Kobani

Ferhat Tunç's latest album is nicely packaged, with the songs competently translated into English. If you are unfamiliar with the Turkish/Kurdish protest music tradition, this is a great introduction. And not just to its musical style and poetry, but to its blood-soaked sense of place: Halvoriye, Munzur, Emirxan (all associated with the Dersim uprising of 1937); and Ankara, Şengale and Kobani, from where this album takes its name. Kobani is the Syrian border town fought over recently by IS and Kurdish militias. In Tunç's poem, heard on the second track, it signifies memory, perseverance and hope.

This is great singalong – or perhaps cry-along – music. Learn a few and you’ll be popular (among the right crowd, that is) in Istanbul's türkü bars. The album's musical formula goes back to Aşık Mahsuni Şerif in the 70s, and Ahmet Kaya in the 90s. It's a reliable one, and Kobani sticks closely to it, albeit with a few thoughtful twists – an Armenian lament, a duet with Mari Boine, and a personal political manifesto named ‘Ömrüm Benim’ (My Life). Osman Ismen's arrangements are on the large scale and sometimes feel fussy, but they do allow space for Ali Yilmaz's saz (lute) and Ertan Tekin's duduk (Armenian oboe) to be heard, particularly on the later tracks.