Cairo Magazine - Out of hiding

Reporting by Sophia al-Maria and Ethan Heitner

Brain Candy at Sawi Center

Courtesy of Brain Candy

Cairo has dirt, energy and—most importantly—frustrated youth under pressure: all elements needed to form hard and vital rock. By this rationale, Egypt has no excuse to be conspicuously inept in this international language of high voltage sounds. Looking at the rich cliffs of this quarry, one has to wonder, where is all the rock?

Rumor has it that as little as eight years ago, there was rock. Loud, blistering rock. The sort of rock that made your orifices bleed, to the delight of bands like Steel Edge or Vyrus. Sure, it was a lopsided scene dominated largely by metal and its descendents, without much influence from other branches of the rock family. But concerts had big name sponsorship, publicity was everywhere and the audiences packed the venues. The bastion of the establishment—the Gezira Club, no less—played host to big names while local groups like Vyrus and Viper were gathering a real following. A real milestone was reached on the milestone day that The Cartoon Killers found their cassettes sold in kiosks—normally the turf of big boys like Shaaban Abdel Rahim and Amr Diab, old favorites like Oum Kalthoum and dodgy copies of imported easy

listening.

“The flyers were in the streets, and there were plans to televise the concerts. There were sometimes up to a thousand people there,” recalls metal fan Muhammad Azzam. “It wasn’t underground, like it is now.”

“They kicked ass,” remembers bassist Jacques Avakian of Idlemind, “The concerts in the ‘90s were something else.”

What happened?

But go to a metal concert today and you’ll see that audiences have shrunk to sometimes less than a hundred. The venues are often totally inappropriate and in the middle of nowhere, but even so, fans and bands alike feel grateful to get them. More

importantly, although Egyptian rock was never exactly up-to-the-minute on the latest trends (metal having crested, many will tell you in the English-speaking world, by the early ‘90s), today’s scene can feel especially retro. Many bands rely heavily on songs older than themselves, their audiences or their instruments. A visitor might be forgiven for thinking the scene more an anomalous bubble, perhaps akin to Baghdad’s only known metal band, A. Crassicauda, a barely tolerated freak in the last days of Saddam’s regime, as opposed to evidence of a vibrant and organic landscape.

But still, there is an audience, and it, along with the options for local musicians, seems to be growing. Slowly but surely, the number of bands and the number of concerts are on the up-turn. Under the leadership of a small core of hardened veterans from the ‘90s, a new generation of would-be guitar gods are trying to rebuild the scene pretty much from scratch.

But the movers and shakers of the new scene are moshing cautiously. It’s not just a question of age-old concerns from parents worried about long, greasy hair or the noise of your average garage practice session, but the memory and very real threat of history repeating itself: no one on the new scene wants a repeat of what happened to the old scene.

The day the music died

The truth is that the security establishment came down pretty hard on the heads of young metalheads, and it has taken almost 10 years for the survivors to crawl from the rubble.

On the night of 22 January 1997, security forces made a massive sweep of homes and venues of teenagers listening to heavy metal—or teenagers who wore black leather, or just teenagers who drew skulls on things—and arrested around 90 (numbers vary) of them in the middle of the night, many from upper middle-class homes who had never had any previous problems with the law. The raid came after a months-long Satanist “panic” had been sweeping the nation, fueled by publications such as Rose Al Youssef, claiming that Egypt’s youth were being seduced into drug use, orgies, sacreligious rituals and a variety of other sordid practices by foreign Satanists using rock music.

The Mufti of Egypt at the time, Nasr Farid Wassil, called for leniency on account of their youth, but only if they renounced their Satan-worshipping ways—otherwise, he said, “we should carry out the punishment called for by Islamic law.” The Sheikh of Al Azhar, Muhammad Tantawi, singled out Israel as the source of this satanic influence.

