Rif (Countryside) is rooted in the subtle, everyday details our senses have been attuned to since childhood—those “little things” easily dismissed as irrelevant or uninspiring. For me, as a boy expected to focus on other matters, these elements initially seemed out of place. Yet over time, I became deeply fascinated by how they moved, interacted, and harmonized—how rhythms, sounds, patterns, reactions, conflicts, and moments of unity emerged from them. This fascination awakened a new dimension of sensory awareness that would later form the foundation of nearly all my instrumental compositions, no matter the instrumentation or musical tools I employed.
The core mechanism behind Rif was simple: to extract and integrate the inner energy of these “little things” into music—leaves shimmering in light, dew gathering at dawn, insects in motion, birds in song, and all the accompanying textures of their world. Yet, the search for the inner energy of the self, while using these elements, proved far more complex.
 
The main thematic inspiration came during a quiet evening on our veranda in Ramallah. One physical spot became the centerpiece: a fig tree, the neighborhood’s oldest artichoke plant, the Mediterranean horizon, the rich color of the soil, and a feeling of intimate unity with everything inhabiting that corner. I observed every event unfolding there, gradually turning my attention inward toward the isolated self.
 
I was not aiming to narrate their stories, nor my own, directly. Instead, I sought to tell stories through them and with them, letting music emerge organically from the dialogue between inner perception and outer reality. As these observations deepened, melodies began to take shape, and I transcribed them as they appeared. The musical “key” I developed to navigate the complexities of the inner self, expressed through other beings, became a lifelong obsession.
 
One of the most technical challenges was deciding on the instrumentation. I wanted an instrument that embodied both versatility and simplicity, one that could be expressive yet resilient enough to reflect the complexities inherent in other forms of life. By chance, I met the master Turkish kemenche player Nermims Kaygusuz through my mutual friend, Martin Stokes. A week later, hearing her play, I recognized immediately that this was the instrument I had been seeking: the kemenche, with its tonal depth, simplicity, refinement, and an energy that reminded me of the essence of things as they truly are.
 
For percussion, I chose the bendir—the simplest yet most elemental of percussion instruments—allowing for an organic balance with the melodic voice of the kemenche.
 
Rif ultimately became an open-ended musical experiment, blending explorations in maqam with ephemeral fragments of melodies—some fading into memory, others brought back to life. Through its pieces, I could embody stories and emotions:
 
“Masafa” — bridging the rugged distance of exile.
“Gharib” — conveying surrender to alienation.
“Su’al” — questioning who we have become.
“Zaytun” — tasting the scent of olive trees.
“Raqsat al-Khityar” — resurrecting the image of an old man dancing at a village wedding the day after his wife passed away.
Samaʿi Nahawand — zooming in on the most complex emotions and inner predicaments that ultimately define who we are and what becomes of us.
“Sabah” — touching the morning breeze while praying for a better world.
“Murur” — reflecting on mortality.
“Tahlila” — calming the elements.
 “Raqs al-Janub” — making the southbound Chicago bus dance for an immigrant heading home.
“Waʿd” — making promises to loved ones.

Rif, in its entirety, is a work that listens closely to the quietest energies of life, transforms them into sound, and lets them speak for our inner selves.

This recording features Nermin Kaygusuz on kemence (Turkish fiddle) performing original compositions by Issa Boulos. The work explores conceptual, technical and interpretational aspects of maqam music making.
 
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