Hamed Sinno (Mashrou' Leila)

It’s hard to talk about sex in Arabic. The taboo on the subject—both formal and informal—restricts everything from music and movies to the education system, with many Arab countries such as Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and Egypt banning the topic of “reproduction” in school. The subject is avoided even in adult conversation and Pop culture reflects that.

It’s even harder to sing about sex in Arabic. And not just any sex. Gay sex. What little mention of sex that exists in public discourse has played it safe, even in the more progressive Arab nations, limiting the topic in a way that only reinforces the state-approved morality. The media continues to adhere to this standard, creating some of the most self-censored music around. Record companies in the Arab world never had an interest in male musicians singing about marrying other dudes. But Mashrou’ Leila sang about it anyway.

Hamed Sinno

مشروع ليلى (Mashrou’ Leila) was formed in February 2008 at the American University of Beirut, Lebanon, when violinist Haig Papazian, guitarist Andre Chedid, and pianist Omaya Malaeb posted an open invitation to musicians looking to jam to vent the stress caused by college and the unstable political situation. Out of the dozen of people who answered the call, seven would remain to form Mashrou' Leila.

Among them, the most prominent was lead vocalist and frontman of the band, حامد سنّو (Hamed Sinno). Hamed was born on 25 April 1988 in Beirut, an out and proud gay Arab American from a Muslim family. Another band member is also gay, making Mashrou’ Leila — and their lyrics, which speak openly about sexuality, artistic freedom, gender identity, politics and more — the target of hate speech, death threats and, in the case of the country of Jordan, an outright performance ban, which prevented them from playing a show in the Jordanian capital of Amman in April.

After they formed the group, the guys put on a show as the opening act for a concert on the AUB campus. During the event, Mashrou' Leila proved to be the only band that composed and performed their original compositions. The band continued to play small venues and gain ground on the underground music circuit until they emerged onto the Indie music scene during the Lebanese 2008 "Fête de la Musique" event (the yearly Music festival held by the Beirut municipality) sparking controversy for their unabashed and critical lyrics on Lebanese society, failed love, sexuality and politics.

Mashrou' Leila's members enjoy the wordplay and ambiguity surrounding their band's name. In English, the name can be interpreted as either “One Night Project” or “Leila’s Project”; Leila being a very common given name in Lebanon. When asked during an early interview about the origin of the name Mashrou' Leila, band members teasingly retorted that the band is a project started to collect money for a girl they knew called Leila. According to the band’s official Facebook page, Mashrou’ Leila means “An Overnight Project”, named for the nocturnal nature of the project characterized by all-night jam sessions.

In 2009, Mashrou’ Leila participated at Radio Liban's 'Modern Music Contest' held at the Basement Club, winning both the jury and popular awards in part due to their breakthrough single Raksit Leila (Leila's Dance). The first prize was a record deal. Mashrou' Leila’s self-titled debut album was released in December 2009 at a steel factory in Bourj Hammoud (a suburb of Beirut) where an unprecedented number of attendees crowded the factory yard. The gig turned out to be Beirut's biggest non-mainstream event in recent years.

The opening track of the album, Fasateen (Dresses), was as impressive a start as any:

Raksit Leila (Leila's Dance) was a big hit. It managed to be both a very attractive Pop hit, as well as a credible Indie song.

Shim el Yasmine (Smell The Jasmine) is a beautiful gay-themed song. Here are the lyrics:

Smell the jasmine

Taste the molasses

And remember to remember me

Brother don't forget me

My love, my prize

I would have liked to keep you near me

Introduce you to my parents, have you crown my heart

Cook your food, sweep your home

Spoil your kids, be your housewife

But you're in your house, and I'm in another house

God, I wish I had never let you go

Smell the jasmine

And remember to forget me

Here's the song:

In 2011, Mashrou' Leila released the El Hal Romancy (The Solution is Romantic) EP, a recording the band describes as "tackling lyrically more intimate, personal, and theatrical subject matter that is less about the city and its politics proper, and more about the social residue of the city'. This is a collection of songs that happen in a weathered bedroom with ruffled bed sheets, stained carpeting, and a book shelf of references, while a string section plays on a rusty vinyl player to a couple of young lovers trying to survive the city".

