with Deena Abdelwahed
Words by Mudar Al-Khufash
“This is not henna, this is voting ink,” laughs Deena, pointing out her index finger, which is partially tinted black, a sign that she voted. The Tunisian election is coming up -it’s September 2019 - and she describes how it looks like a straight fight between the conservative Kaïs Saïed and the “mafia media guy” Nabil Karoui. “The results are tomorrow and it doesn’t look good,” she exhales. “Well, at least I live in Europe now”. Deena sounds somewhat defeated, somewhat sarcastic, but it’s clear she has something to say about Tunisian society.
A jazz and funk singer back in the day, the Qatar born, Tunisian Deena Abdelwahed is a DJ and music producer living between Tunisia and Toulouse, where she is signed with the French record label Infine. Her acclaimed first EP Klabb being released in March 2017, followed by her second, Khonar, in 2018, both of which fit under what CTM festival have called ‘a signature, adventurous blend of bass music, techno, and jazz-tinged vocals.’ Despite currently living in France, she’s still engaged in the issues of her ancestral homeland, something her discography doesn’t shy away from. Landing more on the experimental edge of electronic music, Deena’s sound - which she personally describes as “nervous” - reflects the political and social atmosphere of the Arabic countries. But it’s Tunisia that comes under particular scrutiny.
She then goes back to the start, which lies outside of Tunisia. Deena’s parents, like many Arabs from the region looking for better work opportunities, migrated to oil-rich Qatar in the late 80s. Deena was born in Doha and whilst she attended Tunisian school, she spent most of her childhood in Qatar. “My father got too used to Qatar” she says. ”So we stayed”. It all changed in 2002, when her father decided to move the family back to Tunisia indefinitely - a time of revelations and enlightenment for Deena. “I studied in Tunisian schools back in Qatar but I didn’t know what it means to be in Tunisia,” she explains. “There I was exposed to relationships between men and women in daily life, unlike in Qatar where the two are separated”. She adds, smiling, that she also was introduced to break dance and different types of music she had never heard before. After her family decided to move back to Doha two years later, Deena, still excluded from any family decision-making - she admits she would rather have stayed - decided one thing for herself. She would go back to Tunisia after graduating from high school and start her higher education over there. Lo and behold, at 18, Deena enrolled in the Department of Interior Design at the Institut Supérieur des beaux arts à Tunis.
“Even when I was studying interior design at art school, in my head I was trying to find solutions to help people living in absolute poverty,” she explains. “To find examples of comfortable architecture for them to live in.” New horizons presented themselves as she befriended students from different departments and years. “I was very curious, I wanted to know everything, socially and culturally,” she recalls. “I kept telling people that I was born again.” More than focusing on the topics her studies required, Deena was interested in civil society and focused on the social and cultural issues within it.
“I was deprived of this knowledge whilst living in Doha, as all you would see on TV are these commercial TV channels, like NBC2 and Rotana,” she says. All the while in Tunisia, a revolution had not quite yet sprung, but it was clear something was about to happen. Deena kept her eye on the ground, interested and invigorated by the thought of imminent change.
It all reached a peak with the onset of the Arab Spring in 2011. Angered by the widespread poverty and inequality and in support of the less privileged in Tunisia, Deena went on the streets to demonstrate, calling for radical change and more social inclusion in Tunisian society. “It amuses me how everything from architecture, culture to infrastructure is catered to serve only the 20% of society who can afford to use it,” Deena explains angrily. “It’s exactly the same with the culture and entertainment activities that you could do in your day to day life. You even need to have a car and money to go for a walk along the sea!” But it wasn’t just in Tunisia that she had issues. Confronted with the contrasts between life in Tunisia and the life she had led in Doha, Deena became very critical of the unequal social structures throughout the Arab world and especially in the Gulf region. “Even in Qatar, where there is more money, everything is still very expensive,” she says. “The base standard over there is very, very high - even at the bottom. You have to have a specific watch. An SUV. The latest smartphone. Own gold. Even build a villa,” she bemoans.
