When I first met Zeb a decade ago, there was something of the classic tortured artist motif swirling around him: of not being able to quite completely say exactly what you are thinking in any efficient terms. It's that constant word on the tip of your tongue which won't release its grip, the old explanation syndrome, where words to sufficiently sum up musical ideas grasp the meaning. The music is the meaning. And so words frustrate you; the only expression you try to master is the music itself.
As I've watched Zeb grow from his Organic Grooves roots to his tenure with Turntables on the Hudson--his new record, Secretly Famous, is being released on Nickodemus's Wonderwheel Recordings--I've watched a man continue to never fully have the words to describe what he's doing, simultaneously doing what he's doing better and better. This has nothing to do with actual dialogues with him about music; Zeb is very well spoken, in fact. You can just see that he'd rather be telling you with an oud in his hands.
That instrument is what sets Zeb's globetronica apart from all others in the Arabic realm. No musician has so perfectly woven traditional oud playing into a digital template. His love of both the folk sound of the Middle East and the folklore of Jamaica, reggae, share such complementary aesthetics that their marriage is a faithful bondage. This makes sense, as the philosophies of the Sufi and those of the Rasta share DNA.
At times, I feel like understanding the many monikers of Zeb (this record, for example, goes under the name of The Spy From Cairo; even his name, Zeb, is fictitious: his birth certificate states Moreno Visini) includes the comprehension of riddles. That's because his influences run deeply and broadly. He grew up in an Italian gypsy home, where his father would come home late with musician friends and play until dawn. The sleepy eyed youngster often stayed awake to partake in the festivities, leaving for school sleepless and exhilarated. For those who know of the gypsies' power of musical absorbance, Zeb's path is not surprising.
That's why I wasn't surprised one day while listening to the opening of "Kamloreja" by Macedonian singer Esma Redzepova and immediately identifying Zeb's rhythmic pattern for "All is One" (also under The Spy From Cairo, out on the compilation Coney Island Love). Or watching the reggae classic, Rockers, and hearing a brilliant poetic monologue by Horsemouth, which was later included on his track, "No Matter What They Say," on Stop the Earth, I Want to Get Off!. While in a Budapest bookshop recently, my hands pulled from the shelf a slim volume entitled Állítsátok meg a világot! Ki akarok szállni by Salamon Gábor. The English translation to that Magyar is the title of Zeb's aforementioned record.
It's probable that trickles of Secretly Famous will appear over time. What I'm certain about is that many of his new songs will be worked into my DJ sets. The bottom is full and round, leaving deep pockets for people to crawl into. His oud playing is fierce. "Kurdish Delight" is a bass line boasting monster that pays credit to Kingston soundsystems. The opening "Nayphony," a Jajouka style banger, rolls over wooden floors with thunder. "Kembe" is one of the most uplifting club tracks I've heard. And the simple title of many--"Oud Funk," "Sufi Disco"--clues you in that heavy rides are ahead.
The heaviest: "Blood and Honey." This song is the soundtrack of war elephants stampeding prison gates. The bottom edge of the beat sounds like a reprisal of "Cleopatra in NY," but then in trounces forward. It is one of three featuring Tunisian born vocalist Ghalia Bhenali, the album's most surprising and inviting characteristic. Bhenali has an affinity towards classical Indian, but her Arabic temperament is obvious. I have since went on to purchase a few of her solo recordings and am disappointed by nothing on them, so beautiful and rich they are. Romeo & Leila is heartshattering.
The Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa wrote under many names to accommodate the many people inside of his head. He used words as his medium for explanation, and grew tortured for the attempt. Greatness is always in the possibility, for it manifests in creative wedges. Secretly Famous is perfectly titled. It's already all there; you just need to open your ears to listen.