Land Of Kush
Against The Day

THE REVIEW

"Nosce te" was written on the Temple of the Oracle of Delphi, an exhortation translatable as "Know thyself"! An exhortation to find the truth within one's own self, leaving aside appearances, the world of falsehoods, and others. This should be written by Sam Shalabi, a guitarist from Montreal with strong oriental influences, at the entrance of his studio or at the labels Alien8 or Constellation... Know thyself because every record that comes out (we've reached 12 in 8 years if I'm not mistaken) seems to unlock inner worlds through external factors taken from every corner of the earth.

Let's start by setting some boundaries to frame our composer for those who may know him little. Sam can be associated with that group of artists surrounding projects like Godspeed You! Black Emperor or similar labels. He founded a post-rock group with the original title Shalabi Effect in 1999 and was a former member of Molasses. Amid free improvisation, drones, and glitch, a kaleidoscopic soul emerges, enriched by oriental, Arab moods, until the tragedy of the fateful September 11th arrives, and what does our Sam do?
He founds the project Land Of Kush and creates this good album to testify to the useless Arab hunt conducted after the Twin Towers attack, to stand up for the oriental culture which, in his view, was at risk of total identification with terrorism. Kush is the region between southern Egypt and northern Sudan, where, according to historians, significant civilizations and cultures developed around the Nile.

The creativity of our oracle does not end here. He renames himself Osama Shalabi and gathers an army of musicians from all over the world to accompany him in this adventure and in this first effort under this name. Psychedelia takes the forefront, and it feels like passing under the inscriptions of the Oracle of Delphi mentioned earlier, as one enters the 5 long movements of which "Against The Day" is composed.

Everything moves from "The Light Over The Ranges," the starting point of this journey among environmental noises, voices, and instruments that hide only to suddenly emerge. "Iceland Spar" and "Bilocations" lead us in a long dance (14 minutes the first and over 21 the second) hidden among noises, sinuosities, desert paths, enchanting female voices, and false oases that drag the listener like a drunken soldier who came to destroy and convinced not to leave anymore, or to dance with a splendid odalisque with ice-cold eyes, or to be carried on a camel toward the dunes, all the same and yet all different.

A charm grows within us, those who are prejudiced against certain sounds or prejudiced against the oriental world, are taken by the hand and caressed in an abyss of sensory loss amidst environmental noises and cultured improvisation. A hypnotic violin enchants us like cobras under the Marrakech sun, and the West is far, far from our minds. We loosen the tie knot and drink tea, the eyes begin to adapt to the bright sun, and Sam Shalabi plays for us with his orchestra made of multiple percussions, strings, old wooden instruments, and now leave me here.