Concert Review and Interview: Mashrou` Leila, Beirut Hippodrome, July 29, 2011.
Yalla, conjure your stereotype. Humid, jasmine-scented nights; hot, diesel-loaded days; pockmarked buildings; the blue Mediterranean crashing on the popular Corniche boardwalk; Lebanese women; Lebanese men; the middle of 2011 in the middle of the Middle East…a thousand and one nights? Go for it. Get yourself an image of Beirut. Beirut, the fortress of yesteryear, the metropolis of tomorrow, the quagmire of the present: constantly the contradiction. She rocks somewhat patiently in the summer of 2011, sometimes nodding off to summer doldrums, sometimes bracing herself for what seem like impending fireworks. To her left, Egypt crackles and hisses; to her right, Syria thunders. Israel scratches an old wound. In Hamra at Beirut’s center, protests at the Syrian embassy turn intimidating (read: violent), but inside De Prague (a popular bar/café just steps away) the DJ spins instrumental versions of The Fiddler on the Roof’s “If I Were a Rich Man” [yup, sic], whose soaring violin hardly causes a hiccup in the puffs of Gitane cigarettes. Political conversations are exasperated and resentment is high, fasting or not fasting since Ramadan began last week a serious badge of identity, and everywhere, it seems, young Lebanese talk about leaving. Off to pursue life and love elsewhere. The excitement of Beirut’s contradictions turns brittle once you step out of the expat community. The economic and political realities hit hard and with good reason: an outsider only occasionally gets a glimpse of the political knife-edge the country seems to be dancing on.
In late July, alternative singer/songwriter Zeid Hamdan went to a municipal building to complete some paperwork and found himself in prison, allegedly for having publicly criticized the President in this song, “General Suleiman, Go Home,” released nearly two years ago. He was permitted to return home the same day, but not without a flurry of activist energy rippling through the underground community. Regionally, the day before the Muslim month of compassion and reflection begins, Syrian president Bashar al-Assad pummeled the city of Hama; the next day, Mubarak showed up on our TV screens in a jumpsuit, lying down in a cage, practically picking his nose. Shu hal hal? (What is our condition?) Progress? Stagnation? Wayn ryheen? (Where are we going?)
Sufficient broad strokes of color to remind us we are in the Middle East? Good. Let’s paint Beirut postmodern. Because it sure would be ridiculous to expect an alternative rock concert to encapsulate all these tensions and suggest a way out. El-haleh el-siyasiyyeh (the political situation) could almost seem unrelated, in fact, because the evening the seven-member Lebanese alternative rock band Mashrou` Leila put on last week competes with summer concert magic anywhere, happily. The band, boasting a growing international following, has been charged by fans and critics with changing the face of contemporary Arabic music, injecting a healthy dose of irony, sex, and the split personality of postmodern subjectivity into Arabic lyrics.
At their concert on July 29 fans sang and shouted along in Arabic, dancing and making out, some among them translating front man Hamed Sinno’s commentary between numbers into English, French, or German as company dictated. Their set at the Beirut Hippodrome launched the newly released EP El Hal Romancy (“The Romantic Condition”) and clocked in at just over an hour. The band played favorites from their first, self-titled album, and new, yet unnamed pieces, in addition to their most recent set of tunes. The jaded charisma of the group’s front man filled the massive stage that hosted them in Beirut’s Hippodrome, his energy and commentary underwritten with a tangible but friendly anger, ranging from care-free flamboyant dance (accompanied by two sets of spectacular ribbons attached to each wrist) to were-those-tears-?-intensity on a small stage extension that jetted out into the crowd.
All in all, the show played like an indie-rock romance, a spectacle fitting the EP’s title: opening with a bold punch, revisiting the familiar (“Fasateen” ["Clothes"]), becoming intimate (“Habibi” ["My Love"]), swelling into love affair (complete with a starry sky induced by perfectly timed silver graffiti), and closing with an raucous bang (a new track perhaps called “Romaan” ["Pomegranate"]). We met, we danced, we kissed, we parted. Then we came back again. The EP is quieter, more introverted, distanced, but still rife with desire. We met, we danced, we kissed, we remembered, we…
[Mashrou` Leila at the Beirut Hippodrome, July 29, 2011. Image courtesy of the band.]
Hold the phone. Man, if “El Hal Romancy” isn’t the perfect framework for a Beiruti state of mind in the summer 2011. Desire, expectancy, jadedness, and all the bold strokes still fit for romance. But maybe I’m projecting? I sat down with two members of the band, guitarist Andre Chedid and bassist Ibrahim Badr, to see what they thought. Here’s some of our conversation.
