There Was Music Everywhere: Rogér Fakhr Interview

Lebanese singer-songwriter Rogér Fakhr tells the story of Fine Anyway, his remarkable lost 1970s album now reissued by Habibi Funk

Music might reflect the time and place in which it is made, but that doesn’t mean it has to follow expectations of exactly how that should sound. Singer-songwriter Rogér Fakhr’s Fine Anyway is a case in point, as Habibi Funk have unearthed a great lost 1970s album that sounds as if it was recorded in California. These songs certainly boast the requisite sun-drenched vibes, gentle psychedelia and classic pop hooks, but that doesn’t tell the full story. It was in fact made in Beirut during a turbulent period in Lebanon’s history and under hardly ideal conditions, which is a wonderful example of an artist’s response to their surroundings transcending the reality of the everyday. Beauty can, it would seem, emerge from a civil war zone.

Fine Anyway is a particularly charming album with a story to be told, so I was delighted that Rogér was willing to tell it.

What music has meant the most to you over the last year or so?

I am in a creative mode since last year and working on songs I wrote over the years and I am still creating. So I am paying very little attention to what’s happening out there. After the late 1970s and early 1980s, I rarely did. I never stopped listening to blues or jazz music (old and new), which I believe are immortal styles. My ears quickly erect for music that comes from The South (Latin America), Africa, the Middle East, and anything that is not the pop and rock soup we hear today, including music from faraway places (Mongolia, Tibet, Eastern Europe, or others). I always was a fan of a good song and I listen to any music I stumble upon. You could not catch me liking one individual artist or group nowadays. Since the Beatles, no one has caught my ear as an individual artist or group that plays extremely diverse music and appeals to so many societies. I love Music Without Borders, especially when they bring together online artists from all over the world playing the same song, each in their individual style.

These are unprecedented times we’re living through, although you experienced the Lebanese civil war so you’ve presumably had to deal with life being turned upside down before. Can you talk a little about what it was like living through such events and how they impacted your art?

When the war started in 1975, my friends, musician friends, and I were around 20 years old and we were just starting to sprout musically. Since the war first translated into unrest, haphazard and scattered events, we always believed it was the beginning of skirmishes that would eventually stop. During lulls in the senseless violent events that occurred (roadblocks everywhere with heavily armed militia, kidnappings, killing based on religion or political background), we played in small gatherings or concerts, mostly together, trying to stay sane. The fact that the war never stopped and kept coming in waves was very frustrating for artists. The whole country was paralyzed. Schools, work, commute, social gatherings, everything stopped. For some, it was either pick up a weapon, join a group based on your political or religious affiliation, and shoot at the guys on the other side, just because someone told you to or brainwashed you into convictions. The struggle for power had started. Since we could not shoot at the guys that we played marbles or had fun with just because of their religious or political background, and because we did not believe in killing and war, we confined ourselves. We learned to live in confinement way before COVID-19.

I’d like to hear about the music scene in Beirut in the 1970s if you wouldn’t mind talking a little about it.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Beirut was a progressive country culturally. A multitude of artists (music, poetry, dance, theater) expressed themselves in a multitude of languages. Musically, you had Arabic music, rock, pop, folk, and anything that made it to the Top 10 in other countries. So we were exposed to French, Italian, British and American music to a large extent, combined with Arabic music playing everywhere on the streets, in taxi cabs, and in public venues. You had Fairuz and the Rahbani Brothers, Ziad Rahbani, Sabah, Wadih el-Safi, Oum Koulsoum and others next to rock, folk and pop cover bands that played everywhere. At the same time, you had Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Elvis, Janis Joplin, Eric Clapton, Elton John, Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Jim Croce, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Lindisfarne, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Procol Harum and so much more. We were flooded with the music movement that came from the UK and the USA. In our very early twenties, we were very impressed by this music. A lot of us picked up musical instruments and tried to emulate what was a global movement (for us). It was the days of the Vietnam War and Woodstock, and thus, war and killing as well as the movement against it was part of our growing up. Many rock, pop, and psychedelic bands sprouted in those days. There was music everywhere, in cafés, restaurants, hotel lounges, live concerts and the like.

