It is becoming more and more of a dangerous thing here in the United States to be who the young men are that bore this tape. The material in this cassette was recorded back in 2009, about the time when I first discovered M. Chami and what he stood for. At the time, I found myself looking for any trace of any sort of Middle Eastern influence within the the Post-Industrial underground. Koufar was a a very exciting find. Before me in acquaintanceship was a young man who turns ether to plasma, who will slap you back to reality. I was interested in Islam at the time. Not for reasons of conversion, but for cultural ones. Being a passionate Maronite, Waddiah is anti-Islamic.
This was not a problem, he’s definitely a highly respectable man who is far more mature than anyone can imagine, and that much more serious about voicing his desires for an end to militant oppression of the Middle East. Then, only recently did I come across the art of rage as interpreted by Waytt Howland and became a fan quickly. This work is something inharmonious and chaotic. I find that Koufar is still in the same place stylistically as when I first knew his work, and it is that consistency and the unceasing energy of youth that pairs these two enormously well. There is nothing musical about this tape, and that came as a slight disappointment to me, seeing as Wyatt has been known to put some sedulous effort into adding unexpected and formidable structure into things.
But one cant help but appreciate fully the extremity of the absolute rejection of and absence of anything of the sort with a theme as disputatious as who has any and every right as to what goes on and who leads in one’s homeland. The ugliness of this tape, the inconsistency matching up with the psychosis of lands swept for decades in unceasing death. The most obvious tie binding Koufar and Skin Graft is the fact that both see the further intangibility of any sort of stable future ahead of us. They both are well versed in the shit the world is mired in.