They say all art, whether intended or not, is a self-portrait. That axiom, broad as it is, applies to music perhaps more than any other medium, as music channels emotion through concrete and abstract means. In this light, Canadian poet and singer Mustafa’s Dunya emerges as a stunning work of autobiographical reflection.
Characterized by its vivid specificity and profound depth of feeling, Dunya takes the shape of a traditional folk album, infused with a rich blend of cross-cultural influences woven into its sonic DNA. From the faint hints of flamenco on “I’ll Go Anywhere” to the traditional Middle Eastern guitars featured on several other tracks, the album forges soundscapes that feel both idiosyncratic and expansive, rooted in tradition yet unmistakably modern.
In nearly every instance, though, Dunya’s sound remains delicate throughout. Mustafa’s raspy voice, imbued with a palpable sense of anguish, feels deeply intimate, as if he’s quietly sharing a secret with you. “What Good Is a Heart?” finds him grappling with the lingering longing after a romantic breakup in a register that suggests he’s on the verge of tears. On the chorus, with the solemnity of a sacred vow, he asks, “What good is a heart that does not break?”
Each of Dunya’s 11 songs unfolds like a meticulously crafted vignette, placing Mustafa at the center of a series of personal conflicts and favoring sensory details and descriptive impressions over all else. The themes concern the spiritual (“Name of God”), the romantic (“Old Life”), the interpersonal (“What Happened, Mohamed?”), even the existential (“Beauty, End”). Mustafa weaves in seemingly insignificant yet pivotal memories, like the simple act of walking to the nearest convenience store “just to see someone” after a long day of solitude.
Many of these songs revolve around painful separation from loved ones, such as “Imaan,” where Mustafa poignantly laments to a lover that “our families will never find their way to the same living room,” highlighting the often impossible task of reconciling different social backgrounds. On the stirring “Gaza Is Calling,” he mourns a murdered Palestinian childhood friend as the track builds to a sweeping climax of Arabian string samples courtesy of Nicolas Jaar.
That track is so touching, in fact, that the album’s remaining three songs feel somewhat superfluous, especially as they don’t quite reach the highs of “Gaza Is Calling” or even “S.N.L.,” where Mustafa and co-producer Aaron Dessner craft a gorgeous berceuse reflecting on those who’ve been left behind to the “streets.” Still, Dunya stands as a testament to Mustafa’s growing artistry for the way it merges wise, lyrical poignancy with cultural specificity and aural richness, all the while hinting that there are even more facets of himself that he has yet to unveil.
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