At what point did you decide to sing in English or was there never any question of doing otherwise?

It is during this period that I started singing and making music, and singing in English was the natural thing to do. I was keen on Lebanon participating in the global music scene at the time. I wanted to record and produce music that would put Lebanon on the map and show the extent of the talent existing there at the time. I used to sing to a song while mimicking the words, making the sounds of the English language without understanding what I was saying. Then the Beatles released Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and it was the first time I had a music album with the words to each song written on the sleeve. I played that record so many times, singing along with the words, that I had to throw it away and buy another copy. Then I came upon James Taylor’s first albums (Sweet Baby James and Mud Slide Slim) and I was mesmerized by his guitar playing and the words he was saying. I immediately related to the singer-songwriter concept, a guy and his guitar and decided this was what I wanted to do. Everything progressed from there on. English was my third language when I started writing songs and you can tell in some of the syntax in the early songs included on the Habibi Funk release.

Could you tell me about your recording process back then? Do you have any rituals when making music?

We lived with what was available. My first recordings were on very small mono Philips (I think) reel-to-reel with small reels that my dad brought home. He later purchased a larger machine with 7” tapes (also mono), which I used at length to record my very first songs (1969 or 1970 maybe?). When the cassette tape recorders were introduced, I learned how to record on one machine and then play it back on speakers while adding a second guitar or backing vocals on the other. I would bounce back and forth until the quality depreciated too much. I could overdub 3 or 4 recordings I think, but no more. This is when I started following a “ritual” if you will. Never too much preparation. I would rehearse with the guitar and microphone just to get the levels right and avoid distortion and then record. One song would take about 45 minutes to an hour. In the early 1970s, my friend Raymond (brother-in-arms in music) and I discovered the Revox A-77 on which you could bounce tracks back and forth and which had two different speeds, and we never looked back. Later this evolved into an 8-track Tascam reel-to-reel and, eventually recording studios. 

When reserving or purchasing studio hours, we never had enough money. So we rehearsed the night before and recorded in the studio in one day. We then purchased a couple hours for mix down the next day. This is true for all the recordings on the Habibi Funk Fine Anyway release. We often wished we could go back and make some corrections, equalizing, or re-recording of the vocals or guitars, but we could never afford it. So I guess, our recording ritual was: just go for it and know you can never go back.

When recording during our confinement due to the civil war, we took our time and were able to re-record, take our time to get the right sound, etc. There are a lot more recordings from that era that never saw the light of day because they remain in demo format. We might revisit them due to the sort of revival that Jannis and Habibi Funk brought about.

Your music has an immediacy about it that connects to the listener – my seven year old son was immediately taken with your songs when I was playing the album. Is this something that you aim for when making music? What do you hope listeners take away from the experience?

Not at all. The music and words just flow through me and I am just a vehicle when I stumble upon them. I have no clue what I’m writing or singing or playing. The whole thing just comes as is and I sometimes fine-tune it later. But I never sat down and said, “Here, I’m going to write a song about this or that.” Things just come based on the environment I’m in. If I’m in a mood and can attune myself to the environment or a specific din, the music and words just come. And this continues to this day. There is a lot more where this came from. A lot! Also, I never revisited a song seriously. If I think the song is too short and needs an additional verse, I am unable to re-create the mood and environment. I guess many folks can do this, but I’m very bad at pretending I feel right now the way I felt when the song came. So, I see myself more as a songwriter than a performer.

I have no concern for the listener when the song arrives in its raw form. Just what consciousness is being relayed to me by the Spirit at the time. I am only hoping that the listener will enjoy the song, sing along and, hopefully, find a piece of themselves relating to the song: “I’m fine anyway,” “When you don’t like it, keep going,” “Sometimes you feel bad there’s nothing you can do,” or lighter stuff for recreation, “I can’t sleep at night if I don’t drink some wine,” or just melodic pieces like “My baby she is as down as I am.”

