Sheykh Forever isn’t here to make you comfortable. The project from Iraqi-born, London-based musician Mostafa Al just dropped a fourteen-track album called “Fire in the Master’s House“, and it’s a beast. Four years in the making. Written, produced, mixed, and mastered entirely at home by Al himself. That’s not a small detail. That’s total control. That’s a guy who knows exactly what he wants and refuses to let anyone water it down.
The sound is a collision. Disco, heavy rock, funk, hypnagogic pop, electronic textures—all smashed together into something that moves fast and hits hard. You can’t pin it down. One minute you’re getting a groove that makes you want to move, the next the floor drops out and you’re staring into something dark and paranoid. That’s the point. This isn’t background music. This is a record that demands you pay attention.
Lyrically, Al is staring straight at war, displacement, propaganda, and survivor’s guilt. These aren’t abstract ideas for him. They’re personal. Inherited. The album opener, “I’m your history“, sets the tone with a verse about someone taking your home and throwing you out, telling you it’s not meant for you. That’s the reality of displacement in a nutshell. Al told Egyptian music magazine Sistra that he feels “a lot of darkness and urgency.” You can hear that in every track.
“Ghosts!” and “Lineage (Where is my baby?)” keep the pressure on. Dense, layered arrangements that shift between paranoid funk and warped AM-radio pop. Heavy electronic grooves. It’s restless. It never sits still. “Sleeping Dogs” and “Run for Cover” lean into rhythmic experimentation and off-centre songwriting. “Same Disease” zooms out from individual pain to the way violence gets passed down through generations. That’s the gut punch. War doesn’t end when the bombs stop. It lives in the people who survive it.
The production is a wild mix of vintage hardware and digital tools. It sounds meticulous one second and volatile the next. Al knows how to balance melody with abrasive texture. The record can be immediate and catchy, then suddenly disorienting. Comparisons to Nicolas Jaar, Blood Orange, and the Bar-Kays make sense, but Al’s voice is his own. He’s not copying anyone.
This is anti-war music that refuses to be solemn. It’s angry. It’s funky. It’s defiant. The grooves provide momentum while the lyrics and production keep a dark edge. That middle ground is where the album lives. It’s not carefree dance music, but it’s not a funeral either. It’s movement as resistance. Physical. Confrontational. Alive.
The tracklist runs deep: “Saviour“, “Eyes“, “Broken“, “(the guilt)“, “Where is my baby?“, “Another thing coming“, “Fields“, “Here comes the rain (Part I)“, and the closer “Run for cover“. Fourteen tracks. No filler. Al built this thing from the ground up, and you can feel the hours poured into it.
“Fire in the Master’s House” is out now on all streaming platforms. It’s a heavy listen, but it’s worth it. This is music that matters. Music that says something. And it does it without sacrificing the groove. The master’s house is burning. Might as well dance while it goes down.