Imad Zein Chaieb on the History and Future of Zajal in Lebanon

RBMA’s Electro Zajal documentary series explored the marriage of zajal, a traditional form of performance poetry, with contemporary musical styles in Beirut, bringing together a master practictioner of zajal, Imad Zein Chaieb, and six Lebanese electronic producers.

The result of their collaboration, now available to stream below, indicates a surprisingly sturdy connection between the sometimes flamboyant, traditional zajal performance style and a variety of modern electronic sounds, with a seamless interplay between generations and genres. Featuring six Lebanese producers – Rajul Al Hadidi, Jad Taleb, Arabia Fats and Munma, as well as 2016 RBMA Montréal alumni Etyen and 2006 RBMA Melbourne alumni Zeid Hamdan – the Electro Zajal EP highlights the potential in bringing a traditional form such as zajal further into the future.

Zajal remains a vital tradition in modern Lebanon, with the poets, also known as zajalists, attaining high levels of recognition and acclaim. There are multiple forms of zajal, from solo to group performances, but perhaps the most familiar to music fans around the world would be the “battle” style between two or more zajalists, which recalls contemporary freestyle rap battles in energy and structure. In this translated interview, famed zajalist Imad Zein Chaieb discusses his entry point into this tradition and the experience of translating zajal into new formats.

Could you please briefly introduce yourself and give us an overview of zajal? What it stands for, how it evolved historically, how it was used to express emotions and how it is produced?

My name is Imad Zein Chaieb and I am Lebanese zajal poet. My father was Zein Chaieb, a famous poet, and member of Zaghloul El Damour, then the most prominent zajal group in the country.

Zajal is part of the old Lebanese heritage. It is about versifying the spoken dialect. In the old times, this would be the main recreational activity for people in the evening. Before TV and the music and entertainment that came along with it, people would amuse themselves with zajal “dares.” A zajal stanza would be of two lines, with specific metrics. There are various forms, such as “korradeh" and “mouannah,” and each has their metrics. Linguistically, the word “zajal” recalls the cooing of doves. The very first historical origins of this tradition are unknown, but in Egypt, for instance, there is a similar kind of poetry with the same name. In other countries it may have different names, but the concept is always the same: It is poetry in a nation’s spoken language, with metrics and rhymes, as opposed to poetry written in a country’s classic or official language.

When and how did you become a zajal poet, and how do you reconcile poetry and singing as one art, as zajal involves both?

Zajal, as I said, is different than the poetry in classic Arabic that we hear on the news and read in school books. Each has their own metrics. As for me, my first memories go back to the time when my father used to sing. I remember memorizing his songs and trying to interpret them. I would register my voice singing my father’s songs, and play the tambourine the way he used to do. As I grew older, I realized I too had the talent to come up with verses like those of my father, although they would be a bit asymmetrical. My father would therefore draw my attention to asymmetry and metrics. Then, when I started to go with him on his tours, I thought that verses were easily coming to my mind. I had a gift, but I just needed to work on it. I would ask my father to correct my poems, then I would challenge him. When I did so a couple of times, I was able to convince him of my abilities as a poet, and he was the one to recommend me to join the group. That is how it all started.

You asked how we would describe ourselves as poets. As a matter of fact, we say poetry on stage, but our poems are song material. Most songs you hear nowadays [in Lebanon] are actually written by zajal poets. Most of the lyrics sang by Fairuz are zajal-like. Her famous song “Dar El Douri” is in fact a form of zajal called “mouwashah.”

What did you think when you first heard the electronic music written by the producers? What kind of music do you usually enjoy listening to?

It so happened that I am not just a zajal poet, but I am also in love with music of all kinds and genres. To this day, I still listen to the Bee Gees, and I like Elvis Presley and Ziad Rahbani’s jazz music, as well as Yanni and classical music. So I was already a music lover when I met those guys, but I was a bit concerned about the kind of reactions we would get. I think people have responded well to part of what we’ve produced, but part of it still needs to be fine-tuned as we progress and gain more experience. If we are to work on another project, we now have what it takes. But I did like their work. They really are good at what they do.

Before this project, did you know anything about electronic music? What did you think of it?

I did have an idea about electronic music, as I do have acquaintances who work in the music industry. I know that electronic music is not about composing – it is rather about putting music together, and it is more like inventing it. Therefore, what I know is that they invent music rather than writing it.

How did you pick the songs you gave to the producers for them to work on? And how could you know that their work would match your style?

I’ve selected for them what I knew the public would appreciate: quick, rhythmic songs. And I added a pinch of folklore, some “ataba” and bits of lengthier poems. I did not expect such an acclaim for the song “Maw3oud.” It was a sweeping success for a slow-rhythmed song.

Did the music they wrote require you to change any of your poems or metrics? Is zajal itself flexible? Does it allow for modification and improvisation?

Yes indeed, zajal is flexible. Give me any new tune and I can produce zajal for it – zajal can be adapted to music. Moreover, during the Red Bull event I improvised on stage, namely when I was reciting “Maw3oud,” because I thought that the music that was being played required a change in the presentation of the poem. The idea was totally improvised, and I came up with it that very moment. But it was very well-received by the audience.

How did this project influence your musical thinking, skills and methods?

The main thing about this project is that it made me feel that nothing was impossible. I was able to prove that zajal is not just an old-fashioned art. We made a point that zajal can be presented in a beautiful modern framework. Did you see the reaction of the audience? It was unbelievable. Even when we started with zajal alone, without electronic music, young people responded to it beautifully. I couldn’t believe it when it all ended. I am very satisfied and glad we did this.

What new lessons were you able to draw from your collaboration with this team? Did you learn something new about zajal?

Not exactly that, but I did learn that zajal has the capacity to be passed on through new modern vectors. It is possible to modernize the old tradition. I thought this was really beautiful, and my hope is to spread this idea. I wish this kind of music could also be played during our zajal events from now on. I’ll work on it.

What value is generated by this merging of one old and another new genre of music?

The added value is that art can now join old and new music together. The best thing about this project is that it allows the new generation – whose interest in music was believed to be limited to dancing to the beat – to value poetic production. But it turned out that our young are good listeners. The nation may truly be proud of them.

Do you think this Electro Zajal project is sustainable? Would you do it again if you get the opportunity?

I am open to any opportunity, even a more daring project which would require a further development of my art. I love art and innovation. I like to try new things, even with an unpopular genre of music. To keep trying is the key for everything. Whatever your goal, if you keep trying to reach it and to develop your ways, you are successful. Once you stop trying to develop your skills, you’re in reverse-gear. I have asked the team whether it was possible to set up a device which would allow me to press a button and play electronic music for every type of zajal, and they said it was feasible. I intend to introduce this innovation to zajal, and I will.