Ilo Toerkell: Felukah, your upcoming tour across Europe and the SWANA region is called “Before the Sun”. What happens before the sun?
Felukah: “Qalb El Shams” in English “Before the Sun” is the name of the EP I’m working. Before the sun comes nighttime and for me, that means dance, a release of inhibition, and unapologetically being yourself. It’s this pocket of exploration where I feel ideas can float up. When the sun rises, you gotta get back to work, do this, do that. But the night is the closet of woes and feelings. The moon and the night – Qabl El Shams – is when I like to create.
As a multicultural artist, I’ve always felt very connected to the solar system. I think being under the same sun and the same moon is one of the few things that always binds us together. That’s why the sun and the moon are really important to me.
Musically the EP is different from your previous releases. Your records were mostly RnB, soul and hip hop influenced.
Yes, this project is more dance music. I don’t want to be confined to boxes. I like rap, I like RnB and hip hop, but I also happen to like dance music. Unfortunately, people see dance music or electronic music as something less deep or complex than rap or hip hop. Bas, to me, they both carry the same depth. When I’m repeating the line “don’t you wanna dance with me” over and over again, I hope to channel something within the body and the mind. To me, it’s just fun to explore and a way to shake off the stress, tension, and grief of a year of genocide.
Flip A Switch
Hip hop, soul, RnB, dance – you have been dabbling in many genres since you started releasing music in 2019. How has your process as an artist changed since then?
I think I’m getting closer to who I am, to who Felukah is. The reason my style changes a lot is because I like many things. No artist is one-track-minded. I can flip a switch and make dance music. I flip a switch and I’m doing hip hop. As an independent artist, no one is telling me what to do. So, I focus on what brings me joy. The goal is for me to stay happy and keep growing. That’s the core of my evolution.
Last year you released “Batwanes Beek”, a cover version of the Warda classic. In another interview, you spoke about feeling like you don’t fit in with that generation and style of women in Arab music. What was it like for you to record this cover and has that changed how you feel about not fitting in?
This is a record that I’ve grown up around. It’s reminiscent of an era in music that we all grew up with in the Middle East. Warda and of Umm Kulthum and Fairuz, and these iconic Arab divas in music. They don’t feel current right now because it’s been over like 50 years. But there’s something about the energy of those records that is transcendental over time. So, to take that essence and that feel of the record, drop some 808s on it, bring in new school sounding drums, change up the verse and the chorus a little bit, was like bringing the record into current day time. I hope to do that with more records from that era. But “Batwanes Beek” actually got taken down from Spotify twice because of copyright. I’m gonna clear this copyright before I die, inshallah.
One of your recent songs, “Wavy in Brooklyn”, was a collab with Nadine El-Roubi. You also worked with rappers Ma-Beyn, Nayomi, Dounia, Nadine El Roubi from the SWANA region. What are your thoughts on building solidarities among women in rap music of that region?
It’s so important. Also, beyond the region, solidarities among women in general. We need to amplify each other’s voices. But society doesn’t understand the gravity of it. With this song, for example, we barely got any press attention. Is it because we’re two girls and y’all don’t really care? When I pop out with a man like Ash, for example, more people talk to me about that than a whole record with Nadine. Like damn, female collabs really go underrated as hell.
Do you feel like with these collaborations and with your music in general, things are starting to change in the way that women in rap and hip hop are being perceived?
Definitely. I think we’re getting more of the acceptance and validation recognition that we deserve. Brown and Black women have been talking about this since the dawn of hip hop. Everybody was hating on Lil Kim, everybody was hating on Missy Elliott. Everybody was hating on all these incredible rappers until something happened in pop culture and people came around. I don’t wait for people to come around. You get it and if you don’t, you might in a few years.
Growing up as a Rebel
You also released “Freedom“, a song in reaction to the war on Gaza. That’s still something too few people speak out about, in the music industry as well. Why did you make this song and why is it important?
