Uncovering Forgotten Bridges: A Conversation with Ghazi Faisal Al-Mulaifi and Arturo O’Farrill

French author Victor Hugo once wrote in his native tongue, “La musique exprime ce qui ne peut pas être dit et sur lequel il est impossible de se taire.” Roughly translated, “Music expresses what cannot be said and about which it is impossible to remain silent.” Music is more than a collection of notes and rests. It is a universal language that overcomes barriers and joins its creators and listeners in a shared humanity. With this special ability to unite, great beauty can emerge from even the most horrific circumstances. Even human servitude and suffering could not stifle bloomings on the fruitful branches of the tree of Black American musical creation. With Live in the Khaleej! (Tiger Turn, 2025), Ghazi Faisal Al-Mulaifi, Arturo O’Farrill, and the band Boom.Diwan taps into the transcendent nature of music by proclaiming how two seemingly disparate forms – the musics of Kuwaiti pearl divers and Afro-Cuban percussionists – are not only closer than they seem but ultimately unified.

When most Westerners think of the Kuwaiti economy, the first word that comes to mind is oil. However, its status as a crude exporter is relatively recent in the grand historical perspective. Humans have lived in the country since at least the Mesopotamian Empire over ten thousand years ago, with no barrels exported until 1946. For much of the time before drilling, the region was economically dependent on pearl diving. Risking cerebral hypoxia and drowning, laborers would jump from a boat, the Boom, to free dive in hopes of collecting stone-filled oysters. It was an incredibly dangerous job. But, often, the laborers had no choice. Up to half of the Gulf’s diving population were enslaved Africans forcibly relocated to the region. Like the field hollers born on the plantations of the American Deep South, pearl-diving slaves in the Gulf formed their own music that had a function beyond entertainment. This Bahri music – also called Sea Arts – passed on ancestral stories and coordinated movements. Ethnomusicologist-guitarist Ghazi Faisal Al-Mulaifi knows this history well. Not only is he a foremost scholar of this music, teaching its legacy at New York University Abu Dhabi, but he also has a personal connection to the Sea Arts; his grandfather was a pearl diver. 

African slaves were also brought to Cuba between 1511 and 1886, primarily to work in the sugar industry, bringing with them the rhythms of their home continent. By the 1940s and 50s, these rhythms reach New York via Mario Bauzá and “Machito” Frank Grillo. Chano Pozo’s collaborations with Dizzy Gillespie deepened the connections between Cuban rhythms and bebop. And Chico O’Farrill introduced the clave to jazz band rhythm sections. O’Farrill’s pianist son Arturo has built his career upon his father’s influence while expanding his concepts to other areas like free jazz and even hip hop, receiving several Grammy Awards along the way. The younger O’Farrill’s Afro Latin Jazz Orchestra has become one of the most prominent Latin jazz big bands in the world. 

Given the shared roots of Bahri music and Cuban rhythms in the African slave trade, it is a natural thought that the two may – despite the almost 7,400 miles that separate them – that, perhaps, they are compatible in some way. This idea intrigued O’Farrill to the point where he decided to reach out to Bill Bragin, the founding director of The Arts Center at New York University Abu Dhabi, to see if he had any thoughts on the matter. Naturally, Bragin referred him to Al-Mulaifi.

After a few collaborations together, Live in the Khaleej! marks the first full album shared by the two master musicians. A cross-cultural communication like this could easily have come out as forced or with one side’s stylistic impulses overpowering the other’s. But, perhaps as a testament to their shared birth in the African slave trade, the opposite proves true. Often, it is difficult to cohesively identify the place of origin of any given part. The Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Mexico (err, the Gulf of America?) often blur with one another into a more interwoven collective whole. As if to further underscore their connections, the band adopts a thoroughly modern sound. From the elegantly laid-back “Ana Mashoof” to the feverish “Compay Doug,” the band is not looking back at their shared roots but instead affirmatively building upon where the music is now. The message is clear: the passage of time has not weakened their bond, only obfuscated it from view. 

