351: Sitotash, by Shewandagne Hailu

Shewandagne Hailu (Ethiopia)
Sitotash (2013)
15 tracks, 72 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

You can’t escape pop music. After all, it is, by definition, popular. Wherever you go in the world, you’re going to hear the biggest pop of the moment, and it’s usually all cut from the same stylistic cloth. In Ethiopia, things are no different. Pop music is absolutely everywhere – booming out of taxis, buses, cafés, and mobile phones from every direction. And if you’re big in Ethiopia, you’re huge.

In August of 2013, Addis Ababa belonged to Shewandagne Hailu. His album Sitotash had just come out and his face was on billboards and posters all across the city. Also, I was there. Of course, one of the first things I did after familiarising myself with the general layout of Addis was to hunt out some music, and my expedition led me to a stall on a main road that was just floor-to-ceiling CDs. With so much choice and no idea what I actually wanted, I took a shot in the dark and asked the bloke who was presiding over his stock if he had any jazz. Having already seen the adverts all over, I wasn’t too surprised when the guy confidently slapped a copy of Sitotash down onto the counter.

Nor was I particularly surprised when I’d returned to London, stuck the CD on to discover it wasn’t jazz at all – I mean, look at that cover. In fact, I recognised it. When it got to the track ‘Siberber’, I knew why: it had seemed like every single radio station in Ethiopia was playing that track as every other song, to the extent that it essentially became the soundtrack to my whole time there.

And what does it sound like? It’s pop! Cheesy, cheesy pop. You know the sort. All sorts of keyboard sounds, electric guitars in Brian May-mode, disco beats, loads of reverb, key changes. There’s quite a strong reggae lean to most of the tracks, too, which is quite common in Ethiopian pop. And that’s the thing. There’s no mistaking Ethiopian pop, in the same way as there’s no mistaking Ethiopian jazz or reggae or electronica or metal. There’s something that’s so unmistakably Ethiopian about it. Not just the language, either. Usually it’s in the melodies: traditional Ethiopian music deals with a unique set of pentatonic scales called qiñit, and those scales are used across the musical spectrum, making the music instantly recognisable. Sometimes that’s not the case though, but even when Shewandagne Hailu uses eight-note scales in a western major-or-minor key, his music still sounds as if it could be made nowhere else but Ethiopia. How that happens…well, I have no idea. But I love it.

Pop music is all over the world – some of it is actually good! – but that doesn’t mean it all sounds the same. It comes in different flavours wherever it comes from, and Ethiopian pop has one of the most distinctive (and tastiest) flavours out there. And if you want yours with extra cheese, Shewandagne Hailu is your order.

307: Back to Black, by Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse (United Kingdom)
Back to Black (2006)
11 tracks, 35 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

Nowadays, it’s easy to remember Amy Winehouse as a caricature of herself. Fame was not kind to her and her experiences with hard drugs and alcohol turned her into a tragic figure of ridicule, ruined her ability to make music live or on record with any consistency, destroyed her health and eventually led to her all-too-young death at 27. For many, this ending was not a surprise.

What a disservice that legacy is to such an amazing talent. Listening to Back to Black for the first time in years, it really brings home just how special Amy Winehouse was – this is how she deserves to be remembered.

When she started to get noticed with her debut album Frank in 2003, she was a revelation. Here was a teenage jazz singer making music in the tradition of Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan, but doing so in a way that was submerged in every way in the modern, inner-city London of her upbringing. Her voice was simply astounding, and absolutely oozed talent. Every note was struck with the utmost class and the sheer fun of it all was palpable in every syllable. The blend of jazz, soul and hip-hop beats was an unusual combination to get popular attention, but her fame slowly spread, and she became known as one to watch for the future.

