A Closer Listen
The genocide in Gaza continues despite the ceasefire. In January 2024, braving the heart of the horrifying conflict, Mai Mai Mai sojourned to Bethlehem and Ramallah to record with Palestinian musicians and capture the raw emotions of the region. Karakoz is the heart-rending result.
One need not speak the language to hear the sorrow in “Grief.” Maya Al Khaldi begins in a whisper as Mai Mai Mai builds a warm ambient glow around her voice. As she begins to sing, the ambience turns to drone and the sun seems to recede. The percussion imitates a heartbeat, soon joined by dark electronic tones. The gobbling monster is already here, has already passed through, has turned around for another strike.
While glimpses of brightness will appear in sparing fashion, the cloud will never lift. The title track features industrial distortions atop mournful regional instrumentation and conversational chants. The tone imitates the understanding that no aid will be forthcoming. And yet even in this time of grief and anger, music still is composed and played. By the end, the track imitates a ritual dance. Alabaster DePlume contributes saxophone to “Echoes of the Harvest,” whose melodies are haunted by Hajja Badriya’s looping voice, rescued from the archives. There is no generation that has not wept.
The album is often difficult to listen to, given the ongoing genocide, an attempt to wipe out the living voices represented here and their kin: Jihad Shouibi (percussion), Karam Fares (buzuq), Julmad (vocals), Osama Abu Ali Mijwiz (flute). Who knows how many composers and musicians have been murdered in the region over the past few years? The loss is unfathomable. “Jinn Of The Bethlehem Souk (feat. Ussama Abu Ali)” wonders, where are the jinn when they are needed? Have they fled? Are there no more wishes to be had? The music grows increasingly frantic, an electronic miasma like a dust devil, swooping in to destroy the little there is left.
The field recordings here and in “Wandering Through the Crowded Paths of Al-Hisba” reveal an area that is still teeming with life, albeit a life that has been wounded and reduced. “My cheese is very very nice,” states a market vendor, one of the album’s few English phrases. The musical arc, which had risen from ambient to drone to electronic, now dips in the opposite direction to unveil the voices of the people. This humanizing touch graces the music with intense power. Authentic and essential, Karakoz is a document of its times that speaks to all times. (Richard Allen)
Mon Feb 02 00:01:48 GMT 2026