SOUK – Amsterdam Arabic Festival 2025

What you are about to hear is more than music

Carole Samaha sings as she lives: full of fire, full of feeling and without reserve. Whether you have been following her for years or are hearing her music tonight for the first time - her voice grabs you, lifts you up and won't let go.

In this programme, you will travel with her through landscapes of love, loss, longing and self-preservation. You don't have to understand Arabic. Her music speaks a universal language: that of the heart.

Our thoughts are with Carole Samaha, who recently lost her beloved husband Walid Mustafa. Her presence tonight makes this music all the more meaningful. She stands here - despite the loss, perhaps precisely because of the power of her art.

And yet here she stands. In all her strength and vulnerability. With her music. With her story. We welcome her with love, awe and open arms.

Welcome, Carole. Welcome to Amsterdam.

Carole Samaha - Singing between love and guts

The evening opens with Shokran - “Thank you”. But this is not gratitude out of peace. She thanks the other for the sadness, the emptiness, the rejection: “Thank you for your neglect and the coldness in your arms, it strengthened my broken heart”. She compares herself to a butterfly who would rather die by her love of light than live in the darkness of oppression. This is not a soft farewell - this is self-empowerment wrapped in velvet.

Ktir Bkhaf - “I'm so scared”. Carole sings about the fear of falling in love again, afraid the story will repeat itself. “I'm afraid of loving someone again who will be just like you”. She addresses her former love, not with bitterness, but with fear of repetition. The music is sensitive and carried - as if each note cautiously draws her closer and then makes her recoil. It is a song about love with scars.

Ettalla Fyi is a desperate cry to be seen, to be recognised in pain. “Look at me”, Carole sings, “see what I was and what I have become”. She addresses someone who once loved her but now ignores her. “These are not your eyes... this is not your gaze. These are not your hands... this is not how your touch feels. Where is the love that connected us? I've lost it, help me find it again”. She wonders how the warmth disappeared and how familiarity turned into distance. The despair is in every sentence, but also the hope of one last look. This is not a farewell out of anger, but a plea out of want.

Habbet Delwaat tells of a love that comes out of nowhere, unexpected and irresistible. She sings: “You came at me like no one did before.... you broke the silence of my heart”. Carole sings of the moment when her heart, which thought it was closed, suddenly opens. The song exudes wonder - wonder at how quickly love can take over you, and how powerful the first touch of real connection can be. “I looked at you and lost myself without a struggle”. It is an ode to surrender - not blind, but conscious and full of fire.

Fawda (Chaos) is not an inner chaos, but a reaction to a world full of negativity. Carole sings: “Let's change the atmosphere, I want to see new people, I'm tired of the old topics”. She turns away from superficiality and social masks and seeks peace and simplicity. The music is rhythmic and energetic, but her words are clear: she wants to break free from the noise and make room for authenticity.

Nafas (Breath) is intense and sensuous. Carole sings about a love that takes her breath away: “Breath, breath, breath. My heart stopped to breathe.... since that day your love has been trapped in my heart”. It is a declaration of love full of surrender, in which she longs for togetherness that fills all the senses. “Your breath is intertwined with mine”. This song is an intertwining of desire and passion.

Khallik Béhalak literally means, “Mind your own business”. Carole sings: “I have removed you from my heart, my mind and my thoughts”. It is a song of liberation: of distancing, of parting without hate. She chooses herself, her peace. The melody sounds airy, but her words are resolute - she decides who touches her anymore.

In Habib Albi, Carole sings about an all-consuming love. She says: “Beloved of my heart, my life, I wish the universe was under my command”. She describes a devotion that is boundless - a love that fills her existence. “I see you everywhere”, she sings. The song is an ode to someone who accompanies her breathing, regardless of distance or time.

In Ya Rab (Oh God), Carole Samaha sings of meeting an old love again. She still recognises in him the man who once captured her heart: “You are still you, and you never change”. Together, they recall memories of shared dreams and wonder how they could ever forget them. Their desire is clear: “O God, let our days stay together.... bring love back as it was - even more beautiful than before”. The song is a tender plea for a second chance at love, rooted in the past but hopeful for a shared future.

And then she closes with Wahshani Bladi (I miss my country) is a song full of nostalgia. “I want to go back to my homeland and think about the past”, Carole sings. She misses the stories, the memories, the lovely people and the nights filled with music. This is not romanticisation, but a raw longing for all that was familiar and safe. Her voice carries the longing of many who had to leave.