Approaching the lineation of a large stage in one of Cairo’s major music venues last month bestows an unusual intrigue. Emerging from the distant sounds of “de na na (this no no), ho, ho, ho” are baggy jeans and oversized basketball shirts bouncing to a central beat like a tennis ball on a leather cushion. Advancing through the smoke, the violet and indigo lights reveal two central players, flanked by a guitarist, bassist and drummer, rapping in tandem, giving shout-outs to the crowd and slinging a waving arm high into the air whilst another clutches a microphone. The semblance of Snoop-Dog beards and hats worn backwards provide what would appear to be a very un-Arab scene. I even see the face of Tupac Shakur printed onto a jean leg.
However, drawing nearer to the stage you realise that these rappers are Arab, actually Egyptian, and they are stepping over a cultural dyke. They are rapping in Arabic. In fact it’s the decided ethos of Monadel Ander and Nadoo Gad, the genesis and nucleus of the band, to be distinctly Arabic, if not distinctly Egyptian. After all, they are the Arab Rap Family.
“People always ask us, ‘why don’t you rap in English?’”, says Monadel, who characteristically of his professional dancing roots refuses to give his age. “It could be but, I need to give my own people the message first.
“One of our beliefs is to be Egyptian rap firstly and after that to be Egyptian rap accepted by English. Do our thing here and then let other things happen.”
Nadoo, 29, who grew up in Egypt, Saudi Arabia and for the majority of his formative years in the States before moving back to Egypt, continues: “I did English before and there’s a lot of offers that come in to do English here, people will sponsor me: clubs, record companies. But I’m not really trying to do that, because everybody should stick to their own. It’s not my goal [to do English rap]. That was my goal when I was younger but now I look back on things I want to do things that are kinda hard.”
Monadel adds, “When I and my friends started making rap the African roots of the rap made it feel like a part of us because we are African. It’s part of us. Because we belong to Africa, with Algeria, Tunisia, more than we do the Gulf. I listen to Algerian rap too and I asked why don’t we have a rap in our language?”
This despite their own exposure to Western culture. Monadel trained as a dancer in London and still works professionally alongside rapping which he has created for the past seven years. Nadoo was previously a music producer of rap groups in Seattle. Having written English poetry since childhood he started writing rap and in the last couple of years has amassed nine singles to his name. Yet this English collective is now being put to one side for pursuit of the Arabic domain.
“There will always be similarities because of the roots of rap, “ he cautions about the two forms. “But it’s good to be different in the melody and the way we think and write the lyrics.”
However, their mixture of, as they describe it, mellow rap funk doesn’t come without its difficulties. “It’s not easy to rap in Arabic, because Arabic is so hard to write, especially the language of the street,” says Monadel.
The buoyant pair believe that their phonetic selection will have greater resonance with audiences than English and common Arab pop fair. “Our lyrics are just like we are talking to somebody because we use the language that people know, that‘s used everyday on the streets,” says Nadoo.
“We are trying to make the language that the people use heard,” continues Monadel. “Also we want to use words that all people will listen to. Because I don’t just want young people listening to me, I want people of all ages.”
The Arab Rap Family’s material also veers from mainstream romance-infused tracks. “My rapping is advice or stories from what’s happened to me and what’s wrong about it. I have had bad relationship experiences so I talk about that. If I know something I try to get that advice out,” says Nadoo. One song, “Ganoud wara mike” (“Soldier Behind the Microphone”) particularly stands out, but they have little hope for it commercially. Nadoo explains: “It basically talks about what’s going on around us. Everything that’s wrong in Egypt politically, the war in Iraq, the war on oil. This is one of the best songs we have, it’s straight from the heart. But I don’t think it will ever be played on the radio or anything, because of the lyrics.”
