Producer and keyboarding co-player Yuval Ron composed the opener, Red Skies, which dawns with soft wails, only to explode into frenzied flamenco guitar, ethnic percussion, sintir bass and flute sounds. Invigorating and lively, if this doesn't set your dervish to whirling, nothing will. Quietly scrabbling strings begin to say I  You; the piece expands, building an almost-orchestral sense of passion, with prominent flute passages... 99.5% without vocals. In a fashion both ancient and timeless, Wildflower meanders liltingly, a joyous pastoral romp accompanied by spry guitar, light drums and airy flute.
Murmured phrasings introduce Manhem, followed by an impending cloud of drone and flute; percussion, piano and low crooning spread at a slow, reverent pace, eventually joined by Spanish-style guitar and additional vocal backup.
The solo violin of traditional Tahir Raks is soon overridden by assorted trilling strings and zesty ethnorhythms. Spastically blaring horns, rapid fire drumbeats and traditional Arabesque musicianship empower Roman (4:59) with a delirious zeal, which could be compared to some opium den frenzy.
More sedate, the stately One Truth is brushed by Tekbilek's whispered English in such a way as not to overburden the soundwaves with lyrical content. Lush layers of flute flow over a bed of low percussion.
In ARA'ya , another low-key desert reverie, Yuval Ron's keyboards emit a pillowy drone over which Tekbilek layers jazzily wandering passages from his ney flute and jura.
Elastically plucked strings and fitful flute bursts top a subtle drone before the devotional paean of Sufi (9:33) picks up a methodical rhythm and plaintively warbled vocals. The tempo increases to a more sprightly pace with additional vocal layerings, seeming like a stage production of some sort. The sounds of the bazaar and a toy piano lead the way to Istanbul, a wordless place of enchantingly light-hearted musical interplay between Tekbilek's bendir, oud, def, darbuka and ney, to name only a few of his instruments.
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