Live in the Khaleej! is a potent reminder that while we should celebrate diversity, we are all ultimately one people. We must find ways to meet on common ground without sacrificing what makes us each unique. There is more that unites us than divides us, and music can be a glue to hold us all together. 

PostGenre: The African slave trade ran through not only the Americas but also the Middle East, including Kuwait. Do you feel that shared part of history inevitably connects jazz and Kuwaiti Sea Arts?

Ghazi Faisal Al-Mulaifi: This was a question Arturo was interested in before we had ever collaborated.

Arturo O’Farrill: Yeah, there is a chapter in the book by Ned Sublette [Cuba and its Music (Chicago Review, 2007)] that spent a lot of time investigating the connections between the Middle East, Spain, and North Africa. Apparently, there was a very prominent slave trade between all three of these places. After reading that, I started thinking about how percussion is used in all three places, especially in certain parts of Cuba, and it occurred to me that there was a musical connection between the three as well. 

GFA-M: Africa has a tremendous imprint on Sea Arts music. When Arturo and Bill Bragin, the Executive Director here at [the Arts Center at New York University Abu Dhabi], first approached me about Arturo coming to Kuwait and meeting percussionists here to explore the links between Afro-Cuba and the Afro-Gulf, I thought it was a wild idea. But I figured we would meet and see what happens. 

AO’F: I didn’t fully realize how strongly Afro-Cuba and Afro-Gulf music were connected until I went to Ghazi’s house in Kuwait. There, I saw drummers that sounded so much like what I hear in Cuba. The rhythms moved with enslaved peoples as they traveled into Spain and the Middle East. That really came to light for me when we were rehearsing for a concert. The percussionists who came with me and those who came with Ghazi started jamming together and found that each side was playing the others’ music. 

GFA-M: It was really at that moment in Abu Dhabi, where we were all taking a break, that Arturo’s mighty Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra and the local percussionists musically recognized each other. That both groups found themselves naturally playing the same rhythm gave me pause. It was a deeply powerful moment and one that seemed to confirm Arturo’s theory that his music and mine are both born of both voluntary and involuntary migrations and share that story of migration. 

PG: The rhythms in Kuwaiti Sea Arts were used not only as a form of entertainment but also to coordinate movements. Do you see a connection between that broader use of rhythm and its role in the Afro-Cuban folkloric tradition?

AO’F: At their base, they are both forms of worship and storytelling. They pass stories through the generations. I would suspect that many drum traditions all over the world are about world history and stories of ages long ago. I’ve seen it with almost every drumming tradition that I can think of. It’s a beautiful melding of oral art and musical art. Sometimes, musicians get so locked into thinking about chords, notes, history, and culture that they forget that storytelling is everything that we do. 

PG: As far as passing on those stories, is that particularly difficult with Sea Arts? Kuwait’s outlawing of pearl diving in 1950 would seem to make preservation of those traditions more difficult. 

GFA-M: Luckily, no. You would think it would, but four families in Kuwait preserve this tradition, and they’ve all been represented in Boom.Diwan. Hamad Bin Hussein, a percussionist and a singer in Boom.Diwan comes from a family right in that musical line. His great-grandfather brought the first barrel drum, called the Sea Drum, to Kuwait in the 1930s or early 1940s. His family’s band is where the three other bands branched out from. And they have gatherings at least once a week to make music. It’s all multi-generational. As Arturo said, it’s an oral tradition. It’s about storytelling. Jam sessions act as a living archive. An archive meant to be transmitted from generation to generation.

AO’F: I think that the idea of isolation is so contrary to reality. More than ever in my life, I believe that the history of our struggles as people is written in all of the music and culture that we share globally. If we don’t start listening to those stories and old traditions, things will only get worse. I don’t know Kuwaiti music, and yet, I know it. The drumming and magic that comes when we create together brings our cultures together. That’s exactly why I am on this mission of creating this music. 

