Ammar 808 is the high octane vehicle for the Tunisian-born producer Sofyann Ben Youssef, now based in Denmark. His first album Maghreb United (2018) struck hard and fast in a field already well-populated by the fusion of traditional Arab sounds and modern electronics. It was a marriage made in heaven. His second album Global Control/Invisible Invasion (2020) explored links with South Indian sounds, but in the latest, he returns to his roots and the result is a frenetic and very danceable mix of ancient and modern.
In the company of some of Tunisia’s most popular vocalists, the producer weaves together a bewitching mix: there are hand-drums, there are drum loops, there are synths and there are instruments traditional associated with wedding music and other forms of collective entertainment. Although there are constant evocations of music from the countryside, this is urban music, designed to light up the dance floor in one of Tunis’s vibrant clubs. It might be better to call it “rurban’, a term invented by the late Algerian sociologist Hadj Miliani, when describing the culture that gave birth to Rai in the later 1980s, a music not entirely dissimilar to Ammar 808’s own, although there isn’t the rebellious political feel that was expressed by the young Chebs, Khaled and Mami.
The traditional genre most present in Sofyann Ben Youssef’s current music is Mezoued, named after the goatskin bagpipes – called mezoued – that characterise the weaving lines of melody that wrap themselves around the music, induce a kind of altered state, and recall the synths and electric saz in the dabke of Omar Souleyman, sonorities rich in harmonics and enchanting microtones, design to take the listener or dance out of his or head head. This ‘rurban’ music share some characteristics with other musics that emerge from marginalised and ecomicallyl struggling cultures – the blues in the USA and rebetika in Greece – in this case the country and dessert folk who have flocked to the city in search of non-existent jobs. Ammar 808’s music draws from village traditions, and serves it up in modern style – a double whammy for the Tunisians who can feel the music is very much theirs, while being wholly tuned into the digital and global present-day.
In the yeaning love song “Aman Aman”, for instance, Meriem Bettouhami – a formally trained Arab-style singer – is fashionably double-tracked and distorted with a Vocorder. On other tracks, such as "Lelliri Yamma", the rough and breathy sound of the ney – a shepherd’s instrument is surrounded by synth sounds and treated in a way that exploits a timbre that encourages the mind to float downstream. The vocalist here, Mahmoud Lahbi, is one of the leading Mesoued vocalists, and his melismatic lines are enhanced by the sensual rawness of the flute and the snaky sound of the bagpipe.
This is above all music to dance to – it would work on any club night – and to let go. The tracks are quite similar, so listening to the album in one go is perhaps not the best way to enjoy these fiery sounds. As this is music for the body as well as the mind, it thrives on repetition and its ability to take leave with everyday reality.
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