There are sun-drenched West Coast vibes to some of your songs and I believe you reside in Los Angeles these days. Is this a coincidence or was there something you were reaching for in your music that led you to live where you now live?

I actually live in the San Francisco Bay Area further north and I love this place. I like to call it “Bay Route” as a continuation of where I came from. Like I said earlier, I was very impressed by what was happening musically on a global scale as I grew up. And at that time, R&B was at a crossroads and transferring from folk to rock and the West Coast Vibe, ‘smoother rock’, took an important place during the transition to heavier sounds like Hendrix, Zeppelin, the Who, Jethro Tull and others. They both started at the same time actually (I think). But I came of age during this transition.

Fine Anyway is a remarkable collection. It seems crazy that only half the tracks were ever released at all (and those on a run of 200 cassettes distributed among friends) and the others never saw the light of day until now. Why did they not get a full release back in the day? How does it feel now that they have finally been released?

We actually made a master cassette tape from the studio recording and produced the whole thing at home. We bought 200 TDK (and maybe Maxell) tapes which were available only in 60 and 90 minutes length at the time. Since Fine Anyway was about 17 to 18 minutes per side, we actually rolled all the tapes out their plastic box and spliced them to size then re-attached them. We then acquired 4 or 5 cassette tape recorders and bulk copied the master. We bought some Canson drawing paper and cut the sheets down to the size of a cassette cover. I then drew each cover separately, trying to make sure they were identical (I made a very simple drawing so it was easy to reproduce). I then colored each cover with crayons. Each tape had different colors. We had a lot of time to spare due to the war and four of us musicians lived in the same house. So it took some team work.

We could not really release the tapes because there was no avenue to release them. No record company, no distributors. So we just gave them to friends. Toufic (Farroukh) was working at a photo/record store at the time. I believe it was called Telephoto. We placed some cassettes there and maybe sold three or four until the war started again and everything shut down. I have no clue what happened to the tapes.

I refused to release the music when Jannis contacted me at first. I was never satisfied with the recording quality, the lack of ability to return to the studio to fix some things. For example, during the one-day recording of Fine Anyway, someone in the studio sat on Toufic’s flute by accident and he could not get it in tune. Since we had no money and couldn’t return to the studio, we kept the flute lines because we liked them. I always wanted to re-record the songs that are on the Habibi Funk release, but never got to it. In the meantime, new songs and music were coming to me and I just had to go with the flow instead of re-visiting the past. When Jannis contacted me to contribute a couple of songs for the Lebanon benefit album, which provided funds for the Red Cross after the port explosion (August 2020), I did not hesitate one second. In view of the reaction, I thought, “why not”. It would be a relief to just put the old stuff out regardless of where it would land or what the reaction would be. So far, it has felt like a revival for me and many friends and other people in and from Lebanon. So, who knows, maybe we’ll release more songs from then and some new material as well.

Could you tell me about how Habibi Funk came to put your music out? What’s your relationship with the label like and how involved were you in preparing Fine Anyway?

Jannis involved me every step of the way, from the selection of songs to the quality of mastering, the choice of pictures, the liner notes. I am extremely grateful for what he does for artists from mis-represented or misunderstood areas of the world. I am also very thankful for his integrity and honesty when dealing with me as an artist. I do not feel I am being taken advantage of, or mistreated like a mere product, which is what most artists feel when dealing with record labels or production companies.

What’s your view on the crate-digging and reissue scenes of today? How important is it to find new-old music?

