Day 37: August 17 - Li Beirut
We’re BACK!
(onareducedscheduleMWFformysanitythx)
On August 4, a massive stockpile of ammonium nitrate exploded in the port of Beirut. To date, more than 180 people have died, 6,000 people have been injured, and more than 300,000 people are left homeless. Shortages of critical supplies will cause more suffering before it gets better. While the government has resigned, they robbed the country and left it unprepared for a tragedy as this. The people of Lebanon need help and support.
Please consider donating to these resources:
Lebanese Red Cross Impact Lebanon Lebanese Food Bank Live Love Beirut
Foodblessed World Food Program Beit El Baraka Ahla Fawda
Egna Legna Besidet Save The Children Islamic Relief CARE
UNICEF Center for Disaster Philanthropy Fund Humanity and Inclusion
(Many of these were taken from Harper's Bazaar and NYTimes, where you can read more about each fund.)
Today’s music is all from Lebanon, from the ineffable Fairuz to the poster child of Lebanese alt-indie to a hip-hop anthem from the protests last year, ending with some dabke.
Mashrou’ Leila - Lil Watan
Mashrou’ Leila are the indie darlings of Lebanon. Sprung from a music workshop at the American University of Beirut, the band write songs full of wordplay and literary references on everything from politics, protest, immigration, love, loss, and sexuality (lead singer and lyricist Hamed Sinno is openly gay and has faced threats for his sexuality). Adding to their cheeky charm, their name could mean a few things from Overnight Project, Leila’s Project (claiming the band started to help a friend, Leila), or Leila could be a lovely reference to Lebanon itself.
This track, from their 2013 album Raasuk, is a darkly, sparkly bop which confronts how the government turns patriotism, pleasure, and criticism of the government into a national malaise and indifference. Complaints (‘Why are you frowning,’ ‘ Enough preaching’) are met with a refrain (‘Come on, dance a little’) as the government deflects over a midtempo dance tune.
Layale Chaker + Sarafand - On the Trunk of an Olive Tree
Lebanese violinist and composer Layale Chaker fuses her two traditions in this love poem to Arabic poetry and music. Born in Lebanon, but trained in Western classical music in the National Higher Conservatory in Beirut, then at the Conservatoire de Paris and the Royal Academy of Music in London. Her album, Inner Rhymes, is inspired by both the music of her native Lebanon, as well as the speech rhythms of the spoken poetry traditions. On the Trunk of an Olive Tree is based on a poem of the same name (poem at bottom of page) by the Palestinian resistance poet, Tawfik Zayyad.
Chaker brings forth a soft, tasteful, and jazz-inflected touch here, playing with an ensemble created for the album, Sarafand, which refers to a Palestinian town abandoned after the Israeli-British Nabka in 1948. Chaker’s playing is vocal and flexible, seemingly spilling out from her as Zayyad’s words would have. Sarafand provide a supple balance between space and reaction to each other as they all solo, as though they were a crowd listening attentively and vocally to speakers. The great variety here is found in the detailed listening, to the articulation and ‘breath’ of each note, how it’s held. Listen closely, but moreso, locally. And with Zayyad’s words next to you.
Malikah - عم حارب (I Am Fighting)
Malikah (meaning Queen) hails from Beirut and brings a fiery response in I Am Fighting to government corruption during last year’s protests. The song skewers the government, but also addresses societal issues ranging from secularism and Orientalism, Lebanon’s sometimes warped self-image as a liberated people/culture, and a call for greater female empowerment. Malikah’s wants to change the discussions around Arab people, casting off external and internal stereotypes and showing the range of Arab identity and personhood.
I wish I could find a reliable translation, but in lieu, check out these other female Arab rappers.
Fairuz - Le Beirut
There simply is no one in the Western world to compare to Fairuz. She is simply an idol, beloved and worshipped, a part of everyday life. There is a saying that the Arab world wakes up to Fairuz. Here is her love song to Beirut, written during the worst of the Lebanese Civil War, in which she croons over a lush orchestration on Beirut’s beauty, strength, perfection, and flaws. Fairuz seems strong, determined, set and, with a turn, despairing, nostalgic, or radiantly hopeful. Some context from an article on Fairuz by Sharoze Khan:
This history of Fairuz and her life is essential to understanding why she gained such influence in Lebanon and the wider Arab world. Not only did she persisted during the Civil War, but she took the war personally, which is further reflected in her songs released throughout the civil war, but most specifically in Li Beirut, released in 1984. Li Beirut translates to “To Beirut” and it was released at the height of the war in Beirut. Throughout the civil war, the song became an expression of how Lebanese Nationalism was being corrupted and the people was paying the ultimate prize for it. Through the lyrics of the song, Fairuz utilizes nostalgia and illustrates how the war was an assault on her beloved city of Beirut, and by extension upon Lebanon and herself.
Much like Chaker, the variety is in the details, how she inflects a word or meets a cadence, how she holds a note or doesn’t. She’s an astonishingly perfect singer whose performances seem otherwordly, as if coming from some deep, universal tome of eternal musics. Listen closely, and with the text.
Sarah El-Badawiya (remix by Tikki Masala + Gowax) - عطلة عا لبنان (Lebanese Vacation)
I know very little about this track or this artist, but I do know it bangs. There is an attempt at lyrics here. I included it because dabke is extremely important in Levantine cultures (Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria). People dance dabke at weddings, parties, flash mobs, and even protests (last year in Lebanon with Baby Shark and even in Detroit this summer…). While there are lots of songs meant for dabke, I chose this just because it’s a modern remix and it slaps. I recommend reading up on it here, here, and checking out the Lebanese dabke dance company, Caracalla, whose lockdown dabke shows a beautiful Beirut, pre-explosion.