El Moukadima (Introduction) sets the mood:

Imm El Jacket (Oh Mother, The Jacket) perfectly showcases Papazian's violin playing:

Wajih (Facet) is an upbeat number that pays tribute to the Talking Heads' Psycho Killer:

The title track was very popular and right so. It playfully merges romance with social politics. The lyrics go:

I don't know whether you are a man or an ATM

But the rent is super expensive brother

Marry me and read Engels in my bed

Slaughter the sheep, cut it and distribute it to the neighbors

The solution is romantic, but not wrong

Your love broke the private sector, but it's not wrong

Mashrou' Leila's anticipated third release, Rassuk (Your Head), was recorded in Montreal, Canada. Described as an arresting, heady mixture of retro-Beirut music – the signature sound being Haig Papazian's razor-sharp violin. The album was released in August 2013.

The video of the single Lil Watan (For The Motherland) was awarded the gold prize at the Dubai Lynx 2015 festival.

Ala Babu (Not the Door) has a haunting quality to it:

Taxi delivers a pessimistic message:

Get in son, and I will take you where you want to go.

The journey is long and often difficult; it tests your strength of soul.

As my body grew bigger, my heart grew smaller if only to endure

The acrid taste of vinegar, in place of the honey I meant to procure.

Should you concede, or should you not, the vehicle will proceed

Your journey will be as utterly frivolous as everything else indeed

You may choose to drive, or choose to be driven;

It's ultimately your own decision

But your ride will end, and you will be forgotten,

This is the sole provision:

You will die

Despite yourself you'll die.

Their latest album, Ibn El Leil (Son Of The Night), came out in 2015. It was recorded in France. The band has said that this album is their most 'Pop' album to date, and deals with topics that range from the euphoric to the destructive and depressive, all taking place in the politically, socially, and sexually charged spaces of Beirut's night.

3 Minutes expands on the lyric "the difference between freedom and submission is agency".

Maghawir (Commandos) narrates a possible version of a club shooting in Beirut, drawing on references to real Lebanese case histories from two different shootings that took place within the same week, both of which resulted in the deaths of extremely young victims, each of whom was out celebrating their birthday."

Tayf (Ghost) starts with a haunting violin riff backed by a single plucked bass line. A soft drum beat comes in and Sinno’s deep voice begins to sing of the night in 2013 that a popular gay-friendly bar near Beirut was unexpectedly raided and shut down by local law enforcement, its patrons arrested and humiliated at the police station. The lyrics go like this:

Showered with this city’s bullets, I chorused with ghosts

Bathed by traffic lights, I danced our dabkeh

Till I was high on the the marrow of the electric pole,

And I poured tears - neon - on swollen pupils.

Till the fezzes came to take us, to prisons, to castrate us, to make medallions.

But we sewed flags from funeral shrouds (from friends on death row).

My life spent; with rights mortgaged off to your sentiments

My history erased from our books like they were yours to claim

Our hips translated Sappho and Abu Nuwas in the tongue of oohs and aahs

On bed sheets embroidered with the same oohs and aahs we chanted at the picket line.

The mushrooms have started to grow

Tomorrow we inherit the earth

The mushrooms have started to grow

Tomorrow we inherit the earth

For now we still have songs;

Sing with your highest heels on.

Kalam (S/He) is about navigating in a gay world where almost everybody is closeted:

If you touch the way you dance, come dance a little closer.

A hell burns beneath my skin, and your hands feel cold.

The ignorant weave fig leaves into their beards,

With eyes shut though open, and eyebrows raised.

I taste mistakes and whiskey on your lips

And yet the language of words persists

Its letters cloak us as i whisper all my secrets into our mouth

Then you return to your idols, and i return to the void.

They wrote the country’s borders (upon my body ; upon your body)

In flesh-ligatured- words

My word upon your word (as my body upon your body)

Flesh-conjugated-words.

You feel me feeling what you feel

So why all the shame? just feel what you feel.

Your body conjugates

Your language separates

Your body separates

Your language conjugates

In Asnam (Idols) they speak as a Pop star's fans would and it's quite revealing:

All we saw were shadows, when he’d mount the stage to play

We shone a light too bright, and blurred his face away

And he’d play dubious tunes, telling lies from film.

But we believed every word to justify the idols we built for him.

They distorted him, to echo him.

They sanctified him, to chant him.

Guitar-driven studio albums like 2013’s Raasük and 2015’s potent Ibn El Leil have earned the band musical comparisons to Arctic Monkeys, The Strokes and, at their more electronic, Radiohead. And while it’s true that, if not for their Arabic lyrics, Mashrou’ Leila could just as easily have been created in a garage in Silver Lake or a warehouse in Brooklyn, really, the band is the sound of young people negotiating their place in today’s global village, where the personal is political is personal again.