A Closer Listen
The story has been evolving for fifteen years, lasting through governments, revolutions and wars. Back in 2010, Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme started collecting online recordings of “people singing and dancing in communal spaces in Iraq, Palestine, Syria, and Yemen.” This led to an exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art, then spread to international showings and now to this double album. The first record is a direct reflection of the installation, while the second presents commissioned works from artists in Palestine and New York, deepening the resonance.
The ripple effect of these recordings extends to the compositions. Musicians and dancers responded to the initial sounds, which were captured in public squares, at weddings, on beaches and in people’s homes, with sounds of their own, beginning a dialogue. The common thread is one of human expression, from protest to joy: movement and voice as expressions of innate, portable power.
The album opens in a holy drone, voice slowly emerging, gaining in strength, joined by cautious percussion and then bold: a microcosm of the theme. Proceeding from individual to communal, the piece demonstrates the power of the people united. The title “After everything is extracted” suggests that something still remains. Given the nations represented, it’s impossible not to think about arrests, bombings and rubble. Through it all, the singer’s voice remains resolute, the past singing to the present, the present looking for guidance from the past.
Some of the songs suggest worship, one of the practices that encounters the deepest disruption in times of trauma. When instruments are absent, one retains one’s voice: the sounds that tremble through us. Abbas and Abou-Rahme place such pieces in modern electronic frameworks, as if to say, when you run out of strength, we will add strength of our own. A gorgeous shift late in “Had it not been for hunger, my fangs would not have shown” heads in the opposite direction, electronic to organic, a memory brought to life. “The song is the call and the land is calling (Give me your scarf to wrap my wound)” changes settings mid-piece from a group march to a solo lament, then shifts again, becoming darker, more frantic. The next piece restores a feeling of normalcy: a cloudless celebration, singing and dancing, until it all falls into an echo, having lasted only a minute. The impression is that such moments are fragile, fleeting and of immeasurable value. The poignant title “Where have our beloved ones gone” hammers the point home.
While the first record operates as a suite, the second is more a collection of additional, supportive voices. It’s disturbing to posit that some of the voices on the first album have since fallen prey to violence, and that now there are movements attempting to silence other voices as well, not only those of individuals but of entire groups. The genocide in Gaza is only one example of an entire culture under threat of eradication. Track after track, these artists say, we hear you, we support you, we are you. Music has always had unifying qualities, and the inclusion of artists from New York demonstrates that not every citizen of a country should be judged by its government.
From ambient to electronic, abstract to direct, these artists extend the story. Brooklyn’s DJ Haram, who released Nothing to Declare in 2022, paired with Moor Mother as 700 Bliss, contributes a hard-hitting Middle Eastern-inflected club track. Palestine’s Muqata’a follows with the beat and sample-laden “Tashaquqat,” which means cracks. The dark, rumbling nature of the piece suggests a town reduced to bricks and mortar. Haykal puts the focus firmly on the voice, adding layers, handclaps and exhalations. Those who have never yet heard Palestinian rap music may be mesmerized by Makimakkuk, whose “Bidaeyat” (“Beginning”) transfers energy from military snares to confident voice at the midway point.
If the first record is a celebration of the human spirit as expressed through voice and dance, the second is an example of voices united for a cause. One group of voices says to another group of voices, your voices are worth preserving. Will listeners find their collective voice as well? If so, they too will become part of this ongoing multi-media project. (Richard Allen)
Mon May 26 00:01:50 GMT 2025