Speaker Berri mourns Ziad Rahbani: 'Without Ziad, Lebanon's melody is sad'
Berri added: "My heart goes out to Fairouz, to the Rahbani family, and to every Lebanese soul grieving the loss of Ziad Rahbani, whose art captured Lebanon's sweetness—turning heartache into poetry, hope into melody, and longing into song. Farewell, Ziad—you will be deeply missed."
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Remembering Ziad Rahbani: a voice of rebellion whose words still echo in Lebanon
Report by Yazbek Wehbe, English adaptation by Karine Keuchkerian Ziad Rahbani wasn't just a creative genius—though he rejected being called one—he was also a popular philosopher and a sharp critic in his own unique way. He wasn't concerned with pleasing anyone as much as he was driven by rejection of, and rebellion against, the reality around him. His entire life was an expression of that resistance, in his own voice. Rahbani was a philosopher of the people—a mirror for those who felt he was speaking their pain and truth, especially during the civil war and in a country fractured along sectarian lines. Coming from a communist, leftist background, he despised classism and fought it. Many of the phrases he used in his earliest plays became part of everyday speech, passed down from generation to generation. His lyrics turned him into a cultural compass for those seeking to describe specific social realities. Themes of livelihood, daily struggle, and survival frequently appeared in his work because they reflected the concerns of ordinary people. He described sectarian and religious conflict in his own way, and many still quote his words today. One haunting question, which he and many Lebanese wrestled with, became the title of one of his plays—a question still repeated today: بالنسبة لبكرا شو؟ (What about tomorrow?) He never ruled out anything happening in Lebanon. To him, everything was possible: "In this country, anything can happen." For the many political, military, and economic analysts who claim to understand everything, Rahbani had much to say—and he wrote accordingly: حاج تحلل وحياتك تسلملي تحليلاتك (Stop analyzing, for the love of God. Spare me your analyses). One unforgettable scene that mothers still reference today comes from one of his plays: waiting anxiously for their children's school grades: إبنك حمار يا ثريا ، علاماتو تحت الصفر...عم يدرس بسيبيريا (Your son is an idiot, Thourayya. His grades are below zero—it's like he's studying in Siberia). Romantic relationships, with all their complications, were also present in his music and theater. Ziad Rahbani was a true mirror of society. He avoided concealing any detail. That was his distinction—his words remain relevant across time and place: before, during, and after the war, in a country called Lebanon, where joy is scarce, sorrow is common, and contradictions abound. He portrayed them all in his own way. His plays offered a vivid panorama of Lebanese society. That's why they entered the minds and hearts of audiences without resistance and became part of everyday conversation. Rahbani's quotes have become cultural trends. Few are unfamiliar with them—and they are certain to remain in the collective memory of generations for years and decades to come.
LBCI
5 hours ago
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Funeral plans for Ziad Rahbani: final journey set to begin from Hamra, his beloved Beirut neighborhood
Report by Nada Andraos, English adaptation by Karine Keuchkerian From a local hospital in Beirut's Hamra—the neighborhood dearest to his heart—Ziad Rahbani is set to begin his final journey, leaving behind a legacy rooted in a life spent among the neighborhood's cafés, alleys, and the places where he moved between friends and admirers. He leaves behind remarkable traces that reflect his unique voice and presence. Rahbani departs on Monday morning, but not alone. He will be accompanied by friends from all walks of life—representing diverse intellectual, cultural, religious, and artistic backgrounds. They will gather to say their final farewell, expressing their love for Ziad. A silent vigil will be held outside the hospital, where they will wait for the ambulance carrying his body, from 8 to 9 a.m., before the procession departs for Mhaydseh in the Matn region of Bikfaya. In accordance with the family's wishes, this spontaneous farewell will be the only public goodbye. There will be no final procession through the streets of Hamra with Rahbani carried on shoulders. Those who choose to gather outside the hospital will instead accompany the transfer of his body to Mhaydseh, where friends and admirers will join Rahbani's extended and immediate family at the church hosting the funeral. There, upon the arrival of the casket, the family—and specifically Fairuz—will bid him a final farewell in a private, intimate moment. The family will begin receiving condolences at 11 a.m., both before and after the funeral service, which is scheduled for 4 p.m. Monday.
LBCI
a day ago
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Remembering Ziad Rahbani: The legend who rewrote Lebanon's soundtrack
Report by Wissam Nasrallah, English adaptation by Yasmine Jaroudi "What About Tomorrow?" Ziad Rahbani once quipped—a phrase that, in its simplicity, captured his cynical and humorous view of the world. Today, Rahbani, the irreplaceable artist, is gone—quietly, without knowing what tomorrow holds. Born 69 years ago, in 1956, in the town of Antelias, Ziad grew up in a household steeped in music and art. His mother, Fairuz, is Lebanon's eternal voice, and his father, Assi Rahbani, was one half of the pioneering Rahbani Brothers duo. Music, for Ziad, was not just a birthright—it was destiny. From an early age, Rahbani began playing instruments, and by his teenage years, he was already composing. Ziad carved his own path, opting for raw realism over romanticism, and crafted songs and plays that reflected the struggles of everyday people. Deeply rooted in leftist politics, his work always sided with the poor and marginalized. At 14, he penned his first hit, "Dalli Hibbini Ya Lawziyeh." At 17, he wrote his first song for Fairuz during a time when his father was severely ill. That emotional track, "Saalouni El Nass," filled with sorrow and love, marked the beginning of a long and bold artistic partnership between mother and son—one that challenged the dreamy aesthetic of the 'Rahbani school' with a more grounded and daring style. His musical portfolio includes modern classics such as "Kifak Inta" and "Oudak Rannan," but his legacy extends beyond music. In the same year he began composing, Ziad also ventured into theater. His debut play, "Sahriyeh," launched a career in satirical political theater that made him a defining voice during and after Lebanon's civil war. His plays—"Nazl Al-Sourour," "A Long American Movie," "What About Tomorrow?",* and "Chi Feshil"—became mirrors of Lebanese society, performed in colloquial Arabic and laced with biting black comedy. Rahbani spared no one in his critique—lambasting political leaders, sectarian figures, and societal hypocrisies with fearless candor. He refused to compromise with power or even to flatter his own audience, remaining fiercely independent to his last breath. Musically, he revolutionized the Lebanese sound by blending jazz, pop, classical, and oriental music into a new, unorthodox form. Albums like "To Whom It May Concern" and "Bima Inno" cemented his role as a pioneer of Lebanon's alternative music scene. Even in his rare media appearances in recent years, Ziad's wit and humor left their mark—offering laughter even in the gravest of discussions. Though his public presence had diminished, he remained a symbol of rebellion, freedom, and creativity for an entire generation. Ziad Rahbani may have passed after a battle with illness, but his voice endures—in music, in theater, and the consciousness of a nation; a defiant note that will never fade.
