Mercan Dede is an intriguing oddity. He's an Islamic devotional musician, and follower of Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, the 13th-century Sufi poet whose habit of literally spinning with joy as he walked through the streets inspired his followers, the whirling dervishes. Dede is also a dance club performer with pop star status back home in Turkey. His aim is to update the Rumi tradition by adding contemporary beats. It doesn't quite work, but it's certainly original.

At the Barbican, his show started with gentle, acoustic instrumental pieces featuring the oud and then the zither-like qanun, backed by hand drums. Dede, sporting a Mohican haircut, stood behind an array of decks and began adding in a rumble of electronic effects, noises and beats, while an overhead screen showed pictures of Istanbul that would delight the Turkish tourist board. The result was pleasantly soporific, like spiritual elevator music, but it was a relief when he allowed some more exhilarating solos from the masterful Goksel Baktagir on the qanun, and an inspired young clarinet-player and trumpeter, Serkan Cagri.

They could have played all night, but Dede still had to reveal his spectacular set piece. Two figures, hidden in robes and turbans, had been crouched at the front of the stage, and now they slowly got up, began to turn, and then to whirl round and round, in the dizzying, mesmerising dance that is said to help meditation. They took off their cloaks to show they were female whirlers, and their spectacular display was far more exciting than the heavy-handed electronic drones and clattering beats providing the backing.

This was the opening of the Barbican's Ramadan Nights festival, which provides a timely reminder of the variety of music that exists within Islam. An audience chilled out by Dede were confronted in the foyer by the impressive and angry Palestinian rappers DAM, from the Arab community living within Israel's borders. The film above their stage showed fighting and destruction.