Then, three years later, Back to Black came out and everything exploded. Suddenly Amy Winehouse was the biggest singer in the world. The jazz of Frank was scaled back in favour of the soul and R’n’B sound, but it suited her just as well. Although only three years had passed, her sound was much more mature, while her lyrics were just as naïve. The combination is a super effective one, and, as before, it is that voice that turns it from good music to magic. She delivers every single line with the exact weight and inflection to give it maximum impact, no matter what emotion she conveys. She can pour her heart out to the point where she sounds near tears, to singing with laughter in her voice; she is sultry, jeering, arrogant, sweet, pleading, satisfied, all of them perfectly painted with the subtlest of changes in her voice. There are so many top-notch songs on the album too, it’s packed with them – ‘Rehab’, ‘You Know I’m No Good’, ‘Back to Black’, ‘Me and Mr Jones’, ‘Tears Dry on Their Own’, and the deluxe edition also included brilliant covers of the Zutons’ ‘Valerie’ and Toots and the Maytals’ ‘Monkey Man’. Simply fantastic.

The album was a worldwide hit. She got number ones in 17 countries. It was in the Top 200 album in the UK yearly charts for 11 years, and is the 13th best-selling album in the UK ever. And just listen to it – it’s clearly deserved. Back to Black not only secured Amy Winehouse’s position in music history, but also launched the careers of many artists – the pop music of today would not sound the same if it was not for Amy Winehouse.

This is how she deserves to be remembered. A masterful singer, a revolutionary artist and a supreme talent. A young woman with so much potential, gone too soon. Listen to Back to Black, listen to Frank and remember Amy Winehouse for the amazing art she produced, not the tabloid-fuelled demonisation of her illness.

252: Hot Shot, by Shaggy

Shaggy (Jamaica)
Hot Shot (2000)
14 tracks, 53 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

With Bob Dylan, making a point to listen to his lyrics as their own art-form for which the music was complementary but not strictly necessary was a revelation and greatly aided my appreciation of his work as a whole. For Shaggy…well, not as much.

Hot Shot was on my list because when it came out, little 8- or 9-year-old me really dug it. It had a couple of big hits on it – ‘It Wasn’t Me’ and ‘Angel’ were both number ones in the weekly charts, and reached number one and eight in the year-end charts for 2000 too – that were fun and sounded good, and that carries on for the rest of the album too. There are some solid tracks on here; even lesser-known ones such as ‘Why Me Lord’, the coolly romantic ‘Leave It to Me’ and the Bollywood-sampling ‘Hey Love’ would be nice additions to appropriate playlists. It’s basically a nice collection of pop-dancehall with heaps of soul and R’n’B, which make it a little more palatable for the charts. It’s very Year 2000 but still good for a cheesy laugh and good vibes.

But, oh, the lyrics. Today was the first time I’ve properly given them my attention, and I sort of wish I hadn’t. Actually, that’s not strictly true: I once did a karaoke duet with a friend singing ‘Angel’. What a lovely song that is, I thought, all romantic like…except half-way through singing it comes the sinking feeling accompanied by a gradual realisation that the premise of the song is that Shaggy’s character has been abusing his ‘angel,’ went to prison for it and now she’s taken him back and he’s very appreciative. Grim. The awkward part is that the whole album is full of that crap too: tales of cheating, carrying guns, casual misogyny and the like…even when the lyrics aren’t offensive in their content, they’re not exactly enlightening or even particularly inventive either.

How depressing. Hot Shot is an easy listen and remains pleasant and enjoyable as long as you don’t pay too much attention. It’s not aged well in the 19 years since its release: for the music, that lends it a certain charm and adds to its nostalgia quality; for the words, though, it just ends up making the previously fun, happy-go-lucky character of Shaggy just seem like a creep. Sad. Does one outweigh the other? That’s your call.

164: Alright, Still, by Lily Allen

Lily Allen (United Kindom)
Alright, Still (2006)
11 tracks, 37 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

Pop pop pop. This is pop all the way through, in both its popularity and its musical style. There’s nothing particularly challenging in the music but it is completely infectious. The tracks from this album were absolutely everywhere the summer that this album came out, and it’s easy to see why.