Some teenagers were held for weeks (the longest was 45 days) and some apparently confessed to holding rituals in cemeteries and churches, including the Baron’s Palace, and named the Heliopolis McDonald’s as the central meeting point for their cult. Cairo was treated to the sight of the well-dressed mothers of the upper-class protesting outside courthouses for the release of their sons and daughters, a sight usually reserved at time for the munaqaba-clad mothers of Islamists, for whom such security sweeps were already routine.

With their connections to high places, or perhaps because security never took them very seriously as threats in the first place, most of those arrested were not held long, and by the end of February attention had focused back on Islamists with the killing of 12 Copts in a village in Upper Egypt.

Some have pointed out that the government made an unusual point of arresting girls along with boys. Debates and conspiracy theories about the reasoning and motivation behind both the Satanist scare and the mass arrests remain: was the government actually worried about the public gatherings and anti-establishment lyrics of a bunch of Metallica fans? Was it all a publicity ruse to detract attention from failed economic policies and the struggle against Islamists, who were proving a more difficult group to pressure into collapsing?

Whatever the motivation, the strategy worked, and the status quo returned. That is, the old status quo—kids were back home, which meant not out at rock concerts. In the public eye, metal and rock were forever linked with Satanism. Parents sent their sons to the barber and torn t-shirts disappeared overnight from the campus of the American University. In return for their freedom, rockers seemed to have struck a deal to keep quiet. Metal in Egypt was extinguished—everyone was back to listening covertly to Pink Floyd and Metallica in their room on their headphones.

From the ashes . . .

It wasn’t until five years later, in 2002, that anyone even thought of trying to get the scene going again. Ahmed Ikram organized a multi-band concert including Promised Dawn, Avoid, Nemesis and Ignoramous at the Pyramisa Hotel. Within a week, though, an article was published in Al Ahram about the concert (which the journalist attended) and soon after, the police showed up at Ikram’s house. He was hounded by the press and made into a fresh example of the kind of trouble that rock music could get you into.

In the years that followed the Pyramisa incidedent, the old bands pretty much disappeared, with only a couple of old standbys like Wyvern and Andromeda making the rounds, though not playing live shows. But while concerts were still taboo, the kids started doing what kids around the world have been doing for decades now: picking up a guitar and playing in basements and backyards, getting together their friends to make something bigger. Unfortunately, they were starting from scratch, without the help or inspiration of the older crowd of musicians.

Ismail El-Hakim, guitarist with nu-metal/hardcore band Spit comments, “I used to know some of these guys [of the previous generation] because my brother is 13 years older than me, and he used to go to these concerts and they used to come to our home. But I have never actually seen them play and I don’t think that my generation used to listen to music or go to concerts back then. Musically, for most of us, our influence came from outside the country.”

When the kids finally came out of the basements and started poking their heads into the open air at concerts (usually in remote locations and after a very discrete publicity program), the majority of the new bands seemed to be happy to fill sets with covers, a trend that still plagues the scene. Of course, as a scene in its early days, there is lack of song writing experience and audience demand. However, according to studio guitarist Ousso (no last name), who also plays with Iftekasat and is one of the founders of the band Nagham Masri, the young musicians are also suffering from low self-confidence. Not that he sees this as any excuse for the lack of originality and personality he sees in many of Egypt’s young musicians. “It’s a big problem,” Ousso says. “I always tell them they have to be original or else they’re nothing.”

Fortunately, there are some willing to buck the trend and put the metal where their mouth is. Young punks Brain Candy have almost a full album of their own material, which Ousso says is some of the best out there right now. Prog rockers Atlantis, although not regulars on the scene, have also put work into original tracks that have received positive attention. Idlemind, who play a lot of metal covers, have started to produce original material, and the reaction seems to suggest that they’d be smart to crank out some more.

You call that metal?

One important difference separates the new generation from their metal forefathers: they aren’t limited to the music that had made its way to Egypt the old fashioned way—in hard copy, usually years late and by way of Europe. In the intervening years, the Internet has come to Egypt, and young rockers are free to trade files, explore sounds and expand into electronica, classic punk and everything in between.

