Mustafa Ozkent is an old, prolific Turkish musician, still making records today, but long forgotten and swept over in the west. In 1973 he released a churning album of funky instrumental pop and jazz numbers called Genclik Ile Elele, that, when unearthed from obscurity, probably made the musical archaeologists over at the Finders Keepers label cream. It's that kind of album, one that endlessly plods along, riding some kind of universal groove that crosses boundaries and borders just to get you moving.
There are a few stand out tracks (check “Emmioglu” and “Zeytinyagli”) but for the most part Genclik Ile Elele plays like one huge mash-up, sliding between minutes with a uniformity you'll either appreciate as tonally consistent, or denounce as a droning bore. Taken individually, Özkents songs crystallize differently. An air of nostalgia sets in as you're listening, and the mind starts making external connections. For most of us who've grown up in an oversaturated popular culture, Genclik Ile Elele will be attached at the hip to what its sound has come to symbolize in a modern context: that is, badasssss movies, exploitation, car chases, dirty cops, shoot outs, bumper stickers, film directors who crave the sound of ‘70s sleaze, lofts filled with weed smoke and so on. After a while Genclik Ile Elele does feel like self parody, even though it was created in a far less self conscious time. Thank you modern baggage. Still, it's quite a slice of that time, regardless of tainted perception, a real artifact. And jesus, look at that album cover. There is, of course, the danger of our musical ancestry becoming oversaturated with best-left-forgotten 'gems', but Genclik Ile Elele isn't there yet. It's a fun enough ride, and honestly, I can't recommend it enough for fans of the genre.
