ABUL3EES captures the realities of everyday life in occupied Palestine

ABUL3EES is documenting the details of daily life through introspective tracks shaped by Arabic hip-hop, his local scene, and the full spectrum of American rap.

This feature was produced in collaboration with Radio alHara as part of their Crack Magazine Issue 168 takeover.

“There’s a sentence I say a lot,” Palestinian multidisciplinary artist ABUL3EES tells us over Zoom. The rapper, from Sheikh Jarrah in East Jerusalem, joins our call from Paris, where he’s approaching the end of a three-month artist residency. He’s there to hone the live performance element of an introspective, drumless hip-hop album he began working on during a previous residency at Bethlehem’s Wonder Cabinet. As part of that project, he invited young producers and sound artists to share the studio with him. Back in Paris, afternoon light floods into the room as he tells Crack what the sentence is: “The sun is for all but the oppressor.”

It also appears as a lyric on Tinsash تِنساش, a song that emphasises ABUL3EES’ poetics in full, graceful flight over a breezy, backlit beat. “It means don’t forget,” he explains. “I’m saying the world is not ours. But also, I’m saying the world is not for anyone. I’m saying the mountains are not for sale and the sun is for everyone except the ones who are taking it away,” he continues. “I’m saying we’re not asking for a lot. Just more love. More movement. To live in peace of mind. And that our children meet a good world, you know what I mean?”

ABUL3EES has been releasing music for 12 years, inspired as much by Arabic hip-hop and friends within the local scene, like Haykal, Julmud, Dakn and Jurum, as by the full spectrum of American rap. He even incorporates elements of UK grime and Jersey club into his work, as heard on uptempo cuts like Bakrah Il Kasal  بكره الكسل and Balad طلع على البلد. 

ABUL3EES is documenting the details of daily life through introspective tracks shaped by his local scene, Arabic hip-hop, and the full spectrum of American rap.

Evolving from the template set by Palestine’s first generation of fiercely political rappers, who emerged at the height of the second intifada, ABUL3EES’ music sits in a much more abstract, experimental lane. “As a young person, I wanted to break out of that [overtly political hip-hop],” he muses. “We are human beings, even in this space. I want to talk about how our normal days are.”

Bakrah Il Kasal بكره الكسل captures this sentiment brilliantly, with ABUL3EES rapping over a crisp grime beat produced by Majd$u. “I’m saying I hate laziness, but I hate work more – I hate work more when I’m working for someone who doesn’t give you enough commission for how tired you are,” he explains. “I hate work if it’s without virtue, if you are being exploited. I would prefer to be lazy than work for someone who is exploiting me.” Released in 2020, its accompanying video, shot on a phone, captures ABUL3EES at work as a day labourer on a construction site, pulling on a cigarette beneath cranes that reach up towards a cloudless sky. It’s a dose of relatable normality, both in its themes and visually.

The song features on The Process العملية – a project ABUL3EES recorded during the pandemic, with each of its eight tracks produced, written and recorded on individual, random days when the spirit of creativity took hold. He’d shoot the accompanying visuals on the same day, too. “I didn’t mix it or master it that crazily, I just wanted to share the idea,” he remembers. “I wanted to make sure we focus more on the essence of what’s being said and shared, rather than the quality of it sonically and technically.” This unselfconscious approach feels like the musical equivalent of an artist sharing their sketchbook. “It’s OK to be imperfect,” he adds. “That was the point of this tape. It can be a sword of two sides because it’s a vulnerable thing to do, it’s risky, but it’s also important.”

There are plenty of subtle, witty allusions to the realities of moving through everyday life in occupied Palestine in his work. “Rejected like a visa,” ABUL3EES quips on 2022’s Mamzoo3 ممزوع زي الورقة, over an atmospheric rap production that sounds like it was conjured by the Alchemist for billy woods. “It’s naturally something that’s embedded in my lyrics,” he says. “It’s just the nature of things that we are doing under this system. So it will naturally appear in my lyrics. It’s something that’s very much in your face every day, in a way you cannot avoid at all.”

ABUL3EES is in Europe for the first time, embarking on a spontaneous mini-tour. He’s performed to audiences in Rome, Barcelona, Brussels, Rimini, Lyon, Berlin and Warsaw, travelling with an ease that’s denied to him when he simply wants to leave East Jerusalem and connect with friends in Ramallah. “The sentence, ‘The sun is for all but the oppressor,’ is something I translated to all the people I performed to in order to connect with them,” he says. “But I also try to add a melodic side to things, so they will feel the emotions of it. Every time I do a show, the most important part is to reach the people.”

A self-confessed homebody who likes to create within the sanctuary and stillness of his room, the time spent travelling and performing in Europe has taken ABUL3EES out of his comfort zone – in a positive way. “I don’t think it was forced,” he reflects. “It became the attitude I adopted. I’m working. I’m moving. I needed to be on the run.” Through these opportunities, he’s acquired an added layer of assuredness in his super-lyrical craft and a propulsive forward movement to his mentality. “When I go home, there will be more movement, you know? From this experience, I gained the willingness to do more,” he continues. “And there is a kind of confidence that builds every time I do a show. It’s given me inspiration to give more.”

With these experiences in mind, ABUL3EES is keen to emphasise that his European residency is not some kind of escape from Jerusalem. Palestine is not a place he’s seeking to run from; it’s the soulful anchor of his work. “I would return there tomorrow if I could,” he affirms. He misses his family. He misses the shawarma from Al waa’ri and The Torch. “Sometimes I get one pitta from both because they’re so good,” he jokes. And he misses the crackling collective energy of creating with his friends. Balad طلع على البلد – a Jersey club cut, inspired by Palestine’s rising generation of rappers like WlkNokia, RUUQ, Sakt, SAM1, rknddn, Big Murk and Bin Zgeb – paints nuanced, vivid images of his homeland. “I’m telling people to look at the sea and how it is tiled with blocks of concrete. Look at the trees. Take a moment to gaze at what’s in front of you. I’m talking abstractly and clearly about love. And I’m telling people to look with me at the country, at our home,” he continues. “Look at what it has to offer and what it is limited by, you know?”