The eclecticism of the scene, however, may be more of a hindrance than a help. At MetalGates concerts, organizers try to bring audiences in for the music they’re most interested in by listing the covers that each band will play. Unfortunately, these concerts, which bring together the warring siblings of the rock family, metal, classic rock and punk, have result in more name calling and acrimony than creativity and harmony. Well, what did you expect?

Punk is a particularly common target for put-downs, and the only punk rock band in Egypt, Brain Candy, has had its share of hassle. “Generally when you are playing with lots of bands and there are a variety of rockers, punks and metalheads, they just sit there even if they don’t like the music,” says Karim “Andy” Kandil. “But we got attacked on the Dogs of Metal website after our solo concert at [Sawy Cultural Center]. Well over 400 people showed up to our show at [Sawy] and the atmosphere was very hyper. But some of the people who listened to black metal came to the show despite the fact it was labelled as a punk rock show and then attacked us on the website.”

Overall, though, verbal unpleasantness is the extent of the negativity on the rock scene. The concerts themselves are welcoming and friendly events, a little good-natured testosterone-releasing moshing aside. “I think that Egypt has some pretty hardcore metal fans. Combine those with a great live band like Wyvern or Hatesuffocation, add some head-banging and a mosh pit and you get total-fun-loving chaos,” says Marwan Al Menawy, a young, enthusiastic concert-goer.

Where to play?

Al Menawy is part of the younger generation of fans who are fueling a resurgence of bands that are now desperately scrambling to find venues. Most agree that recent shows have all had serious shortcomings related to finding the right space.

MetalGates, a group that organizes and promotes multi-band concerts, has run into some major problems finding the proper venue for these events. In the end, they have chosen places out of the city that are both hard to find and often unsuitable for rock concerts. One prime example is the concert held in 2004 close to the stables at the pyramids. Not only was the space a bit awkward, but the music also terrified the horses. After that event, though, the group went looking for a better location. They found Kimoland, which was the location of the last two concerts. Although it’s out of the way and not easy to find (it’s on the Alex Desert Road near the Oasis Hotel), it is in a place where the music will not bother anybody, there’s enough space for the audience members to enjoy themselves and the sound quality is not bad.

The tunes of doom -- Dieski's gothic rock has a pop edge that is winning them fans.

Courtesy of Dieski

One answer to the venue questions has been the Sawy Cultural Center. A relatively new venue, it gave hope to a lot of bands with its new facilities, effective publicity and hip Zamalek location. Of course there are, as they say, problems.

“The sound technician there deserves to die,” one anonymous musician said to Cairo. Let’s just say sound quality can be variable at best, and the new outdoor space has only exacerbated the grief. While the sound quality for Helium in March was acceptable, Idlemind’s concert the following night was blighted with technical hitches. More recently on 28 April electronic rockers Bikya, performed with half of the speakers off for over half of the concert. Ironically, the band had brought in a sound engineer precisely because they were worried that the in-house engineer would not do them justice. While putting on an original and highly-regarded show, the set clearly suffered.

Now with two stages to fill, another problem at Sawy is rapidly becoming apparent as bands are allowed onstage long before they are ready, just to keep the venue operating. “I think the idea of having a venue like the Culture Wheel is excellent in a city like Cairo,” comments Karim Hassan, frontman of goth-influenced Dieski, “It should help bands and musicians to finally perform and expose their talents in front of everyone, but recently the entire idea has become a headache. People have started to put bands together just to play there—every day or every two days you see ads in the streets with a name that belongs to some new band who want to experience stage fright!”

If there is a consensus in the metal community that Sawy is not going to save Cairo’s rock scenes, and based on their actions, management at Sawy seems inclined to agree, although they were unavailable for comment. A community center first, the space is not ideally designed for the release of lots of angry pent-up aggression and intense emotions, or even for dancing. The management has a policy of putting chairs in what should be prime dance/mosh space and ejecting audience members for getting their groove on. In fact, it has even financially penalized bands and added some to its blacklist over issues of audience behavior.