Although the music itself may sound quite simple, it’s not bereft of stylistic variety. A lot of the album – including the most famous singles ‘Smile’ and ‘LDN’ – has a relaxed reggae lilt to it, and there are elements from hip-hop, R’n’B and soul in there to keep the poppiness from getting too monotonous. There’s also a good and wide-ranging use of samples here, and not the usual sort for a mid-00s pop singer either, including snatches from Earl King’s ‘Big Chief’ and Dawn Penn’s ‘No No No’ turning into valuable melodic hooks and making the music nerds’ ears tingle.

Obviously a big draw for Lily Allen’s work is her lyrics, and on Alright, Still she really established her reputation for angry and bitter lyrics. She still somehow makes them lighthearted and fun, though, and this is the exact opposite of a depressing listen. Her stories of failed relationships, sexual harassment and just the general shittiness of life are told with a deadpan, ironic humour that feels super relatable and humanising, without any flowery, poetic wit to bog it down.

Although I’ve listed the album as having 11 tracks up at the top – and that’s the official count – that’s not what I have in my own iTunes library. That’s because, uniquely in my collection, I think, I got so annoyed by a terrible song that I just completely straight-up deleted it from my computer and my life and basically refused to accept its existence. That song is the last one on the album, ‘Alfie’, written about her now-Game of Thrones star brother. She wrote it when she was younger and I think it really shows – juvenile lyrics, annoying nursery-rhyme lyrics and the worst kind of bubblegum pop. Awful.

Regardless, for me, this definitely-10-track-and-no-more album is a great one. Apparently, when the album came out, Stylus Magazine referred to the album negatively as ‘nothing more than pop for people who hate pop music,’ and I say…well, yeah. But that’s a good thing! It’s a really good example of just how groovy pop music can be in and of itself, to the degree that its popularity can reach beyond into the ears of those that wouldn’t otherwise be fussed. Alright, Still doesn’t need that amount of thought put into it: just stick it on and enjoy.

134: 1.22.03. Acoustic, by Maroon 5

Maroon 5 (USA)
1.22.03. Acoustic (2004)
7 tracks, 29 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

I believe that there is opportunity for good in every music, and pop music is no exception (although I admit you may have to look a little harder to find the good among the pap – but it’s there! Usually!). For a while at least, Maroon 5 were, in my opinion, making some of the best pop music out there. Their debut, 2002’s Songs About Jane, was a hit around the world, and the soulful melodies, band performance and lead singer Adam Levine’s voice all set them apart from the rest of what was on the radio at the time.

This album is something a bit different. It’s only a very short one, sort of an extended EP in a way, and as you can tell from its title, it’s an acoustic set (mostly). It was recorded live at the Hit Factory in New York, and the sound quality is…fine, I guess. It’s not the best recorded live album I’ve ever heard but it’s definitely far from the worst. But of course, it’s the performances here that are what makes this one special.

The songs included are mostly from Songs About Jane, but there’s something about this performance that really highlights both the band’s musicianship and their songwriting. Performing their songs on two acoustic guitars, piano, electric bass (cheats) and a bit of a badly-tuned djembe, together with Levine’s lead vocals and some nice harmonies here and there, it’s nice to hear the songs stand on their own without the added studio flashiness. The influences from Stevie Wonder, Van Morrison and the Beatles are clear (they actually feature a quiet cover the latter’s ‘If I Fell’ here), and somehow the acoustic setting also serves to bring out the latent funkiness of the band’s music, along with the standard soulfulness that coats all of the studio album. What interests me the most, though, is the piano - pianist Jesse Carmichael has a habit of adding quite a lot of extensions on his chord playing on most of the track, which even lends a jazzy flow to the set.

I should probably also mention the bonus, non-acoustic track, a cover of AC/DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’. It’s a bit amusing but doesn’t make for great listening, and it’s basically an unnecessary addition to the end of the album. Ah well. Ignoring that bit though, I think they were really onto something with this album. The live setting leaves it a bit lacking, but there’s great ideas here; it would have been great if they’d have used the live experiences to record proper acoustic versions of the set in a studio, ironing out the kinks and making the sound extra sparkly while leaving the organic feel. But they didn’t. Again, ah well.