I felt so helpless coming out of October 7th last year. My brother Malik, who first got me into making music, suggested I write about it. All these chants were echoing in me, so I just started from the jump: “It’s from the river to the sea Palestine will be free”. We put the song out and the response was great. It is supposed to be a song people can play at a protest, but also when they feel helpless and overwhelmed. Everything, all the massacres and the things we’re seeing should move us to keep working to create, to take up space, and to call to action. We need more songs and soundtracks for the revolution.
What is your take on music being a tool of resistance?
Photo by Yomna Mohamed
For me personally, music has always been a source of empowerment. Growing up as a rebel, music was a safe space. There were restrictions in place that I forgot about when listening to music. I feel like I need art to reimagine the world – a healthy form of escapism. Escapism in the way of imagining a world where I’m celebrated for my natural beauty and allowed to explore my freedoms as a human being on this planet. Music makes me imagine a world where I’m soft, but I’m fierce and strong. All these dichotomies and seeming contradictions are gone and you just belong. So, in that sense, music is a form of resistance for me.
But music is a powerful tool to pose questions and make people think. It can get conversations going. There are many examples. We have amazing filmmakers and actors in Egyptian specifically. Faten Hamama comes to mind. She chose roles that were politically and socially charged and raised a lot of awareness for women’s rights. That ended up actually influencing Egyptian law in favor of feminist issues. Those moments show that art really can change things.
Your previous songs about social justice issues were mostly rap and hip hop tracks. Dance music is more about letting loose and enjoying the moment. Can it be a way of engaging in what adrienne maree brown calls pleasure activism?
Yeah, for me pleasure activism is about understanding that my joy is revolutionary. It’s understanding that I deserve, we all deserve happiness and really unpacking that term and what it looks like to us. I feel like we live in a world that’s constantly preaching ideas of lack rather than abundance. It is always a competitive way of looking at the world that makes you feel lesser than. Bas, I feel like with pleasure activism, I’m living not just for my singular joy but our collective joy and our collective liberation. That benefits me and the community. Yani to love on myself, to speak kindly to myself, to wake up, make smoothies and dance, and have these very precious moments and rituals for myself whether somebody’s there or not. It’s opening yourself up to that abundance mentality. Love and energy are always replenished and not diminished as you share them.
To me, pleasure activism is that radical joy and learning that being good to myself is not being selfish. It is knowing that I deserve joy and peace and comfort. And dance music.
Photo by Yomna Mohamed
New Arab Futurism
With PAM, you spoke about Arab futurism. That was in March of last year. Has your idea Arab futurism changed and is it more important now with everything going on in the region?
That’s a really good question. It has, and it hasn’t. At the time when I was talking to PAM about this, I was thinking about women navigating the Arab world and the world in general. I thought of futurism within the context of women in my country: what can the future of women in that region? Bas, now it’s beyond gender. Since October 7th, it’s about what being an Arab in this world will look like in the future. How can we be free from the dehumanizing Western gaze? The twisted ways that the media has portrayed Arabs and North Africans in the last year alone has changed my whole perception. These crazy stereotypes. No. We make dance music, we are on tour, we come together and make noise and raise funds and actually spark change. That is what we are fighting for.
You should be able to shake your ass and think about dismantling patriarchy.
What’s a future that you can imagine or that you would hope for?
I hope to see a network of solidarity. We often talk about this in the spaces that I move in. We watch other communities stick up for one another and I want to see more of that from our community. More than anything, we need to stand together in a way that is strong and confident. Together we can shake the world awake to the injustices. If we find that foundational connectedness, that radical love we can go so far. I think little by little, yani we’re coming to realize the glory and the power of standing together, not just in times of sadness and grief but times of joy and times of change.
“Qabl El Shams” is out on 22 November via Felukah Music and Create Music Group Inc. Stay up to date with the artist via her Instagram or website.