Myriam Faris is championed as being a child prodigy. She started singing at the age of about minus five, won about a thousand prizes during her youth, and went on to study musicology before earning a place among the golden pop-brats of the Arab world.
So she’s been criticized for emulating Shakira, but does that make her any less of a star? She’s gorgeous, talented and, most importantly, she sells.
Her fourth album “Bitqoul Eih (What Are You Saying?) is a cheerful mix of the ‘generation’ electronic pop with touches of classical Arab melodies and, at times, a dose of shaabi teen beats.
She also ventures into Gulf territories, in “Moukana Wein (Where is he), where she quite impressively tackles the Gulfy dialect – not with massive success, but, thankfully, she’s supported by a team of backing singers that do the job well.
To the ear of the Arabic pop philistine, most of the songs seem to sound vaguely familiar. The drippy romance that distinguishes Arab pop is all over Faris’ album, although there are a few shiners that lift it from the masses.
“Ayam El-Shitte (Days of Winter) is one song that isn’t among the aces of the pack. In perhaps an attempt to placate her Shami and Lebanese fans, Faris sings in her native Lebanese dialect, and it’s a pleasant change to hear the soothingly soft “jims’ slide into her tale of “the first time the sky is without stars.
“Ayam is a slow love ballad with all the tired old combinations of uninspiring background piano. Its sole saving grace is the shivering line: “It’s the first time the sky tells his woes, even the rising moon and the street waters reproach you.
The standout track of the album is “Ana Mosh Ananiya (I’m Not Selfish). Starting on a low minor, it rises into a deep call of one women’s ultimatum to an indecisive man playing along two girls. It’s sympathetic but equally rousing, as Faris wails afore a pumping electronic drum beat “I can leave you and go, but choose between us. Her impressive vocal range and powerful control makes “I’m Not Selfish one of the trade songs of Faris’ career.
“What Are You Saying? is another star of the album. It starts with punchy pin-pricked lyrics of “My heart is for you, and my spirit is for you, and I’m between your hands, before a swinging chorus with a Mediterranean accordion riff. It has touches, similar to the former track, that really have the potential to lift Arabic pop from its bland, creamy malaise.
But it soon slips into the utter anodyne. “If I Were Satisfied starts off with potential, but again sinks into the usual old tunes. At one point, I thought I might be watching an advert for a sofa showroom on repeat and by the end of the album my ears felt like two anodes from all the electric keyboard.
Faris has a sweet voice, and she’ll no doubt continue to do well through the release of uninspiring albums. But she’s far too, well, frankly boring, to be Shakira. She’s sexy for the kind of guys who dream of a pliant milk-maid, but her songs lack the two elements of energy and passion to make them, and her, anything else than mediocre.