Deena’s music is influenced by wider politics. “I have no choice but to be political,” she says assertively. But it’s also a cultural reaction. Recalling the mid-90’s and her teenage years in Qatar, she remembers it was cool to listen to hip hop. American English and all the slang expressions that came with it were also definitely a ‘thing’. Arabic music on the other hand, was frowned upon. Considered unintellectual, it perpetuated the stereotypes of Arab pop culture. Most predominantly, that “men have to be strong with big cars, and the woman should be fragile.” “This cultural and musical poverty is one of the biggest crises in the Arab world,” Deena hypotheses. She mentions the lack of cultural engagement in the region, from galleries to music, something that largely comes down to economics: these activities cost money many do not have, and thus only a few can afford to engage.
Having both her political and cultural experiences as the backdrop, Deena starts with a two-part template when she begins working on a new track. On one side, she collates music coming from Latin America, Eastern Africa, China, and other countries in Western Asia. “These areas interest me very much, they are very far from Western culture, but work with western equipment, and western standards of music, from binary to 4x4,” she says. “I’m so astounded and surprised by how they musically represent their culture in such a sophisticated and modern way”. What about the other side? She includes samples from popular Arab music. Songs that everybody in the Arab world knows. “They are usually really old pop songs,” she explains. “If I mention two words of a song, almost everybody would know which song I’m talking about. Even if you didn’t like the song, you would know it and probably even be able to sing it”. Sometimes, instead of a sample, she even sings the lyrics herself.
She then tirelessly searches the internet for samples, finding not just Arabic music, but also sounds from places including Turkey or Afghanistan. Supported by the likes of musicians like Acid Arab, Morphosis, Bachar Mar-Khalifé, or Debruit, Deena’s music was received with excitement and curiosity around Europe. It won her the Radio Lab 2016 prize organised by Berlin’s CTM festival. Since then she has toured Europe and played in prominent festivals and clubs, from Sonar to Berghain. But what about in her Arabic homeland? Deena explains how her efforts in finding a booking agent in Jordan haven’t succeeded. And even direct communication with other artists from the region, including Moqata’a from Ramallah in Palestine, hasn’t borne fruit. “I asked them to talk about my music, as I would love to play there,” she says. “At the end of the day I play Arabic music, so why not?”. This whole situation is one she blames on promoters, an industry that is mainly managed by men, who she claims are not risk takers. “It would be more work for them to promote me and thus be assured of revenue,” she says.
Male dominance in the music industry is a big topic on her mind. It’s also the topic for her upcoming new EP, with the title ‘Thakar’. Thakar translates to ‘male’ in English. In a French TV interview, Deena was asked what women should do to ensure female artists are more represented in festivals. “My answer to her is that she should direct this question to a man. We already work hard on our music,” she says, firmly. Still, Deena is keen to tackle this topic, of what masculinity means to her, both how she perceives it, and how it affects her. This is something she does in a subtle and indirect manner, and she’s rather humorous about it to boot. “When I sing, I sing in a pitched down voice, so you will hear a male voice,'' she explains while laughing. “All voices are male, in fact everything is male in the EP!”
We discuss her music more. Deena tells me that the sonic discomfort of the track ‘Ena Essbab’ mirrors the real-life discomfort experienced by its subject: Tunisia's LGBTQ community. Deena has an easygoing manner, but a note of unmistakably serious resolve enters her voice as she describes the situation for queer people in her native country. "Society in Tunisia believes that if more people come out, God will punish them,” she says. “If something miserable happened to a family, they would blame the gay member." The track, whose title translates to ‘Because of Me’, is a subtle, but defiant clap back at a society that views self-expression as not something to behold, but a deadly threat.
