B-Side Guys

While many contemporary artists dabble in retro funk aesthetics, Mostafa Al’s commitment to analog recording methods gives “Sleeping Dogs” an authenticity that can’t be faked. Every knob twist and hardware manipulation in his home studio adds to a sonic tapestry that feels both historically grounded and urgently present.

The track’s molasses-thick bassline provides more than just rhythmic foundation – it creates a gravitational field that everything else orbits around. This is where Al’s devotion to vintage equipment pays its biggest dividends, capturing the kind of warm, physical low end that defined Funkadelic’s most confrontational moments or Sly Stone’s darkest grooves.

What sets “Sleeping Dogs” apart from simple homage is how it updates funk’s protest tradition for contemporary conflicts. When Al sings “Electric fires burn in my home/’Cause the real thing tries to take your soul,” he establishes the personal stakes immediately. His perspective as an Iraqi-born musician adds particular weight to lines like “more lies are sold about who to hate,” transforming individual experience into universal groove.

The production demonstrates remarkable restraint, allowing space between the elements rather than overwhelming with density. This approach serves the message perfectly, especially during the haunting refrain “When murderers pay for their crimes/I’ll show you the place where all the sleeping dogs lie.” The repeated mantra of “Just stay in ecstasy” that closes the track takes on an almost sardonic edge, questioning the role of pleasure during times of conflict.

Al’s lyrics build a careful contrast between domestic safety and external threat: “And in our homes we lie in wait” while “kerosene fuel burns all night.” Each verse peels back another layer of war’s machinery, from propaganda to profiteering, all while maintaining the irresistible groove that makes the medicine go down.

This isn’t just party music with a message – it’s a reminder that funk’s original mission of consciousness-raising through groove remains relevant. Where “Electric fires burn in my home,” Sheykh Forever ignites something more dangerous: thought-provoking funk that demands both movement and meditation.