It’s Arab Idol!

The “American Idol” brand has spawned countless spin-offs in the USA as well as abroad. The Arab world too has embraced the singing-contest format, both with “Star Academy” (which also exists in France) as well as a full-on copycat of it’s American predecessor, entitled—you guessed it—Arab Idol.

The judges of Arab Idol, from wikeez.com

Arab Idol even visually resembles it’s American counterpart. The contestants sing on a round stage awash in blue lights, with an audience watching them as well as the panel of judges. There are three judges, older singer Ahlam (with the requisite collagen lip implants), a dashing older man (Ragheb Alama, a music producer) with wavy hair and Hassan El Shafei, younger man who appeared to be sporting a bit of a faux-mohawk. Unlike original American Idol Hosts Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul, the judges keep their commentary short and sweet—and sweet, it appears, indeed: they don’t appear to put-down the contestants with callous and crude words, which is a relief. (Note: this writer only ever saw a brief glimpse of American Idol; for some reason, I never got into it, but I know enough about the dramatic antics of the judges to know that they probably only said what they said for shock value).

After every commercial break, the affable host with the light brown hair, definite salon-tan and nice blue eyes reminded viewers to log onto facebook.com/arabidol to either cast their votes or for more information. Along the bottom of the screen was the rolling list of numbers to text for your favorite contestant: Asiacell (for Iraq); Orange (a network also used in France), Zain (popular in Bahrain, I believe), Etisalat (covers Egypt), Oman mobile and many others.

The contestants were varied, but entirely male! The show, which is relatively new, includes male and female competitors; I think they preform on different episodes.  They gave short performances, but to my ear, they sounded no different than the Arabic artists I listen to on my ipod; in other words, these were actual, genuine singers, not like the contestants on American Idol who were most likely selected for their personal lives and shock value than actual talent. (OK, so Carrie Underwood is an admittedly decent singer, and she has had great success; Kelly Clarkson, although I wouldn’t say has the most amazing voice, certainly had more feminist, thought-provoking songs; but don’t get me started on the other winners of the show). The Arab Idol contestants didn’t stand there on stage bawling, or crying because the opportunity “was just so amazing;” they accepted their critique with a smile, graciously, and it was on to the next one.

There was 30’s-age man named Mahmoud who wore an interestingly-patterned turban and robe who sung a traditional song; a young man named Youssef who also sang a very traditional song (although apparently with some background vocals, as when he stopped the song kept going) who was an apparent crowd favorite; a young Saudi or Gulf man (he wore a red-and-white checkered headscarf) who smiled lot but whose performance was a little dull (which the judges did appear to remark on); a cute boy named Hassan who was either from Tunisia or who sung a traditional Tunisian song (the audience was in love with him, and he lapped up the attention, blowing kisses) as well as  several others who attempted to rock the stage.

Arab Idol was interesting primarily because I’d never watched an Idol, but there was something sorely lacking: the drama of elimination! At the end of the show, all the contestants came on stage and their names were read, but I’m not sure if they eliminated anyone! What’s up with that? Do they only eliminate people on certain shows, or did they announce the name but didn’t make a big deal of it, so as to lessen the blow to the loser? Either way, it makes me feel as though us Americans are bloodthirsty for winners and losers!

S-L-M

Arabian Music Through Music Videos, Pt. 1

Forget video killing the radio star: MTV has since killed the video star, what with the fact that it no longer plays anything remotely resembling, well, music! Music videos are still being made—and at high quality, if you take a gander at Lady Gaga’s over-the-top glamorous vids—but where are people watching them? Online? Singers may have gone “underground” with their music videos, but in the Arab world, there are countless channels that play music non-stop. And their music videos are anything but dull or cliché.