It was really disappointing to hear Maroon 5’s descent from a promising band navigating the pop world with something different in their sound to basically making electropop that sounded like everything else that was out there. Perhaps their album tracks were somewhat different, but I wouldn’t know – their singles definitely didn’t reflect that. Luckily, that doesn’t take away the pleasure of listening to their earlier stuff, and Songs About Jane and 1.22.03. Acoustic both still stand up, proving that pop music – sometimes – can be really good.

119: Soyo, by Dom La Nena

Dom La Nena (Brazil)
Soyo (2015)
11 tracks, 39 minutes
Bandcamp • Spotify • iTunes

Although I try to be as open-eared as possible, there are certain cultures in the world whose music I just struggle to connect with. I’ve mentioned it before in regards to South Africa, but there’s still a few South African musical styles that I enjoy more often than not. Less so with music from Brazil. For such a huge country with so many subcultures within, I can’t help but find the vast majority of Brazilian music that I’ve heard completely uninspiring, at best. The chords and their changes are too smooth, the rhythms repetitive and the melodies either lacking in personality or filled with smugness. Even the massed percussion of the samba leaves me bored, and don’t get me started on bossa nova. These are definitely sweeping statements, probably unfair ones at that, but it’s disappointing how widely they seem to ring true.

What’s weird is that, in Soyo, Dom La Nena’s music has all the elements that I usually dislike in Brazilian music. The music here is nice – and that’s usually a bad thing! But…it’s good! Really good. So what gives? No idea. In fact, there’s also a really twee pop sensibility about it, too: there’s ukuleles, glockenspiels, half-whispered vocals and loads of compression, to the degree that most of the tracks wouldn’t feel too out-of-place on an advert for organic yoghurt. So much of the stylistic influence on offer here is inoffensive, but Dom brings an edge to it. I’m not sure what it is. I think it may be that the execution is less overly earnest than others of its style, while still being obviously heartfelt.

It’s really lovely music for relaxing to. It makes me think of a sunny Sunday morning in the summer, eating breakfast on the cool grass. There’s nothing too energetic, but it’s not sleepy either, the atmospheres are constructed so well. There always seems to be quite a lot going on in terms of chords, melodies, countermelodies, shuffling samba-esque rhythms, little ephemeral production elements here and there, but it never sounds busy. It all slots in just right. Then of course there’s Dom’s voice, which is really soft and fragile, and complements those textures well; there's even a touch of Billie Holiday about her. It’s especially pleasing when she adds her own vocal harmonies by the miracle of overdubs.

So yeah. Twee pop with a distinctly Brazilian edge with airy vocals over the top…despite it being everything I’d usually avoid, this album hits me exactly right. Never be afraid to listen to that artist you think you’ll hate, whoever it may be. They may surprise you.

103: Lungs, by Florence + the Machine

Florence + the Machine (United Kingdom)
Lungs (2009)
13 tracks, 46 minutes
Spotify • iTunes

This album is solidified in my mind as the soundtrack to my college days. It just makes me think of those sort of endless summers that only ever exist after about ten years of brain-fade have changed up those memories, bonkers hormones and cider that I didn’t even drink particularly much of because I was under 18 and basically quite rule-abiding.

The opening track, ‘Dog Days Are Over’ was of course a big hit around that time, and considering that omnipresent songs are rarely as good as this one, I actually got well into it. It was also helped by the fact that when everyone in our Media Studies A-level class had to make music videos for any track of our choosing, the best one musically came from someone who chose ‘Dog Days’…after my own of course. Then there’s also the track ‘Girl With One Eye’, which I still find a really cool addition to a number one album. It’s actually a cover – something I learnt just now – of little-known and, as far as I can tell, short-lived rock band The Ludes, but this particular track is a slow and slinky blues number with some really dark and gothic imagery. It really allows Flo’s voice to shine, sometimes going from quiet, near-whispering to almost operatic vaults.

