French-Syrian band Sarab on shedding their jazz roots by embracing rock and Arabic poetry

How do you shed your jazz roots? First, explain to the media in no uncertain terms that you don't play jazz. Second, amicably part ways with your trombone player. And third, play an uproarious gig where your singer howls her vocals through a megaphone. On that score, it was mission accomplished for Sarab at Manchester’s Aviva Studios on Thursday as part of the Womex festival. The quintet emerged from Paris's tight-knit jazz scene five years ago to become a formidable live act and festival favourite. That explains their appearance at the annual event, which gathers music professionals from more than 90 countries for a trade fair, talks, films and music showcases. Led by Syrian-French singer Climene Zarkan, Sarab were in fiery form. They doubled down on the visceral approach first explored on last year’s Qawalebese Tape , a frenetic EP of five songs that is less a fusion and more, at times, an abrasive clash of styles, from Arabic folk and poetry to gnarly guitar riffs and lashings of electro beats and synth. While these vigorous elements were occasionally heard in their 2021 debut album, Arwah Hurrah (Free Souls), the follow-up effort found them truly living up to its title. Speaking to The National before the show, Zarkan described the move as an evolution for Sarab. “I believe that we are now where we are meant to be,” she said. “When the band began in Paris, we were seen as a jazz group, but every time we played at a jazz festival people would say, 'oh, you are too rock.' What we wanted to do with the EP is show people that we are neither jazz nor rock and to be free of any associated labels.” Guitarist Baptiste Ferrandis believes that with five musicians from various musical sensibilities and cultures, the group was always heading for a clash with jazz aficionados and critics. “We did need to find a way out of that network because that was the only way we were able to express as ourselves as a band,” he said. “At the same time, we are trying to do something different and lean into being more rock electro without losing that Oriental flavour that is always part of what we do.” While former trombonist Robinson Khoury played the quarter-tone notes central to Arabic music, it is the evocative Arabic lyrics carried by Zarkan’s emotive vocals that's responsible for Sarab’s regional flavour. Born in Paris to a French-Lebanese mother and Syrian father, she grew up in Syria until the age of 12 before returning to Paris. Her choice to sing in Arabic, she explains, is an attempt to hold on to that rich heritage: “Singing in Arabic is my way of going back to my language. I talk to French people all the time, and obviously, they don’t speak Arabic, so there are words I don’t recognise any more.” To preserve some of that cultural identity, Zarkan interpolated some of the poetry of Mariam Al Masry, a Syrian poet residing in Paris, and the late Libyan- Sudanese writer Muhammad Al Fayturi, in the songs of Sarab. However, fitting that evocative wordplay amid the band’s shape-shifting compositions can be a challenge. “I love using these important words because I am sympathetic to the argument that Arabic literature and appreciation for the language are being slowly eroded in this current generation,” she says. “But sometimes I do wonder if I am setting myself too difficult a challenge in using these dense words in the songs. Especially when there are so many easier Arabic words out there that I can use, but I feel if I am going to sing, it should be something beautiful.” While Zarkan is the only Arabic speaker in Sarab, Ferrandis says the group is content to incorporate Arabic music modes into some of the songs. A highlight of the Manchester gig was Queen Rast, a blistering, propulsive electro-rock slice from Qawalebese Tape that’s carried by scintillating riffs of the saz – a pear-shaped long-necked lute with eight strings – by Egyptian musician Abdallah Abozekry. “It was a song we created because we wanted to play with Abdallah, who is an amazing musician,” Zarkan said. “So we composed it in the Rast maqam because that is the ideal mode for the saz.” With Womex set to finish their touring commitments for the year, Zarkan and Ferrandis are content that Sarab are being appraised in a more accurate way. It also goes to show the risk of alienating an initial fan base can pay off when done with conviction. “What I can say in Paris is that our fan base is growing, and the responses to the shows are hugely encouraging,” Zarkan said. “It was a bit of a painful process in creating these songs because they have so many influences, but we are so happy with this sound we created.” With the band returning to the studio in December to record an album to be released next year, Ferrandis has confirmed that the group are still sketching ideas. “We are recording it in a Paris studio that is famous for releasing important rock albums,” he said. “So maybe the next album will be Sarab, but only louder.”

French-Syrian band Sarab on shedding their jazz roots by embracing rock and Arabic poetry

The quintet delivered a blistering show at the Womex festival in Manchester