Rogér Fakhr - Fine Anyway Review
It confidently drifts between moods, from the unavoidable groove of ‘Had To Come Back Wet’ to the haunting melancholy of ‘My Baby, She Is As Down As I Am’, never once relenting its marvellous lyricism or pluck-and-twang hook.
Crate-digging is not without its moral issues, especially when it echoes the effects of colonialism. This is why Jannis Stürtz, founder of Habibi Funk Records, avoids the term ‘discovered’ when describing his work that sets out to reissue funk, jazz, and soul from Arabic nations. He is ultimately hopeful, and absolutely certain, that the record labels of North Africa and the Middle East will eventually outshine his own Berlin-based endeavours. Until that moment arrives, however, Habibi Funk Records work diligently to ensure fairness and respect are assets of each release, refusing to support problematic stereotypes, splitting fees fifty-fifty with artists, and often covering extra costs from their own pocket. Considering the label’s substantial fanbase inside the very regions they work with, it is clear they have found their success.
Rogér Fakhr’s Fine Anyway is Habibi Funk Records’ latest and sixteenth release. The album, originally produced and recorded in Lebanon during the late 70s, sits in the realms of folk-rock, occasionally tinged with the same soulful spirit that underscored the Woodstock generation, and so much so that, on my first listen, I would have been hard-pressed to guess it was anything but an American record. Even Stürtz notes that he might have otherwise supposed California over Beirut. Such a misidentification is perhaps easily admissible since Fakhr sings almost entirely in English, a creative decision that not only sets him apart from other Lebanese of the same era, but also echoes his personal influences, such as The Beatles, The Doors, and James Taylor.
“English was still my third language,” Fakhr says in his correspondence, “but I was convinced I had to play a role in creating music that comes out of Lebanon in parallel to what was happening elsewhere.”
This choice is, in my opinion, all the more inspired because Fakhr’s songwriting is the quality that most clearly shines on the album, placing poetry at the centre of every track. This is, for me, apparent when considering the lyrics of ‘Lady Rain’, the album’s opening and most gently devastating track:
Kind sunray, said the lady, I feel sad,
The winter took away all the strength I had,
I’m going far beyond the highest hill,
No-one can ever know how great a pain I feel
As is common with Habibi Funk Records releases, there is happenstance in its background. Stürtz had spent a great deal of time in Beirut, especially with his friend and collaborator, as well as jewellery shop owner, Issam Hajali. During their meetings, Rogér Fakhr’s name made a regular appearance in conversation and with consistent reverence. Hajali had shared a flat with him years before, having worked on music together before Fakhr ultimately left the country to begin living in the USA.
To Stürtz, he remained a figure of intrigue, one with a talent that personally affected numerous notable musicians, yet whose profile and music were simultaneously almost entirely absent outside of hearsay and two-hundred original tapes. Eventually, Stürtz asked directly for Fakhr’s contact information, leading to the two exchanging emails and Fakhr sharing some of his music. Stürtz was taken aback by the beauty of it, finding it totally beguiling. He proposed to reissue the tracks, to which Fakhr declined.
Two years later, Beirut suffered its port explosion. Habibi Funk Records acted immediately, releasing a collection of tracks from Lebanese musicians, those they knew personally and with whom they had previously worked, to raise money for the Lebanese Red Cross. Fakhr was eager to be a part of the project: contributing two tracks to the compilation and, alongside them, his blessing for his recordings, those collected as Fine Anyway, to be re-released.
The album is captivating, from beginning to end, and I completely understand Stürtz’s initial amazement. It confidently drifts between moods, from the unavoidable groove of ‘Had To Come Back Wet’ to the haunting melancholy of ‘My Baby, She Is As Down As I Am’, never once relenting its marvellous lyricism or pluck-and-twang hook. That is except for one of the final tracks, ‘Keep Going’, whereby Fakhr sings “When you don’t like it, keep going, it’s nonsense, in a way, to fight shadows”, shortly before his voice is poignantly drowned out by the sound of warfare.
Songs otherwise feel universal, both in their emotional relatability and timelessness. Disappearing smiles are a recurring theme, appearing among a backdrop of rainfall, cigarette smoking, and returning home. Melodies and harmonies are casual and hypnotic, often crushed behind the faint distortion of an aged recording, which adds to its aged singer-songwriter charm. Had this music been more widely distributed upon its release, I wager it would have become an essential release, one to sit on the shelf beside the very American classics Fakhr admired.
Keep Going, however, with its gunfire and Arabic lyrics, serves as a stark reminder of the music’s cultural context, that it is not an American release but one with roots among the devastation of the Lebanese Civil War. It is a context that makes me pause when describing Fine Anyway as ‘universal’ because to what extent can that be true? How do we discern which elements formed from such a unique experience? From a Western perspective, my position feels problematic, similar to that of Stürtz’s ‘colonial crate diggers’.
Despite the questions this single track raised, however, a track that is incidentally only a minute and a half in length, it is the lullaby of ‘Lady Rain’ that remains on my mind. I was then thankful when, in an email, Rogér Fakhr kindly offered a pleasant insight into its background.
“In early May, the sun starts coming out behind the clouds and comes upon the rain crying her last tears because it’s the end of Winter. Feeling sorry for the rain, the sun approaches her to comfort/console her and, as a result, she completely dries up,” he writes.
“Sad, but out of this encounter, Spring is born.”