Record Shopping in Lebanon

Before I properly take you into the real meat of this fairytale (meat and fairytale are two words that I promise I’ll never use together again), I'll briefly set the scene. I work in a small record store back home. Paul (the boss) and I got chatting about my upcoming volunteer trip to Lebanon and I suddenly questioned: "I wonder If there’ll be much vinyl in Lebanon?" Paul quickly snapped back: "Nah, I think there’ll be lots of tapes though". Oh Paul… how wrong you were. Determined not to be disheartened by Paul's pessimism, I recalled a recent interview I watched with that very hip band Khruangbin. They were hilariously commenting that every country has been funky at least once in their history, but you just gotta go diggin’ to find it. So I messaged their band page for any tips on stuff to look out for. They replied within a few hours telling me to look out for anything by the 'Rahbani Brothers'. Ace. I had my way in.

So my first morning in Lebanon was really weird, but I’ll probably get to that in some other weird subsection of Slider and The Goose that you can only find through clicking a link on some weirdly specific comment on a YouTube video of Bill Nighy ranting about Marmite… who knows, you may well end up awake at 6am losing your mind on drugs, watching videos of Pirates of the Caribbean edited to the Numa Numa song. Try to avoid this and head straight for the blog – I’ll leave a comment under some funny pseudonym like 'Captain Barbossa' or something. You should be able to find my great yarn from there.

Funnily enough, this ‘diggin’ that Khurangbin had described was considerably easier than I had imagined. I mean, I did do some diggin', but in my head I'd sort of painted a ridiculous picture of my first scalp coming whilst in the arid mountains, wading chest deep in hundreds of records while simultaneously sipping sweet Lebanese tea - all candle lit, of course. As it turned out there was a small record shop literally two minutes from my flat. The lovely owner, Ahmad, sat me down and we exchanged the customary five minutes of introduction chatter, then the conversation seamlessly and appropriately moved onto music. “Ahmad, I’m looking for some Lebanese funk of the Rahbani variety”. Now, as embarrassingly corny as this line was, it was wasted by my lack of pronunciation - I wasn't properly rolling my R’s... “What?” Ahmad replied, “RRRRAHBAANI BROTHERS?!”. To my delight, Ahmad came through with the goods. My introduction to the world of Arabic music was through this fine record: “Liza… Liza – Elias Rahbani” (picture below). He places it his player, a brief moment of silence follows, then a small crackle, and BAM... I get hit by this rolling punchy bassline that kicks off the song in serious style. From there the song builds wildly before dropping into sumptuous vocals: “Liza… Liza… Should I love you Liza?”. I’m bloody hooked.

I haven’t really got time to take you through the whole song, but please take advantage of this fantastic Arabic disco track that has been placed before you. Do me a favour and play it loud, though. If you already know this song, then all I can really say is fair play, exquisite taste. Oh, and how could I resist this album art?

Liza... Liza - Elias Rahbani

Elias Rahbani was number one, but what was number two?! I hear you cry. Well, number two was Soft Cell – Tainted Love… Now you’re probably thinking “Yep, good record, but don’t you already have that in your collection”? Well yeah, if you let me finish, I was about to add – /Where Did Our Love Go remix. The record transitions from Soft Cell's famous '80s synth-pop banger to a cover of yet another Northern Soul / Motown song from the mid '60s, this time in the form of The Supremes' classic: 'Where Did Our Love Go'. The blend between these two Soft Cell covers is perfectly described in some YouTube comment as ‘smooth as hell’, one Slider even notes – “not only is it smooth, but it comes at the perfect time. Just as you’ve had enough of Tainted Love - banger but arguably overplayed [by me] - it transitions into a melody that is distant yet recognizable and familiar”. It's true. It's a fantastic nine-minute track that’ll impress all the ladies.

Some other great finds were: Curtis Mayfield – Something to Believe In’, The Alan Parsons Project - The Best of The Alan Parsons Project, Osibisa – Woyaya, Gil Scott Heron & Brian Jackson – Secrets, Tear Drop Explosives – Kilimanjaro, Jacques Du Tronc – Et Moi, John Coltrane – My Favorite Things, and a fairly large stack miscellaneous disco that could well be terrible. I could call it quits here and you’d probably be fairly content. You'd sleep easy dreaming about this eclectic collection, right?

Unfortunately the record I’ve saved till last will not make you sleep easy at all. If anything, this could keep you up for many, many nights to come... I found this particular record in a small town famed for its great Roman ruins - Baalbek. I was in a small touristy/antique shop that sold fridge magnets, old ornaments, art, presents you’re meant to take home to your family, you know. I asked the owner if he had any records and he replied in broken English and expansive hand-gestures which resembled the dancing that defined a generation during the second summer of love in the 90's. I finally worked out that he had some at home and told me to come back in two / three hours. I didn’t want to hassle him to go all that way, but he insisted. Two hours, a broken flip flop, and one sweaty, culturally enlightened boy later, I hobbled into the shop with high hopes, he had even laid the records cutely within the display. On the first shelf, I see beaten up Arabic records and some sort of half eaten ‘Best of Tom Jones’. Great, I thought, if I wanted Tom Jones I could have stayed home and volunteered at the fucking salvation army (no offence to anyone who works in the salvation army – good on ya). I look to the next shelf with deflated hope thinking this poor guy just travelled at least a couple of hours to get these records. Will I have to buy the whole bloody lot out of pure English awkwardness? Peeping round the corner I lock eyes with non other than a crazed Syd Barrett. It couldn't be!.. Jesus... I suddenly get serious and adopt the stance of a wild animal defending their young as if a poacher was about nab it right before my eyes - all while acting as nonchalant as possible of course.

The Piper at The Gates Dawn

Record shopping in Lebanon? Yep. Completed it. Just like I completed tinder (twice) [and Slider (thrice)]. Actually, I hadn’t completed anything, I’m only just getting started. In years to come I shall be known as 'The great vinyl hoover of the middle east'... I cradled the record the whole two-hour bus journey till I reached the safety of my flat back in Beirut – even then I hid it under my bedside table. I smugly sent Paul a photo and to my amusement within seconds he replied "WHICH PRESSING?". While this record is an early English pressing in mono, its only worth around £30 as I later found out, however, if you're able to get your hands on the right copy, you may be able retire on the spot.

There are certainly more stories of record collecting, but I think the Piper at The Gates of Dawn is an appropriate place to leave it. Lebanon was easily one of my favourite places I've had the privilege of travelling to. The music scene was exceptional. On my first Friday in Beirut I came across the 'Beirut Groove Collective', A group of DJ's lead by Ernesto Chahoud playing rare records from their collection. You can imagine the look on my face when, after a long night of busting serious shapes to rare Ethiopian music, three dirty chords strike out in beautiful 60's garage fashion and out blasts: "Baby I feel good, from the moment I rise". THE KINKS. My fave band. I must have looked slightly mad when I was getting down to this, almost in tears. Apparently they thought they'd really break me, so shortly after they played - Fela Kuti - I.T.T. Sure enough, I had to take five minutes alone. Weak at the knees. Anyway, yeah, the music scene. Check it out.

- Goose.