The philosophical underpinnings of El Khat have always been audible in their work. Founded in the members’ hometown of Jaffa, El Khat have witnessed up close some of the most alarming and widely discussed recent large-scale violence in the world. They challenge the hegemonies behind them with self-made instruments of recycled material, melodies from multi-instrumentalist and frontman Eyal el Wahab’s Yemeni Jewish heritage, and often sharply satirical and political lyrics.
That underscores the group’s orientation against oppression and strongly in favor of open expression—radical values in an increasingly fractured world. Even the title of the new album, Mute, points to deeply held concerns about the annihilation of the disenfranchised by those in positions of power. Now based in Berlin, El Khat present some of their most trenchant music to date, and it’s captivating.
At the foundations of Mute are sounds that point to el Wahab’s Yemeni roots. The record opens with a metallic fluttering of plucked strings and steady drums before “Tislami Tislami” takes one of the distinctly irregular shapes that El Khat make best, edges defined by heavily modified synths. El Wahab’s razor-sharp voice offers tongue-in-cheek thanks to an untrustworthy former love for forcing him to move on, his verses making for as cutting a metaphor for migration as they do a literal farewell. Trumpet courtesy of Iby Ibn Yakir dances around Lotan Yaish’s brilliantly clattering percussion in festive circles with an ominous edge on “La WaLa”, a song that directly engages blissful political ignorance.
Electrical currents are always present; on some tracks, they are more prominent than others. “Commodore Lothan” opens and closes with a high dose of playful, plugged-in reverb, while delayed keys bounce throughout the mid-tempo instrumental “Almania”. The bowed strings and pulsing rhythms that open “Zafa” make way for some of Mute‘s most energizing sounds. El Khat’s organist, Yefet Hasan, makes especially intriguing contributions as he moves between sparse notes and thick melisma. Yakir’s trumpet returns, sharing a melody with an especially mesmerizing el Wahab. Immediately following, “Zafa: Talaatam” takes the momentum to new heights with fiery percussion and waves of organ and strings rushing forward. The album’s sweeping climax offers us an aural glimpse of the group at full power.
Mute ends with “Intissar”, a reminder of the record’s fundamental point that, in a world based on conflict, the only way to get ahead is to push everyone else down as far as they can go. It’s a terrible thing to wish, and the members of El Khat push against it with all their weight on this latest album. The music they make is truly unlike that of any other group, a sparkling array of DIY tools working toward vital social messages and spreading Yemeni Jewish tradition in previously unheard-of ways.
El Khat’s music often takes a dim view of the future, but it does so in ways that are sonically exciting. It’s an inspiring combination, one that makes it a relief that El Khat refuses to be muted.