The opening moments of “Dawlat al-Islam Qamat”, an Isis Song, are surprisingly captivating. For the first two minutes and 52 seconds, the track unfolds as a purely vocal Arabic chant. The singer’s voice is remarkably calm, almost hypnotic, evoking a sense of ancient tradition, perhaps echoing chants from centuries past. There’s a subtle rhythm to the melody, a gentle sway that could easily be complemented by a soft jazz drum beat. As the song progresses, the vocalist layers his voice, creating the impression of a full choir, amplifying the song’s power and depth. From a purely musical perspective, it’s arguably more compelling than many other religious songs one might encounter.
However, this initial sense of tranquility is abruptly shattered. Just as the listener might find themselves drawn in, contemplating adding it to a yoga playlist, stark sound effects intrude. The harsh scrape of a sword being drawn, the heavy, rhythmic thud of marching soldiers, and bursts of gunfire punctuate the serene vocals. This sonic shift serves as a jarring reminder of the song’s true nature and origin. This is “My Ummah, Dawn Has Appeared,” as it’s known in English, and it is unequivocally an isis song. It holds the grim distinction of being the most popular song associated with the Islamic State and, some argue, their unofficial national anthem. The lyrics leave no room for ambiguity: “The Islamic State has arisen by the blood of the righteous,” it proclaims. “The Islamic State has arisen by the jihad of the pious.” This is far removed from anthems of peace or unity like “God Save the Queen.”
Phillip Smyth, a researcher at the University of Maryland specializing in Middle Eastern affairs and a keen observer of jihadi music, emphasizes the song’s significance. “The Islamic State isn’t going to jump up and down and say, ‘This is our official song,’” he explains. “But it’s recognised by the fighters and supporters as kind of their anthem. It just spells out everything they stand for: the Islamic State has arisen, we’ve defeated so many enemies, we’re going to keep on doing so. And it also sounds good. Even for an infidel like me, it has a certain quality. It invigorates certain spirits.” This isis song resonates deeply with its intended audience, embodying their ideology and aspirations.
Behnam Said, who analyzes jihadi trends for German intelligence in Hamburg and is completing a PhD on jihadi songs, known as nasheeds, attests to the song’s unsettling power. “The first time I heard it, I couldn’t get it out of my head for two weeks,” he recounts. “It touched me in a different way to other nasheeds. I’d sit on the metro and it’d come into my head.” This isis song, therefore, possesses an almost insidious quality, embedding itself in the listener’s mind.
While the Islamic State’s sophisticated online propaganda machine, leveraging platforms like YouTube, Twitter, and Instagram, has received considerable media attention, their strategic deployment of music has often been overlooked. This oversight might stem from the Arabic language of these songs, posing a barrier for non-Arabic speakers. Additionally, the stylistic similarities among these tracks – predominantly a cappella chants performed by male voices with heavy echo and spoken word introductions – might lead to them being perceived as homogenous and less noteworthy.
However, these songs are indispensable to the organization’s propaganda efforts. They serve as the soundtrack to all Islamic State videos, are broadcast from vehicles in ISIS-controlled territories – much like gangs use rap music to mark their zones – and are even played on battlefields. The group appears to produce these isis songs prolifically, addressing a wide range of themes. Earlier examples include an eight-minute nasheed titled “Al-Maliki, Your End Will Be Tomorrow,” seemingly aimed at taunting the former Iraqi Prime Minister. More recently, songs promoting the “life of security and peace” under Islamic State rule have emerged, designed to garner support from the local population within their controlled areas. Further underscoring their importance, some rival jihadi factions have reportedly prohibited these isis songs in areas under their influence, recognizing their potent persuasive power.
Alt text: Nasheed video still featuring armed fighters, illustrating the visual accompaniment to ISIS propaganda songs, highlighting the group’s blend of music and militant imagery for recruitment and indoctrination.
The tradition of jihadi nasheeds traces back to the late 1970s, originating among Islamic fundamentalist groups in Egypt and Syria. These early nasheeds served to inspire supporters and disseminate their message. “Nasheeds as a genre of religious songs are old,” Behnam Said clarifies, “but supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood and other groups started making ones that were political and rebellious in the 70s. That was new.” These politically charged nasheeds gained wide circulation via cassette tapes, reaching a broad audience.
