Though there are a thousand and one criticisms of the body of work of the late Bryn Jones, one point is inarguable – his provacative titles and artwork have led many curious people to explore the relationship between the largely pro-Israel, anti-Arab western media machine and our perceptions of Islam.
Nowhere is the establishment of Islam less black-and-white – yet completely authoritarian – than the current situation that exists in Afghanistan. Turning away for a moment from his focus on Israeli atrocities in Palestine, Your Mines In Kabul is a 3-CD set filled with Lahore & Marseille era Muslimgauze. Reggae and dancehall rhythms beaten into the ground with distortion and resonance peaks – a simple formula which has yielded masterful work again and again from Jones. However, in order to get to the music (which is housed in an attractively-etched jewelcase), you have to navigate a few pitfalls. The first “mine” is perched on a felt button on the inside of the front cover, and the second in the usual jewelcase holding spot. But the third “mine” is actually housed under the second’s plastic holder, and you have to carefully dig it out of the case – Staalplaat deserves praise for making the packaging physically demonstrate the message already struck with the artwork.
The national museum in Kabul was recently the focus of controversy when Afghanistan’s ruling religious authority commanded religious iconography to be destroyed, and two large buddhist statues were the main focus of international outrage. However, Kabul was also the scene of heavy fighting for a number of years during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and the mines being referred to are landmines, which were scattered by the invading Soviets as well as the CIA-backed Afghani forces. The poweful front front cover pictures a greiving woman in a graveyard covered completely in black muslin, while the back features children with prosthetic legs.
But outside of politics, this final era of Jones’ work is really an exploration of two main themes; dub-style rhythmic progression, very often with dancehall or arabic-style percussion and distortion. Distortion is the name of the game here, and the hiss and whine of Jones’ filters act as texture, reworking and revamping what would otherwise be plain drum loops. Loud, sometimes obnoxious but very compelling, this is as close to dancefloor-ready as Muslimgauze ever got.
Limited to 700 copies, Your Mines In Kabul is destined to become collector fodder. Sadly, it probably be treasured by many because of its ultra-limited status, and not because of the powerful social (and musical) message it projects, something sorely lacking from so much electronic music today.
