Written by Antonio Poscic for the wire magazine

There's a tendency in art to segregate practitioners into particular fields and spheres of influence, with any detour seen as either miraculous aberration or horrifying anathema. In this context, the mere existence of an interdisciplinary artist— in the fullest sense of the word—like Egypt's Abdullah Miniawy becomes an affront to preconceived ideas. A poet, rapper, Sufi singer, and trumpeter during youth, Miniawy has since explored composition, acting, writing, programming, and multimedia art. His politically charged, religiously questioning lyrics and poems and genre-hopping style draw from myriad cultures, advocating an enlightened global gathering and proselytizing empathy as the only way forward.

In the realm of music, Miniawy has touched upon everything from jazz (the dazzling Le Cri Du Caire with Erik Truffaz) to Arabic hip-hop (solo and with the trio Arabian Knightz) and club music (with the trio Carl Gari), while also contributing to albums like Ziúr's Eyeroll. Two pages in the magazine wouldn't be enough to fit all his projects. Usually a dedicated collaborator whose soaring, pitch-bending singing elevates each piece of music it lands on, his first truly solo album Nigma Enigma—which comes accompanied by a video game he coded—ventures into a more oblique direction. Shaped around noisy, haunting electronic miniatures filled with disintegrating beats and rusty synths, the material is stretched as required to fit the story of a spiritual odyssey. On "Heaven For Non-Believers," Miniawy layers the crackle of burning fire over a sustained then modulated deep tone, his glistening voice carving through the dense fabric. Elsewhere, "The Lord Of The Whip" sees him press urgent, pleading spoken word against clouds of static and spectral melodies. While most lyrics here are in Arabic, the music's language is universally understood.