Grace Jones, David Byrne & Brian Eno: creative mastermind Guedra Guedra delves into the tracks that inspired his incredible new album, MUTANT. 

A new signing to Domino’s dance imprint Smugglers Way, Guedra Guedra, or Moroccan producer Abdellah M. Hassak, is sharing his highly anticipated new full-length record, MUTANT, this Friday 29th August. A body of work that incorporates techno, bass and dub, Guedra Guedra blends analogue synths and drum machines as well as field recordings created from around Africa. Through the blend of sounds, the stellar producer explores identity, Pan-Africanism and decolonisation, in what is one of the most potent and powerful projects of the summer.

Below, the musician rounds up the tracks that inspired the new LP in our newest On Repeat.

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Guedra Guedra is On Repeat…

Joe Chambres – “The Almoravid”

This song, which opens my playlist, immediately evokes Youssef ben Tachfine, the great Berber leader and first sultan of the Almoravid dynasty, as well as his wife, Zaynab Nefzaouia, a powerful woman and the visionary founder of Marrakech. The piece acts as a gateway into a profound historical narrative, rooted in ancient Morocco, when Marrakech became the capital around 1070.

I hear in this music the breath of the past, a sonic architecture reminiscent of the Koutoubia Mosque, an emblematic monument of the city and a symbol of resilience, later reshaped by the Almohads in the 12th century. To me, this track is a bridge between memory and modernity, an ancestral vibration that nourishes my own Afrofuturist vision, where time layers, intersects, and flows freely.

Musically, the track stands out through a bold fusion of modal jazz and Afro-Spanish rhythms, creating a hypnotic and meditative atmosphere. The complex rhythmic structure, driven by a rich range of percussion instruments such as marimba, congas, and timbales, echoes ancestral Maghrebi musical traditions while reinterpreting them within a contemporary jazz framework.

It is a work that inspires me to continue this sonic exploration, honouring my roots while projecting them into new, forward-looking dimensions.

The Master Musicians of Jajouka ft. Bachir Attar – “Mohamed Diha Utalla Fiha (Take Care Of Her Or Leave Her)”

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Through this second track, I want to invite listeners, readers, and anyone interested in this article or playlist to embark on a journey with me, not just through the sound selection, but also through the layers of meaning in the lyrics. This piece is deeply rooted in my personal interpretation of music and my own life experience. It’s a profoundly intimate choice, one that reflects a moment of deep introspection and emotion. But this is only the beginning of a much larger journey, one that unfolds in unexpected ways, and one I truly wish to share. It’s a sonic and emotional voyage that carries fragments of myself, and perhaps echoes that others will recognize within themselves.

I discovered The Master Musicians of Jajouka over 24 years ago through the Beat Generation movement, and ever since, I’ve been following their work and the collaborations of these extraordinary musicians from the Rif mountains in northern Morocco.

This piece is a deep immersion into an ancient sonic ritual, infused with Sufi mysticism and ancestral paganism, centered around the cult of the goat-god Boujeloud. As Guedra Guedra, I feel a strong connection to the hypnotic trance, the healing and magical power carried by the traditional music of Jajouka.

The story of this lineage of musicians, passed down through generations, and their bond with nature and the sacred resonates deeply with me. Their international recognition through artists like Brian Jones, Bill Laswell, John Zorn, Talvin Singh, Ornette Coleman, and DJ Logic, highlights just how much their sound is a living treasure, raw, powerful, and authentic.

It’s that same raw energy I seek in my own compositions, blending Berber musical traditions with electronic textures to create something rooted yet forward-thinking.

Amon Tobin – “At the End of the Day”

I think “At the End of the Day” is one of those tracks I’ve been listening to for many years, and it never ceases to inspire me. I’m a longtime fan of Amon Tobin, especially his unique way of sculpting sound and capturing unusual textures.

The richness of the sonic textures and the rhythmic complexity in this piece deeply resonate with my own fascination for electronic exploration and sound design. Amon Tobin crafts a dense, almost tactile auditory landscape where every element feels intentional and alive. Each sound contributes to an immersive atmosphere that draws the listener into a kind of audio hallucination.

This attention to micro-detail and spatial dimension is something I strive for in my own productions as well. Like him, I try to treat sound not just as melody or rhythm, but as material and space, something you can feel, move through, and even get lost in.

Squarepusher – “My Red Hot Car”

“My Red Hot Car” was originally released as a single in 2001, but I only discovered it seven years later. At that time, I was amazed and honestly puzzled by how the beats were produced and how the sounds were mixed. The track feels incredibly dense, packed with brilliant ideas in every second, each adding a unique layer to the composition.

This piece embodies the technical virtuosity and wild creativity that define bass music and experimental electronic music. The fusion of broken rhythms, unusual melodies, and raw energy captures a sense of urgency and freedom that I also strive to express in my own productions.

