By — Arts Desk Arts Desk Leave your feedback Share Copy URL https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/tonight-on-the-newshour-marcel-khalife Email Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Pinterest Tumblr Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Tonight on the NewsHour: Marcel Khalife Arts Feb 27, 2009 3:52 PM EDT Friday on the NewsHour, Jeffrey Brown profiles Marcel Khalife, who for nearly 40 years has been rousing audiences with songs about love and strife. Khalife is a folk singer, a classical composer and one of Lebanon’s most famous oud players, blending traditional eastern tunes with modern Arabic poetry. He also mixes music with politics, rallying against injustice, poverty and political aggression. In fact, in some ways, his career was born out of the violence of Lebanon’s brutal 15-year, civil war in the 1970s and 1980s. While other artists fled, he stayed, giving voice to the frustrations of his countrymen. Several times during performances, bombs and gunfire erupted nearby. Khalife played on, becoming something of a folk hero in the process. Over the years, Khalife has also embraced the Palestinian cause, using the poetry of the famous Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish. In addition to performing around the world, Khalife is the music director and resident composer for the Qatar Philharmonic Orchestra. Below is video of Khalife performing “Passport,” a poem by Darwish. (Video is courtesy of “Damascus, Arab Capital of Culture 2008 Festival”; lyrics after the video.) Passport by Mahmoud Darwish They did not recognize me in the shadows That suck away my color in this Passport And to them my wound was an exhibit For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs They did not recognize me, Ah…Don’t leave, The palm of my hand without the sun Because the trees recognize me All the songs of the rain recognize me Don’t leave me pale like the moon! All the birds that followed my palm To the door of the distant airport All the wheatfields All the prisons All the white tombstones All the barbed boundaries All the waving handkerchiefs All the eyes were with me, But they dropped them from my passport Stripped of my name and identity? On a soil I nourished with my own hands? Today Job cried out Filling the sky: Don’t make an example of me again! Oh, gentlemen, Prophets, Don’t ask the trees for their names Don’t ask the valleys who their mother is From my forehead bursts the sword of light And from my hand springs the water of the river All the hearts of the people are my identity So take away my passport! By — Arts Desk Arts Desk
Friday on the NewsHour, Jeffrey Brown profiles Marcel Khalife, who for nearly 40 years has been rousing audiences with songs about love and strife. Khalife is a folk singer, a classical composer and one of Lebanon’s most famous oud players, blending traditional eastern tunes with modern Arabic poetry. He also mixes music with politics, rallying against injustice, poverty and political aggression. In fact, in some ways, his career was born out of the violence of Lebanon’s brutal 15-year, civil war in the 1970s and 1980s. While other artists fled, he stayed, giving voice to the frustrations of his countrymen. Several times during performances, bombs and gunfire erupted nearby. Khalife played on, becoming something of a folk hero in the process. Over the years, Khalife has also embraced the Palestinian cause, using the poetry of the famous Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish. In addition to performing around the world, Khalife is the music director and resident composer for the Qatar Philharmonic Orchestra. Below is video of Khalife performing “Passport,” a poem by Darwish. (Video is courtesy of “Damascus, Arab Capital of Culture 2008 Festival”; lyrics after the video.) Passport by Mahmoud Darwish They did not recognize me in the shadows That suck away my color in this Passport And to them my wound was an exhibit For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs They did not recognize me, Ah…Don’t leave, The palm of my hand without the sun Because the trees recognize me All the songs of the rain recognize me Don’t leave me pale like the moon! All the birds that followed my palm To the door of the distant airport All the wheatfields All the prisons All the white tombstones All the barbed boundaries All the waving handkerchiefs All the eyes were with me, But they dropped them from my passport Stripped of my name and identity? On a soil I nourished with my own hands? Today Job cried out Filling the sky: Don’t make an example of me again! Oh, gentlemen, Prophets, Don’t ask the trees for their names Don’t ask the valleys who their mother is From my forehead bursts the sword of light And from my hand springs the water of the river All the hearts of the people are my identity So take away my passport!