Having not listened to this album for absolutely years, the rest of it sort of merged in my mind to blurs of baroque-pop, and listening to it again now, that’s actually pretty accurate. As in, it sounds blurry. Not in a bad way, but it’s all quite washed-out and shimmering. That’s what it is! It’s not just my brain making up these rose-tinted memories, it’s like the music of that time was built specifically for reminiscing to, even when it first came out.

It’s a strange one for me, then, because I can’t really tell if it’s held up well over the last ten years. It has entangled itself so well in my memories that I can’t really extract them. But hey, if you’re a twenty-something rapidly approaching thirtidom, dig this album back out and let me know if it’s just me that it seems to have created strange, possibly unreal memories for, or whether I should get that checked out by a certified health professional.

084: Why I'm not writing about Thriller, by Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson (USA)
Thriller (1982)
9 tracks, 42 minutes
Spotify • iTunes

Well this timing is awkward. Just a few days before writing this one, a new documentary, Leaving Neverland, came out on Channel 4, which details pretty comprehensively the allegations of child sexual assault committed by Michael Jackson. To be honest, we knew for a long time. He was not a good man, and he has that in common with some others that will be on this blog at some point. His reputation deserves to be tarnished with this knowledge forever, but at the same time, his importance and contributions to the world of music is indisputable.

This is a really important time to think about the meaning of legacy, and how much we can continue to revere those of people that have directly caused such suffering. There is a case to say that, if the art isn’t connected with the transgressions of its creator, then it should be excused from being tarred along with the name. This is a flawed argument, especially when it comes to Michael Jackson. For starters, it is because of his music and the popularity, riches and fame that it brought, that gave him the means, the access and the trust of people that was required to abuse children in the way that he did. It doesn’t even work to say that the music itself is innocent of the crime, as the subjects are unrelated – listen to ‘Human Nature’ with this knowledge in mind and try not to be creeped out.

I’m not sure it’s appropriate to talk about this album from a musical perspective at the current time. You know what it sounds like, and you can go and listen to it if you don’t – no-one is stopping you. It’s a great album, but that is less important than the human cost that its success, in part, enabled. It hurts, because I would not have chosen this album to write about if I didn’t think it was worthy, and I didn’t enjoy listening to it. I am sure I will listen to it again, and I’m sure I will gain enjoyment out of that experience. But it isn’t appropriate to write about this album with veneration. Not now, at least.

It’s important that we believe survivors of assault and rape, and it’s important that we don’t let our biases or tastes get in the way of their personal justice.

081: Yemenite Songs, by Ofra Haza

Ofra Haza (Israel)
Yemenite Songs (1984)
8 tracks, 39 minutes
Spotify • iTunes

Ofra Haza was one of the first world music stars – even before world music existed. In fact, this album was indirectly one of the reasons for the creation of world music as a specific marketing term and strategy. When it was released internationally by the Globe Style record label in 1985, it was a massive success, but so were King Sunny Ade and Les Mysteres de Voix Bulgares, and record shops were having a hard time working out where to put the albums…so, after a fashion, world music became a thing. But I digress. If you want to learn more about that all stuff, it’s brilliantly chronicled on the fRoots website by the editor Ian Anderson.

As for Yemenite Songs, it is, when it all boils down, Israeli pop. And really 80s pop at that: bad synths and gated reverb abound. It wouldn’t be on this blog if that were all it was though. As the title suggests, Haza uses the album to explore her heritage as a Yemenite Jew living in a modern Israel, and the music reflects all of these identities. She sings in Hebrew, Arabic and Aramaic and her vocal style changes to reflect the different cultures. The instrumentation is rather orchestral without sounding it: the string, woodwind and brass sections, in conjunction with the synths and the dance beats, end up sounding quite disco-esque. Sometimes the woodwinds take a step forward and make things extra funky, and it all gets quite Bellowheadish on the medley ‘Tzur Mentati/Se'i Yona/Sapri Tama.’ The dhol-soundalike tin drum adds another flavour with its driving beats.

