Words matter. These are the best Yasmine Hamdan Quotes, and they’re great for sharing with your friends.
Every time I go to Beirut, I see people and the quality of life going slowly from bad to worse, and from worse to even worse.
I had the urge to face my own limitation, and I needed to be bigger. I needed to be more professional and be in a more competitive environment because I wanted to grow as an artist. That’s why I went to Europe.
For me, a taxi is like a public space because so many people get in that space.
All of the Arabic women I grew up listening to or watching had a very strong character.
If you have a drummer who alternates between fast and slow drumming, it can negatively affect the music.
When it comes to the lyrics, I write about my own perception of things and use characters for that.
Imagine a singer with the virtuosity of Joan Sutherland or Ella Fitzgerald, the public persona of Eleanor Roosevelt, and the audience of Elvis, and you have Umm Kulthum.
We all have femininity in us.
My father is an engineer, and my mother raised the three children.
Change means resistance, and resistance means transformation and igniting energies.
I think our societies – to certain extent, of course, and to different degrees, but almost with no exception – have always been struggling to come to terms with archaic traditions.
There are many positive values that come with a Muslim upbringing. But when religion becomes about rules and hierarchies, when it starts to feel like a prison, I’m not interested.
I’m bored, normally, when I travel.
I follow my desires, and I’m prepared to take the consequences.
I don’t believe that there is a separation between art and political consciousness.
I am interested in exploring encounters where worlds meet and not where they separate.
I set the bar very high. I’m very tough on myself.
My family played a part in bringing communism to Lebanon.
I don’t think there is only one Arab culture or a pure Arabness. We are very multiple, especially our generation, which is very multilayered.
‘Al Jamilat’ is not just feminist. It’s an album with songs that feature women: women who are in love, rebellious women, political activists, women who are more submissive, women who are in charge.
Singing is a very sensual activity! You engage in it with all your senses and your heart.
I had an Arabic background. but I lived a very scattered childhood. I didn’t belong to any one culture, which meant I didn’t have musical geographies in my head.
I don’t relate to what is seen as ‘Arab culture.’ I relate to what I explore myself, what is around me.
Women are a minority the same way gay people are.
The Arabic music I listen to is extremely edgy. Ironic, sarcastic, sensual, erotic.
Back in Kuwait, I had started listening to a lot of English language music: western music, I would say – Kate Bush and Radiohead – and I loved Chet Baker, Etna James, a lot of singers and a lot of bands.
I sing ‘Beirut’ for what the city is for me, but I am also singing as an exile.
I sing in Arabic as a statement. It’s art, and it’s a challenge.
When I started, I didn’t know how to sing in Arabic – it’s a very complex and sophisticated music full of codes and modes and quarter-tones.
The Arab world is mediatised in a way that gives too much space to these people – puritans, extremists, whatever you want to call them. There are a lot more people like me in the Middle East than you might think.
When I started doing music, it was out of despair and boredom. I got passionate about it, and I felt that it allowed me to become somebody: an artist who explores her different identities.
There is something spiritual about art that connects us with ourselves and with others; it’s really about coming together and creating bridges.
I went from the most underground band in the world to signing with Madonna’s producer and a record label that is extremely mainstream – it was interesting.
I was raised by strong women, and the role models I had in music and cinema were strong, too – liberated and provocative.
Because of the Lebanese civil war, I had a scattered childhood. I had to build my own connections to each country we moved to.
I have a sense of mission in a way. I’ve always worked on being free, as a woman and as an artist.
When I read the Koran or hear it read, the images and the poetry, the sound of the language is very inspiring.
There should be no borders, race, colours, or ethnical considerations when it comes to music and creativity.
I was born in the middle of Lebanon’s civil war.
It’s normal; Arab women have always been very active at the forefront of culture – as film producers since the 1920s; as singers, dancers, choreographers, writers for much longer than that.
My dad was a brilliant civil engineer. My parents later divorced, but we lived in Abu Dhabi, Greece, Kuwait.
It’s interesting to be at once an insider and outsider. It’s a way of learning how to find your way freely without the need of conforming or belonging.
Without freedom and without humor, our cultures can’t have a healthy evolution.
Collaborating with other artists is an emotional thing. Obviously, you don’t do it unless this person inspires you.