Helium, hardly Cairo’s hardest rockers, were given disapproving wrist slaps for an Alice Cooper cover at Sawy. “It’s supposed to be a ‘culture wheel,’” said vocalist Adham Roshdi. “People don’t understand that metal is just an attitude for something. ‘I love you’ can be said with lots of attitudes. The problem is that with this Egyptian thinking, the moment they hear distortion, it’s just ‘satanic’ music.”

Nowhere to go but up

The Sawy Center at least pays its musicians, usually a cut of the door. Other promoters are less willing to cough up cash and seem to believe that it’s enough to give bands the opportunity to play. But most metal bands are realistic about their chances of making a living—let alone getting rich—with their music. Ismael Effat, manager of death metal group HateSuffocation, explains the situation succinctly: “No one likes this music and if you find anyone who would be interested, they don’t want to come to concerts or pay. The metal scene just can’t make money.”

“Never shall a rock band [from Egypt] be famous internationally or even throughout the country, living the rock-star lifestyle with a contract and touring and shit,” states Karim Hassan, frontman for Dieski, summing up the beliefs of the community. “It will always be Sawy, the radio stations, and a few friends and family who come to watch.”

While there are others who are more optimistic, Hassan’s view that rock and metal is a niche market in Egypt is quite convincing. For a start there is the language issue. Almost all of the bands and the vast majority of the audience at rock shows are Anglophones. “There are some people who go to Arabic schools and don’t know much English, who listen to metal,” says Karim Maghrabi guitarist in Idlemind and Abzorb, “but not many of those turn up to the concerts. There it is mainly people who speak good English and go to English schools.”

And going to English schools means a certain level of parental income and therefore a certain lifestyle. Having the resources to buy instruments, get music from abroad and off the internet means that baladi metal bands aren’t going to be popping up anytime soon, and with concert tickets running LE10-20 a pop, the audience reflects this division as well.

But it isn’t just a question of money. While everyone related to rock and metal music in Egypt will tell you that there is no link with Satanism—“Everyone I know on the scene regularly prays at the mosque,” states Ikram, of Metal Gates—there is certainly a very Westernized, liberal side to the movement. Recently Helium and Spit both lost members because they were unhappy with the attitude of the scene, including in their complaints the rowdy behavior of the audience (including mosh pits) and stage diving.

Building a future

The metal scene may be young and it may be small, but it does have enthusiasm and people who are working to usher it into a new phase. Ahmed Gamal and Ahmed Ikram started organizing concerts, evolving through a series of company names before finally settling on Metal Gates earlier this spring. Metal Gates promotion company was conceived of in order to build the live music scene in Cairo and, although the initial response was small, it was enough to encourage them to continue. The size of the audience at Metal Gates concerts has been variable, ranging from around 500 to less than 200.

Meanwhile, older rockers Muhammed Azzam, Muhammed Saad, Sherif Saad and Ahmed Samak set up www.egyptmetal.net to promote and document the scene. They have high expectations of what they can do to unite the scene and bring support. “We set up egyptmetal because there was no support for Egyptian metal here in the country or abroad,” explains Azzam. “We help support concerts and aid with advertising. We have helped bands get reviews and interviews. What we want is for people to understand that we have got something new here.” Egyptmetal is also working towards setting up a record label for “our type of music.”

With a record deal in Mexico and a gig set up in Poland, death metal 5-piece HateSuffocation has more cause than most bands to be optimistic. Guitarist Sherif Marzeban, is now taking things further than just the band and setting up a rock and metal production company in Egypt. “HS Productions (Hieroglyphic Sound Productions) is intended to advertise and promote bands and hook them up with major labels abroad. We have established it as a business with a human resources team, a public relations team and account managers.”

The company will be officially launched next month and already has Brain Candy, Crescent and Wyvern signed up and will be marketing their CDs. If the project takes off, it would be a major for the rebirth of the metal and rock scene in Egypt, possibly getting bands record contracts abroad.