Rayya El Zein (REZ): Mabruk (congratulations) on the concert last Friday. Was that the first time you played in Beirut on such a scale?
Andre Chedid (AC): Well it’s the first time we did something on our own on a scale like that. We were the ones deciding what lights to bring, smokes, flame-thrower — I mean we had a say in everything. We were trying to really make a performance, not just play music. We had just been in Serbia, and we had seen a lot of big acts and I think we were inspired from that to really put on a big show.
RZ: What is “El Hal Romancy”? What does it mean for you guys?
AC: I think we each have our own interpretation of things.
Ibrahim Badr (IB): Yea, each of the band members has their own interpretation. It’s just the title track of the EP. And it’s not really, I mean, it’s debatable whether it’s our favorite song.
AC: I think it’s just because it’s catchy.
IB: But the other songs are catchy too.
AB: No, not the song, the title...and the theme that we worked around the title, like the difficulties that young people face now trying to get married in the Middle East. So I think that’s why: it’s relevant. It’s a catchy title.
REZ: What do you make of claims that you’re changing Arabic music?
AC: I don’t think we’re changing Arabic music. I mean Arabic music is still Arabic music.
IB: The thing is I usually wonder what they mean by Arabic music!
AC: I mean if you go to the definition of Arabic music...
IB: But what’s the definition of Arabic music?
AC: I don’t know, but I’m guessing it would be derbekkeh, def (drums), at least an Arabic scale...
IB: Yea but that’s stereotypical; we don’t play in those quarter-tone scales.
AC: That’s what I’m saying. So technically, we don’t really play Arabic music, I think. So when they say we’re changing Arabic music, I don’t think so. Arabic music is still Arabic music.
IB: But if they’re saying that we’re changing music that’s sung in Arabic, then it might be true in the sense that we’re creating a scene—not creating a scene—but sort of popularizing the independent Arabic-sung music scene. In that sense, maybe something’s happening. In the other sense, no. Because we’re totally unrelated.
[Ibrahim Badr and Andre Chedid of Mashrou` Leila. Photo by Rayya El Zein.]
REZ: Why do you think people think that you are changing “Arabic music,” whatever that is?
AC: I think the way, the things Hamed speaks about, that could be one of the reasons.
REZ: The lyrics you mean?
AC: The lyrics, yea; that could be one of the reasons.
IB: But no, the lyrics, Hamed gets compared to...
AC: Ziad?
IB: ...the Rahbani guy allll the time! [Ziad Rahbani].
AC: True.
IB: All the time. And honestly, I see the similarities. So in what sense is he changing…? The Rahbani guy has talked about most of the subject matter that we’ve talked about and in colloquial Arabic.
AC: Yea but Hamed has done another level, which is homosexuality.
IB: So basically what you’re saying is we’re changing the subject matter of the songs in Arabic music.
AC: Yea. The subject matter is changing and that’s why people think it’s changing. Like people are saying it’s changing because they feel that people are becoming more free to say what they want. And I think in that sense they feel like it’s changing.
IB: But really, man, we only have one song about homosexuality.
[Hamed Sinno of Mashrou` Leila. Image courtesy of the band.]
AC: Yea, but it’s not only the songs. It’s the performance of Hamed. A lot of things. I mean think of it: have you seen a similar performance?
IB: Yes!
AC: Who?
IB: Rock bands.
AC: No, no. Arabic singing rock bands.
IB: Ok, so what you’re saying is that we’re an Arabic-singing rock band.
AC: Yes.
REZ: What do you think about the scene of alternative, or independent, or underground music in Lebanon or in the region today?
AC: It’s growing.
IB: I like the scene. The problem is that it’s an amateur scene, like it’s not professional—in the sense that no one does it full-time. So what I don’t like about the scene is that it’s underdeveloped, mainly because no one does it full-time.
AC: But it is…
IB: Blooming?
AC: It’s blooming, and it is…the people who are doing it are doing it obviously because they’re passionate about it. It’s not like they’re making money from that, but they want to do it. So I think in that sense maybe it’s starting to expand a little bit, more people are saying, ok, I’ll do this part-time.
IB: No, but—it’s not becoming more profitable.
AC: No, no, not becoming more profitable, but more people are used to the idea of, ok it’s not profitable, but I still want to do it.
