It may seem strange that this melodic, mystic, english-language acid folk album was recorded in Beirut; let alone in the early years of the chaotic civil war that was to ravage Lebanon for 20 odd years. But that is the truth of Róger Fakhr’s one and only album and of today’s song - Fine Anyway (the song that gives the album its name).
There are many ways that you can take this song and album. As a demonstration of how music can transcend the chaos of reality or as the unfulfilled promise of a burgeoning music culture cut short by war. In any event, it all started with Rogér growing up in Beirut’s bubbling alternative music scene in the 60s. The moment his english teacher showed him Bob Dylan’s music, he knew he wanted to play, but his parents disagreed with such a life choice and kicked him out. He spent the next three years walking all over Lebanon with a guitar, sleeping in tents and playing wherever he could. When he returned to Beirut in the early 70s, the city was flourishing culturally. Western music was flooding across the country’s airwaves and was mixing not only with native Arabic music but also with mystical influences coming from the East. Rogér and his friends spent their days pouring over any records they could get their hands on and playing wherever they could, getting heavily involved in the city’s live music scene. In 1975 they scraped enough money together to book a recording session, spending the day before honing songs that they already knew well from playing together. They only had enough money for one session and the result was this album, recorded in one, non-stop, 8 hour take.
This song, and the album as a whole, is interesting in its distinctly western sound. You would almost never guess its origins. The album really clearly exhibits the influence of musicians like Bob Dylan, Nick Drake, James Taylor (Fakhr’s idol), and even some Beatles elements. Rogér sees himself mainly as a conduit, feels that music is something that flows out of him without much control. Perhaps it is this, or his appreciation for global movements in music that gives the songs their universal sound. The mystical and heavily symbolic lyrics make scant reference the conflict that had broken out two years before recording. The civil war caused chaos across Lebanon for 20 years from 1975 to 1995. It seems like an awful combination of religious tensions, founded in a messy French colonial withdrawal and exacerbated by Cold War proxy influences. The result was years of stop-start fighting that paralysed the country. Rogér explains how he refused to take up arms against people he grew up playing marbles with on the basis of their religion. He withdrew and spent much of his time in isolation with his musician friends, unable to perform live anywhere. Eventually he emigrated to the US, recording some songs in Paris on the way.
It is a miracle that this record didn’t disappear forever. It was dug up by legendary explorer Habibi Funk who managed to get his hands on one of the only remaining cassettes from the 200 that were made in 1975 during heavy bombing. Eventually Rogér agreed on the re-release and I couldn’t be happier that he did. It is a fantastic album top to bottom, with little recognisable hints of western artists and beautiful lyrics throughout. Other favourites apart from this album are Express Line (bluesy) and Gone Away Again (drumsy). I read somewhere that Rogér is making music again from his home in the San Fransisco Bay Area (which he calls ‘Bay Route’), so fingers crossed that we see something soon!