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**Camel - Rajaz: A Desert Mirage That Actually Delivers**

By the time 1999 rolled around, progressive rock was supposed to be deader than disco, buried under an avalanche of grunge, Britpop, and nu-metal. Someone forgot to tell Andrew Latimer. The Camel mastermind had been wandering the musical desert for years, watching his band's lineup shift like sand dunes while staying true to his vision of cinematic, instrumental storytelling. With *Rajaz*, he didn't just survive the wilderness – he found an oasis.

The album emerged from a period of creative restlessness for Latimer, who had been increasingly drawn to Middle Eastern and North African musical traditions. After years of touring and a string of albums that felt more workmanlike than inspired, something clicked during his travels through Morocco and his deepening study of Arabic musical scales and rhythms. The result was *Rajaz*, named after an ancient Arabic poetic meter, and it stands as perhaps the most cohesive and emotionally resonant Camel album since their 1970s heyday.

What makes *Rajaz* so compelling is how naturally Latimer weaves Eastern influences into Camel's established progressive framework. This isn't cultural tourism or world music window dressing – it's a genuine fusion that feels both exotic and familiar. The album opens with "Three Wishes," where Latimer's signature guitar tone, still as liquid and expressive as ever, dances over hypnotic percussion patterns and serpentine bass lines. It's immediately clear this isn't going to be another nostalgic prog exercise.

The title track serves as the album's emotional centerpiece, a sprawling 16-minute journey that showcases everything great about latter-day Camel. Latimer's guitar work here is absolutely sublime – he's always been one of progressive rock's most underrated axemen, possessing a tone that's instantly recognizable and a melodic sensibility that puts flashy technique in service of genuine emotion. The way he builds tension through the song's multiple movements, incorporating Arabic scales and rhythmic patterns while maintaining the band's essential DNA, is masterful. It's the kind of track that reminds you why instrumental music can be just as powerful as any singer belting out lyrics.

"Shout" provides a more aggressive counterpoint, with drummer Dave Stewart (not the Eurythmics guy) laying down some seriously propulsive rhythms while bassist Colin Bass – whose work throughout the album is criminally underappreciated – locks into grooves that would make John Paul Jones jealous. The interplay between the rhythm section and Latimer's increasingly adventurous guitar explorations creates a tension that keeps you glued to your speakers.

But it's "Arubaluba" that might be the album's secret weapon. At just over seven minutes, it's relatively concise by prog standards, but Latimer packs more genuine emotion and melodic invention into those seven minutes than most bands manage in entire albums. The way the song builds from a simple, almost folk-like melody into something approaching transcendence is pure Camel magic – the kind of moment that explains why this band has maintained such a devoted following despite never achieving mainstream success.

The production, handled by Latimer himself, strikes the perfect balance between clarity and warmth. Every instrument has space to breathe, and the subtle use of ambient textures and field recordings adds atmospheric depth without overwhelming the core performances. This is music that rewards both casual listening and deep-dive analysis with headphones.

*Rajaz* proved that progressive rock didn't need to be a museum piece, that there were still unexplored territories for adventurous musicians willing to push beyond comfortable boundaries. While many of their contemporaries were either calling it quits or cynically reuniting for nostalgia tours, Camel was creating some of their most vital music in decades.

The album's influence can be heard in the work of younger progressive and post-rock bands who understand that instrumental music doesn't have to be cold or overly cerebral. More importantly, it established a template for Camel's subsequent releases, showing that evolution and tradition could coexist beautifully.

Twenty-five years later, *Rajaz* sounds less like a relic from prog rock's past and more like a bridge to its future – proof that great music transcends both geography and genre when it comes from a place of genuine artistic curiosity and emotional honesty.