I hate the azan. I always will. The muezzins are always tone deaf, too loud, and too confident that their call to come pray to their god is one of the most beautiful things on Mother Earth, when in actuality it sounds like the pinched, wailing groans of someone having a pinecone shoved up their ass. Over the fuzzy cackling of a megaphone.
But I will always love the azan in Şirinveler. The haunting measuredness and eerie tone of it always gives me chills. It's perfect.
Maybe it's because it's a recording....
