With I Remember, I ForgetYasmine Hamdan signs a third hypnotic and sovereign album. Between trip-hop and tarab, the Lebanese pioneer confirms her reign on the Arab alternative scene.
In 2017, Yasmine Hamdan already impressed with the almost scientific precision with which she prepared the release ofAl Jamilat. His approach was more about research than simple composition: patient work nourished by listening, archives and poetry. Years later, his name among the supporters of the Syrian Cassette Archives project recalled how the artist never stopped exploring the musical memory of the Arab world.
The long time of beauty
Few albums have had such an impact asAl Jamilat. Titles like Coffee Or Ta3ala continue to travel through time, keeping their mysterious aura intact. His new album, I Remember, I Forgetpromises the same endurance — notably because Hamdan cultivates the rare virtue of slowness: that of artists who refuse haste.
A timeless stamp
From the vaporous introduction of Hon (Here)his signature reappears: a hushed, slow song, with an almost fragile expressiveness, carried by an immediately recognizable timbre. The piece opens with a diffuse tension, between melancholy and alarm. “A small land, a gaping wound”she whispers — maybe Lebanon, maybe Gaza, or both.
Between accessibility and depth
Faithful to his balance, Hamdan combines complexity and clarity. Shmaali illustrates this more accessible side: a dramatic, rhythmic piece, where the tension rises to catharsis – a reflection of the contradictions of a Middle East torn between chaos and resilience. Inspired by a Palestinian tarweeda, this coded lullaby reactivates the memory of songs where women once concealed their desires and their revolts.
With Shadiathe artist pays homage to the classic tarab. His voice unfolds there, supple and luminous, before transforming into a captivating prayer:
Memory and modernity
The title track, I Remember, I Forgetevokes a car ride through the Lebanese mountains, against a backdrop of lush beats and vocal echoes that link the music to the memory of the place.
This passion for the reinvention of Arab classics continues in Morminimalist rereading of Mor Al Tajannyimmortalized by Mary Jubran and Sabah Fakhry. Carried by a spectral reverberation, Hamdan’s voice intones: “Ah, mor al tajanny, badi’a al muhayya”before an electronic arpeggio leads her into a suspended dream.
Next comes Daya3inspired by the standard Eba'atly Gawab. Hamdan plays on removals and additions, respecting the original emotion while imposing his own sonic grammar.
A discreet sovereignty
Three albums, more than a decade, and an undisputed throne: that of Arab trip-hop.
Yasmine Hamdan made it a territory in its own right, to the point of almost becoming its sole sovereign. But this domination owes nothing to chance: I Remember, I Forget seals its legitimacy, a manifesto of elegance, memory and melancholy.
