You can almost time your watch to Amr Diab. For more than a decade, the Egyptian pop star has probably been the most consistent recording artist and performer in the Middle East.
He averages three concerts a year in the UAE, including outdoor gigs during the seasonal months as well as arena dates in Abu Dhabi and Dubai. His latest stop was at packed Eid Al Adha concert at Dubai’s Coca-Cola Arena on Wednesday.
Familiarity could have bred ambivalence from the audience. Then again, Amr Diab gigs are not standard Arabic pop fare. For one thing, he actually moves around the stage.
It may seem bizarre that this is notable, but most major Arabic pop stars – with a few exceptions like the marauding Najwa Karam and the hyperactive Mohammed Ramadan – are rooted behind the microphone during concerts, presumably to concentrate on delivering their ornate lyrics in key.
Diab, on the other hand, is a liberated presence on stage. He dances, claps and even breaks out into the occasional jumping jack fitness routine when performing his hefty catalogue of effervescent pop hits that has soundtracked Arab summers for more than 30 years.
A reason for that distinction is that Diab’s influences differ from many of his peers. While they took their cues from classical Arabic and tarab music from Egypt and the Levant, Diab looked towards the Mediterranean and drew upon its rich sounds, from flamenco and salsa to Andalusian folk.
His wider palette is reflected in the make-up of his backing bands. Fellow chart leaders and future Coca-Cola Arena performers George Wassouf and Sherine Abdel Wahab often take a more orchestral route by augmenting their band with a string section, but Diab’s group are more nimble and neatly reflect his inspirations.
One side conjures the Mediterranean flavour, with its trio of flamenco guitar players and a violinist. The other is a Levant folk ensemble featuring piano, accordion and percussion.
How they seamlessly come together is the true magic of Diab concerts. Bahebo marries a wistful accordion line with thumping rhythms of the darbuka for a sun-kissed track equally at home in Beirut or Barcelona radio playlists.
Ya Agmal Eyoun begins with the kind of flamenco guitar flourish reminiscent of The Gipsy Kings before Diab chimes in with his husky tenor vocals have not lost any resonance.
El Leila, one of Diab’s better EDM-inspired offerings also struck the right note and suitably warmed up the crowd for a closing half-hour of back-to-back hits.
The high point was undeniably an epic 15-minute fusion of three of his most memorable tracks, Wayah, Tamally Maak and Nour El Ain.
Not only was this section worth the price of admission alone, but a near perfect distillation of Diab’s adventurous approach and joyous stage presence.
The fact that many of these elements are missing in the greater Arabic pop landscape is not only a cause for concern but makes Diab’s frequent UAE concerts feel like a revelation, time and time again.
