Judging from the artwork of the latest Jerusalem In My Heart album and the fact that Qalaq is explained as feeling of deep worry, the state of play in the Middle East is a constant concern to Radwan Ghazi Moumneh.
The renowned soundscaper and producer has managed to use this album as a representation of the tension that prevails in the region, yet also shows the beauty that co-exists. Invited guests played file tag across the airwaves using Radwan’s skeletal ideas as bases for developing their own, which are then integrated into the whole. Once again, Qalaq is an album played out over lockdown that has still ended up as a cohesive whole, but one that asks serious questions.
The opening sounds riotous; a mix of Eastern vocals spread over distorted chaos like a snapshot of something out of control. The voice whispers in your ear as “Sa’at”‘s disturbed litany floats above the rubble like a secret being told that nobody is listening to. That dichotomy of peace and uproar plays out all across the album, as shown by the sense of peace that the dulcimer and found sounds of “Istashraqtaq”, featuring the city of Beirut, is offset by the slow, measured grind of “Tanto”, the hypnotising vocal leading the unwary listener into pastures previously untrodden. The list of collaborators is really impressive and with somebody different on each track, the variety is unparalleled, stretching from the kind of majestic discord of other Constellation labelmates (see the booming drums and skysaw guitar of “Ana Lisan Wahad” from Farida Amadou and Pierre-Guy Blanchard) to the kind of deep vibrato acapella one might be lucky to catch in some hidden bar. In places, there is an air of decay and often there is a something ominous or abstracted occurring in earshot which adds to the sense of mystery and also of alienation.It is like Radwan is our guide, but we have to be able to make some order in what we are being shown. The snatched voices that appear and disappear throughout the album range from the poetry of Moor Mother, delivered with a real depth of meaning via the radical eruption of a call to prayer, to the beautiful breathy voice of Hungarian singer Réka Csiszér, who covers that ancient folk tradition with just a little nod to Lisa Gerrard.
This willingness to include such diverse artists to deliver heartfelt impressions over the looped sprawl of distorted electronics or the buzzing disturbance of what sounds like a didgeridoo is a testament to the restless energy at play here. It feels as though there is always an element of discord, but wrapped up in a way that shows you another angle. For something that is rather sprawling, Qalaq has a continuity of spirit and of resolution that can’t be denied and each listen allows you further in. Brave, heartfelt and hugely imaginative in equal measure, this is a fine follow up to 2017’s Daqa’iq Tudaiq and a work that continues to shine a harsh light on the state of the region’s relations.-Mr Olivetti-
