Nomadic Soul, An Ode.

I first discovered desert blues when I'd stumbled across an old YouTube video of Ravid Kahalani, the lead singer of the band Yemen Blues, singing Jat Mahibathi at what appeared to be a café in East Jerusalem. The Arab residents in and around the narrow street began to fill the room almost immediately. I can only imagine their shock as they witnessed Kahalani, a Jewish man, paying homage to his Yeminite heritage with a beautiful melodic hymn sung in their native Arabic. There they stood watching, clapping, and cheering on as he sang the number. It was a beautiful sight to see. Not a scent of lingering dissident in the air. No stern looks between cousins. Just people enjoying good music in quaint café in the Holy City.

I began searching frantically on Spotify for more of his records. I listened to his discography in one sitting and had it on repeat for at least a month. One track off his second album, titled Tonight I'll Be Pretty, featured an artist by the name of Mariem Hassan—a Sahrawi singer and lyricist from Western Sahara.

Her lyrics were poetic and political. A woman born during the Spanish colonial reign and who died in a refugee camp. Hassan's music spoke of hardship as it lived and breathed intrinsically bound to her existence. She was remarkable woman deserving of much more than what was given to her. The more I read about Mariem Hassan, the more I was convinced to write a screenplay inspired by her journey.

Music has the ability to get my creativity flowing, push me out of my reality for a little which I've found extremely helpful when immersing myself in a piece of fiction. I found tens of artists with a similar sound, some funkier than others, and compiled them all into one big playlist. I've yet to complete the story but I thought I'd share the playlist with anyone willing to take a listen.

But first, here are a few of my favourite desert blues tracks:

1. Ai Du (Ali Farka Touré ft. Ry Cooder)

Ai Du comes directly off the 1994 collaboration album Talking Timbuktu between Malian guitarist Ali Farka Touré and American guitarist/producer Ry Cooder. From the moment I pressed play, I was hooked. Every riff seeped deep into my bones. I couldn’t help but make a face. There aren’t many songs that can invoke such a visceral reaction from me right off the bat but something about this song in particular spoke directly to my soul. The lyrics are simple, with only three lines, but his message rings loud and clear. He sings:

Trust and faith in your fellow man has no equal If you have experienced trust you will know its strength You must know yourself before you know others

The track is a beautiful melange of an old American genre with an African twist. Touré’s powerful vocals combined with Cooder’s electric guitar riffs are a force to be reckoned with and I'd highly recommend everyone to go and check it out.

2. Haiyu (Mariem Hassan)

The legend herself has released numerous tracks, much of which are included in my daily Spotify repertoire, and never disappoints in giving us a true taste of the Sahara. As I've previously mentioned, Hassan’s lyrics have always been political. Having lived much of her life under the thumb of colonization, she was understandably displeased with the current state of her homeland. She longed to see a free Sahara, governed and led by her people, and often makes references to similar struggles across Africa and the Middle East. Haiyu is what I would consider a true revolutionary anthem. Melodic guitar sounds find themselves in harmony with ancestral Sahrawi chants as she delivers a beautiful ode to her heritage.

3. Baraca (Yemen Blues)

Yemen Blues, doesn’t limit itself to music from the Arabian Peninsula, as half their name may suggest. Kahalani skillfully blends American soul and funk with hard beats from North and West Africa. Baraca offers a more theatrical sound and certainly doesn’t fit into the mold of your typical desert blues track. Moments of high-tempo beats, perfect for an action sequence in a film, juxtaposed with a musical shift nearing the halfway mark. Tempo suddenly drops, Kahalani now speaking as if reading poetry, as drums can still be heard in the background.

Listening to the track itself feels like an experience—not surprising as it is over ten minutes long—but nonetheless, an experience I’m sure you’ll enjoy.

If you'd like to listen to more music like this, you can check out the full playlist on Spotify right here.