October 2025

Thank you for downloading the Gaza EP. This collection of songs has come together slowly and meaningfully over the past couple of years. Each song carries with it a deep commitment to solidarity and support for those affected by the ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza. I know you know what I mean.

The proceeds from this EP will go towards Artists Supporting Palestine, a grassroots collective of artists raising funds for Medical Aid for Palestine (MAP) and a number of other charities that are currently being discussed and decided upon collectively. Through art sales, exhibitions, and other creative initiatives, Artists Supporting Palestine has already raised over £80,000 for MAP—an extraordinary testament to the power of collective action and creative resistance.

I became involved with Artists Supporting Palestine about six months ago, through my friend Jean McEwan, a brilliant zine artist whose practice is deeply rooted in community and activism. Through Jean, I found a space that combines creativity, solidarity, and care—where art is not separate from the world but actively engaged in it.

As part of our work with the collective, we hold grief and action circles, bringing people together to process the immense weight of what is happening in Palestine and to find ways of responding collectively. These circles have become an important part of the rhythm of our activism—spaces to sit with sorrow, share knowledge, and build the emotional and political resilience needed for sustained solidarity work. We plan to continue holding these circles for at least the next six months, and we warmly invite anyone who wishes to take part to come along. The next one is October 21st at 7:30 please register interest here

This EP is one expression of that broader movement. It’s a way of using our creative practices not only to raise funds but also to raise voices, to keep attention focused on Gaza, and to stand in solidarity with those enduring unimaginable hardship. Every download, every listen, and every share helps to extend that solidarity further.

The first track you’ll hear on the Gaza EP is “Two Million Parts (Take My Hand).” This song is a reworking of an earlier piece I wrote called “Death to the IDF.” That version was censored, but I’ve kept the original lyrics, changing only the chorus. It now reads:

“Take my hand and hold my breath/Sieges be broken, hatred be spoken less/Hearts be awoken from this unholiness.”

This song is rooted in what I’ve witnessed and tried to comprehend over the last two years. It’s hard to put into words the scale of loss, the enormity of what has happened. So many lives have been taken, and the brutality has shaken the foundations of what I believe in — about leadership, about human rights, about how the world responds to atrocity.

And yet, amidst that, I’ve also seen something powerful: ordinary people, outside positions of power, building vast grassroots movements of solidarity across the world. I’ve witnessed communities come together in resistance and care. Through this song, I want to lend my hand and my breath to the people of Palestine, to stand alongside them in whatever ways I can.

The second track is “The Stars Taught We Can Read.” This piece draws on the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish, the renowned Palestinian poet who lived under occupation and spent much of his life in exile. Darwish’s work has always moved me — his sense of belonging and unbelonging, his refusal to be confined to borders. He often wrote, “I’m not from here, I’m not from there,” expressing a deep sense of shared humanity that transcends place.

This song is my response to that — a reworking of his words into music, an attempt to give voice to the universal, human dimensions of his poetry. His work speaks to displacement, resilience, and the enduring capacity for beauty even in exile, and that felt vital to include on this EP.

The third track is “It’s So Hard to See It All,” which may be the most difficult song to listen to. It’s built around a kind of list — a litany of what has been so painfully obvious during the offensive, what I can only describe as genocidal violence. The song is inspired  by “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” by Bob Dylan, and it unfolds in a similar way: line by line, image by image.

The final song, “Yama Mwel El Hawa”, My Song of Longing,” was taught to me by Christa Awad, who also sings on it and on “Two Million Parts (Take My Hand)”. This is a story of resistance and occupation, but also one of love and connection in the midst of devastation. For me, it ties the album together — not just in its themes of struggle and solidarity, but in the act of passing songs from one voice to another, continuing the story. 

Thank you so much for being here. We are playing a small part in something much bigger, and I’m deeply grateful to everyone who’s supported this project and picked up the Gaza EP. Every contribution goes to vital causes, supporting people on the ground in Palestine as it is, we hope, rebuilt — in the vision and hands of Palestinians themselves. My hope is that we can keep up collective pressure to resist the ongoing colonial attitudes towards this land, and to stand in solidarity with the people who have touched my heart so deeply over the past two years.

Reflective exercise 

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