It’s clear Deena is focused on much more than just the sonic experience. Perhaps it is her musical duty to assert her voice on all different levels - whether it’s culturally, politically or musically. She concludes with the hope that she can open the door, if only just a bit, for future Arabic generations.
with Deena Abdelwahed
Words by Mudar Al-Khufash
“This is not henna, this is voting ink,” laughs Deena, pointing out her index finger, which is partially tinted black, a sign that she voted. The Tunisian election is coming up -it’s September 2019 - and she describes how it looks like a straight fight between the conservative Kaïs Saïed and the “mafia media guy” Nabil Karoui. “The results are tomorrow and it doesn’t look good,” she exhales. “Well, at least I live in Europe now”. Deena sounds somewhat defeated, somewhat sarcastic, but it’s clear she has something to say about Tunisian society.
A jazz and funk singer back in the day, the Qatar born, Tunisian Deena Abdelwahed is a DJ and music producer living between Tunisia and Toulouse, where she is signed with the French record label Infine. Her acclaimed first EP Klabb being released in March 2017, followed by her second, Khonar, in 2018, both of which fit under what CTM festival have called ‘a signature, adventurous blend of bass music, techno, and jazz-tinged vocals.’ Despite currently living in France, she’s still engaged in the issues of her ancestral homeland, something her discography doesn’t shy away from. Landing more on the experimental edge of electronic music, Deena’s sound - which she personally describes as “nervous” - reflects the political and social atmosphere of the Arabic countries. But it’s Tunisia that comes under particular scrutiny.
She then goes back to the start, which lies outside of Tunisia. Deena’s parents, like many Arabs from the region looking for better work opportunities, migrated to oil-rich Qatar in the late 80s. Deena was born in Doha and whilst she attended Tunisian school, she spent most of her childhood in Qatar. “My father got too used to Qatar” she says. ”So we stayed”. It all changed in 2002, when her father decided to move the family back to Tunisia indefinitely - a time of revelations and enlightenment for Deena. “I studied in Tunisian schools back in Qatar but I didn’t know what it means to be in Tunisia,” she explains. “There I was exposed to relationships between men and women in daily life, unlike in Qatar where the two are separated”. She adds, smiling, that she also was introduced to break dance and different types of music she had never heard before. After her family decided to move back to Doha two years later, Deena, still excluded from any family decision-making - she admits she would rather have stayed - decided one thing for herself. She would go back to Tunisia after graduating from high school and start her higher education over there. Lo and behold, at 18, Deena enrolled in the Department of Interior Design at the Institut Supérieur des beaux arts à Tunis.
“Even when I was studying interior design at art school, in my head I was trying to find solutions to help people living in absolute poverty,” she explains. “To find examples of comfortable architecture for them to live in.” New horizons presented themselves as she befriended students from different departments and years. “I was very curious, I wanted to know everything, socially and culturally,” she recalls. “I kept telling people that I was born again.” More than focusing on the topics her studies required, Deena was interested in civil society and focused on the social and cultural issues within it.
“I was deprived of this knowledge whilst living in Doha, as all you would see on TV are these commercial TV channels, like NBC2 and Rotana,” she says. All the while in Tunisia, a revolution had not quite yet sprung, but it was clear something was about to happen. Deena kept her eye on the ground, interested and invigorated by the thought of imminent change.
It all reached a peak with the onset of the Arab Spring in 2011. Angered by the widespread poverty and inequality and in support of the less privileged in Tunisia, Deena went on the streets to demonstrate, calling for radical change and more social inclusion in Tunisian society. “It amuses me how everything from architecture, culture to infrastructure is catered to serve only the 20% of society who can afford to use it,” Deena explains angrily. “It’s exactly the same with the culture and entertainment activities that you could do in your day to day life. You even need to have a car and money to go for a walk along the sea!” But it wasn’t just in Tunisia that she had issues. Confronted with the contrasts between life in Tunisia and the life she had led in Doha, Deena became very critical of the unequal social structures throughout the Arab world and especially in the Gulf region. “Even in Qatar, where there is more money, everything is still very expensive,” she says. “The base standard over there is very, very high - even at the bottom. You have to have a specific watch. An SUV. The latest smartphone. Own gold. Even build a villa,” she bemoans.
