National Geographic Music (National Geographic)

Editor's Note: A few weeks ago, during the height of the popular uprising in Egypt, we got an email from one of our colleagues in National Geographic's Washington, D.C. headquarters. He'd been pitched on a film on Arab hip-hop by a young filmaker currently interning in that office. Since the rapper Balti had already played such a pivotal role in the uprising in Tunisia, we were intrigued. And upon watching the film, we decided that it would be a good fit for the Nat Geo Website. We asked one of the film's three co-directors, Shannon Farhoud, to tell us a little more about the project - so check out what she has to say, and enjoy Broken Records - Ed.

Documentary: Broken Records from Broken Records on Vimeo.

About Broken Records:

Standing in the narrow hallway of a hotel in Doha, Qatar, during the shooting of our documentary Broken Records, me and my two-co-directors set up a camera in front of two young Arab hip-hop artists. With no practice, no audio and no performance cues, we asked them to rap for us, just a few lines of a song, maybe some in English and some in Arabic. We underestimated what we were about to witness as we pressed the record button.

"Here's the key, don't fear the rumble of bombs/
What? I could swear I heard you say you are a man/
And you wanted to explode in the name of God, the mover of the clan./
Now drive and push and------God rest your soul, son of my fathers childhood/
Surat of the Prophet Moses heavy/
The day after the Mullahs told him "you're money is with me. Go pray your brothers soul/
listen to me my friend, I swear" but none of his moves are pure..../
Now his father has to kiss the image, missing his voice while washing his body/
As he opened his door, he saw his sons handwriting on a stack of money saying/
'this life is not worth a penny'"

Those are the words of The Narcicyst -- one of the six rappers featured in our film -- and they left us mesmerized. How could a simple verse represent whole nations, a war, and a people's emotions? It was at this point we knew we needed more. If someone had asked us a year ago, "What is Arab hip-hop?" we would have been clueless. But ask us that same question now and we could probably talk for hours.

We, the directors, are three journalism students at Northwestern University in Qatar, all under the age of 22. Ashlene Ramadan is American of Lebanese origin. Rana Khaled is a Palestinian who has never visited Palestine. And I am half Syrian, a quarter Indian and a quarter Portuguese. We all come from very different backgrounds, and Arab hip-hop was as foreign to us as it was to most non-Arabs - which is the main reason we wanted to produce the documentary.

As young journalists of Arabic decent, our backgrounds played a big part in the documentary's appeal to us. When we interviewed the artists, we were drawn to what they were saying because it was relevant to our own upbringing and experiences. When we heard their lyrics it was like someone was telling us our own stories. In some way, our willingness to tell the story of each of those hip-hop artists also contributed to them narrating a story of ordinary Arabs who face difficulty in their lives.

Unlike most commercial hip-hop in the U.S. today, Arab rappers don't typically rhyme about money, partying and girls. Instead the artists in this movement style themselves as educated activists and use their lyrics to send a message to the world. They use their art - which draws on both Arab poetic traditions as well as Western hip-hop conventions - to break stereotypes of Arabs as violent and close-minded terrorists. They want to convey the message that the Arab experience is just like any other.

References to Arabic traditions and history made us want to listen more closely to the lyrics. Some lines from a song by the Narcicyst titled "Himdallah" stood out for us:

"Bismillah/
Like the feeling when I miss Falah/

Then wish to God in clouds to lift us all/

Hamdulillah/
Wonder if bibi/
Can ever see me
And
 If I back to Basrah/
Will it ever receive me"

The song is about hope and the desire to return home. The unique story-telling and catchy beats caught our attention and set the stage for our film. We hoped our documentary would convey the message that Arabic hip-hop not only exists, but also is on the rise. During our final editing process, the protests in Tunisia and Egypt began and suddenly we started to hear the music we were documenting being played for thousands in Tahrir Square.

Hip-hop and politics often go hand in hand, and as pro-democratic revolutions spread throughout the Arab world, Arab hip-hop in particular echoes the hopes, dreams and frustrations of the people. Artists in these nations came out with songs that directly spoke to Arab society and politics - which most other Arab music doesn't dare touch.

Young artists like Balti from Tunisia used hip-hop to express the people's political voice. At times these songs got artists into conflicts with the regime but they also helped fuel the people's resolve. Part of what makes hip-hop such an effective soundtrack to populist movements in the Arab world is the growing youth bulge in the Middle East and North Africa. "Sixty percent or more of the general population in the Middle East is under 30 and hip-hop is very much a youth culture," explains Omar Offendum, a Syrian-American rapper featured in our film. "Even though it has been around for 40 years. It continues to regenerate itself as a youth culture and be something the youth can use as their own."

Broken Records follows six artists, each under 30, who are giving voice this youth-led movement for change. They have grown up in the oil rich Arabian Gulf, Egypt and North America. Many of these artists are part of the ever-growing woroldwide Arab diaspora. They were forced out of their homelands by war and economic circumstances, emigrating elsewhere with their families. Many grew up bi-cultural, adapting to the new societies and cultures they were found themselves in, and some have never returned to their home countries. As artists, they looked for ways to keep their traditions alive. This is where hip-hop and Arabic poetry merge, and these artists find comfort in something both cultures can identify with.

Watch Videos Featuring Artists From Broken Records Here:

Working with this cross section of artists was great because each one had a different experience with hip-hop. What stood out to us was that all of them knew this is what they want to do: To represent the Arab people via a new artistic platform. Older generations of Arabs don't usually understand hip-hop but some of these artists use traditional Arab poetry to give that generation a better understanding that hip-hop is more than just a beat.

As shooting progressed on the film, we witnessed just how much this hip-hop culture is growing. From break-dancers to beat boxers, more and more young Arabs are participating in this trend - but few have any venue to act on it, because of a general lack of funding and financial support. Initially, we worried about promoting the finished film, but to our surprise many people of all ages and backgrounds showed interest in our initiative and the hip-hop movement.

We would like to thank everyone who has supported our project and the Arab hip-hop revolution. This documentary is about artists and their cultivation of Western art in modern Arab culture. It's about hip-hop, change and about the creation of a new Arab culture. We hope we got the message through and, who knows, maybe one day we will all turn on our radios and hear a new type of hip-hop. -- Shannon Farhoud

To learn more about Broken Records and Arab hip-hop, follow the filmakers and the featured artists on Twitter:

Rana Al-Khatib- @RanaAlKhatib

Shannon Farhoud- @shannonfarhoud

The Narcicyst- @TheNarcicyst

Omar Offendum- @Offendum

Lowkey- @LowkeyMusic1