Ofir’s story reads like a folk tale told through six strings and static. The imagery of a janky stereo amp, Arabic ballads sung by his grandmother, and hand-me-down guitars rewired with love—it all creates this beautiful tension between tradition and improvisation. “Same Air” doesn’t just sound like memory—it feels like memory: textured, unpredictable, and full of breath. Also: the Branko Mataja delay trick? Genius. Thanks for highlighting an artist who treats the guitar like a vessel, not a weapon.
I enjoyed both albums by Ofir Ganon. Miel and Moroccan Prayer Tune were lovely.
Thanks for listening. The album should be here very soon.
Ofir’s story reads like a folk tale told through six strings and static. The imagery of a janky stereo amp, Arabic ballads sung by his grandmother, and hand-me-down guitars rewired with love—it all creates this beautiful tension between tradition and improvisation. “Same Air” doesn’t just sound like memory—it feels like memory: textured, unpredictable, and full of breath. Also: the Branko Mataja delay trick? Genius. Thanks for highlighting an artist who treats the guitar like a vessel, not a weapon.