The Singles Jukebox

Checking in on Lebanese pop…

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Jonathan Bogart: Many cultures’ pop scenes work on a more extended time scale than the US’s, so Lebanese singer Najwa Karam, whose career began in the mid-’90s and had its zenith around the turn of the millennium, is not remotely a has-been but still one of the most vital presences in Arabic pop. “Deni Ya Dana” (which I’ve seen translated as “Oh My World”) is perfectly in keeping with current trends in Middle Eastern pop, from the rattling percussion and burbling electronic hooks to the oud stings and mizmar flutters that keep the music’s EDMy rush linked to traditional sounds. Najwa’s big, buttery voice accomplishes that too, as do the lyrics, a conventional romantic soliloquy only vaguely hinting at troubles in the world outside.
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Anthony Easton: This is a monster track, with that helicopter landing/timpani introduction laying ground for solid beats — an intricate grounding for a voice I still find a little over-rich. 
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Jessica Doyle: That’s a hell of a prelude, and fitting for a song that wears its additional instrumentation lightly on top of multiple layers of percussion. I wanted the vocals to be just as urgent, and they’re not, especially by the third round. But it’s fun to hear the shift in Najwa Karam’s relationship with the chorus of voices: they start out rigidly alternating, but pretty soon she begins to sound like she’s responding to them or even complementing them, making the song feel even more shared and social. I was alone as I listened, which was almost certainly the wrong approach.
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Juana Giaimo: I enjoy the constant but light percussion and even the piercing string interludes in between verses. But I can barely pay attention to them because Najwa Karam’s overaffected and loud voice is all over the place.
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Ryo Miyauchi: “Deni Ya Dana” squeezes many moving parts worth of a six-minute pop song to a record lasting only three. Najwa Karam hands it over to either her mighty back choir or the shuffling beat a tad too soon to take care of the rest. But she knows just when to exit to let the music talk without crowding up such a largely occupied space.
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Jonathan Bradley: My knowledge of Arab and Middle Eastern pop extends to, well, what we’ve covered at the Jukebox, so can you forgive me for thinking that the circular call-and-response of this song’s leading melodic motif sounds like something Timbaland would have killed for circa 2002? The essential conceit of crate-digging is that the audience knows not what’s in the crates: the Western explorer is rewarded with the distinction of cultural gatekeeper and genius by proxy, while the original traditions are transformed into trivia. “Deni Ya Dana” has more to offer neophytes like myself than this tinge of familiarity though, from its pell-mell percussive stampede to Karam herself, who brings along a chorus to back her words. Still, it’s that recurring riff that I find most gratifying. Perhaps I’m missing some richer detail; that’s OK, I’m still learning.
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Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: Like some of Karam’s biggest singles, Deni Ya Dana’s strength lies in the complex darbouka grooves; the switch from that frenetic maqsoum variation into the more traditional-sounding Saidi rhythm is a percussionist’s wet dream. But this one is no burner until her thick, husky tone takes over, with a swiftness in the verses we hadn’t heard from her in quite a while. A long career can wear you out, but Najwa seems unruffled. She just comes back every year and shows everyone how it’s done. 
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