Lebanon Proves To Be Rocky Ground For Rock'n'Roll

Beirut's performing artists talk about working in the Paris of the Middle East and the lure of the region's Vegas

By Bojan Preradovic
Special to The Daily Star
Friday, August 24, 2007

BEIRUT: Lebanon's social and political fabric were not the only victims of last summer's 34-day Israeli onslaught. Seemingly irreparable damage was done to the country's fledgling rock music and performance scene as well. There's some irony in this. Lebanese artists may have an ambiguous relationship to the country's perennial volatility, but it has been the bread and butter of local rock musicians. Their lamentations are imbued with such themes as lost faith, resentment, and disenchantment with the social milieu.

Before the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri in 2005, Beirut nurtured a respectable roster of longstanding rock groups - with Blend, Negative, Soul Active, Scrambled Eggs, Soap Kills, and April Ash, to name a few.

Now many of those artists have permanently disbanded. Others, like Blend (one of the city's only homegrown acts that have been able to secure a record deal with a major label), still manage, albeit infrequently, to pack a local club.

Any chance that Beirut rockers might have that was not obliterated by last summer's war, is imperiled by the widespread unrest, bombings and political assassinations in the past year.

This precarious environment has also been the main factor exacerbating what Dimitri Saba, Blend's lead singer, calls "the dwindling number of bands and rock musicians in Lebanon."

Lebanon's rock artists don't ask for much. Most own their own instruments and equipment - amplifiers, effects pedals, cables, microphones, and stands. They usually travel significant distances across Beirut and its suburbs, sometimes by bus or taxi, to get to their rehearsal space or performance venue. Even so, average earnings for a two-hour performance can be as low as $40 per band member.

Bars and pubs are often averse to bearing the costs associated with hosting shows, while "their managers and owners generally treat small-time performers not as partners, but as workforce to deprecate, exploit, and view with suspicion," says Riad Mouawad, lead guitarist for Negative, the now-defunct local rock and nu-metal outfit.

Blend's experience, however, suggests that major-label signings enjoy a somewhat different treatment with regard to venues. "The ones we have come in contact with have tried their best to provide the band with every single requirement," says Saba. "There are still limitations, but their help is significant all the same."

Mouawad is the sole member of Negative who still lives and works in Lebanon. His three partners have all emigrated to Dubai, in search of professional and lucrative employment opportunities.

Having finally recorded and released a single - after a decade of club dates and increasing prominence on the scene - Negative met a fate common to many of Beirut's rock bands in the past two years. They were effectively forced into exile by eruptions of violence in the country.

"I hated spending three hours before and after performing to assemble and dissemble the equipment," says Mouawad, expressing his frustration with the limited local venues and how they hinder to the performance experience. "I wanted to just get up there and play, because those were moments of ecstasy for me."

Likewise, Saba is reminiscent of the time before the current turmoil when there "were a lot more bands, which meant there were many more venues to play ... at the moment," he adds, "there are less than a handful of venues where bands can feature regularly."

"In the past," he continues, "you could play almost anywhere you could fit three head bangers and a drummer."

Currently working on the follow-up to their 'Act One' (2003) studio album, Blend have been the embodiment of the Beirut rock scene's potential for commercial success. "When Blend was picked up by EMI Arabia," says Saba, "the market was so saturated that it was inevitable for one or two to make it through.

"When you look at the ages of the bands who are currently signed," he opines, "Blend, Scrambled Eggs, Kimaera, and so on - you can see that they were 'in their prime,' say in 2000 or 2001, the peak years of that specific era in Lebanese rock."

Over in Dubai, where most of Mouawad's band mates have moved, musicians say live music and performing arts in general are significantly more appreciated.

"It's really quite exciting when you put it into perspective," says Natalie Abulhosn, a Lebanese Indie rock singer/songwriter and performer who was compelled to leave Lebanon for Dubai during last year's war. "The audience [in Dubai] is always surprised and welcoming when they attend a live performance."

Having been extensively exposed to both the glitter of the "rose-colored" megalopolis that is Dubai, as well as the gloom and climate of unpredictability that plagues Beirut, Abulhosn believes that a resident in the Gulf city-state is far better equipped to be productive and creative.

"Dubai has the resources, money and boredom, all of which fuel every scene [the music industry] invests time and energy in."

She emphasizes that "Lebanon has a scarcity problem. You feel that in the music."

Saba, for his part, passionately opposes moving his band to Dubai and has a bone to pick with the transient experience that the city personifies. "If Blend is to relocate to a more stable environment to nurture its musical career, it would be to Europe, as essentially that is where the market and money are, which can enable the band to stand on its own feet."

In reference to those Lebanese rock and indie musicians who have been displaced by the ongoing situation at home, Abulhosn adds, "all of us are grasping aimlessly at some form of security as we are completely uprooted - psychologically and nationally."

She is, ironically perhaps, both concerned and thankful for the state of her native land.

"Lebanon, unfortunately, has far too much development ahead to reach the level of superficiality Dubai offers, and I hope it stays that way ... Lebanon is the chaotic break people need from Dubai, to remind themselves that they exist, and that Dubai is a fleeting dream to be used until further notice."

On this point, Saba concurs. "Beirut is and always will be the hotbed of talent," he says, "especially when it comes to art forms where east meets west ... but I fear that ultimately it may drive a talented artist away in his pursuit of success, rather than compel him to stay."