The Libyan Music that Made Egyptian Pop What It is

All the alternative baddies are listening to El Shab Arrab. 

London-based Ethiopian Egyptian artist Alewya sampled his song “Lw Kan” on “Cairo FM”and Palestinian Algerian popstar Saint Levaint released his own version of “Wain Meaddy.” El Shab Arrab’s only album Lw Kan (1993) is being played and remixed at DJ sets, house parties and concerts across the region and its diaspora. 

“My niece recently discovered El Shab Arrab on social media and realized that he’s Libyan and I thought ‘oh my God, we’re coming full circle now,’” London-based Libyan researcher Yusef Sawi tells OkayAfrica. 

Sawi first heard El Shab Arrab on public transport in Libya back in the 1990s. “It took one and a half hours and two buses to get to university and on that trip you’d hear every type of music, because cassette companies distributed free tapes to bus drivers,” he remembers. “The first time I heard El Shab Arrab, I immediately went up to the bus driver and bought the cassette. Hamid Al Shaeri was the same. It was the era of Arab pop that was being generated in Egypt.” 

Hamid Al Shaeri’s jeel

Not much is known about El Shab Arrab, a Libyan musician who moved to Cairo in the 1980s and released his iconic eight-track album shortly before he was murdered under mysterious circumstances. However, his friend and the producer of Lw Kan, Hamid Al Shaeri, is widely considered to be the father of al jeel (Arabic for “the generation”), a youth-led genre that fundamentally changed listening habits in the Arab World and became what is now contemporary Egyptian pop music. 

Born in Benghazi to a Libyan father and Egyptian mother, Al Shaeri first rose to fame as a founding member of the Sons of Africa during the 1970s. Under the rule of Muammar Gaddafi, who was pushing a specific “local” Bedouin sound as the only acceptable Libyan music, he was forced to leave and moved to Egypt where he released his first album, Ayonha, in 1983. It was ahead of its time and thus unsuccessful, but his second album, Raheel (1984), received widespread critical and commercial acclaim.

Al Shaeri’s music broke with the musical norm. He had studied in the UK where he was introduced to synthesizers and drum machines that he incorporated into his music. “At that time, most of the Arab composers were still making songs that had to be half an hour,” says Sawi. “[Al Shaeri] was the first one to introduce shorter songs and that got him a lot of attention, because a lot of people were divided in the beginning.” 

Shortening songs and infusing them with synths and western instruments while keeping the Egyptian maqsoom rhythm and traditional Libyan harmonies catapulted Al Shaeri into the hearts of young people who found al jeel to be a great alternative to both Western and classical Arabic music. 

A sonic pioneer, Al Shaeri pushed boundaries and waited for society to catch up. Once they did, he became the most sought-after producer for the greatest talents that Egyptian pop culture had to offer, from Amr Diab, Hisham Abbas and Ali Hemeida. Until today, the song structure and production Al Shaeri created in the 1980s continues to be followed by pop musicians. 

Few people, however, know that the father of Egyptian pop is also Libyan. 

“I think he was a hustler, making it in Egypt as a Libyan. If he wasn't talented, it would not have gotten so popular,” says Ahmed Shaebi, a Cairo-based Libyan communications consultant. “I just wish he put in more visibility on the Libyan roots [of what would become al jeel]. He didn't emphasize that it had its origins in Libyan folklore.”

Shaebi runs Radio Cucina, a passion project that merges his love for North African food and music. He regularly hosts themed events that hone in on specific holidays, like the Amazigh New Year, or overlooked aspects of history, like Italy’s colonial crimes in Libya, and tells these stories through home-cooked meals and dedicated playlists. According to him, the al jeel movement that eventually became synonymous with what is now Egyptian pop has its roots in several Libyan genres. 

Alternative Libyan music

Al jeel became known as a genre that fused Western disco, synth‑pop, new wave, reggae, and funk with Egyptian rhythmic sensibilities and maqam-based melodies. “Al Shaeri was also inspired by the Libyan alternative music of Najib Alhoush and his band The Free Music, as well as Ahmed Fakroun,” says Shaebi. “The three of them worked together and you will hear that this became the core of al jeel.”

Across ten albums, released in the 1970s and 1980s, that were not internationally known until Habibi Funk reissued some of the songs, The Free Music first merged Western and North African sounds by pairing thumping basslines and groovy synthesizers with traditional Libyan Arabic poetry. “Two or three songs on Lw Kan are either inspired or remakes of songs by The Free Music,” says Shaebi. “It’s all connected.” 

While Alhoush pioneered a North African funk sound, Fakroun became known for his talent of fusing Libyan folk melodies and local instruments with European art rock, French pop, and early electronic synth music, which earned him international success. These were the people Al Shaeri first pushed boundaries with and while they remained in Libya, struggling to experiment in an environment that deemed everything Western evil, Al Shaeri carried their spirit with him to Egypt and created something previously unheard of there. 

Traditional Libyan music 

While al jeel decentered large orchestras and produced music with simple keyboards and drum machines instead, it continued to follow Oriental scales and incorporate instruments like the oud or the sagat. Both Sawi and Shaebi hear different Libyan influences from the Al Jufra oasis in the center of the country, some Trabulsi and Dernawi  influences and Aghani Shitawa from the East.

“Shitawa is a specific Benghazi tradition of poetry battles where people dance in a circle and clap,” explains Sawi. “In some of the songs you can hear the clap, that special Shitawa sound.” 

“The kind of singing and clapping in a Al Shaeri song like ‘Ainy’ has its root in traditional Libyan music like Shitawa or Jufra music,” agrees Shaebi. “It’s a special form of participation in music and that’s why al jeel feels inclusive and catchy. That’s what Libyan music does to people: it makes them want to engage.” 

When people dance to El Shab Arrab at a Habibi Funk event in London or perk up at an Al Shaeri song on TikTok, they have the same experience that Sawi had three decades ago on a bus in Libya – they’re infected by the music and want to know more. 

Al Shaeri may be criticized by some for not acknowledging his Libyan influences enough (he has faced several lawsuits in Libya). But he was able to popularize these various sounds and traditions in a non-Libyan environment, because he leaned into a level of abstraction that allowed him to turn Libyan folklore into Egyptian pop. 

Both Al Shaeri and El Shab Arrab were able to create something truly timeless. That’s why everyone has been obsessed with “Ayonha” ever since it was reissued on Habibi Funk’s seventh compilation and Lw Kan is making a comeback.  “It’s the perfect combo between The Free Music and al jeel, fusing Libyan melodies and the Egyptian alternative music scene back then,” says Shaebi. “It took them ten years to make Lw Kan, because they put a lot of effort into it.” 

“Lw Kan was the magical combination of [El Shab Arrab’s] voice and talent and [Al Shaeri’s] vision and talent in composing,” agrees Sawi. “It was like East meeting West.”