The finest music video I’ve encountered, regardless of origin, is “Ajeela” by the Saudi Arabian singer Aseel Omran. The song, from her third album entitled “Mo Be El Sahel” (2011), is a fast beat track in a cutting-edge modern Gulf idiom that allows a favorable comparison with her compatriot Mashael, a talented artist who perhaps lags behind somewhat in terms of modernity. The singer, who has a persona of youthful innocence, pursues the male model from a distance around the sights of Istanbul, including the Metro, dropping helpful hints in the form of items from her apparel, cosmetic and comestible line inscribed “A.O.” The music journalist who writes this up in English is unaware of whether such items actually exist, but wishes her good fortune with the enterprise, as do all who see the clip. And in June 2015, Conia Italy actually announces a leather bag in the name of Aseel Omran using her initials.

The album is memorable, like her two previous ones, which were issued by the ubiquitous Saudi production company Rotana. Strangely, that label did little to promote her, putting together just a single video clip featuring a fine track (“Yashkee Zroufah”) from the first album, though not necessarily the best one (the stunning title track “Khajlanah”). Aseel Omran rose in the entertainment industry through contacts in television, and her knowledge and experience could surely have been put to extensive use for the purpose of creating video clips. For reasons unknown, her third album is on the Platinum label, with “Ajeela” the best track, followed closely by “Er7am 7aly” and “3ala 3iny,” both of which are tinged with the gypsy flamenco that sometimes infuses so well into Arabic pop.

The male singers of Saudi Arabia vastly outnumber the female. Yet even if they record for Rotana, which is enormously active in the music video business, they do not produce anything fit to compare with Aseel Omran’s “Ajeela.” One of the most highly regarded Saudi singers, Abdul Majeed Abdullah, is found in a series of Rotana clips, of which “Ghano Lehabebe” (from his album of 2005) can be recommended. This is great music: Abdul Majeed is one of the few in Arabic pop who gets the piano right; and the production is witty – keep your eyes peeled at the beginning as the girl gets out of the car. But the message is somewhat confined by the patriarchal themes emphasized in that country.