Basically, what I’m saying is that this is pop music inspired by Yemenite heritage and the Arabic culture that goes along with it while also retaining a Hebrew identity and mixing in classical poetry while striving towards all the modern trappings of the 1980s. Now I can see why those record shop owners had a hard time finding the right box to put this in…

078: Dewrane Dewrane, by Burhan Toprak

Burhan Toprak (Kurdistan/Turkey)
Dewrane Dewrane (2014)
5 tracks, 62 minutes

This is a difficult one to talk about, because I’m not sure really where my version of this came from. Well, I do, it was a CD-r in a big box of other CD-rs, but I mean, I don’t think this is a real album, probably more likely to be a sampler. I can’t even find all of the tracks online anywhere. So what I’ll do is send you to a couple of his other albums on Spotify: Dewrane Dewrane (2013) and Daweta Gel, Vol. 1 (2016), and if you want to take a listen to my version, I can send it to you, just let me know.

As you can tell by the vagueness of that introduction, I really don’t know much about Burhan Toprak, or this music in general. As far as I can tell, Burhan and his group Roj Müzik play Kurdish wedding music in Turkey. The repertoire is all based on traditional songs and melodies, but they’ve made it super poppy. That means lots of cheesy synth chords and drum machines. But what I find really enticing about this music is Toprak's electric bağlama. The instrument already has such a lovely sound in its acoustic form, with its double courses of strings, open tuning and microtonal frets; the electric version, played with loads of distortion, adds an extra dimension again.

The recorded work is one thing, but I would love to attend a wedding with this guy. Check out this footage from an event in 2016:

Without all the way-too-cheesy add-ons of the recorded stuff, the ensemble of vocals, electric bağlama and drums is much more exciting, and allows Toprak to show off his skills more too. I’m quite amazed at how civilised the dancing stays to be honest – I reckon I’d be whipped into a frenzy in the right surroundings.

I know that in the past few years, Roj Müzik have been trying to break out onto the international scene, performing in concert settings for world music audiences as well as at Kurdish and Turkish weddings, but unfortunately it doesn’t seem to be going too well for them. In fact, the only update I can find in English on the web was from 2017, when the group were apparently invited to perform at SXSW but then denied the necessary visas. I really hope that Roj Müzik and Burhan Toprak do end up making some in-roads within the international scene soon. I’d love to see them live – and learn more about them and their music!

068: Cosmic Thing, by the B-52's

The B-52’s (USA)
Cosmic Thing (1989)
10 tracks, 47 minutes
Spotify • iTunes

You know the B-52s, and Cosmic Thing has two of their most well-known songs on it in ‘Roam’ and ‘Love Shack.’ The rest of the tracks on the album deserve attention too, especially ‘Junebug’ and ‘Cosmic Thing.’ It’s mad that the album is only from 1989, as their sound is so retro. I’m not sure what sort of retro because there’s bits that could have been pulled directly out of the 60s, 70s, and 80s in there, but their sound is that of a sort of timeless, intergalactic go-go. The group never take any of it too seriously. It’s just a big laugh with a bunch of freaky people and everyone’s welcome to join in and dance.

Importantly, everything about the album – from Fred Schneider’s over-the-top carnival-caller’s patter and partytime lyrics to the groovy technicolor artwork and the cheeky winks that I’m sure everyone involved was giving 80% of the time – it’s all so wonderfully camp. In fact, in my notes I just wrote ‘Camp!’ and I think the exclamation point is important in making that statement.

But for me, this album isn’t about the music (although it is, of course, Good Album quality). It is so indelibly linked to a place and an emotion for me. When I was little, we often used to go on camping holidays at a place called Shell Island on the west coast of Wales. I absolutely loved the times at Shell Island, playing in the sand dunes, going crabbing and rock pooling, skipping stones on the River Artro, bonfires, the whole lot. But to get there, there was first the long (for a little boy) car ride from our house in Cheshire that needed to be endured. For most of the journey, we’d listen to the radio, but there was a certain point on the drive, among the hills of Snowdonia, that FM radio couldn’t reach – that’s where the B-52s come in.