Deena’s music is influenced by wider politics. “I have no choice but to be political,” she says assertively. But it’s also a cultural reaction. Recalling the mid-90’s and her teenage years in Qatar, she remembers it was cool to listen to hip hop. American English and all the slang expressions that came with it were also definitely a ‘thing’. Arabic music on the other hand, was frowned upon. Considered unintellectual, it perpetuated the stereotypes of Arab pop culture. Most predominantly, that “men have to be strong with big cars, and the woman should be fragile.” “This cultural and musical poverty is one of the biggest crises in the Arab world,” Deena hypotheses. She mentions the lack of cultural engagement in the region, from galleries to music, something that largely comes down to economics: these activities cost money many do not have, and thus only a few can afford to engage.
Having both her political and cultural experiences as the backdrop, Deena starts with a two-part template when she begins working on a new track. On one side, she collates music coming from Latin America, Eastern Africa, China, and other countries in Western Asia. “These areas interest me very much, they are very far from Western culture, but work with western equipment, and western standards of music, from binary to 4x4,” she says. “I’m so astounded and surprised by how they musically represent their culture in such a sophisticated and modern way”. What about the other side? She includes samples from popular Arab music. Songs that everybody in the Arab world knows. “They are usually really old pop songs,” she explains. “If I mention two words of a song, almost everybody would know which song I’m talking about. Even if you didn’t like the song, you would know it and probably even be able to sing it”. Sometimes, instead of a sample, she even sings the lyrics herself.
She then tirelessly searches the internet for samples, finding not just Arabic music, but also sounds from places including Turkey or Afghanistan. Supported by the likes of musicians like Acid Arab, Morphosis, Bachar Mar-Khalifé, or Debruit, Deena’s music was received with excitement and curiosity around Europe. It won her the Radio Lab 2016 prize organised by Berlin’s CTM festival. Since then she has toured Europe and played in prominent festivals and clubs, from Sonar to Berghain. But what about in her Arabic homeland? Deena explains how her efforts in finding a booking agent in Jordan haven’t succeeded. And even direct communication with other artists from the region, including Moqata’a from Ramallah in Palestine, hasn’t borne fruit. “I asked them to talk about my music, as I would love to play there,” she says. “At the end of the day I play Arabic music, so why not?”. This whole situation is one she blames on promoters, an industry that is mainly managed by men, who she claims are not risk takers. “It would be more work for them to promote me and thus be assured of revenue,” she says.
Male dominance in the music industry is a big topic on her mind. It’s also the topic for her upcoming new EP, with the title ‘Thakar’. Thakar translates to ‘male’ in English. In a French TV interview, Deena was asked what women should do to ensure female artists are more represented in festivals. “My answer to her is that she should direct this question to a man. We already work hard on our music,” she says, firmly. Still, Deena is keen to tackle this topic, of what masculinity means to her, both how she perceives it, and how it affects her. This is something she does in a subtle and indirect manner, and she’s rather humorous about it to boot. “When I sing, I sing in a pitched down voice, so you will hear a male voice,'' she explains while laughing. “All voices are male, in fact everything is male in the EP!”
We discuss her music more. Deena tells me that the sonic discomfort of the track ‘Ena Essbab’ mirrors the real-life discomfort experienced by its subject: Tunisia's LGBTQ community. Deena has an easygoing manner, but a note of unmistakably serious resolve enters her voice as she describes the situation for queer people in her native country. "Society in Tunisia believes that if more people come out, God will punish them,” she says. “If something miserable happened to a family, they would blame the gay member." The track, whose title translates to ‘Because of Me’, is a subtle, but defiant clap back at a society that views self-expression as not something to behold, but a deadly threat.
It’s clear Deena is focused on much more than just the sonic experience. Perhaps it is her musical duty to assert her voice on all different levels - whether it’s culturally, politically or musically. She concludes with the hope that she can open the door, if only just a bit, for future Arabic generations.