A Friday letter about old Arabic pop cassettes
I’m Tarek. Every Friday I send a letter about one old cassette I found and digitised, and I sell zines, logs and a short course on saving your own tapes.
Latest letters
- 61
The tape with no label, and the song on it
NewA blank cassette from a crate, and the three minutes that made my week.
- 60
A taxi driver’s stack of tapes
Twenty cassettes on a dashboard, and the stories he told about each.
- 59
Cleaning a cassette before you press play
A cotton swab, a steady hand and ten slow minutes.
- 58
Reading a liner note when the print has faded
How I piece together names and years from what is left.
- 57
Three crates, one morning
A market alley, a lot of dust and one tape worth the trip.
- 56
Digitising on a kitchen table
My whole set-up, and how little of it you need.
- 55
Why I keep two players
One cheap, one good, and what each is for.
- 54
A wedding cassette from 1987
Forty minutes of songs, speeches and one very loud aunt.
- 53
The song everyone remembered differently
Three people, three versions, one tape that settled it.
- 52
Fixing a tape that wound itself in knots
A tiny screwdriver and the patience of a saint.
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About me
I grew up in Cairo with a shoebox of my father’s cassettes under the bed. When the box came to me, the tapes were fading, and I decided to save them before they were gone.
Now I look for old Arabic pop cassettes in markets, taxis and attics. I clean them, play them, write down what is on the label and keep a copy for my archive.
Each Friday I write about one tape: where I found it, who I think made it and what it sounded like. I do not sell the music. I sell what I make about it, and a way to start your own box.