GFA-M: Yeah. One of Arturo’s musicians, Abulrahman “Rocky” Amer, made a really beautiful statement that I think stuck with both of us that this project is not about discovering bridges; it’s about uncovering forgotten bridges that already connect us. That idea is something very dear to our hearts and connects us. I think it’s a big part of our mission as artists and as activists. 

PG: Where does lineage fit into it all? Ghazi’s grandfather was a pearl diver in Kuwait, and Arturo’s father was the legendary Chico O’Farrill, and his sons are also great musicians. Do you feel those family lines running through the music allow you to better tap into what you are trying to do with this music?

AO’F: You know, I’m in Switzerland with my sons, and I realized that Chico is here with us. Everything we do comes from a lineage that stretches back to Ireland, Cuba, the Middle East, North Africa, and West Africa. All of those trails are really familiar trails. There may not be bloodlines, but there are clear traits from each. And you need to recognize the DNA of each. I feel so privileged to be able to live this life communicating those traits with my family. 

GFA-M: I think one of the many reasons why I love collaborating with Arturo is first that we’re family. We have a lot of love and respect for each other. There’s a big mutual understanding of the sense of reverence and responsibility for what we have involuntarily inherited. We’re both sharing something very deep. I know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever I’m sharing with Arturo, he will hold in the highest reverence and care. He knows I would do the same for him. I find great importance in that love, respect, reverence, and the understanding that we’re just a piece of this narrative. This kind of love, respect, and reverence creates a certain space for whatever conversation needs to happen. 

AO’F: Yeah, it’s funny. As you were saying that I was thinking about when we had dinner with your folks and how it all felt so natural. And when we started rehearsing and recording, it felt like we were sitting around the family table. We all felt so connected from the beginning. 

PG: One thing that stands out on the recording is how contemporary the music sounds despite its origins in older music. Did you intentionally set out to make the music a modern take on older ideas, or do you feel that is simply a reflection of your own musical interests and experiences?

AO’F: Well, for one thing, it comes from how Ghazi is such an extraordinary guitarist. The electric guitar is a very modern reality, with pedal boards and such. It’s intentionally modern and also intentionally ancient. And I think I do something similar when I sit down at my instrument. 

GFA-M: One thing I’d like to add is that I think both Arturo and I share traditions of innovation and experimentation. Whatever we’re doing today is not all that different from what our ancestors did before, when they were bringing in different instruments and different sounds. I think when people look at traditional music, they often put it in a box and forget that that tradition was never static. It was something that was also changing over time. And, so, I think in some ways what Arturo and I are doing is also old-fashioned because the tradition is experimentation and using whatever you have around to have the conversation. 

AO’F: It’s interesting. As you were saying that, the term Afrofuturism came to mind because it speaks to the idea that the secrets to the future are in the ancestors. I think of Machito and Mario Bauzá moving to New York, ending up in Harlem, going to the Cotton Club, seeing Count Basie and Cab Calloway, and deciding they needed to do what they were doing, but with our rhythms. They end up creating something for the future that is based on seeds from the past. It’s exciting to me that the idea of creating the future out of the seeds of the past and not forgetting. Because if you forget the lessons of history, you are doomed to repeat them. And we’re seeing that in a remarkable way now. 

PG: Time has also passed in significant ways since the two of you started collaborating in 2018. Most notably with the pandemic in the middle of it. How do you feel this project has changed the most over the last almost seven years?

AO’F: Well, right off the bat, I have to tell you a story. During the pandemic, my organization, the Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra, did a thing called Virtual Birdland, where we assembled a montage of different groups playing with us, and one was with Ghazi and Boom.Diwan. Ghazi was in Abu Dhabi. Boom.Diwan was in Kuwait. Our saxophonist was in Madrid. Our percussionist was in Peru. The musicians of the Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra were scattered throughout the States and Puerto Rico. But if you watch what we all did together remotely, you swear we’re all in the same room. That, to me, is incredible. 

The drama of COVID changed us all. But it also made us realize how connected we are. Every single being on Earth learned the name Coronavirus. I think the current horrifying America first ideology is doomed to fail, and I’m embarrassed by it. But I think the music world is going to be stronger than ever coming out of it. But, even with that, we can’t give in to hatred. I refuse to give in to hatred. 

