Throughout June, RA will host four mixes on BBC Radio 1, airing Friday nights after the Essential Mix. First up, starting on June 5th, is Deena Abdelwahed.
Listen to her mix on Radio 1 here.

When I spoke to Deena Abdelwahed on FaceTime, France had started to lift its quarantine measures, which means that she's now allowed to see people other than her wife and little sister, who have been cooped up with her in Toulouse since lockdown was imposed on March 17th. She used the free time to brush up on her video game skills, she said with a smile, adding that she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of making dance music while all this is going on.

It's hard to imagine Abdelwahed's music in a world without clubs. It's lithe, kinetic stuff that feels like it's constantly in motion, its melodies and rhythms twisting and taking the shapes of dance music genres from around the world and across eras. I'm reminded of Tom Faber's early feature about her in these pages, when he discovered her through a sign on a door in Tunis that said "UK bass," music which seemed a world away at the time. It turns out that Abdelwahed held different nights for different regional sounds and genres, seeing what would stick or what people would show up for.

That anecdote gives you a good idea of Abdelwahed's omnivorous taste in dance music, and the way it shapes her own art. On records like her stunning 2018 debut album, Khonnar, her music will briefly inhabit a specific subgenre before flitting off with gymnastic ease. She's a musical shapeshifter, sometimes subtly incorporating traditional Arab sounds into what she does and other times blasting into something completely new. And her songs aren't just sonically impressive—they tackle real issues in Arab society, including refugees, gender inequality, youth culture and more.

Recorded at a friend's place just after France lifted its strictest quarantine measures, Abdelwahed's BBC mix has a sense of joyous relief to it. It was a moment of celebration, Abdelwahed said, the closest thing to a return to normalcy in months. They smoked cigarettes, drank beer and refused to turn the music down while recording, to make themselves feel more like they were at a club, where Abdelwahed's acrobatic rhythms and stirring melodies truly come alive.

How are you doing?

It comes in stages. When quarantine started I was feeling indifferent, not to say I wasn't concerned. Then I started to be a pessimist about it—not for me personally, but for the psychological health of all mankind. I became aware that it was a disaster for the whole world, so I wasn't happy anymore. I was depressed.

What was it like where you live?

I live in Toulouse, with my wife in an apartment. I've been keeping busy with Xbox. I actually asked my little sister, who is in Toulouse to study, to stay with us for quarantine. She's like a pro video game player. When I have a little bit of motivation I watch some tutorials about electronic music and music production. I bought some new plugins and learned new things.

Have you made much new music?

Nope! [Laughs.] I just finished a remix and a track for this new compilation. The request for this track was before coronavirus, so I had some time while everything was cancelled to finish it, though it was already written. So it's from a different period. I haven't done any music at all during quarantine.

Why not?

I didn't feel like my work would be a benefit to me or to the world. I was realistic about it, down to earth. Like—what's it for? We all don't know where this is going or when it's going to end. And when it ends, what will the cultural scene be like? A lot of these questions were in my mind. I didn't feel comfortable making music while a lot of people were dying and the hospitals were in crisis. Normally when I make music I imagine myself playing it to the public, and when I close my eyes and see the public I see them all wearing masks, so it's not very nice to think about.

How do you feel about the future of nightlife and clubbing?

I have absolutely no idea. I think it will be very local. If there was something happy to imagine about nightlife after, it's that it should be more local. Instead of having a local DJ opening for an international guest, it could reverse the importance. That is what I would like to imagine for the future. Also, local people coming into the clubs or the festivals. For example, I would prefer actually that all the artists move from big cities to smaller cities. Or, imagine, big festivals like Sónar, where a big portion of the audience is not from Barcelona or Spain. For me, I would want to see more of the local public than international guests just coming for two days of the festival. I have no idea what will happen, but that's what I'd like to see.

Let's say clubs reopen but you're touring less. Would you want to get more involved in Toulouse?

Usually if a local asks me to play, I will ask for less money. I could even do it directly, without going through my booking agent. I'm very willing to play more. I have a friend here and she has some CDJs and I said let's make it small, like apartment parties, and it can grow. If clubs don't come back, we can do something like that. It's kind of like starting over.

Tell me about the mix you made for us.

In the email I saw "one-hour club mix." So, I thought, I'm gonna keep it clubby. There was a lot of music coming out, especially for the Bandcamp Fridays, so I did a lot of shopping. I was waiting for people to finish tracks I requested, too. There are exclusive tracks on there, including one of mine, and an exclusive remix of Flore. There are some little discoveries—they're not all tracks from this year. For example, a guy from Uganda called Faizal Mostrixx. His track is unconsciously kind of bass music. It's a bit Afrobeat, but mostly bass music. I like the innocence of that track. There is also Ase Manuel, I love him so much. That came out a while ago. And tracks from friends, people I bumped into on tour. Leila Samir, I like her EP that came out recently. There's also a track of mine that came out in February.

It's quite fun, let's say. It's clubby. There's not a lot of dark moments. There's a lot of energy and fun mixing, surprises, stuff like that. It's not very mellow or monotonous. I tried to have a fun, clubby, energetic, with-friends vibe.

Was it strange making that kind of mix in this situation?

Actually, I recorded it the second day of de-quarantine in France. Oh boy, we were happy! I went to my friend's who has CDJs—I don't have them. I went to her house and we put them up and there was a lot of beer and cigarettes. Even when talking to each other, we didn't turn the volume down, we wanted to keep the vibe of clubbing. It wasn't weird, we were super happy that quarantine was over, I didn't have to sneak into her house, because you know it was super strict in France—you could only go out once a day with a certificate. I felt free.

The mix features new electronic music from Arab and Middle Eastern artists. Is that easier to find now than when you started?

Yes! At least that I'm aware of. Maybe before I didn't search enough before, but it is a reality that there is more than when I started in 2015. Especially a lot more good electronic music, and tracks that are useful [in DJ sets]. Even before, my tracks were super experimental, I didn't know how to play them. I didn't know how to arrange my tracks and introduce myself and my ideas, what this kind of music is, or what I'd like to play. So maybe it's parallel with the other artists at the same time.

I'm super happy, super proud. I think the internet brought more ears, more listeners, to Arabic music. I remember when I was still in Tunisia, the first wave—I don't want to call it a wave, but the first attempt at Arab electronic was Muslimgauze. The Brian Eno of Arab electronic. Then there was nothing, and it emerged again with the likes of Acid Arab. There was more experimenting with Arab sounds. For Western listeners who were starting to like it, me and everyone else said, "Oh, you like this? This only 20 percent of what we could do."

It's not one country, one people, one instrument. There is so much more we could do, specific to each country and inside each country, specific to each situation. We are very lucky. There's not a lot of searching to do anymore. You just have to do it and make it as modern as possible, to sound like today's electronic music. Today's electronic music has become more tolerant when we speak about genre limits. It's OK to play jungle, juke, drum & bass, I don't know, hip-hop, grime, Jersey club. The base of the genre limits started to break. The tolerance made it easier for people from Arab origins to make more Arab-sounding electronic music.

Will you stay in Toulouse after this is all over?

No bigger city for me! Toulouse, for me, is a big city.

Listen to the mix /
Deena Abdelwahed's mix for RA on Radio 1

Other episodes /
AceMoMA
Skee Mask
Arca