#tuqoos

The sounds scattered throughout this album clearly draw from Julmud’s Ramallah, Palestine home base, and lend it a distinct, compelling atmosphere. The way the samples of voices, drums, and strings are treated — slowing, pulling them apart, looping and unraveling, and using static and texture — gives the songs a dreamlike feel. This is taken to extremes in “Ishi Hawa’i,” which feels like flipping a Palestinian radio dial, encountering mysterious bits of songs: a woman sings, then fizzing static interjects another voice, as delicate strings come and go. 

There’s a cinematic, neon-lit nighttime vibe to much of this, from the darkly twirling electronics that open the album in “Basmala” to the gorgeous album highlight “Haras El Jabal” and its vocal and string layers. “Toshkol Asi” is like devotional music heard from a nearby building, and the underwater jazz club sound of “Kalma” and its slowed-down vocals feel as if your ears were stuffed with opium. 

While most of the songs use voices as sounds rather than for the words, a few include rap-style vocals, like “Falnukmel” with noisy rhythmic blasts, and “Harti,” which features a snarling, bratty attitude after its singsong first half. Alas, I don’t know the lyrics or the language to glean its meaning. 

Julmud has previously produced for artists like Muqata’a (who also runs the Bilna’es label releasing this album), Haykal, and others, and he’s accumulated an impressive array of techniques, on full display here. The breadth of styles and sounds here, incorporated into distinct, memorable songs, provides a window into a fascinating musical dream world. It also promises much more to come, happily.