IN STEREO

Yesterday, me and a friend were talking about traditional music in Palestine. We started talking about songs that our grandmothers, our mothers, they all know. The conversation was about what we have today from our culture. Because you know, after ‘48 until maybe twenty years ago, we didn't have our identity in music. In the past, we had really good musicians. But after ‘48, you know, life stopped after the occupation. A lot of people left, especially the musicians. And the radio stations, they stopped. In some villages, they really kept the music, and they have it until today. But here in the West Bank, there was no music for a long time. Look, we grew up with the radio – there was no TV. And every day in the morning, we'd start with the radio: Arabic channels from Egypt. Every day they had a programme. To this day I remember exactly what the programme was.

You know, my life is in music, I started doing the only [job] where I can do it as work – it's only to hear music. And I listen to music from everywhere, non-stop: I start early, until evening. I do a programme for myself. And in the morning, for example, you can ask any Palestinian, or any Arab person, “What do you listen to in the morning?” Directly, we'll tell you: Fairouz. It's like a coffee in the morning. “OK, afternoon: What do you listen to?” Umm Kultum. These two people, one in the morning, one in the evening. Every day, for every Arab person. Really, you can't imagine. Every day since they opened the radio channel. You know, it’s a mood. To wake up and to go directly to work without drinking a coffee, you can’t imagine it. It’s exactly like that! To wake up and not hear Fairouz? It doesn't work. – Aref