“I could no longer sing anger with soft music”: interview with Souad Massi

On the occasion of the release of his eighth album, ConfusionSouad Massi abandons the acoustic sounds that have long shaped his universe for more frontal rock. Between anger, war, exile and Franco-Algerian memory, the Algerian singer delivers her most directly political record, but also one of her most personal. She will perform at the Théâtre du Châtelet on Thursday June 18. Encounter.

 

LCA: Zagate. Where does this title come from?

Souad Massi: This is a distortion of “it’s getting worse”, an expression that is used a lot in Algiers when the situation becomes serious. And frankly, when we look at the world today… yes, it’s getting worse.

However, you maintain a form of hope.

I am optimistic by nature. Hope has always helped me move forward. Since I was young, I have tried to transform problems into strength. Without that, I think we’ll collapse.

This album is more electric, rougher. Was it a necessity?

The music had to marry the words. I couldn’t sing anger, fear, revolt with soft music. It sounded false. When I found the producer Justin Adams, I told him: “I want to make a rock album. I want to scream. “I wanted music capable of carrying that urgency.

The album opens with Ana Human : “I am a human being”. Why do we feel the need today to recall such fundamental evidence?

This song was born after seeing an injured journalist on a hospital bed. I especially remember a sentence he said: “I am a human being, why was this done to me?” “She haunted me. Afterwards, we showed images of him on the field, with his camera, his “Press” vest.

And I said to myself: even someone who simply documents war can become a target. Ana Humanit’s almost a plea. Saying “I’m a human being” should normally be enough for people to stop hurting you. Maybe it’s naive. But I haven’t found a more accurate sentence.

Has our time become more cruel?

Humanity has always known horrors. My grandmother told me what she had experienced during the Algerian war. Others experienced the Second World War, famines, rapes, fear. But what shocks me today is that we see everything live. We are connected. We know the story. We are capable of sending humans to the Moon, and yet we continue to manufacture wars for oil, for money, for power. This is what upsets me.

You quote Khalil Gibran, Avicenna. Why return to these voices?

Because we no longer listen to reasonable voices. Today, someone who accumulates sweeping opinions on social networks can influence millions of people. But a researcher, a philosopher or a doctor who really thinks about the world becomes suspicious, disturbing, sometimes called a conspiracy theorist.

I wanted to recall certain timeless words. Like this sentence from Khalil Gibran: ignorance leads to fear, fear leads to hatred and hatred leads to violence. When we refuse to know the other, we always end up fearing them. Then by hating him.

Your texts are more direct than before. Have you lost your patience with metaphors?

Maybe. In one song, I clearly say: “Get ready, they are making weapons to destroy us. “Before, I would have shrugged this off. Today, I feel the need to be up front. A war is a war. An aggressor is an aggressor. I don’t want to pretend anymore.

Gaël Faye, Youssoupha: what did they bring that others would not have brought?

A real pen and a real political conscience. With them, the discussions went well beyond music. We talked about the meaning of words, of images, of what a sentence could provoke in someone who listens. These were not simple “featurings”. We built the songs together.

Relations between Paris and Algiers are going through a new zone of turbulence. How do you deal with these tensions?

It pains me. Because behind the diplomatic tensions, there are millions of people living between the two shores. Young Franco-Algerians who deeply love France and yet hear speeches stigmatizing them. When I go to Marseille, I sometimes feel as much in Algeria as in France. Our stories are mixed. And I believe that dual nationals have an important role to play in building something other than permanent resentment.

An artist has a responsibility, you often say. Which one exactly?

When we go on stage, it’s not just to entertain. We have a voice, a capacity to raise awareness. I worked with the UN on projects related to the emancipation of women in Africa and the Maghreb. It made sense. I think that an artist must also serve that purpose.

After almost thirty years of career, what still scares you?

Losing my voice. It’s an immense fear. Voice is not just a tool. It is what connects us to others. And then I still have a dream: to write a song so unique that you have to listen to it several times to discover all its facets. A song that stands the test of time.

I don’t notice any major spelling errors in your initial version; the corrections mainly concern the typography of quotes, a few commas, the agreement of certain terms and some slightly streamlined formulations.

 

> Also read: Favorite Music: Souad Massi sings about the chaos of the world