GAJOOB Review by Bryan Baker:
KUWAISIANA’s 2024 release, Mishriff / مشرف, is an intimate, politically tuned, and sonically cross-pollinated work that drives straight through the heart of diaspora identity, grief, and memory—with just enough time for Brian to drive across town, as the band wryly notes.
Clocking in around a half-hour, Mishriff feels like a cinematic EP stretched taut with meaning. It plays like a condensed road movie soundtracked by the ghosts of Kuwaiti history, American disillusionment, and the friction between modernity and memory. The hybrid energy of the band—rooted in New Orleans but deeply informed by Aziz’s Kuwaiti heritage—continues to thread regional instrumentation (oud, santoor) with a subtle but propulsive rock edge.
“Was6a واسطة” kicks off the set with simmering tension, rooted in Kuwait’s modern dilemmas around xenophobia and displacement. The layering of oud and synths (Gabriel Lavin and Nathan Lambertson/Michael “Slim” Larkin respectively) paints a sonic landscape of slow suffocation—progress cloaked as prosperity, communities eroded by paperwork and PR campaigns. Aziz’s vocals carry the edge of both mourning and resistance.
“Chub” is a tonal shift—filmic in origin and style, written for Ahmad M. Hamada’s 2024 sci-fi/horror film Akh. It’s the standout for sheer atmosphere. Built on sludgy suspense, the track rides the undercurrent of betrayal with brooding basslines and distant guitar scrapes. There’s a music video too, which brings out the narrative’s emotional claustrophobia. It’s like if post-rock met Gulf futurism in a side alley.
“1991” draws from +Aziz’s own experience as a child during the Gulf War, the song slows the tempo to match the surreal passage of wartime days. The instrumentation is lush, with guitar and synth swirling around one another like layered fog. It doesn’t sensationalize or dramatize. Instead, it lingers. That’s the real ache here: time standing still in crisis.
“Gentrification” continues to blend cultural influences while making a powerful, full-throated statement: “Take a selfie baby, with vultures on roadkill Americana sugarcoat it, Rewrites of history by warring families. obese bodies infested with xenophobia. It came as no surprise, gentrification. Homicide in the air – new community is teething.” Teething, indeed.
“Flower with a Hangover” is the emotional core of the album. The track feels haunted, fragile, and reverent—a tribute to lives lost to school shootings in the U.S., but also a larger meditation on how grief keeps growing new roots. The production here (helmed by Slim Larkin) is lush yet spacious. The santoor by Michael Voelker is particularly affecting—both percussive and melodic, weaving sorrow into rhythm. It’s a brave, beautiful closing moment.
Credits matter here. KUWAISIANA isn’t a top-down project—it’s a community. The personnel list reads like a transregional patchwork: Seattle, Normandy Park, New Orleans, and Kuwait converge in both place and sound. You get hand clapping by Mohammad Alowaisi. Upright bass. Layered percussion by multiple hands. And despite the scope, the whole thing feels grounded and cohesive.
Mishriff / مشرف is a statement of presence. Of persistence. Of roots tangled across oceans. KUWAISIANA continues to push the envelope of Arab-American music by making it personal, political, and artistically uncompromising. Highly recommended for fans of post-diaspora storytelling, politically conscious grooves, and regional experimentation with real soul.
Media: Digital.