This is evocative of rap’s beginnings as a voice for the repressed in the United States and Africa. In Western and Sub-Saharan Africa it has been a great source of entertainment and social commentary, but rap has now spread to the Arab world with performers from Algeria (Intik, Double Kanon), Morocco (Salah Edin), Tunisia (T.A.C – The Arabic Chamber) and Palestine (DAM) gaining greater recognition. In many cases groups originate due to transatlantic links, with American-Arab immigrants returning to their homelands to talk about issues of identity and struggle, but continuing to rap in English. Yet, outfits such as Salah Edin and DAM are more organic. Edin has gained great success internationally rapping in his native Darija Arabic, working with the likes of the Wu-Tang Clan and France’s IAM. His 2006 debut album ‘Horr’ covers a range of issues faced in the Arab world, from street poverty, to theatrical love stories, politics and religion. The Arab trio DAM, from the village Lod in Israel, are the most prominent group giving a voice to the suffering of Palestinians in Arabic. Alongside talking about repression, their lyrics address topics of crime, drugs and women’s rights, issues faced usually as direct or indirect offshoots of their occupation. This is indicative of the numerous rap groups emerging from the West Bank and Gaza who use Arabic rap to deal with their situation and express their rights.
The Arab Rap Family sees openings for change in Egypt. “Now we have some layers of democracy, whereas we didn’t before,” says Monadel. “It’s not that good but we can go forward. It’s the same in the USA too, where you have to be loyal to you’re country. It’s the system stopping you in some way. Here, I cannot say something about the government directly.”
However, I venture that gaining appreciation may prove difficult regardless in Egypt, where the music industry and culture have not yet succumbed to rap. However, Monadel and Nadoo disagree. “The way I see it there’s no limits on the scale,” says Nadoo. “It’s not just for people wearing baggies. There’s gona be older people, some girls wearing hijab, and guys. Sincerely there’s no limits. I think music has now changed in the past few years. You don’t listen to one thing in music anymore, it’s more open.”
“Ever since I came back to Egypt [in 2002] the audience has opened up more. I think people are looking for something new and different. They want new music because they see that everybody has rap, and I think that we are becoming more open because we have satellite TV, the internet, they see more of what’s going on in the other world, that we don’t have here. So people are becoming more open minded,” he continues.
And there is evidence to support their claims. Although they may not have reached the level of Amr Diab yet, performers such as Wust il Balad, Rached Taha are gaining ever greater followings that convey audience tastes away from pop. Then there’s successes such as shabbi and Shaaban Abdel Rahim, whose words of the working-class are similar to those of the Arab Rap Family’s.
But they do admit that there are initial hurdles to deal with: “Rap music is more complicated and people are not used to listening to it,” says Monadel. “So when you’re singing they miss some words. So we are working to get people to love it through our live shows.”
Seeing the Arab Rap Family live does live up to their own billing. With the both battle and synchronized rap comes jokes, break-dancing and audience members [dancing] on stage. Interaction with the crowd is key and hugely effective in engineering a relaxed, humorous and highly visual show. And they do attract a varied demographic, the dad and children, middle aged and youthful guy and girl – with and without hijab – are dancing or clapping in response to the group’s protestations for audience activity.
“We’re trying to have a good show and to jam,” says Nadoo. “We have good musicians and we can just flow on them.”
In this style they have been influenced by their American counterparts, but only to a certain extent. “How they do the whole thing in rhyme, that’s what I take from American rap,” says Nadoo. “It is the art of the poem and how you can deliver it that makes people feel it.
“But American rap – Tupac, N.W.A. – is mostly violent and negative. We’re not trying to have any negative rap or anything like that, we’re just trying to keep it positive. We’re trying to talk people’s language and have fun.”
Such positivity has taken them this far and sees them billed at Sakia in the coming months, on the play list at Egypt’s Nagoom FM and being invited to the International Pop Music Festival in Rome in September. Here the distinctiveness of their sound will be just as evident as in Egypt, and it is what they will remain proud of, no matter who is listening.
