INTRODUCING: Sulaf

Sudanese artist Sulaf emerges as one of 2026’s most compelling new voices with the announcement of her debut album ABA, arriving via Real World Records this October. Blending ancient Nubian rhythms, Arabic lyricism and immersive retro-futurist production, ABA is both a deeply personal meditation on exile and an act of preservation rooted in family, memory and Sudanese musical heritage. Created alongside French producer Maxime Kosinetz, the record draws inspiration from the poetry and songs of Sulaf’s great-grandfather Abdelazim Sayed Ahmed, affectionately known as Aba. Lead single “Naada” perfectly captures the album’s emotional and sonic duality — traditional yet futuristic, intimate yet expansive. Following performances alongside Tinariwen across Europe and the UK, Sulaf is carving out a sound that transcends borders, carrying the spirit of Sudan into entirely new spaces.

1. How did leaving Sudan unexpectedly shape the emotional core of ABA?

Leaving Sudan was not a moment I had time to process , it happened quietly, almost without warning. I gathered my life into a small bag . As I expected I would be coming back. , carrying more memories than belongings. There were no dramatic goodbyes, just an absence that grew heavier with time.

In exile, memory became my home. Laughter, voices, faces and conversations, they stayed with me, echoing softly when everything else felt distant. Music, especially, became a refuge. It reminded me that I come from somewhere, that I am held by something larger than displacement.

ABA was born from that space , its importance grew day by day from the need to hold on. It is not just an album about leaving, but about what refuses to leave you.

2. How did you and Maxime Kosinetz balance preservation and experimentation?

Working with Maxime Kosinetz felt like a conversation across worlds, but also a shared sensitivity. We were not trying to modernize something old, or preserve it like an artifact. It was more about listening -deeply - to what the songs were asking to become.

The Sudanese elements were never something I had to “add” , they are part of how I feel and hear. Maxime created a space where those traditions could breathe differently, expand, stretch, and meet new textures without losing their soul.

It was never about balance in a technical sense. It was about trust ,trusting that the essence would remain, even as the form evolved.

3. What did it mean to carry Aba’s poetry into this record while in exile?

Aba is a feeling I carry more than a memory . Turning his words and melodies into music felt like continuing a conversation that was never meant to end. Being in exile changed how I hold on to things. The songs became something familiar I could return to , not out of nostalgia, but because they carry a way of seeing the world that I recognize. In a place where a lot feels uncertain, that kind of familiarity matters.

Every time I was in the studio , it felt like stepping back into that world again. One of the songs is called Shogi Ana, and since I was a child, my mother used to hum it with a tender softness that stayed in me. So when I began recording, I felt surrounded by their world, moving quietly through the room with me. The studio was no longer just a space for making music, but something closer to memory becoming alive again.

There is something very fragile about this, too. His songs and writings lived in a single notebook, somewhere in Khartoum. I don’t know if it still exists after the war in Sudan . But at the same time, I feel deeply lucky , that some of his words and his music continue to live through me. Bringing them into ABA became an act of preservation, but also something very personal. His voice and his way of loving are still here, in these songs, and in me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E25ZU6ztASw

4. Does the duality in ‘Naada’ reflect how you see your music?

Yes, very much. I don’t see tradition as something behind us , I feel it moving through us. ‘Naada’ carries something ancient, something deeply rooted, but it also reaches outward, toward something unknown, almost cosmic. That duality feels very natural to me, because that’s how I exist now , between places, between times. I am not looking back at Sudan as something distant. I am carrying it forward, letting it transform, and meet the present moment. And for me the past is not static , it is alive, and it continues to evolve with us.

5. How have live performances shaped your understanding of ABA’s connection with audiences?

Opening for Tinariwen showed me as we know the music is something very powerful , and these songs travel beyond language and geography. The people don’t need to understand every word to feel where the music comes from. There is something in the emotion, in the honesty, that connects instantly.

Those performances reassured me that ABA is not only about Sudan, or exile, or personal memory , it is about something shared. About love, longing and belonging. And those are things that people recognize, wherever they are.