            Rotana Cinema is a huge media production company in Egypt, running several channels on TV and producing both films, television programs and music. Recently, I witnessed a “Top 20” countdown of music videos on Rotana, a concept that was born in America with MTV’s Total Request Live (TRL) program. The host was a woman with overlong extensions, a pleasant demeanor and definite collagen lip implants; like many other female personalities on TV, she could certainly use her lips as a life preserver if necessary. Myriam Fares and the never-dying Amr Diab were in the top 10, but the top 2 positions when to (2^nd) a sheikh with a white headscarf and sporting a long robe accompanied by drums and a backup male choir; at number 1, a relatively young man with dark hair singing infront of a full orchestra a sad-sounding ballad.

The Rotana Cinema Logo

            The differences, stylistically, between the artists on this Top Countdown highlights the varied tastes in Arab music. “Popular music” in the United States is solely relegated to any music aimed at teenagers and the younger generations; if you can still find a Top 20 countdown, most of the songs will be rap, r&b, hip-hop, pop, a watered-down version of techno or, more likely, dubstep; a few country songs and an occasional rock song or oddball (see: Adele). There are so many more genres of music in the United States, but this is what one usually hears on the radio and certainly on TV. In the Arab world, however, all musical tastes are admired in popular music.

Amr Diab in his Top-20 video for song "Benadeek", from ahlasoot.com

            Arabic music can first be divided into two main styles: traditional and modern. Traditional has all of the ethnic flavor you might expect to hear on a Putumayo CD; the songs use the same words, lyrical style and instrumental style as ones of the generations before them. I witnessed this type of music in action several times when I went to sit under the big circus-style tent at one of the military clubs here in Egypt; the singer was a older man who stood on stage accompanied by several men playing instruments, and he sung a very traditional-sounding music.

            Modern music can be divided into two groups: that which is more ‘Arabic’ flavored and that which is more Western. The ‘Arabic’ flavored songs are a mixture of old and new, perhaps pairing ballad-style singing with a more pop-ish instrumental or vice versa. The Western-style Arabic music is very poppy, with techno or trance undertones. Indeed, there are many trance/techno DJ’s that are cropping up in the Middle East. Rap and r&b-style music is mostly non-existant, save in countries like Morocco and Tunisia where artists combine Arabic lyrics with French lyrics to form what is dubbed “rai ‘n b” (a style I adore), although there are some underground rap preformers in Egypt. Rock is admittedly harder to come by, although if the Iranian film No one Knows about Persian Cats is any indication, rock music does exist, it is just underground.

            As I do not understand Arabic, I cannot give a critique on the lyrics in Arabic songs, and therefore my critique shall be on the style of Arabic music videos. The music video is an interesting medium of art because it manages to mix music with visuals in a unique interpretation. Music videos in the United States are often extremely fast-paced, exhilarating rides in which we are barraged with a thousand and one mini-clips and still shots, usually of very attractive people. Whereas Michael Jackson, the high auteur of music videos, got purposefully “ugly” in Thriller, the music video of today usually centers on very, very attractive people, usually dancing the night away in a club. The more enterprenuring ones feature some high-stakes car chase a la Hollywood films, or mini-dramas enacted, but one thing is clear: there always has to be plenty of close-ups of young, flawless people, their perfect bodies, bare skin, and sexual tension, if not outright sex.

            There are two main differences between American music videos and Arabic music videos. The first is that the overall editing pace of the videos in Arabic is slower: the storyline is much more important in Arabic music videos, and as a result we don’t have as many mini-clips and shots. The second difference is that there is no kissing or sex in Arabic music videos: whereas American music videos are rife with sex, the most anyone will do in an Arabic music video is give a hug, or touch each other’s face.

            That is not to say that Arabic music videos are devoid of sexual tension or all of the “flawless, pretty” people that fill American music videos. Au contraire, in Arabic music videos it is perhaps even worse. The women—whether they are the artist or simply models in the video—are constantly seen primping, preening, and basically luxuriating in their general loveliness. The amount of loveliness in this videos is almost disgusting to watch; after watching an hour of Arabic music videos, I feel like ugliness would be more than welcome. Everyone is perfect looking, male and female; everything is perfect-looking. Arabic music videos are like fairy tales  in which everything appears to be wonderful, and even if the heroine sheds a tear, the ending is always  happy.

Coming next: Part II: Unrealistic Representation in Arabic Music Videos