Get it here. Born Hasni Chakroun on February 1, 1968, in Oran, Algeria, Cheb Hasni dreamed of becoming a soccer player, a "goal" that was abandoned (chortle) as he became increasingly interested in music. Or, as Google Chrome has translated the French website where one of his many mini-biographies resides, "He turned to another passion, music mome, we already knew in my corner because I still had deployed his throat, threw the satchel off is in a lively by night." Lively by day as well--hell, lively any time one lends one's ears to such sweet throat deployment, nein? Ach, forgive me; it's late, I've worked very hard all week. So. You know the story of Hasni, right? After working the wedding circuit a while someone hooks him up to record with Chaba Zahouania in the late 80s and he becomes an overnight sensation, going on to record some 200 cassettes, stuffed with Casio-tastic tales of debauchery, of women, of drinking, and then, in 1992, rumors of his death sweep northern Africa, he gets wind of them, records Gualou Hasni Met ("They say Hasni died"), then, eerily, creepily, soon after, at the height of his now international fame, he's assassinated outside of his parents' home in Oran in 1994 while still in his mid-20s. I have no idea at what point in his staggeringly short but super-brilliant career he recorded this album, but it's one of my favorites and, as exhausted as I am, I love it so much I want you to have it before I crash.