[Mashrou` Leila at the Beirut Hippodrome, July 29, 2011. Image courtesy of the band.]
REZ: You guys mentioned Zeid Hamdan several times on Friday.
AC and IB: Yes.
REZ: What do you think about the “General Suleiman” debacle?
AC: It’s pretty stupid. But given that we’re in Lebanon, it’s expected for something stupid like that to happen. (Laughter)
REZ: Stupid how?
IB: I mean only after two years that the song has been out they realized that there’s something strange in the song? Plus, I never knew that there’s a law against saying something bad about politicians. Have you?
AC: I’ve heard of that. Like in Abu Dhabi, you can’t say anything about Sheikh Zayyed.
IB: Yea, but that’s `cause he’s a king! Not a temporary...not that that makes it correct! I’m not saying it’s correct. But you’d think in Lebanon, since the guy is somewhat of a temporary political figure, I can like him and then not like him. And change my mind.
AC: But it’s very strange. In the Parliament, they’re swearing at each other all the time! What gives them the right to speak to each other like that and we can’t? I mean it’s not like it was blasphemy. He said “Go home.” (Laughter)
REZ: Is your work political?
AC: Our first album was much more political.
REZ: How so?
IB: But usually it’s political in the sense that…
AC: It’s more social-political
IB: I mean, it doesn’t really target anyone specific, and it doesn’t really talk about...
AC: It’s anti-political maybe?
IB: Yea. Something like that. I mean all the songs are based around how politics influences society maybe?
AC: It’s like that because we were all in AUB [American University of Beirut] when we wrote most of the songs and a lot of political things were happening then [2008-2009]. But now some of the same things are happening but we’re just sick of talking about them I guess.
REZ: Is music figuring in the political changes from Tunis to Egypt to Syria to here?
AC: I mean I think it happens. It’s not like we’re doing it [making music] for it [political change] to happen. But I think like in Cairo, when we released our song, the cover for Gorillaz which is “Ghadan Yomun Afdal,” ("Tomorrow Will Be a Better Day"), they went crazy because of what was happening in the Revolution and because of the lyrics of the song. They put two and two together and that became the song related to the Revolution. So, in that sense I think that people make certain connections.
IB: Yea but I think she’s asking more: does it make a difference?
AC: I don’t know. Especially with the way the politics works here and in the Arab region, probably not. But I think it makes a difference to the people.
IB: Honestly I think the only thing that we can do that’s somewhat reasonable is sort of to create [something] like an Arabic identity or like a bond between countries.
REZ: Do you have a dream show or a dream collaboration?
IB: I mean most of us in the band are big fans of British-style Indie music. Not even Indie, but like, a lot of these sort of subtle, intricate…
AC: Like Gorillaz, Muse...
AC and IB: Radiohead...
IB: Arctic Monkeys. Actually, our dream is to get someone who’s worked on some of these albums, like a producer who’s worked on some of these albums.
AC: I mean we’re looking for a specific sound. It’s not like: “Oh it’s my favorite band so I wanna play with them.” But it’s a specific sound that we like in these bands.
IB: But that doesn’t mean it would necessarily work for us. I’m interested in the albums that really care a lot about detail and mood: subtle things. A way of thinking. I mean we don’t want to sound like Arctic Monkeys. That would be crazy, because we’re not Arctic Monkeys. And we don’t have big guitars and loud drums…More like the way of thinking and the work ethic. An album that’s thought of not just as a collection of songs but more of a…yea.
.jpg)
[Mashrou` Leila at the Beirut Hippodrome, July 29, 2011. Photo by Rayya El Zein.]
Alongside Mashrou` Leila in the summer of 2011, then, what is Beirut looking for? What does the collaboration of tomorrow look like? Is it no longer the infatuation of attraction (East/West; religious/secular), but rather a way of thinking, a subtlety, not just a collection of influences. “More of a… yea…” A what? How to say it? Maybe it’s understood. But despair not. Haletna bel Wal? (Are We in a State of Disaster?) Not for now. For now, perhaps, our condition is hesitant, waiting, remembering, coming back for more, wanting more…a state of expectancy, of desire. El Hal Romancy: catchy perhaps, but fitting too.
Mashrou’ Leila, also transcribed as Mashrou3 Leila, is Hamed Sinno, Haig Papazian, Omaya Malaeb, Andre Chedid, Carl Gerges, Firas Abu-Fakhr, and Ibrahim Badr. Their EP, El Hal Romancy, is available for download through their website or on iTunes.