In 2015, Cairo producer Ahmed El Ghazoly unapologetically summarized the false binary of his city’s club scene: “DJ culture is synonymous with, you know, bad artists,” he told Resident Advisor. “They don’t get that dance music can be art.” El Ghazoly is a vital part of crucial Egyptian club nights like VENT and JellyZone, but his own productions straddle different worlds. Under the handle of Swag Lee, he has provided an array of Jeep-quaking beats for Arabic MCs. And as ZULI, he makes the type of frenzied techno that has wormed its way into the audacious sets of Lee Gamble, Machine Woman, and Aphex Twin.
With Terminal, his debut full-length as ZULI for Gamble’s UIQ imprint, he finally brings together his dizzying electronic productions and hip-hop acumen, creating two- to four-minute blasts that constantly challenge, overwhelm, and confound. See, for instance, “Nari,” a wicked posse cut full of tectonic bass and haboob-level noise. If you can’t parse Arabic, no worries: By design, ZULI renders it as indecipherable, anyway, scrambling the signals of the acclaimed MC Abyusif and up-and-coming cyphers like Mado $am, Abanob, and R-Rhyme into a blur of garbled words and trap snares. When they reconvene for the Auto-Tuned R&B of “Ana Ghayeb,” they come through clearly, each verse addressing heartbreak against a cresting synth backdrop.
One of Egypt’s more prominent hip-hop artists, Abyusif graces five of Terminal’s tracks. While he’s rendered into noise on the opener, he cuts through the din and the lackadaisical beat of “Archimedes,” his flow conversational and peppered with staccato accents, a little like MF DOOM’s abstraction. He sounds similarly surefooted amid the stop-and-start hi-hats, motorbike noise, and alien throbs of “Akhtuboot.” As he references designer Roberto Cavalli, Pinocchio, and multiple synonyms for “confusion,” his voice moves through all manner of processors.
Even without a rapper on the track, ZULI’s fractured production style mimics their flows. During “Bump,” El Ghazoly matches the speedy flow of a grime MC, juggling and slurring beats and buzzing bass while mincing a voice that croaks “rude boy.” He strews the IDM-esque “Wreck” with all sorts of aural shrapnel, as Uzi bass and disembodied voices whiplash in and out of earshot. But starting with the haunting swells of centerpiece “Kollu l-Joloud,” the album starts to open up and allow for more space. Across the album’s back half, the pyrotechnics even give way to nuanced etudes full of enticing sound design and melting structures. He smears voices and strings across “Follow Your Breath,” while “In Your Head” mixes piano with vespers. Terminal’s dense beat tracks suggest the manic streets of Cairo, but tracks like these reveal ZULI’s interiority.
ZULI juggles techno, garage, grime, modern R&B, noise, and future bass throughout Terminal,each element soon dissolving into the whole. Not once does this feel like flashy grandstanding or forced eclecticism. If anything, it feels like his attempt to make these many fractured subgenres and scenes cohere. “In a world that feels like it’s regressing into tribalism,” he has said, “many of us who don’t fit into any one specific group identity feel sidelined at best.” Whether you hear this as a statement album from a bright new electronic producer or a showcase for Egypt’s risk-taking rap scene, it’s a head-nodding and brain-boggling work of art.
