Thursday night was probably the first time I actually go to a Mashrou Leila concert. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to many back home, like the Red Bull Soundclash between Mashrou Leila and Who Killed Bruce Lee. In Beirut though, I’d usually already know everything from how the stage set up is gonna, to what the full itinerary before and after the show is. That’s because I’d be focusing on getting the leak, the scoop. Or trying to give away tickets and then covering the concert. Not this time though, this time, I was just another fan in the mood of listening to my home tongue after months in countries where I don’t speak the local language. I must admit, I rediscovered the band that night.

Why I Love Mashrou Leila

Those of you who know me, will for sure know I’m not a band person. At all. As for my Arabic music catalog, it consists of mainly old Warda songs like “Betwannes Beek” which remind me of a less troubled world growing up listening to the late artist on my parents’ cassette player in the 90s.

I became familiar with the band in my AUB days, where it all started for the guys. We attended school around the same period, and ML was already the talk of not only the campus, but the entire country and soon the entire region.

Personally, I didn’t really have an opinion. I disagreed with one of their political decisions back then to boycott a concert, but just when things were getting sour, I got commissioned to write a review for their album “Ra’asuk” for Rolling Stone ME magazine. I obliged, doing my best to make sure I didn’t let my political opinions taint the review. I listened to their album, deciphering every track and word.

That’s when I hopelessly fell in love with “Lil Watan”. It still is my absolute favorite Mashrou Leila track, and I think you can tell by how many singalong videos I Instagram to it while stuck in Beirut traffic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR6Krh5ryJ4

That’s when I became a fan. However, it’s a lot more than the music that I like. The members of the band, especially Hamed, are true activists that I’ve had the honor of working with on issues that plague Beirut and the Arab World. Civil rights abuses, attempts to quash free speech, rising inequality, backwayds gender issues and dark-age LGBTQ discrimination among, sadly, many others.

Despite their superstar status, the powerful messages don’t just resonate in their lyrics and on-stage performances, but on the streets as well, activating with their fellow Lebanese and Arabs for issues that should no longer be divisive in 2016.

A Different Arab Identity

Mashrou’ Leila have become the voice of a huge Arab population that never spoke before. They never spoke because they’d end up beaten up, in jail or dead. They never spoke because it is hard to be a liberal Arab in an Arab World synonymous with obliterating dissent of any kine and shackling up an already downtrodden, hopeless people.

I’m lucky because I am Lebanese, and even though the local authorities do their best to intimidate and harass people like me, Lebanon’s space for free speech, though always at risk by religious and corrupt authorities, remains a beacon of enlightenment in an Arab World spiraling into oppressive theocracies and authoritarian military regimes.

My problem wasn’t being worried of a couple of corrupt cops on the payroll of a few corrupt priests and sheikhs. It was that for many years, especially while growing up, I hated what “Arab” meant. Not the misinformed “terrorist” stereotype in the West, but the macho mentality that hates diversity and encourages hatred of what’s different than the majority’s clinging to traditions that society should have long outgrown by now.

That’s until I realized that instead of trying to beat around the bush, asking whether I’m Arab or Phoenician or whatever mental gymnastics Lebanese ultra-nationalist sectarian folks like to come up with, to own the identity, and make it my own. It’s ok to be a tanned Arab, with a beard, but also progressive and liberal. An Arab that enjoys a beer and a joint at a club, after a day of campaigning for gender equality and fighting illegal censorship. An Arab that doesn’t want to hang gay and trans folks, but accepts them as they are. An Arab that doesn’t equate atheism with religious fundamentalist terrorism, but embraces a godless existence and doesn’t use archaic beliefs to justify evil deeds against people they’re brainwashed to hate as “the other” on the basis of race, sect, gender, orientation and political ideology.

Mashrou’ Leila put those unspoken sentiments into witty words in colloquial Lebanese. They gave a voice and composed anthems for the multitude of issues we face as Lebanese and Arabs every day. Whether it’s about a wearing flamboyant feathers while walking down the street, or the larger struggle of oppressed Arab peoples by corrupt, angry and hateful regimes.

Of course, there are plenty of fun stuff too, stuff never before handled by Arabic songs that are usually obnoxiously misogynistic and extremely stupid and naive, with bimbos flailing their artificially inflated boobs with an expressionless, botox-infused reconstructed face and subject matters that make me cringe when I’d catch one by mistake in between news reports on Lebanese radio.

It was nice to hear songs in a Lebanese dialect (versus an Egyptian or Gulf one to sell more records like other Lebanese “artists” do) that one can relate to, instead of ones shaming men for showing emotions and extremely erotic children songs like “boos el wawa” that honestly, are too fucking creepy to discuss. Imagine some Saudi sheikh getting a boner to a Lebanese bimbo singing cringe-inducing sexually explicit lyrics with a bunch of kids around her and trying to pass it off as art.

Writing their own material, performing it in their own dialect about subjects we can actually relate to, is a far cry from the mashups of Arabic pop that you can’t really tell apart (what’s the difference between Nancy and Elissa for example? Could never tell them apart during weddings when I listen to their sad, sad songs).

Mostly Berliners Attended!

I expected the crowd to be mostly Arab expats living in Berlin. But, most of those attending were Berliners and Europeans, who were fans of the band and did their best to sing along with their favorite songs. It made me happy and proud of the boys that so many people that don’t even speak the language are fans of Mashrou’ Leila. It also lifted my spirits knowing that a more liberal and progressive side of Arabs was on display, versus the rising tide of ultra-nationalist right-wingers in Eruope.

Here to Stay

I felt I had to write this post, given Mashrou’ Leila’s victory over the oppression and censorship in Jordan, a ban which they successfully overturned thanks to public outcry that shamed the Jordanian authorities for betraying their supposedly progressive and more tolerant culture. Here’s to many more wins and a much more outspoken Arab, liberal youth in such dark, dark times for the Arab World.

Pictures taken by Karl Noujaim