music for Folk Songs, this song used to be sung with a variant: “Besmeleylen biz yangına kalkarız” at the turn of the last century. See Defter: 13, Istanbul: Evkaf Matbaası, 1930, p. 4.
2 For example, in Book 7 of the sheet-music series Anatolian Folk Songs, published by Dārülelhān (Istanbul Conservatory), the folk song “Fındıklı bizim yolumuz” was recorded simply as a folk song in the Ushshāq makam (Istanbul 1928, p. 13) and no details were given as to its origins, although it is mentioned in Suphi Ezgi’s book Nazarî, Amelî Türk Musikisi as a folk song from Aydın, without citation of a source (Istanbul: İstanbul Konservatuvarı Neşriyatı, nd., vol. 3, p. 320). However, who claimed that this folk song to belonged to Aydın or Istanbul, or on what grounds they made this claim, is not known.
3 In particular, one of the striking examples that reveal the approach musical circles adopted in Istanbul was made by Suphi Ezgi in Nazarî, Amelî Türk Musikîsi. Dr. Ezgi writes (vol. 3, p. 305):
What should be understood by the term “folk music” is the type of music used by common people, not the intellectuals of cities, towns or villages: however between these two groups is a difference in level of perfection, they are not mutually exclusive. The discovery of material and works has helped us to establish today that in the long and dark recesses of our history the creative forces and geniuses in our nation invented the sounds of the music of our language - just as they did with letters, words and sentences– and from those sounds they created specific compound tonal segments and cadences and makams as well as tempos for the melodies, thus enabling this music to be taught to the majority of our population. It would be completely inaccurate to claim that folk music is the music of villagers who have never had contact with city dwellers; indeed, it is impossible for the members of a nation to fail to have contact with one another. In addition to events such as commerce, emigration and public fairs, all of which make it necessary for people to come into contact with one another, there is the military, which brings people from all corners of the country together; our best school was the military. People learned about music there, to the extent that they could, and they became instrumental in spreading our music when returning to their hometowns.
And Mahmut Ragıp [Gazimihal] explains the process of how anonymous works which have the characteristics of folk music were recorded on sheet music as the folk singers sang/played and then compiled via numerous recording techniques; it was these that were determined as “folk song” (Anadolu Türküleri ve Mûsikî İstikbalimiz, Istanbul: Maarif Matbaası, 1928, p. 7):
…We used this phrase as an equivalent of chant populaire; but just like the Germans, who refer to their folk songs as lied, we refer to our folk songs as türkü. The word şarkı is not known in Anatolia
4 In particular, the türkü “Oturmuş testi elinde çeşme taşına”, composed and written, most likely for the “Ayşe Operetta”, in the Hejazkār maqām by Muhlis Sabahattin Ezgi (1889 –1947), is an example of a “written-at-the table” kind of village life depiction, a result of the philosophy of “art for the people”, which developed following the declaration of the Meşrutiyet. The lyrics are as follows:
Oturmuş testi elinde çeşme taşına
Oyalı yemeni sarmış Ayşem başına
Fidan boylu Ayşem basmış on beş yaşına
Kıvrak Ayşe kız
Oynak Ayşe kız
Şakrak Ayşe kız şen...
Köyün kızı Ayşe kız
Vurgunum sana ben
(Sitting on the fountain stone with a pitcher in her hand”,
Sitting at the fountain stone with a pitcher in her hand
And with a lace kerchief around her head is My Ayşe,
My willowy Ayşe has turned fifteen,
A lissome girl is Ayşe
A playful girl is Ayşe
A mirthful girl is Ayşe
The unique, beloved girl of the village is Ayşe,
I have fallen for you)
5 The terms like “Peşrev”, “Taksim”, “Kâr”, “Saz Semai”, “Mevlevî Ayini” are mostly defined as “forms” among classical Turkish music circles. There are also some concepts like “forma” and “tür” among the musicions of the late period. This is a problem of form, knowledge, and terminology that is not sufficiently discussed by Turkish music researchers.
6 For the detailed information on the differences of meaning and perception of the term “türkü” from the Ottoman period to Republic also see: Süleyman Şenel, “Türkü”, DİA, XLI, 612-616; Süleyman Şenel, “Türküler”, NTV İstanbul Ansiklopedisi, Istanbul: NTV Yayınları, 2010, pp. 942-945; Süleyman Şenel., “Türkülerini Düşünüyorum da İstanbul’un”, İstanbul Çevresi Alan Araştırmaları, Second etition, II vol., Istanbul: Avrupa Kültür Başkenti Ajansı, 2011vol. 1, pp. 25-40.
7 (A ballad sung in a particular melody); Ali Ufkî, Mecmûa-i Sâz ü Söz, ed. Şükrü Elçin, Istanbul: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı, 1976; Ali Ufkî, Hâzâ Mecmûa-i Sâz ü Söz ed. M. Hakan Cevher, İzmir: 2003.
