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Interview by Parisa  On his new full-length album, Club Tounsi, AMMAR 808 crafts a beautiful love letter to his homeland of Tunisia. Through an intricate blend of sci-fi futurism, bass-heavy electronic production, and folkloric rhythms, Club Tounsi radically reinterprets time and tradition. We caught up with AMMAR 808 to discuss the balance of structure and spontaneity behind the album's production, the roots of mezoued music, and the Tunisian spirit as a vehicle for resistance and liberation. Let’s start with discussing the catalyst for this album—your trip to Tunisia in the summer of 2023. Can you paint a picture of that trip and recording with so many incredibly talented musicians? Did you go there with a specific vision for what you wanted to record, or did the experience itself guide the direction of the album? For this album, the production path diverged significantly from my previous works. It began as a powerful, sudden impulse. The music was clear in my mind, but I hadn't taken any concrete steps to bring it to life. While performing a show in Tunis, I extended my stay, and during a conversation with musician friends, I spontaneously shared my desire to record this album—the pure fantasy of it. My friend immediately offered, "Shall I set it up for you? I can make some calls." A thought sparked in my mind: perhaps this time, it would unfold spontaneously, just by going with the flow. After all, the music was already fully formed in my head. So, I embraced the moment, met the musicians, made a few key choices, and voilà! I read that several of the vocalists featured were people you met spontaneously during that trip. [Editor's note: this interview was done via email, so this question was asked before he mentioned spontaneity in the answer above] Can you speak to the balance between structure and improvisation in making this album? How did that balance shape your reconnection with Tunisia in ways that felt different from your previous visits, if at all? The musicians were introduced to me, and before each introduction, I made sure to listen to their previous recordings to help navigate my choices. Some of them I already knew, others were new to me. Usually, my productions involve a lot of preparation and research beforehand, but for this particular recording, I felt ready for a very long time. It was more about being in the moment and making fast-paced decisions. I recorded more tracks than I could fit on an album, and frankly, all of them are bangers; I just needed to be realistic. Typically, track ideas come to me as a complete, inseparable block. Imagining the production is instantaneous for me, but transforming that idea into reality always feels too slow, so I try to be as fast as possible—that's what I mean by being in the moment. It truly feels like a race against reality itself. In one of your ‘Unfolding the Music’ studio videos, you show your vareity of instruments and the beautiful, open natural surroundings outside your studio. There seems to be a very unique intersection of technology with earthly elements in your space. Can you describe your production studio and how you find inspiration from your creative environment? My recording studio, my sanctuary, has become my favorite place on Earth. Tucked away on a small farm amidst the Danish countryside fields, it's incredibly quiet. When I'm mixing, a five-meter glass window directly in front of me offers a sweeping view of the fields. This supersized room, at 120 square meters, immediately impressed me with its sense of space, which seemed to invade my ears. Everything feels bigger, and music appears to come alive under a microscope. I believe being surrounded by nature was the missing dimension in my creative process, and I've discovered new levels of focus in this inspiring space. This album is a love letter to your homeland, expressed through rural mezoued music. You’ve spoken about how this genre, once stigmatized due to its association with immigrant and working-class communities, is foundational to Tunisian musical identity. How does that history fuel the spirit of your reinterpretations? Music, for me, is the art of transformation. The mezoued, in particular, beautifully embodies social evolution and the profound cultural heritage that flows through us. This unconditional love I feel for it, and the opportunity to explore its depths, fills me with immense gratitude. It's been a truly rewarding journey so far. Let’s turn to the singles. "Douri Douri" celebrates dance and joy through the fezzani rhythm. You’ve layered sampled loops with live, improvisational drumming to create a uniquely hypnotic contrast of repetition with groove. What inspired you to introduce this contrast into the fezzani framework? My creative process often involves recording all the material from scratch, avoiding sampled loops entirely. However, there are times when I do loop certain elements, usually to explore the hidden depths within traditional sounds. For instance, what might sound like a synth on "Douri Douri" is actually a mezoued that's undergone significant processing. I also experiment with timbral transfer to have different sounds carry traditional intonations and micro-pitched notes. When it comes to techniques, the possibilities are endless; I enjoy inventing new ones every time. The video for "Ah Yallila" captures the vibrant spirit of Tunisian city life and music, and the song explores a “sci-fi dancefloor mashup”. You’ve mentioned a desire to find the space where folklore and science fiction meet. Where do you go—mentally or physically—to access that intersection? And what kind of truths emerge in that space? From a technical standpoint, the moment elements repeat flawlessly, a machine-like effect emerges. When I then introduce bouncy, organic, traditional elements, the contrast intensifies the repetitiveness—it's like playing with light and shadows. In my mind, much of folklore and mythology resonates with me as science fiction. Consider Hindu mythology, for instance, with gods in flying Vimanas, or the Djinn of the Middle East—to me, they sound like beings from other dimensions. Perhaps in the West, these are just stories, but for some cultures, they are as real as you and I. I've had my own share of supernatural experiences that blur the lines between sci-fi and folklore, leading me to a twilight space where everything feels musically possible. The third single, "Aman Aman," is based on a traditional Tunisian folk song focused on hardship and heartbreak. Can you elaborate on your technique to slow down and distort this sound to enhance the sadness? Within this song and mezoued music in general, there is a recurring theme of lyrical despair contrasted with infectiously danceable rhythms. What do you think this contrast says about the folkloric roots of Tunisian music and culture? Traditionally, this song features heavy percussion. However, as I delved into the lyrics and melody, I discovered a unique opportunity for reconciliation. This resonates deeply with the subtle complexities of the Tunisian spirit. For generations, we've been a people whose emotions have often overtaken us. We find ourselves navigating an impossible equation, dancing between our roots and new horizons, as if change itself would be our undoing. This very dynamic is at the heart of my work: to illustrate that change is not only inevitable but also essential for a tradition to truly endure. I believe this holds true not just for Tunisia, but for culture as a whole. You’ve stated on a social media post awhile back, “Music is no longer for entertainment, but a tool for revolution.” Especially now, in a time of ongoing genocides and horrific Zionist colonialism, how do you see the creative process of music—and Tunisian music more broadly—as a path toward collective liberation and resistance? I see the world as a battlefield, though not always visibly. There's a concerted effort to turn us into passive consumers, our minds polluted ideologically and physically. The technology surrounding us seems geared towards profit, not the greater good, and our global political systems appear designed for easy corruption. Now, tech corporations even dictate the music we hear. This tide has flowed in one direction, but I believe it will soon turn, as extreme greed makes these unsustainable systems destined to collapse. As artists, we face a choice: vibrate in harmony with the system and become one of a million algorithmic copies, or choose culture, change, and resistance—qualities essential for humanity's continued existence. We're entering a new, incredibly strange era, and for that, we must stand against colonialism and imperialism. Humanity will require a rare, collective moment of inspiration—a true miracle. Anything else you’d like to mention? What do you have lined up for the rest of this year? Soon I will be travelling to Beirut for an artistic residency, who knows, maybe a lot of music will happen there. Maybe a new album?
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