We chat to the Moroccan Canadian musician about his magnetic, multifaceted sound
Honey laced vocals, honest lyrics and cheekbones that could cut glass – allow us to introduce you to Moroccan Canadian singer Mehdi Bahmad. The Montreal-based artist seamlessly fuses elements of Arab music with electronics and the power pop he loved when growing up to create his debut EP ‘Khôl’. The hypnotic sound is rich with complex string work and lavish rhythms and sits at the intersection of East and West.
His aesthetics are as captivating as his melodies with this young talent wearing a full face of make-up alongside traditional Amazigh jewellery. His aim is to shatter stereotypes and present a new way of being an Arab man, one which does not make space for the word ‘haram’. Similarly, his music videos give a contemporary spin to orientalist art and have been selected for film festivals like TIFF and Aesthetica Short Film Festival.
‘Sukkar’, his latest single, sees Bahmad baring his soul with lustful, unapologetically sassy lyrics. The artwork, which he designed himself, shows his face on the sugar cone synonymous with Maghrebi mint tea and is said to symbolise joy. We spoke to him about how he found his sound.
How would you describe your music?
My music is dreamy and seductive yet dramatic. I’m a highly sensitive and nostalgic man but am also an idealist. I think all of that reflects in my sound. I love layering vocals and using organic and romantic instruments (harp, cello, violins) and blending them with electronic but still warm sounds. My Moroccan roots naturally show through my vocals patterns, melodies and the instruments I integrate such as darbouka, oud, qanun and ney. And since the visual is a vital part of my process, I’d say my sound is also cinematic. Growing up, I mostly listened to both Arab and American female pop artists such as Nancy Ajram, Haifa Wehbe, Ruby, Kylie Minogue and The Pussycat Dolls. So, I guess my sound will always be tainted by those divas.
What’s the story behind Sukkar?
‘Sukkar’ is an introduction to my upcoming work which reflects more where I am now and where I want to be. My debut project ‘Khôl’ was about the birth of my persona. The songs address memories and things I went through growing up. It tackles self-reflection and healing. ‘Sukkar’ is broader in a way, both lyrically and musically, although it still comes from an intimate place. It’s an unapologetic and bold anthem about acknowledging and embracing the power of your own flavour.
Where do you get inspiration for your look?
I’m very intuitive when it comes to my looks and aesthetics. Like I said, I’m very nostalgic. For me, simplicity is timelessness. I love being in a place where space and time cannot necessarily be identified. I guess it makes me feel safe in a way. Also, Moroccan culture is a very important part of what inspires me. Although, I like to re-explore it and especially disregard gender attributions.
What can you tell us about your upbringing?
My mother is from Rabat and my father is from the south of Morocco. We lived in France for a bit before moving to Canada when I was eight. I was a good student and was constantly reminded that we had to honour the sacrifice of leaving everything behind by pursuing “noble” careers. But I had a strong interest in art and never stopped drawing, painting, sculpting, acting, dancing and writing songs, mostly in secret. It came to a point where I couldn’t help but fight for it and decided to study visual arts. That was my very first step towards self-affirmation.
Growing up across three continents must have shaped you.
Yes. It’s just lately though that I realised how incredibly grateful I am for that. In a way, I was forced to find home within myself and to me, this is freedom. I’m very proud of my roots; there’s something so natural yet powerful about my body blending in with the land every time I go back to Morocco. Here in Canada, I discovered so many beautiful and less beautiful things, but above all I discovered myself. Here, my parents felt the social pressure slowly dissipate, allowing them to accept and love unconditionally.
And how do you feel about your identity today?
I used to think I couldn’t be considered an Arab man, as if there was only one way to be an Arab man. From my own experience, in the Arab world, if you’re not what you’re expected to be, a man or a woman (and there’s no room for in between), then you can’t access your culture nor be part of the community. We can only access our beloved ones, our land, if we follow the path that was traced for us. I reclaim my culture without compromising any parts of my identity. It’s time to understand that culture evolves. It’s important to respect traditions, but make them relevant with modern ideas and values. Culture should be inclusive.