I am all for it as long as the original artist is recognized for his/her creation and when the context behind the music is explained. I see too many compilations like “Music from Africa” and “Music from the Middle East” or compilations of Latin music that are put together merely for the label, producer, or distributor to make some money by just putting together a series of musical pieces without respect for the origin, the culture, or the history behind the art. I approached many major and less major labels and publishers with my songs, but many wanted to either change the arrangements, or the words; some even wanted me to sing the songs in a different language. I always refused. I could never relate to the ‘packaging’ of my art by dinosaurs like this and I was never interested in becoming a ‘star’ or in the money. My art is sacred to me and comes to me from the Spirit. Why would I lose that for money? I am enriched every day by my art and I want to keep it that way. I don’t care much about fame. With Jannis, everything was extremely fair from day one, both artistically and financially.

The reissue of Ziad Rahbani’s Bennesbeh Labokra…Chou? is currently on my review pile. I believe you played guitar for Rahbani. Did you play on this album?

I played with Ziad off and on. He loves Brazilian music (Jobim, Powell, Gilberto) and he needed that kind of guitar rhythm picking for some of his pieces, which I gladly provided (it might have been for that album and perhaps another one). Aside from music we were friends who shared the same issues. He integrated jazz and other styles to Arabic music, which exposed the Lebanese people to something non-traditional and I admire him for that. He also has an amazing understanding of the Lebanese society and what’s happening around the world, socially and politically. He also was gracious enough to participate in a couple of live concerts I put together in Beirut during the lulls in the war. However, he produces Lebanese material in Arabic, whereas I selected English as a tool for international outreach.

Who do you view as your contemporaries?

I definitely have to go with my best friends whom I developed with as a composer and musician: Issam Hajali, Toufic Farroukh, Ziad Rahbani, Munir Khauli, Raymond Sabbah, Ibrahim Jaber. They are all Lebanese. They all have sustained the movement that started in Lebanon in 1970s in their own way. And they carry the torch until today. Issam is still writing and releasing music. Toufic Farroukh has released many ‘oriental jazz’ albums in France and Europe and he is a renowned player of wind instruments. Munir created ‘Arabic Rock’ and his songs are satires and stories of what’s going on in Lebanon. Raymond is in Montréal Canada and became an accomplished film and music producer. Ibrahim is a master percussion player that backs up major music acts. There are also others of course, like Bruna Maria Naufal whom I sang with and who was my muse and inspiration for years, as well as Karim Haddad, an amazing guitar player who now lives in Paris and works at IRCAM, a French institute dedicated to the research of music and sound, especially in the fields of avant-garde and electro-acoustical art music. A new dimension for sound and music. There are a couple of others, such as Abboud Saadi (bass) and Walid Tawil (drums) who survive in Lebanon and are more than excellent musicians.

Your influences?

Personally? My family and friends and my brothers and sisters in Art. Also the eternal research for a common Spirit.

Musically? French music, especially Jacques Brel, Edith Piaf, Gilbert Bécaud, and other artists like Hugues Aufray, Michel Polnareff. UK and US music, too numerous to list, but (until today) many of the artists in the 1970s from the Beatles and the Bee Gees, to Hendrix, James Taylor, the Doobie Brothers and the Eagles, Jim Croce, Elton John, Cat Stevens, Genesis, Emmylou Harris, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, … Oh so many. It was a golden age for music. Except for a few great songwriters, I am very disappointed with the later evolution in music. Now we have a zillion styles and ‘genres’ whereas then, the music appealed to everyone and had a message. This may be coming back, but oh sooooo slowly.

What does the immediate future hold for you? Any post-Covid plans?

My dream is to get into a studio with my friends to re-record the leftovers from the 1970s songs that tell more stories about living during the civil war. They are a piece of me as much as the songs on the Habibi Funk release. Since then, I have created a lot of new material that relates the evolution of people like me who left Lebanon, what they lived and, especially felt, in new environments, while being away from our common heart: Lebanon, though definitely not as it is today. What a useless and nonsense evolution. As Robert Fisk put it, and Gebran Khalil Gebran before him way back in time: Pity the Nation.

In the meantime… my best to your son. I love his taste in music!

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Photographs from Raymond Sabbah’s archive