GFA-M: Yeah, I feel like what we’re doing is an expression of a refusal. And I think it has been since day one. 

I will say, however, that when Arturo invited us to play with him for the Cuban-Khaleeji Project, our first collaboration, it was a moment beyond our wildest dreams to be welcomed into his orchestra. Then again, he wanted to collaborate during the pandemic. I almost didn’t do it because I thought the idea of putting together everything remotely was crazy. We were spread all over the world when creating the music for that project. It was unprecedented and seemed crazy. But I will always remember what Arturo told me. He asked me, “Do you feel the floor beneath your feet?” I told him I didn’t, and he said that was how we could tell it was all going right.

AO’F: So many people said a remote project of that scale couldn’t be done. I had producers and engineers all afternoon telling me that it was not gonna sound real. And I just believed that if Ghazi and I fought that fight together, it would all work out. And it did.

PG: The album Virtual Birdland (Zoho, 2021), with the song, “Ana Mashoof,” even ended up being nominated for a Grammy Award.

A’OF: Right, and here’s what I learned from that experience: The medium is not the message. The medium is the conveyor of information. That is true whether the medium is a concert hall or a computer screen. Ultimately, if the interaction is there, it will reach its intended target. 

GFA-M: I agree with everything Arturo said. I also want to add, however, that I love Arturo like a big brother. He probably doesn’t want me to say this, but he’s a mentor to me. He’s somebody that I greatly look up to, not only as a musician but as a person.

Later, when he showed up to rehearse for what ultimately became Live in the Khaleej!, we had no idea what we were going to record. We were just trusting the space to be there. Arturo wasn’t coming there as the bandleader of the Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra. He was coming in as my brother. I’ve never actually told him this before, but just that he was there to support and play whatever needed to be played was a big change compared to being a guest with his orchestra. His openness speaks to his generous spirit. It was a big change from being a guest to then being like brothers. Arturo trusted us to play this music with him and to try to do it justice. That’s huge, man.

AO’F: I have always felt so at home when I’m creating with you. But I also think that there’s so much room to reinterpret the idea of there being a bandleader. Everyone should be welcome to join the celebration. 

PG: Arturo, is that a perspective of the bandleader role something you learned from your time as a member of Carla Bley’s band? It is interesting how, after the original pieces on Live in the Khaleej!, the album closes with a cover of Carla’s “Utviklingsaang.”

AO’F: Carla hired me when I was nineteen and literally became my North Star. She showed me the three most important aspects of personal curiosity, integrity, and accuracy. She died in October of 2023 when we were working on the record. Her soul and her spirit were resonating inside of me the whole time. And I thought the piece had such a transcendent feel. It has a Middle Eastern feel. It has an Afro-Cuban feel. Somehow, Carla transcends all of time and space. That’s what we’re talking about as well with this project. 

PG: This partly connects back to what you mentioned earlier about the spiritual nature of the music and transcending politics. Do you see your music as a form of spiritual expression in a sense more than just tapping into how it was used in the past for spiritual purposes? 

GFA-M: Yeah, making music is a spiritual practice and such an important one. It was then and remains so now. 

AO’F: Wow, that’s a heavy question. There is a Salman Rushdie quote that applies:  “A poem will not stop a bullet. A novel cannot defuse a bomb. But writers can still sing the truth and name the lies.” Art is revolution. Art is political discourse. Art is engagement with the things that matter. Every time you pick up a guitar or sit at a piano, you are engaging in the actual art of revolution against greed, against gluttony, against hatred, against fear. So, for me, everything I do musically, I do because of love. I do it because at the end of the day, even the piano disappears, and the audience is at the center, all gathered together to experience community and love.

‘Live in the Khaleej!’ is out now on Tiger Turn Records. More information on Boom.Diwan can be found on its webpage. You can learn more about Ghazi Faisal Al-Mulaifi and Arturo O’Farrill on their sites as well.

Photo credit: Waleed Shah