Despite their growing popularity, some strict fundamentalist factions, particularly Salafists known for their literal interpretation of Islam, condemned nasheeds. They viewed music as un-Islamic, a distraction from the study of the Quran. However, this opposition proved ineffective in halting their spread. Even a young Osama bin Laden, according to Lawrence Wright’s account in The Looming Towers, established and performed in a nasheed group to avoid appearing overly austere.
Presently, the majority of Islamic scholars consider nasheeds acceptable, especially in the context of warfare. The primary point of contention now revolves around their musical style. Most Sunni jihadi groups, including the Islamic State, deem musical instruments as haram (forbidden) and adopt a minimalist approach to composition. Consequently, their nasheeds are almost exclusively a cappella, with sound effects ranging from horses’ hooves (symbolizing the Prophet Muhammad’s era) to explosions serving as the only accompaniment. This stark sonic landscape is characteristic of an isis song.
Conversely, Shia groups like Hezbollah exhibit less restraint in their nasheed production. Many of their nasheeds are richly layered with drums, placing as much emphasis on rhythm as genres like rap or ragga. Their vocalists frequently employ Auto-Tune for heavy voice processing, and their music videos often feature young men dancing, blurring the lines between militia propaganda and boyband aesthetics. Shia groups also produce numerous nasheeds set to dramatic string arrangements reminiscent of Hollywood thrillers. These stylistic differences clearly distinguish them from the typical isis song.
“These groups will call their songs nasheeds, but sometimes they don’t even fit in with their own ideologies,” Smyth observes. “If Ayatollah Khomeini was still around, he’d probably look at some of the techno stuff and go, ‘What the hell is this?’ But the groups are all operating off some kind of religious guideline. They’re getting an ayatollah who’s saying, ‘Yes, this is halal. Go for it.’” The diverse interpretations of what constitutes permissible Islamic music are evident in the wide spectrum of nasheed styles.
While the Islamic State’s musical output might be considered a step back in terms of instrumental complexity compared to Shia jihadi nasheeds, the organization is innovating in other aspects of the genre. “Most jihadi groups tend to recycle nasheeds that have been around for years, but the Islamic State has its own wing, the Ajnad Media Foundation, that’s dedicated to producing them,” notes Aymenn Jawad al-Tamimi, a fellow at the Middle East Forum. “It’s using them to say it’s new and distinct, as well as to get across its message.” This dedicated media production arm underscores the strategic importance of the isis song in their overall propaganda strategy.
Behnam Said concurs, highlighting the distinct messaging within Islamic State nasheeds compared to those of other groups. “Older nasheeds tend to have been produced by groups that are small, militant and clandestine, and they have a more defensive message – but there were many saying, ‘They can torture us, but we are holding to our beliefs.’ The Islamic State’s nasheeds are not defensive at all. They are about a hope to change the world for ever.” This shift from defensive resilience to offensive ambition is a key characteristic of the isis song and its ideological purpose.
The precise authorship of Islamic State songs remains unclear. The prevailing view suggests a collaborative process involving poets for lyrics, musicians for melodies, and distinct vocalists for performance. Phillip Smyth elaborates on the production process, “In Iraq, there are lots of different production companies, and the same in other countries. In Lebanon, I once wanted to see how it was done and sat in a room that was in a guy’s mother’s basement. He had a little keyboard, a little recording thing, and he put together this entire song for a Christian militia in a week and a half.” This glimpse into the production of similar songs reveals a potentially decentralized and accessible process.
The influx of Western recruits into Islamic State ranks, including figures like the German ex-rapper Deso Dogg, who experimented with nasheeds with limited success, is unlikely to trigger a demand for more contemporary musical styles within ISIS. Al-Tamimi explains, “The jihadis with their mindset don’t see their songs as dull. They feel repulsed by the Shia’s willingness to use instrumentation and things like this.” The austere, a cappella style of the isis song is deeply ingrained in their ideology.
“My Ummah, Dawn has Appeared,” released online in December 2013, continues to demonstrate enduring popularity, highlighting its lasting impact. Should the Islamic State persist, could this isis song be formally declared their official anthem? Only one factor might impede such a designation: the very concept of a national anthem is, itself, a Western construct. Despite this, “My Ummah, Dawn Has Appeared” undeniably functions as a powerful sonic emblem for the Islamic State and its followers.
