She is obsessed with a certain golden age whose lights and sparkles she carries within her. The mythical golden age of Beirut, of course, but also, more broadly, that of the 1970s and 1980s, with its rhythms, its freedom, its joy and its budding sensuality, often torrid as can be what has been suppressed for too long. But what Aziza may not know is that she too embodies the new golden age, too stifled by nostalgia to recognize itself as such, and which lasted for the decade preceding the crisis. economy and the double explosion at the port of Beirut.
From those brief years of renaissance experienced by Beirut, Aziza was present on the most informal and convivial stages. We listened to his quirky tarab at the old-fashioned cafe in Gemmayzé, Ahwet el-e’zez, as was done in the early days of Arabic song. They called her Azizat Beirut, the beloved of Beirut. And his difference was already there. Her voice bent to oriental resonances from early childhood, from the time when she accompanied her father and triumphed in school musicals, allows her to introduce surprising accents of pop, jazz and disco into the classical repertoire, underpinned by hot pepper. sound flavors reputed to be syrupy. His debut album Aziza was released in 2014 and offers a mix of sounds inspired by the Levant region, including Chaabi, Egyptian and Lebanese folklore. In 2016, she recorded her first original track: Or’os maaya. In 2018, she collaborated with the Anghami streaming platform on a song for the World Cup, 3alamna wahed. Her career as a singer, composer and performer asserts itself and leads her to several stages around the world, notably in Mexico, Italy, Paris and London as well as many countries in the region.
A new track for “Disco drama”
The double explosion in Beirut leaves her, like all the inhabitants and the artistic scene of the capital, distraught. She gets back on her feet by composing Waynik ya Beirut, a piece that emerged from this trauma. The Parisian fashion brand AZ Factory commissioned a song from him in honor of the designer Alber Elbaz, who was carried away by the Covid the same year. It will be In my own skin. But this foray into English song takes it back to its fundamentals. Committed to the empowerment of Arab women, she offers them Min hadid, an Arabic version of Nancy Sinatra’s Bang-bang, as a celebration of feminine strength, confidence and inclusion. This track will be the first of his new album in preparation, which is scheduled for release in June 2022: Disco drama.
“Your lips, again”
The second song of this long-awaited opus whose title sums up the subject, where the energy of disco comes to ruffle the melody of the tarab, Marra kaman was released on March 18 on all platforms, with a clip published on YouTube. This is a cover of the famous Ancora by the Italian singer Mina, a 1987 hit. are all emotion and sobriety. It’s a song of wounded love. She speaks to the loved one and confides, in essence: “I love you softly, I love you out loud/I love you when you wait for me nights/And when I find you. The chorus, vibrant, screams an erotic nostalgia: “This word, once again / Say it again, once again (…) / Your hands, once again / And your lips, once again / And this look, again once/ Love me again, more again, once again. »
“A contemporary Dalida”
In the clip directed by Eli Salameh reigns an atmosphere that invokes the Opening Night of Cassavetes. A serene Aziza embodies a star in her dressing room, serene, reconciled with the breakup, a little melancholic but determined. Sober, she nevertheless wears a fur coat, an accessory eminently linked to luxury and success in the 70s and 80s of the last century. The shot, distant, shows her sitting on a chair, having her make-up done without ostentation. A clapperboard fixes this scene when, suddenly, she sees something or someone that will shake her. The song, posed in the first seconds, gets carried away. The director works on Aziza’s emotions, sends her back to her own wounds. She’s crying. For real. A fighter in life, Aziza agrees to let her guard down in front of the camera. Almost naked at the start, her eyelids sparkle with rhinestones and the tears mingle with the glitter of her makeup. Behind her a real fire ignites the decor and the hearts over this poignant crescendo. End clap, the emotion is palpable and Internet users are not mistaken in comparing Aziza to a modern Dalida. Didn’t Dalida also combine her cultures to offer her audience a new genre, both tender and joyful, languorous and rhythmic?
Drop the masks
“Behind the makeup and the facade of perfection behind which we hide, we entertainers, we are all human beings after all. We laugh, we love, we cry and we feel pain in all its forms,” comments Aziza. “Marra kaman is an ode to love and desire, but also to truth, even when it does not obey aesthetic criteria and those of a life without a crease like those exposed on the networks. social,” she added. “This song invites somewhere to drop the mask, to show oneself as in oneself, to free oneself from the public image that one gives oneself”, insists Aziza, who underlines: “There is power in vulnerability and I hope this song shows that and helps those who suffer from all kinds of wounds, whether they are from love or life’s difficulties, to let their pain be expressed and thus take the path of The healing. It is said that music heals. If Marra kaman succeeds only that, it would be my greatest reward. »
She is obsessed with a certain golden age whose lights and sparkles she carries within her. The mythical golden age of Beirut, of course, but also, more broadly, that of the 1970s and 1980s, with its rhythms, its freedom, its joy and its budding sensuality, often torrid as can be what has been suppressed for too long. But what Aziza may not know…