“My Red Hot Car” calls for pushing beyond established rules and inventing new musical forms. Whenever I listen to it, I experience total freedom of musical creation. It inspires me to experiment and rethink production techniques. The track is a timeless source of ideas, reminding me that music can always evolve through bold innovation and fearless exploration.

Above all, I must mention the ending of the track, which is the most unexpected and unpredictable conclusion I have ever heard.

Romare – “The Blues (It Began In Africa)”

Romare’s track “The Blues (It Began in Africa)” from “Meditations On Afrocentrism” is a powerful homage to the deep roots of blues music, which itself emerged from the African diaspora. With its lively house beat and intricate snares and claps, Romare creates a vibrant electronic landscape that perfectly supports a rich tapestry of African musical samples.

One notable sample in this track is the flute from Ed Young’s 1960. This connection to traditional African-American folk music grounds the piece in history, reminding us that all modern music, even the most cutting-edge electronic sounds, carries the echoes of Africa and its enduring legacy.

“Meditations On Afrocentrism” remains one of my all-time favorite EPs because it so skillfully weaves these themes together, blending cultural memory with forward-thinking sound design. It’s a beautiful example of how electronic music can honor heritage while pushing creative boundaries.

Grace Jones – “I’ve Seen That Face Before (Libertango)”

I have been fascinated by Grace Jones since I was a child. For me, she is often a powerful symbol of a free, strong, and independent African woman.

In this track, her cold yet sensual energy, blending Latin influences with new wave, embodies an iconic figure of reinvention and female empowerment in music. Her theatrical universe and ability to break cultural boundaries inspire me to embrace a bold and multifaceted artistic identity, one that stands at the crossroads of different worlds.

To me, Libertango creates a dark, mysterious, and somewhat melancholic atmosphere. It symbolizes a fusion between the idea of freedom and music itself, reflecting the deep connection between artistic expression and personal liberation.

Badawi – “Evocation”

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This track has been a major source of inspiration for me since the very beginning of my musical journey. I discovered it back in 2003 when I was still very young, and at that time, it made me deeply reflect on the nature of music itself. Taken from the album Soldier of Midian, the piece perfectly synthesizes the rhythmic pulse of Morocco with a dark, immersive electronic dimension. Raz Mesinai, through his work with Moroccan musicians and his roots in the New York music scene, manages to capture a raw, hypnotic energy that resonates profoundly with me.

For me, this track stands as a perfect example of the fusion between tradition and modernity, a balance I continuously pursue in my own music, especially through the reinterpretation of the Dakka Marrakchia rhythms.

On a personal note, this album reminds me a lot of my dear friend Brahim Fribgane, who collaborated on the record and was the soul of Club d’Elf. We lost him over a year ago, and I wish his soul peace. His spirit continues to inspire me every day.

Steve Reich – “Piano Phase”

I taught at an art school for part of my life, and during that time, “Piano Phase” was always the key reference I shared with everyone, whether musicians or sound artists. Steve Reich’s “Piano Phase” (1967) is a landmark piece of minimalism that uses the phasing technique to create a complex form of polyrhythm.

As a major work of minimalism, “Piano Phase” is a fascinating exploration of rhythmic and temporal shifts. This piece has deeply influenced how I approach repetitive structures, loops, and subtle variations in my own compositions. It’s a work where time seems to expand and sounds evolve, creating hypnotic and meditative sonic spaces.

Beyond my productions as Guedra Guedra, “Piano Phase” has inspired many of my artistic projects, especially sound installations and compositions for contemporary dance performances.

Truly, this is a piece to listen to and meditate on repeatedly.

David Byrne & Brian Eno – “Regiment”

My Life in the Bush of Ghosts remains the most important album I have ever listened to, and it also took me many years to finally have it in my vinyl collection. This groundbreaking album is a pioneering work in the field of sampling and worldbeat fusion.

I have always been a huge fan of Brian Eno and Talking Heads. The album extensively uses recordings of voices, speeches, and sounds captured from radio broadcasts all over the world, including fragments from African, Arabic, and American radio stations. These sound excerpts are then integrated, cut, manipulated, and sampled to become integral elements of the compositions.

The use of radio as a source of spontaneous sounds and voices is fascinating to me. It serves as a vast reservoir of living material, full of culture, language, and emotion. It offers an authentic and often improvised sound archive that goes far beyond traditional studio recordings.

I find the idea of using radio as a recording field truly captivating.

Choosing a single track from the album was not easy, but I finally chose Regiment because of the beauty of the Arabic voice used in the song. This piece stands as a manifesto of post-punk and experimental creativity. The collaboration between Byrne and Eno is a constant source of inspiration for me, especially for their ability to blend sonic innovation with artistic expression.

