Deep-Dive: The Lost Tapes of Rogér Fakhr
- Phoebe Davidson
- Apr 16
- 5 min read
On February 3rd, Berlin-based record label Habibi Funk announced that Rogér Fakhr and Charif Megarbane will embark on a European tour in the spring of this year. The duo represents two different generations of Lebanese musicians. Megarbane, more of a New-Wave artist, has an expansive discography that has carried him through sold-out shows across Europe in the 2000s.
Rogér Fakhr, on the other hand, hadn’t performed live in 40 years when he took the stage alongside Megarbane at EartH London last year. As Fakhr’s smooth, soft voice washed over the audience, he was awestruck to find onlookers singing his songs from memory. Although Fakhr played guitar and collaborated with iconic Lebanese music stars in the 70s and 80s, his musical contributions went largely unrecognized until several years ago. With the release of his first official album, Fine Anyway, in 2021, Rogér Fakhr’s name is finally receiving the global recognition it deserves.
Both of Fakhr’s albums were released via Habibi Funk, a reissue label founded by Jannis Stürtz. The label aims to connect global listeners to the Arab world through an eclectic blend of funk, soul, and folk sounds from artists in the '70s and '80s. Stürtz views the project as a way of connecting the diaspora to a curated collection of Arab music across genres and histories. He’s quick to remind listeners that Habibi Funk is not designed to reflect the diaspora or rich tapestry of Arab music as a whole, but rather, is a collection of music he personally admires.
Intentions aside, the production group has seen great success, amplifying underappreciated voices while also morphing its own genre categorization. Initially, Stürtz was connected to Rogér Fakhr back in 2018 by their mutual friend and fellow Lebanese musician Issam Hajali. When asked if he’d be interested in reissuing his music, Fakhr declined. It wasn’t until two years later that the pair reconnected.
In the aftermath of Beirut’s 2020 port explosion, which killed hundreds of people and injured more than 6,000 others, Habibi Funk began fundraising efforts for the Lebanese Red Cross. The result was an album compiled of music from different Lebanese music legends, with funds dedicated to the relief effort. When asked to contribute, Fakhr quickly agreed.
This collaboration revealed to Fakhr that he did have an audience, and his voice had a place in the history of Lebanese music. While he has a style distinct from other well-known Lebanese artists, Fakhr’s story mirrors that of an entire generation of Lebanese musicians whose blossoming artistry was thwarted by the country’s bloody 15-year conflict.
Beirut in the early 1960s was a thriving cultural hub—its streets brimming with musicians, artists, intellectuals, and rich tourists enjoying strolls down its cobble-stoned streets, past luxury high-rise hotels, and stunning ocean views. The sounds of innovative Lebanese beat, folk, rock, and jazz styles lived in the city’s residents, echoing through the streets, restaurants, taxis, and clubs across the ancient city. In its golden age, Beirut was a picture of economic promise, cultural prowess, and artistic potential, despite persistent colonial legacies. Rogér Fakhr grew up against this rich cultural backdrop, learning to make music after a teacher performed Bob Dylan’s music for him as a teenager.
At 17, Fakhr left home to walk across Lebanon with his guitar, writing and performing folk songs in English, Arabic, and French. While he performed with bands like The Challengers and The Chargers in the early 70s, his travels out of the country led him to find a uniquely psychedelic, acid-folk sound, inspired by classic bands like The Beatles and The Doors. This inspiration can be heard in the harmonized vocals of songs like “Insomnia Blue.”
By 1974, the thriving community of Beirut was a war zone. When Lebanon’s civil conflict reached a violent peak in 1976 and ‘77, Fakhr left the country for Paris, where he connected with other Lebanese artists and musicians. While there, he discovered music that hadn’t yet reached Lebanon because of the war— Zeppelin, Hendrix, and various rock sub-genres, including Brazilian rock styles. The last four songs on Fine Anyway were recorded in Paris. You can hear the stylistic shift in tracks like “Gone Away Again” and “(Such A) Trip Thru Time.” The instrumentation is fuller, with a backdrop of drums, bass, and electric piano.
Fakhr returned home to Beirut to record his first official release. The result? 200 hand-recorded (and hand-illustrated) cassette tapes. While none of the original copies have been recovered, a friend’s copy allowed the recordings to be included on Fine Anyway. The other tracks from the album were recorded in the same sessions but sat unreleased until 2021.
Fakhr’s time in Paris also nurtured his lifelong collaboration with Issam Hajali, another musician from Beirut. Hajali has a rich discography of jazz-infused folk music, performed in Arabic and touching on a wide variety of themes. He went on to found the acclaimed Jazz-fusion band Ferkat Al Ard and was a prominent member of the Lebanese far-left movement during this period. His career, like Fakhr’s, was in its dawn as the Lebanese Civil War dragged the country into poverty and violence.
Upon his return from Paris, Fakhr converted his family’s apartment in Beirut into a sort of artist’s house. In interviews, he’s likened this period to COVID quarantines, the crisis, the isolation, and camaraderie giving way to a certain intimacy and innovation in Fakhr’s sound. Outside of the home, the Beirut of the early 60s was long gone— bombs destroyed the city’s famed architecture, violence inundated the culture, and the youth had changed entirely. Fakhr’s music reflected an artist searching for meaning in this environment. He began to incorporate flutes, horns, and more experimental sounds into his music. The jangly, “Everything You Want” exemplifies this experimentation.
In the war period, Fakhr and a generation of Beirut’s creatives found a space for musical expression. The residents of the artist's house formed a band, performing when they could. Meanwhile, Fakhr collaborated with composer Ziad Rahbani and wrote music for famous Lebanese musicians like Sammy Clark. Eventually, he was asked to join the orchestra for Lebanese legend Fairouz's 1981 North American tour. Afterwards, he settled in California, his music career virtually over until Habibi Funk drew him back out four decades later.
Fakhr’s career, like that of all Lebanese artists of his generation, was stained by the strife of the country’s civil war. He recalls this history of disruption in his song, “Keep Doing” which ends as a siren comes in and the sounds of bombs overtake the soundscape. Fine Anyway was released with a small booklet containing photos and illustrations of Fakhr and his friends during recordings in the 1970s. Their influence floods the album, with vocals from his girlfriend at the time, Bruna-Maria Naufal, the saxophonist work of Toufic Farroukh, and production work from Ibrahim Jaber and Raymond Sabbah. While his Fakhr’s sound as a whole mirrors that of Nick Drake, James Taylor, Donovan, and other folk singers of the era, his musicality is marked by this idea of lost youth, and infused with some Lebanese styles. In “Sitting in the Sun” we hear a looping maqam melody, a type of improvised Arabic song.
In many ways, Fakhr’s sound reflects other folk musicians of the era—Nick Drake, Donovan, and James Taylor. He translates this style into jazz and soul-infused, psychedelic-folk-rock songs, standing as a testament to both his creativity and the rich history of his home environment. His second release, East of Any Place (Habibi Funk 025), is more of an explicit archive of Lebanon’s turmoil. The songs are melancholic and laid-back. Like in Fine Anyway, Fakhr oscillates between laid-back, acoustic-driven folk and jazzy, soul-infused rhythms.
Rogér Fakhr’s unique psychedelic-rock-jazz-blend is both a reflection of his singular artistry and a window into the rich, complex, ever-evolving history of his home. His lo-fi recordings were my introduction to the world of 1970s Lebanese folk music and the vital archival work of Habibi Funk. That his music is being rediscovered so many decades later is not just a testament to his talent, but to the lasting significance of his generation’s voice.
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