It feels like we only had a small handful of tapes in the car, always the same ones, and it was always the B-52’s Cosmic Thing that was reached for as soon as the radio drifted off into white noise. And because that was always about the same sort of place, the tracks always came at the part of the journey every time. It means that every time I hear the song ‘Love Shack,’ not only do I get filled with the memories of the excitement and restlessness for holidays and the smell of the sea and the feel of the sand on my feet, it also transports me back to a very specific place, on a winding road with a cliff rising up to the right of us. It’s so vivid to me. It means we’re almost there.

So, this is holiday music for me. You should listen to this album and enjoy it – it’s good! – but just know that you won’t be enjoying it as much as a seven-year-old on the way to Shell Island.

026: Music Furthest from the Sea, by Various Artists

Various Artists (East Turkestan)
Music Furthest from the Sea (2006)
19 tracks, 74 minutes
Download from RO&GC

I first found this free download via WFMU when I was studying the the classical and folk music of the Uyghurs. The Uyghur people are a culturally and linguistically Turkic people, mostly Muslims, from the area of Central Asia known as East Turkestan. The reason you may not have heard of East Turkestan is that it is currently internationally considered as part of China, where it is known as Xinjiang. The classical and folk music of the Uyghurs is based on the muqam, a set of melodic modes and compositions similar to the Arabic maqam. It’s often quite reminiscent of their Central Asian neighbours, especially Uzbekistan, but with occasional hints at their East Asian connections.

But this isn’t classical or folk music – this is pop, through and through! This album is a compilation of music from the streets of the capital Ürümqi, a mix of whatever was popular with the pirate CD sellers back in 2006. As such there’s all sorts in here – mostly Uyghur but with some Uzbek music too. Obviously, as with the pop music from literally anywhere, there’s a lot of musical tat within these 19 tracks, but even then it’s mostly still good fun, and they almost all have that thing that I really love – they’re so rooted in place, these sound so Uyghur, whether it is in their vocal ornamentations or the way they play their instruments or the scales they’re using. It’s pop music, but it all owes at least a little bit to the folk and classical music of the elders.

There are some proper gems in here too. There’s two stand-outs for me: the opener, a piece called ‘Dutarim’ by an unknown artist - it’s extremely cheesy but charming, the singer is talking about his dutar (a long-necked two-stringed lute), but the dutar itself is replaced in the music by a tinkly keyboard sound that is frankly nothing like one. Brilliant. The second is the piece ‘Hasret’ by Yurrekke Tolghan Dert – this is just a really short piece of acoustic guitar and vocals with bad audio quality, but his voice is filled with emotion and the piece itself sounds quite like American folk music. I’d love to hear more by this bloke, but I have no idea where I’d find anything else. Probably have to head over to East Turkestan.

There is a problem with that plan, though. It would be utterly remiss to talk about Uyghur art without mentioning the grave injustice and oppression currently being inflicted upon them by the Chinese government of Xinjiang. Huge restrictions have been imposed on Uyghur culture, religion and language, enforced by heavy surveillance and the restricting of movement, expression and association. Ostensibly for the purposes of ‘anti-extremism,’ we should call it by its name: this is a purge and attempted cultural extermination. Millions of people have been placed in the euphemistically named ‘re-education camps’ and public figures have been arrested and imprisoned without charge. As is always the way, musicians have been targeted especially, and detainees include such popular figures as Sanubar Tursun, Ablajan Awut Ayup and ‘king of dutar’ Abdurehim Heyit, who is featured on this compilation. While this has been covered in the British media once or twice, there is nowhere near the international outcry that such a huge humanitarian crisis deserves. If you are interested in learning more about this, have a look at the links in this text, and below:

• The CESS Blog - Securitisation and Mass Detentions in Xinjiang
• The Art of Life in Chinese Central Asia, a blog by Daniel Byler
• BBC - China's hidden camps: What's happened to the vanished Uighurs of Xinjiang?
• Human Rights Watch - “Eradicating Ideological Viruses”: China’s Campaign of Repression Against Xinjiang’s Muslims

Thank you to Rachel Harris for the links and advice.