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As a matter of fact, this disc is to some degree designed as an introductory point, compiling the "best of" several obscure releases, focusing on the most user-friendly bits (despite their often noisy intensity). Even the bright packaging is less antagonistic. (For the uninitiated, Muslimgauze tracks are basically "protest songs" in Jones' ongoing rally against the Palestinian/
Israeli/ Arab socio-political situation. Many are put off by the political ramifications by the music. Others, like myself, ignore those aspects, instead focusing on his exotically furious percussion and sound arrangements.)
I'm simply enthralled by the grungy energy behind Minaret above all others; a throbbing, gritty pulse of bass is trampled by the rollicking patter of thousands of metallic drumbeats. Intermittent drop outs create an an unpredictable stop-and-go effect.
In Shishla Nain Royal Bidjar, somewhat harsh electrodistortion is interwoven with ethnic flute toppings and a downright pounding beat. Thunderously throbbing e-drums hammer upon Imam Shamil 1837 while metallic Middle Eastern-style strings jangle amongst the storm. Less assaulting, Devour is an almost 10-minute expanse of sparser activity. Meandering, echoing beat patterns are accented by a thin electronic haze and sporadically applied samples. An intriguing, ominous power surges and weaves through the track's middle; all gel into a wonderfully dark excursion.
Turkish manipulator of limbs weaves mutated strands of stringed instrumentation between its thudding mid-tempo drumbeats; the track begins to drastically break up toward its end. The short-lived Shah of Persia (1:06) offers lightly pattering percussion with faint flutey tweedlings. Aggressive electric dissonance invades the opening of Farouk head, which then settles into a calmer groove and soft plucked string accompaniment. Another expressive, expansive high point, Kalifate comes to life with tiny swishes and metallic/ceramic taps amidst a sandy swirl of electrons, growing into a steadily buzzing backdrop against which assorted rhythmic manifestations are artfully tossed. The moodily loping Thief of sand features an unusually prominent acoustic guitar sound and occasional patches of abrasive distortion and abrupt fade-outs.
Lost Zwana takes a turn for the Oriental, picking up tangy Chinese bowed strings, ringing cymbals, and a rather "squishy" electroblurb. The track morphs into an entirely different arrangement, drummier with zinging strings. Prolonged silence leads to Imal Akel; soft ceramic pattering is fused with static in a gathering cloud of sound. After simmering awhile, rock-ish "Western" drum patterns erupt, stridently beating their way through the swirling electronic debris.
Extra-buzzy synths cut through the Sari of aciddic colours, which is also clubbed by clunky bamboo-style drumming. The track achieves quite a nice groove.
Bryn Jones sometimes used recordings from various television programs, documentary recordings, etc.; the speedy, but soft beat and serpentine drone and static of Sandtrafikar (12:25) feature an extended dialogue of unknown origin. The murmered (Arabic? Israeli?) words blend perfectly with the moody music's quietly wary tone.
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