Mashrou Leila

Hamed Sinno is the openly gay lead singer of Mashrou’ Leila. Unusually for the Middle East and despite strict censorship, the band regularly addresses taboo subjects like war, politics, political assassination and homosexuality.

Hamed spoke to Tim Warrington before a recent Paris gig.

Tim Warrington: Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Hamed Sinno: These days, I don’t have much time for a personal life. My life for now is about my music, the band and trying to take that places, or maybe letting that take me places. I’m a little bit obsessive.

In the music video for Fasateen, the girl puts roses in a blender. Is that something you’ve done?

My mother’s kitchen was my laboratory when I was a little boy. I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed several blenders while trying to make magic potions or face masks.

You’re the lead singer of a seven-piece band. The result seems to be a fusion of tastes and sounds. How would you describe Mashrou’ Leila’s sound?

I try not to describe it as I have no idea how to. It sort of just is what it is – lots of influences, no clear genre.

The Middle East is not the safest place to be gay. Are you concerned about your safety?

I’d be more concerned about my safety as a closet case. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that amount of auto-censorship.

A lot of the press about the band focuses on the fact that you are gay. Why do you think this is?

I don’t really know. Often I feel like it’s another form of homophobia, even when it’s well-intended. I think over-sensationalising homosexuality as a controversial subject only exacerbates the problem and furthers the ability to label it as an “other” practice. I’d like to be seen as a musician first and foremost.

Are you comfortable as a gay role model?

No. I can barely handle being in my own rather blemished skin most of the time. I mostly ignore that kind of pressure when people tell me things like that, because I start feeling like I need to be responsible for things greater than myself, and I’m not too sure I could live up to that.

What’s it like being gay in Beirut in 2012?

I’m not too sure I can answer that. I’ve been in my own little bubble for a while.

I think the scene is a bit rough. You can’t get married; your romantic life is confined to your house, away from the public eye and that eye’s rectal examinations. You live in fear. And the worst part is that at some point you learn to accept that kind of life. You find solace in belonging to one of the only three or so gay bars in the country and wake up every morning asking yourself, “What’s the point of living in Beirut?” Then you have to deal with the morning mirror, which in turn always presents you with the same debacle: queen out with a really camp oufit and piss people off while empowering yourself, or try to fit in and worry about dropping a hair pin till the end of the work shift? Dodge a bullet every time the conservative, extended family asks about your marital plans and delude yourself into thinking you’re okay; you can live like this; someday you won’t constantly be reminded to hate yourself.

When I listen to your songs I don’t understand your lyrics but I love the music. Do you want your music to be appreciated for music’s sake or is it more about the message?

Music. Always music.

Are you a full time musician or do you have a day job?

I was an art director in an advertising agency first. I quit to focus on the band.

Do you have a boyfriend?

Better. I have the band.

Tell us about your song called Smell The Jasmine.

Boy meets older boy at an impressionable age. Older boy is an abusive drunk. Younger boy tries to use romance as a means to reconstruct his troubled relationship with his father. Epic sex. Messy break-up. Boy ends up with an eating disorder; flunks an entire college semester; gets a tattoo or two; stops trusting people so much; ends up in a hospital and writes a good song.

You recently performed in Amman and received an amazing welcome from the Jordanian youth. What is it about your band that appeals to Middle Easterners of this generation?

We all need to see that there are more people like us. We are a generation born of identity struggles; globalisation clashing with our families’ principles; those principles clashing with each other. Some times you need to know you’re not alone, especially when everyone around you makes you feel you’re not like them.

A lot of your music contains social commentary and you often touch on subjects that are not widely discussed in the Middle East. Is music an effective way to educate people and initiate change?

I don’t think I’m in a position to educate people. I still can’t always tell right from wrong. When I do, I’m aware that I’m working on my own values and that I don’t have the right to impose those values on the next person. I think music is a great way to make your voice heard. Once that happens, it’s a bit harder for people to pretend you don’t exist.

For more go to mashrou3leila.com.

You can find Mashrou Leila on Facebook.