Recently reissued by Staalplaat, this massive 1995 double-album is one of the jewels in Bryn Jones' "industrial phase" and a serious contender for one of the finest albums in the entire Muslimgauze oeuvre.  Naturally, it is packed full of percussion experiments and plenty of obsessive "locked groove" repetition, but Izlamaphobia is unusual among Muslimgauze albums in that Bryn seemed to have had so many great ideas that he did not resort to self-cannibalizing or reworking much at all.  Also, he seemed to have experienced an atypical window of patience and lingered on this album long enough to flesh-out his grooves with some great dub touches rather than just immediately launching into his next project.  Anyone annoyed by the fact that most Muslimgauze songs are just percussion vamps will probably still fail to warm to this release, but Izlamaphobia unquestionably boasts some of the most vibrant and inventive loops of Jones' career.  More importantly, it is simply a great album from start to finish.
As properly befits an album from Muslimgauze's industrial era, Izlamaphobia opens with "Hudood Ordinance," a sputtering, squelching, pummeling, grinding, and metallic percussion work-out that sounds about as machine-like as Muslimgauze ever gets.  After that initial salvo, however, the "industrial" tag starts to seem increasingly inappropriate, as the only thing machine-like about many of the other pieces is the obsessive repetition of their loops.  Izlamaphobia is actually quite an unusual and varied album within the Muslimgauze discography, especially on the second disc, as Jones apparently started to grow weary with his relentless onslaught of grooves and starting exploring some more abstract and experimental themes.  Or maybe he just ran out of cool beats before he had a full double-album.  Regardless of his motivation, he covered an unexpected amount of stylistic territory–just about every phase of Muslimgauze's career bleeds into this album at one point or another.
The best pieces, of course, tend to be the ones that boast the best (and most fully realized) grooves.  In that regard, the propulsively shuffling "Gilded Madrasa" is a definite highlight, as it also benefits from a haunting melodic snippet, an ideal duration, and an impressive knack for dynamics (it never gets boring because elements are quite prone to stuttering or dropping out at unexpected times).  Other highlights include the buzzing tambura and break-beats of "The Public Flogger of Lahore" and the backwards percussion and water-driven pulse of "The Emir of Aqua."  The more bizarre pieces also tend to work quite well.  The best of the lot is probably "The Ottoman Muzeum Of Cherished Momentos," which embellishes its wonderfully clanking and plinking rhythm with an unexpectedly loud exhalation ('80s hip-hop beatboxing, Muslimgauze-style!).  The charmingly titled "Zindan Bug Pit" is yet another strange delight, taking an obsessively repeating metallic percussion pattern and warping it with counter-intuitively treble-heavy EQ and a host of dub-influenced disruptions.
As mentioned earlier, the second disc features an unexpected number of varied divergences from the standard Muslimgauze template.  On a couple of pieces, for example, Bryn plunges wholeheartedly into the disorienting potential of playing loops backwards, most notably with the nightmarish and hallucinatory "The Fragrance Aroma" and the blearily languorous "The Landless of Bazzars."  Jones plays with time yet again on "The Suffocator of Hindustani," slowing a looped tambura motif to a menacing crawl while ratcheting up the hiss and sizzle.  Elsewhere, "The Limb Amputator of Riyadh" resembles nothing less than a hip-hop DJ trying to get a party started in the middle of a tornado.  "The Female Guand of Libya," on the other hand, seems like it has all the makings of the usual Muslimgauze fare, but it is purposely hamstrung by a stalled loop that endlessly maintains a sickly sway that prevents the song from ever moving forward.  None of the more experimental pieces are among the album's best, but all are definitely welcome and none feel like filler.  If anything, they provide welcome contrast for Jones' more beat-driven fare and deepen Izlamaphobia's immersive spell of mystery, exoticism, and increasing unreality (or at least a heavily stylized hyper-reality).
While it unquestionably boasts many more instant classics than most other Muslimgauze albums, the primary appeal of Izlamaphobia lies in experiencing it in its entirety.  There are plenty of inventive, wonderful grooves to be found all over Jones' insanely voluminous discography, but it is truly rare to get to experience such a painstakingly crafted, memorable, and deeply surreal tour of Jones' imagined Middle East.  A few pieces are too beat-centric to make much of a significant impact, but they are in the minority and Jones was a goddamn wizard at weaving shifting and evocative atmospheres here.  I imagine this album is a lot like wandering through a crowded bazaar in an exotic city, but with the beauty and menace both amplified (though the orchids, magicians, and views of the Nile seem a bit outnumbered by the limb amputators, poisoners, suffocators, and floggers, if the song titles are any indication).  If Izlamaphobia has a flaw, it is only the one inherent in every Muslimgauze album: just about every piece is a groove that begins and ends without a hell of a lot of development in between.  That is Muslimgauze though and Izlamaphobia is one of the best (and most sustained) versions of Bryn Jones' unique brilliance around.
 
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