In my circle of friends back in Beirut, I am known for my incredible resistance to pay attention to all the developments in the Arab musical world. On the other hand, ask me about anything in English, and I could probably give you a Wikipedia article on that.
In fact, my reaction of “meen?” (who) to the name of any new and popular artist everyone seems to be listening to has become too familiar, so I’m assuming they’ve all just given up on me.
That, however, does not mean that deep down, I have a soft spot for songs produced in my native language. Yet, just like I tend to listen to stuff in English made way before I was born, the same goes for my Arabic preferences.
Like I alluded to in my previous post, I’ve been starting almost all my mornings, especially those on which I have classes, with a healthy dose of Fairouz music. And for good reasons.
Fairouz reminds me of the beautiful things back home, of pure unaltered talent, of the coming together of music, lyrics, and vocals, of going to school every morning while her songs played on the radio, of several years of being in the school choir.
One of the songs I remember listening to growing up and remains my favorite till this day is Nassam Aalyna El Hawa (The Wind Breezed Upon Us).
A song about nostalgia, longing for home, and the fear of growing abroad without ever truly knowing the place of your origin, it just completely resonates with anyone who is homesick.
And I might be slightly that at the moment.
Beyond Beirut 
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