EMEL
Tunisia’s ex-goth voice of revolution mixes the electronic and the traditional.
“My music doesn’t have to be perfect,” says Tunisian singer Emel Mathlouthi. “Art doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to be human. I wanted to say humanity isn’t only about violence and individualism, it’s capable of beautiful things like art and empathy.” It’s a sunny, early spring day in London and Emel, who has just released her second album, Ensen (“Human” in Arabic), is on a break between appearing at the Women Of The World concert at the Royal Festival Hall and flying home to New York. It’s a far cry from 2010-11, when she became one of the voices of the revolution that ousted her homeland’s president, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali. Kelmti Horra, a song written by a friend five years previously, went viral as lyrics such as “For those who resist we are the voice” connected with protestors on the street. “The thing I find interesting is that it’s not a commercial song,” Emel says. “It’s seven minutes long. I never thought about delivering a hit. Listeners understood the most powerful thing is staying true to your original idea.” Unlike another well-known singer of protest songs, Mathlouthi has taken the stage at a Nobel Peace Prize ceremony: in 2015, the committee that oversaw Tunisia’s transition to democracy collected the award and she was there with an orchestra to perform her anthem. Good going for somebody who only a few years before
“YOU HAVE TO CRASH, MAKE MISTAKES.”
had been a high school goth. It was only when she discovered female singer-songwriters from beyond the Arab world that she realised what could be achieved. “It wasn’t obvious to me that I could be alone on-stage, that I could be independent. Discovering Joan Baez – that was like a powerful, inspiring statement.” Her latest recordings are a mix of electronica and traditional instruments, consciously avoiding the clichéd “exotic/ethnic” sounds of the dreaded “world fusion”. “You can’t just sit there and let music happen,” she says, “you have to crash, make mistakes.” The lyrics on Ensen, however, are a strident call to civil disobedience. So does she have a message for anybody who says nobody writes protest songs like they used to? “Well, that’s kind of true. Then, people had the same voice, and we’re not there any more, that kind of utopia and common spirit. But you can see a lot of people, particularly women, who know it’s their time to make a difference. I hear them talk about how important it is to have music that touches their soul and gives hope. We are making a difference, and this time it’s much stronger than it used to be.”