8 M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: I–Derviş Cöngü”, 4. Kat (Yapı Kredi Sermet Çifter Araştırma Kütüphanesi Bülteni), 2001, no. 1, pp. 18-23; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: II–Türküler, Şarkılar ve Âşık Deyişleriyle Bir İstanbul Cöngü”, 4. Kat, 2001, sy. 3, s. 16-22; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: III–19. Yüzyılın İlk Yarısından Kalma İki Cönk”, 4. Kat, 2002, no. 4, pp. 10-16; M. Sabri Koz, “Yazma Kaynaklardan Derlemeler: IV-18. ve 19. Yüzyıldan Türküler”, Kaşgar, 2002, no. 25, pp. 135-155; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: V–19. Yüzyıldan Bir Âşık Cöngü”, 4. Kat, 2002, no. 6, 7-8-9, pp. 10-16; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: VI–18. Yüzyıldan Kalma Bir ‘Güfte’ Cöngü”, 4. Kat, 2002, [no. 7] Ekim–Kasım–Aralık, pp. 17-25; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: VII–Parçalanmış Bir Cönk”, 4. Kat, 2003, [no. 8], Ocak–Şubat–Mart, pp. 39-44; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: VIII–Geçen Yüzyıldan Bir Cönk”, 4. Kat, 2003, [no. 9] 4-5-6, pp. 32-37; M. Sabri Koz, “Sermet Çifter Kütüphanesi’ndeki Cönkler: IX–19. Yüzyıl Ortalarından Küçük Bir Cönk”, 4. Kat, 2003, [no. 10] Temmuz–Ağustos–Eylül, pp. 24-28.
9 The following sources are useful: Metin And, Tanzimat ve İstibdat Döneminde Türk Tiyatrosu (1839-1908), Ankara: Türkiye İş Bankası Kültür yayınları, 1972; Metin And, Meşrutiyet Döneminde Türk Tiyatrosu, Ankara: Türkiye İş Bankası Kültür yayınları, 1971; Metin And, Geleneksel Türk Tiyatrosu (Kukla-Karagöz-Ortaoyunu), Ankara: Bilgi yayınevi, 1969; Selim Nüzhet Gerçek, Türk Temaşası (Meddah, Karagöz, Ortaoyunu), Istanbul: Kanaat Kiyabevi, 1942; Cevdet Kudret, Karagöz, Istanbul: Yapı Kredi Yayınları, 2004; Cevdet Kudret, Ortaoyunu, II vol., Istanbul: Yapı Kredi Yayınları, 2007; Nurullah Tilgen, Kavuklu Hamdi, Istanbul: Eyüp Halkevi Neşriyatı, 1948; Nihâl Türkmen, Ortaoyunu, Istanbul Milli Eğitim, 1991; Dümbüllü İsmail Efendi ve Geleneksel Türk Tiyatrosu Sempozyumu Bildirileri, ed. Süleyman Şenel, Istanbul: İstanbul Büyük Şehir Belediyesi Kültür ve Sosyal İşler Daire Başkanlığı, 2008; Orta Oyunu Kitabı, prepared by Abdulkadir Emeksiz, Istanbul: Kitabevi, 2001; Balıkhane Nazırı Ali Rıza Bey, Eski Zamanlarda İstanbul Hayatı, edited by Ali Şükrü Çoruk, third edition, Istanbul: Kitabevi, 2007; Ahmet Refik, Kafes ve Ferace Devrinde İstanbul, Istanbul: Kitabevi, 1998; Sadri Sema, Eski İstanbul Hatıraları, edited by Ali Şükrü Çoruk, Istanbul: Kitabevi, 2002; Selim Nüzhet Gerçek, İstanbul’dan Ben de Geçtim, Istanbul: Kitabevi, 1997; Süleyman Şenel, Kastamonu’da Âşık Fasılları (Türler/Çeşitler/Çeşitlemeler), second edition, II vol., Istanbul: Kastamonu Valiliği, 2009; Emre Aracı, Naum Tiyatrosu (19.Yüzyıl İstanbul’unun İtalyan Operası), Istanbul: Yapı Kredi Yayınları,2010; Refik Ahmet Sevengil, İstanbul Nasıl Eğleniyordu?, ed. Sami Önal, Istanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 1985.
10 Süleyman Şenel, “Dümbüllü İsmail Efendi ve Kavuklu Hamdi Efendi Anlatılarında Musikiye Dair Terimler ve Deyimler Üzerine Düşünceler”, Dümbüllü İsmail Efendi ve Geleneksel Türk Tiyatrosu Sempozyum Bildirileri Kitabı, Istanbul: İstanbul Büyük Şehir Belediyesi Kültür ve Sosyal İşler Daire Başkanlığı, 2008, pp. 188-196.
11 Reşad Ekrem Koçu İstanbul Konuşmaları, ed. Süleyman Şenel, Istanbul: İstanbul Büyük Şehir Belediyesi Kültür ve Sosyal İşler Daire Başkanlığı, 2005, pp. 29-32.
12 See Şenel, Kastamonu’da Âşık Fasılları, vol. 1, p. XXVI, 30, 32, 35, 38, 46, 66, 72, 162, 200, 296, 299, 3001, 3002, 327, 328.
13 See Şenel, Kastamon’da Âşık Fasılları, vol. 1, pp. 163-164; vol. 2, pp. 33-38.
14 Şenel, İstanbul Çevresi Alan Araştırmaları, vol. 2, pp. 321-323.
15 Şenel, İstanbul Çevresi Alan Araştırmaları, vol. 1, pp. 39, 240, 318, 338, 420; vol. 2, pp. 24, 41-43, 57, 212-219, 261, 263-265, 269, 278, 304, 306, 327, 412, 413, 421, 422, 426, 432, 436, 447, 452, 494.
16 Şenel, İstanbul Çevresi Alan Araştırmaları, vol. 1, pp. 39, 111, 373, 389; vol. 2, pp. 23, 38, 42, 43, 49, 220, 221-224, 411-413.
17 Fuad Köprülü, “Saz Şairleri”, İkdam, 12 Nisan 1330 (1914).
18 See Şenel, İstanbul Çevresi Alan Araştırmaları, vol. 1, p. 40; vol. 2, pp. 131-148.
19 See Şenel, İstanbul Çevresi Alan Araştırmaları, vol. 1, p. 40; vol. 2, pp. 131-148.