As with his previous record, the collection here presents untreated field recordings completely without embellishment, in a more or less unspoken documentary style. Many of the tracks draw in on otherwise everyday sounds Kolacki hears while out in the city. Ābyāt is a quiet street recording where in addition to the familiar sounds of cars and people bustling about we hear someone singing to themselves while hand-claps keep time. This is only one of numerous local musical interventions captured by Kolacki who notes that unlike most European cities the social scene in Addis Abeba is conducted on the street, often accompanied by the tinny projection of local music through the speakers of a mobile phone. On ā'daw we could be in a cafe overhearing the conversations of local people while the fast paced guitar picking and cheerful rhythm of Ethiopian music drifts through the room. Kolacki's recording in addition to capturing the sound of city life also thus captures something of their own soundtrack, the sounds which the locals use to augment their daily lives.

As you would expect with the album's title there are several instances of the Muslim call to prayer sounding out over the city. Anyone who has stayed over in Istanbul, or any of the cities in the Middle East will know the haunting quality of the ā'zan as multiple Muezzin, projected by loud speakers, call out from their Mosques, filling the air with song. On ā'gar we hear just a single singer against a backdrop of streetnoise. Qasis is a particularly rich piece which in addition to the now familiar sounds of collective singing (this time possibly coming from a Christian Church) we hear very clear and loud bird song, the voices of children and the bells of their bikes and what sounds like whipping in the distance. Quite what this place is and how these sounds and activities are organised within the space isn't clear. The most exuberant example of local music is found on hāgar where a man sings along to what could be a very out of tune violin, or perhaps something more particular to Ethiopian music. Judging by the laughter and exited call and response from the audience the subject matter of the song is quite humorous. We get another example of this interplay between singers and audience on sam, this time it's an almost hip-hop inspired exchange between one guy who calls out phrases, in-between which several of his friends chant repeatedly like backing singers in a rap group.

Gānen and Kawākabt both focus in on different aspects of life in Addis Abeba. In the former we hear local families in what could be a park or recreational facility and on the latter we are in a busy market area where the sounds of the animals for sale are all around amid the voices of traders and of course the ever present rhythms of Ethiopian music. The cry of a cockerel signals that this is truly a city that never sleeps. The piece seamlessly moves from the market into a street where women clap their hands and sing as cars passing honk their horns. Like all the material captured here by Kolacki there is an overwhelming sense of life and community.

We should take seriously the understated title of the record, insofar as all too often Ethiopia (like so many countries in sub-Saharan Africa) are not heard but only spoken to - if not spoken down to - either as recipients of Western aid or as exporters of religious fanaticism. Kolacki asks only one thing of us, that we turn down the noise of our prejudice and assumptions and simply listen. However this simple request at times seems like the hardest thing to achieve; and as such makes this record all the more timely.