Omar Souleyman
Dabke 2020

The return of the Colonel.

The Syrian is angry, mustached, and steaming, whether it's for the diesel of a three-wheeled Freelander or for the mutton skewers.
Kebab punk dance, Jihadi-Techno, Muezzin-wave.
Call it what you will.
I saw him at the Primavera Festival and I almost converted to Islam.

Actually, it's a compilation by Sublime Frequencies so don't expect the packaging to be great because it sucks really bad.

The music, as usual, is a Kassam rocket.

Morning prayer invocations ("Atabat"), radio distortions for angry Syrian taxi drivers with patterns of severe mental delay ("Lansob Sherek"), accelerated and filtered arab-rap with an unprecedented solo among Synth, Oud, and Berber flute sounds suitable for snake charming with the chanting voice of the Colonel ranting beyond speed limits ("Shift Al Mani"), techno of a terrorist derivation suitable for those farewell parties before stuffing oneself with dynamite and exploding in front of the British consulate ("la Sidounak Sayyada"), Songs (of love?) between Kebab-bar with hookah additives and the Benghazi market ("Jamila"), Strobe-poverty in terzinato driven by Egyptian dance hall ("Qalub An Nas") and several other Arab contortions in heat.
The track that closes the album "Kaset Hanzal" is pure Middle East: crescent moon, the breath of the desert among the ruins, camels, and mustached men eating dates in the equatorial night (it seems that Syrian women are the hottest in the Middle East).

In short, a nuclear album: a must-have for fans of the Golan resistance, ancient Aramaic, the crescent, Krak des Chevaliers, and krak, period.