For me, this album is a powerful reminder that music should also be a form of resistance, a way to question the world while building bold and adventurous sonic universes.

Secret Chiefs 3 – “The 7”

I really love Secret Chiefs 3, the band founded by Trey Spruance, who is also known as the co-founder of Mr. Bungle and Faith No More.

Trey Spruance produced the track through his side project Ishraqiyun, which specializes in Middle Eastern and Arabic-influenced music. They blend traditional maqam scales and rhythms with experimental and progressive elements, exploring sonic textures and compositional structures inspired by Middle Eastern mysticism. Their sound often combines traditional instruments with modern electric and electronic tones.

Performed by the satellite band Ishraqiyun, “The 7” is an instrumental piece rich in complex rhythms and Middle Eastern influences. The fusion with experimental rock creates a unique sonic texture, a journey where ancient traditions meet modernity. This kind of hybridization resonates deeply with my own work, where I aim to break down boundaries between genres and cultures.

The piece features shifting meters and overlapping rhythmic patterns that produce a sense of controlled chaos, a signature of Trey Spruance’s compositional approach. These rhythms are often drawn from both Middle Eastern music and progressive rock.

The track skillfully blends traditional instruments like the oud, saz, and other stringed instruments with electric guitars, synthesizers, and percussion, combining acoustic timbres with modern textures. The layering is dense, with intricate interplay between melodic lines and rhythmic elements, creating a richly detailed and immersive soundscape.

Jantra – “Gedima”

“Gedima” by Jantra, from the album Synthesized Sudan: Astro-Nubian Electronic Jaglara Dance Sounds from the Fashaga Underground, is a fascinating example of how traditional music can be both preserved and innovated through modern technology. Jantra, whose name means “craziness,” perfectly embodies the mysterious and experimental spirit of this cosmic dance music. Despite being relatively unknown even within Sudan, he is pioneering a unique sound that blends ancient rhythms with cutting-edge electronic production.

When this album first came out, I was genuinely amazed. It made me realize that traditional music doesn’t necessarily need to be reinvented, it just needs to be re-recorded with today’s high-quality sound technology and carefully chosen synthesizers. The result is music that feels fresh yet deeply rooted in heritage.

Jantra’s sound is absolutely perfect for celebration and dancing, especially when played on a powerful sound system that brings out all its layers and textures. His music, with its psychedelic influences and organic sounds, inspires my own pursuit of a modern, universal trance. “Gedima” takes me on an immersive sonic journey that invites deep inner exploration and a connection to ancestral energies, much like the ritualistic experience I cultivate in my own performances.

What fascinates me even more is Jantra’s use of his Yamaha keyboard. Like most keyboards, it wasn’t made in Africa, nor was it designed or tuned for Sudanese rhythms and melodies. To make it work, Jantra relied on legendary keyboard mechanics from the Omdurman market near Khartoum, who skillfully adjust and maintain these instruments to fit the unique aesthetic and flavor of Sudanese music. Then Jantra himself further tweaks the sound, achieving that perfect, universally appealing tone.

This process is a brilliant example of how marginalized cultures today can creatively hack technology to produce authentic, boundary-pushing art. It’s a powerful reminder that innovation doesn’t always mean starting from scratch, it can also mean reimagining and reclaiming existing tools to express cultural identity in new and exciting ways.

Dead Can Dance – “Song of the Dispossessed”

Dead Can Dance has always been one of the most important groups in my life, and I have been listening to them for as long as I can remember. I like to keep “Song of the Dispossessed” as the last track on my playlist because I find myself coming back to it again and again. This song is deeply emotional and poetic, exploring themes of exile, loss, and the longing for a place to belong. The lyrics powerfully evoke the experience of those who have been uprooted from their homes, the dispossessed, expressing feelings of displacement, the search for identity, and the yearning for a space to call their own.

Musically, the rhythm is subtle and hypnotic, with a slow tempo that perfectly reinforces the contemplative and mournful mood of the piece. The percussion is minimal but deliberate, often drawing from tribal and world music-inspired drum patterns that evoke ancient, ritualistic beats. This blend of medieval, ethnic, and cinematic atmospheres creates a dark, mystical beauty that deeply inspires me.

For me, this track embodies a powerful bridge between different traditions and emotions, a sonic exploration of pain and identity that resonates on a universal level. I have spent entire days listening to this song on repeat, especially drawn to the ending section. That final part, with its cyclical piano loop and emotional vocal cries, becomes a meditative space where the raw human emotions behind the lyrics come alive. The repetition of the piano creates an almost trance-like effect, allowing the listener to connect with the universal pain of displacement while finding subtle catharsis through immersion and reflection. It is a profound moment of emotional release and contemplation, making the song not just music but a ritual experience.