Christ Khroyan

(Translated to English by Varouj Tenbelian)

The journey from Beirut to Tabarja is not long, especially given the location of Casino du Liban, which boasts a history spanning more than six decades and sits atop a hill overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. With the town of Jounieh and its Kaslik district stretched out below, the Casino du Liban offers a sweeping view of Beirut and its port from a distance. It serves as a gathering place where people from Lebanon and beyond come together for both leisurely pursuits and, notably, for gambling.

In the realm where one contends with the green, amidst the black and the red, fortunes are squandered, with trust placed alternately in skill and in luck. Despite efforts to rein in their willpower, the hormones within their body churn restlessly. There, the strong-willed tighten their grip on their emotions, while the vulnerable lose control of their pulse, causing hearts to race. Blood rushes to the head, bodies perspire, pupils dilate, and an inevitable fury simmers.

But uniformity does not dominate the length of that vast structure. Outside, the souls of people ‘appear’ to be relatively more peaceful. Within bourgeois halls, classical and folk music fills the air, toasts are raised, and people gather to mingle and acquaint themselves with one another.

The shining stars of this country rise and shine on the stages of these casino halls. Talented artists emerge from behind the scenes, stepping into the spotlight to reap the fruits of their hard work. They warm the human soul, educate it, and immerse it in a flood of multifaceted emotions.

Our ears are always ready to listen to sounds and music: whether it’s the beautiful song of a bird in nature, the footsteps of our neighbors in the house, or a melody drifting through the air on a dark night. Each of these captivates our ears with magic and demands our brain’s concentration for at least a fleeting moment.

Sound is movement, creating waves along the horizontal line of stillness, stirring emotions with the undulations of those waves. It serves as a beacon of life, a life raft for those lost in a tempestuous sea, guiding them to tranquil shores and safety. It transcends our understanding, encompassing the environment—the people and objects around us, both animate and inanimate. This time, we consciously and collectively answered the call of nature.

After years of absence from Lebanese stages, Aleph Abi Saad was set to perform a concert in the main theater of the Casino. The musician, who has captivated international audiences and won the hearts of people from various nationalities with his annual concerts and impressive artistry, was eagerly anticipated.

I had heard a few of his performances during our countless weekend drives. Those close to me, especially my friends, knew well that if I enjoyed (or didn’t enjoy) something, it would be evident from the expression on my face. Alef’s music fell squarely into that category, devoid of parentheses.

We had secured our tickets weeks before the concert. Despite the complaints and grumblings about the state of the country, you would always find some people seated in restaurants, picnicking in the mountains, or, for instance, attending Alef’s concert.

On the promised day, all five of us squeezed into the car seats as we headed to the Casino. It was myself, Ara, Khachig, and his parents, whose company is always delightful, regardless of the destination or activity.

It was a weekend, and the highway to Jounieh was packed with people eager to head to the snow-capped mountains.

The congestion varies as the road narrows or widens, and it clears completely once we pass the main roads leading to the mountains. Making use of every providential extra minute, we arrived at the Casino just ten minutes before the concert.

It wasn’t my first time visiting this place. I had been here before, but it was my first time attending the ‘Grand Theater’ event.

When we arrived, the crowd had already gathered at the entrance, presenting a tidy appearance.

Couples, groups, and families were scattered throughout the waiting hall, engaged in conversation and discussions. Three young women were attempting to capture a moment using a telephoto lens, but were struggling to stay within each other’s field of view. After witnessing their futile attempts, I approached and offered to capture the moment for them to cherish forever. With a click of the shutter, I immortalized the scene before rejoining my friends.

The moment had arrived. It was time to enter and find our seats.

Although the appointed time had arrived, the seats remained unoccupied. Nonetheless, we were eager to settle in and immerse ourselves gradually in the atmosphere.

Dim yellow lights softly illuminated the red walls and chairs, casting an ambiance akin to a desert crater where sands swirled in the air. Even our nostrils tingled with vibrations, as a unique aroma permeated the air. All of this elicited a sense of surprise, which persisted until we read the title of the concert displayed on the closed stage.

Dance of Sands…

The ‘Dance of the Sands’. The interior design was not a coincidence or an accident; rather, it was a deliberate plan to create an atmosphere that would stimulate the human senses and heighten anticipation.

After a half-hour delay, the grand curtains were finally opened, revealing the orchestra seated behind them, their instruments poised.

With percussive and fast-paced music, the drummer began to set the rhythm for the audience. He did not cease to open and beat the drums before him until ensuring that everyone was ready.

At that moment, Alef took the stage, assuming leadership of the performance art to unfold.

Before starting the first song from his repertoire, he approached the center of the stage, taking hold of the microphone to address the audience. “In these trying times of war, the decision to hold a concert presents us with a dilemma. Should it proceed or not? However, I’d like to emphasize that today’s concert is an endeavor to confront our fears and uncertainties through music. Let us fill ourselves with hope for the future and stand resilient.”

The people responded to his speech with applause, shouts, and whistles, signaling their approval and agreement. The musician then took his place in front of the piano, captivating the audience alongside his orchestra for over two consecutive hours.

In contrast to the typical 3-4 minutes duration of songs, nearly all of Alef’s arrangements lasted no less than 7-8 minutes. Amidst the enjoyment of listening, Alef skillfully transitioned between oriental, jazz, Latin, flamenco, and tango, seamlessly blending genres.

You may enjoy experiencing these transitions from a YouTube song, but witnessing and listening to them directly in the hall provides a completely different pleasure.

That night, there were no singers; instead, the Qanun would speak, the Arabic flute would answer, the guitar would continue its melody in the background, the percussion instruments would maintain their rhythm consistently, the bouzouki would interject occasionally, the Arabic oud would guide the piece towards the East, and the violin, always present, would add drama. It was the piano’s role to harmonize them all together.

That night, the musicians on stage performed pieces from artists spanning both our lives and the afterlife. The lineup included Lebanese icon Fairuz, Egyptian legends Um Kulthum and Layla Murad, Algerian masters Dahmane El Harrachi and Warda al-Jazairia, French sensation Edith Piaf, Spanish star Manolo Escobar, American composer Justin Hurwitz, and even Lebanese-Armenian artist Adiss Harmandian. Amidst this diverse array of musical influences and the seamless transitions between songs, Alef engaged the audience in interactive puzzles, turning the hundreds of attendees into active participants in the performance.

Those who doubted their familiarity with the song would lean over to their neighbors, while those who guessed it would begin singing, and soon the entire audience would join in.

Each person reminisced about their old home, their village, childhood friends, their mother’s lullabies, or their father’s cigarettes. Together, they all relived memories of the past intertwined with the present moment.

As the music played on stage, the audience was alternately moved to tears and inspired to dance with delight.

The hall throbbed with life.

As the violinist played the melody of ‘Ya Msafer Wahdak’ by Mohammad Abdel Wahab, Mardig, Khachig’s father, turned to him and said, ‘Khachig, allow me to take you back 60 years.’

In that moment, amidst a time when Khachig had yet to be born, Mardig and his generation lived in an era distinct in its customs, tastes in music, and way of life.

On February 23rd, Alef served as a bridge between past and present, seamlessly blending the old and the new within the walls of the Casino hall.

Beirut, March 1, 2024