Sinem + Peki Momés

Hatun always knew what she wanted. Hatun packed her suitcase and went to Germany. Her husband stayed behind; he and the children joined her later. By then, Hatun had long since found work in a village in Upper Bavaria and, through her intelligence, hard work, and prudence, had made herself indispensable. Today Hatun is old; she’s becoming forgetful. But there’s one thing she understood well, and she won’t forget it: Sinem makes music; she sings and dances on stage. Now Sinem has already recorded her second album, and it will bear her name: “Hatun.” A picture of her, the young Hatun, will also be featured on the record. Sinem is her granddaughter, and she knows what she wants.

Sinem grew up in Upper Bavaria, on Lake Ammer. She moved to Munich, where she still lives today. Her father had played her Western pop music, the cool kind: “Tanz den Mussolini.” At her grandparents’ house, music from their homeland was played and sung. The classics of Turkish pop culture, which are reinterpreted again and again, often by female singers whose names have eventually taken on a mythical quality because they are not simply singers. They interpret the lyrics of the poet-singers, the Asiks, and they write their own. They speak of the things that matter. Of love—unrequited, impossible, and lost—of pain and longing. But also of what happens in the village, in the country, in the world—of injustice and of resistance against it.

On her first album, “Kösk,” Sinem covered such classics. What they all had in common was that they conveyed a stance. Through their lyrics, their sound, or through elegant moves like this: singing the song of a macho man who speaks of a woman. But the fact that it is now Sinem’s voice singing these words, and that she rolls ecstatically on stage while doing so, says more than any feminist seminar. That is Anadolu Punk.

The new album, “Hatun,” begins with “Ötme Bülbül Ötme,” written by Pir Sultan Abdal, performed by Sercan Öztürk and Hüseyin Korkankorkmaz. It is one of the songs Sinem heard her grandparents sing. Perhaps it told them about life in a foreign land: “Don’t sing, nightingale, my garden is not joyful. I’m wasting away with longing for you.” For “Hatun,” Sinem has once again taken on classics by Sezen Aksu, Erkin Koray, and others that hold special meaning for her and have been with her for a long time.

Sinem, the band in which Tom Wu is responsible for the music and Sinem for the vocals, has now also written its own songs. Because they come from within themselves, they develop a power of their own. The voice of tradition is answered from the present; the past forms the echo chamber for today’s stories.

The expectations others place on us only make us look back to the past and forward to the future, but never live in the moment and be content with what we do and who we are. Sinem has a sassy response ready: “Bana ne”—I don’t care! “I did this myself. And I did that myself. What are you going to do about it? What's happening? I don't care!” Thus, on the album’s second track, Sinem raises her voice over a muscular, rocking track that stoically and with a firm stride goes its own way.

That’s not how it’s supposed to be, they say. We’re supposed to do what fits our role. But Sinem’s narrator in “Masal” doesn’t seem to buy this fairy tale anymore: A well-behaved, polite, quiet, sweet girl breaks out of her cage and transforms into a brave, free-spirited, winged girl. Or is this beautiful story of her liberation just another fairy tale to which the girl is once again only allowed to nod obediently?

“Asla!” is a banger, not even two minutes long. It’s about a taboo that affects women more than men. You shouldn’t stick your neck out too far. “Never!” so that the other person doesn’t get the idea that you think you’re better than them just because you have certain talents. “I keep the most secret words. I don’t share them, I never share them. I sing the most beautiful songs. Don’t look at me, better not look at me.”

In “Agatha Christie,” the last of the songs on the album written by Sinem herself, a spotlight is cast on those men who, in the shadow of patriarchal conditions, sometimes casually, sometimes quite brazenly, and thus turn them into objects to be judged and possessed. “Their faces are masked, shrouded in the darkness of the soul. They wait at every corner.” Agatha Christie often stayed at the Pera Hotel in Istanbul’s Beyoglu district. Sinem also lived there for two years, walking every day under the gaze of the masked men. Now she looks back and casts off her veil: We see you, and when we see you, your gawking will stop.

Tom Wu has given each song its own unique touch, with various guitarists laying down their riffs. “Hatun” grooves along casually, reflecting Sinem’s self-confidence as she has begun to speak for herself—poetically and confidently. She now claims her place in the words as well. Whoever tells the story has the final say.

Hatun is proud of her granddaughter, and her granddaughter is proud of her.

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Peki Momés is a Turkish artist living in Germany who began recording music by accident in 2023. Infusing her vocals with a unique blend of intuition and uncompromising authenticity, Peki Momés brings a fresh perspective to the world of groove music. 

The artist’s musical approach (though hard to pin down) can be categorized under terms like Turkish disco, dancefloor jazz, or Turkish city pop. Peki Momés’ music is an eclectic mix of sounds from the global underground, tastefully crafted by producer Dustin Braun and a troupe of ridiculously talented jazz musicians. Dirty disco, fuzzy funk, Anatolian rare grooves, experimental synth, library music, and Japanese city pop all blend naturally with her distinct vocals to create a unique, ethereal, international sound that is all her own.

Ever since her debut 45 on Mocambo Records, Peki Momés has become a bit of a sensation both within and outside the organic groove scene: turntablist DJ Koco played multiple copies of “Göç Mevsimi” in his set, Iggy Pop featured “Rüya” on his “Iggy Confidential” show on BBC, and the second vinyl single surprised everyone with a mesmerizing cover of Marco Valle’s much-loved “Estrelar” in Turkish. Both records sold out quickly and are already in the collections of tastemakers like Coco Maria.

With her debut album set for release in September 2025, Peki Momés is now telling her full story. Featuring a young Peki on the cover, the artwork hints at the freshness and enthusiasm of the project. She has begun touring with a full band in support of the album.