Libya, the little-known relative of the Arab music scene

From Benghazi to the oases of Fezzan, Libya hides a musical heritage of surprising richness: Andalusian suites played in Tripoli to the fast rhythms of Benghazi’s Gheita, passing through the Marikaoui of the south and Ahmed Fakroun’s international pop. His artists have crossed centuries and borders. Forty years of dictatorship, an international embargo, and forced exile have however slowed this vitality. The Libyan musical history, rich and plural, deserves to be told.

Multiseccular roots: between Malouf, Jarr Suwahli and desert traditions

Libyan music is first a crucible. Since the expulsion of Moriscos from Andalusia in the 15th century, Tripoli and the coast have cultivated the Malouf, heritage of these musicians fleeing reconquered Spain. This classical genre is structured around 24 noubas — great vocal and instrumental suites — and is played on the oud and bendir, a circular stringed drum. Each nouba, structured in five mizan, can last six to seven hours. Similar echoes are found in Tunisia, Algeria (Gharnati) and Morocco¹.

Less scholarly, the Jarr Suwahli — literally “coastal music” — is one of the oldest forms of Mediterranean Libya. Born from the fusion between Arab-Andalusian tradition and rhythms beyond the Mediterranean, this free and expressive genre gave birth to an entire wave of Libyan pop. Its open structure allows both poetic improvisations and collective performances, often danced during weddings².

To the east, the city of Benghazi produces two emblematic styles. The Mirskaawi, whose name would come from Mourzouk (in the south) or “Morisco” through linguistic evolution, marries classical Arab modes (maqam Bayati or Rast) to modern urban energy. The Gheita, even faster, is a genre essentially masculine, associated with weddings and great national holidays. It is also played in the oases of Ghadames and Ghat, where instruments like the zokra (Libyan biniou), darbuka and bendir rhythm collective dances³.

In Fezzan and Cyrenaica, Bedouin and Amazigh traditions — huda, chant of camel drivers whose rhythm imitates the dromedary’s walk, Shetawi, exclusively manual percussion — testify to a vitality that never went out⁴.

Did you know? In the 1950s, Libyan music was so present that it accompanied mandatory tours of Egyptian stars like Oum Kalthoum, who performed in Tripoli on March 12, 1969 — the day before the September 1st coup d’état of the following year⁵.

The golden age: pioneers and radiation (1950-1970)

The independence of the Kingdom of Libya in 1951 marks a turning point. The Libyan radio, created in the 1950s, launches musical departments in Tripoli and Benghazi, offering artists a new showcase⁶. In this context, founding figures flourish.

Mohamed Hassan (c. 1944-2017), born into a poor Bedouin family from Al-Khums, joins the choir of Libyan radio in the 1960s. He publishes his first solo song in June 1970, six months before Kadhafi’s coup d’état⁷. His music, at the crossroads of Bedouin folklore and modern rhythms, knows immediate popular success. He composes more than 500 songs over four decades, also writing for Arab stars like Warda Al-Jazairia, and performs in 2002 at London’s Royal Albert Hall⁸.

Ali Maher (1945-2022) is, for his part, one of the most distinguished composers in the Arab world. Former Central Bank official, he switches to music in 1967, studies in Cairo and returns to Libya in 1977. He composes the masterpiece Balad Al-Tayub by poet Ali Sidqi Abdel Qadr and realizes the first Libyan opera, Hind et Mansour⁹.

But the most international name is undoubtedly that of Ahmed Fakroun, born in 1953 in Benghazi. From 1970, he forms his first group, spends five years in the United Kingdom, records in London with BBC producer Tommy Vance, then signs with Ricordi (Italy) and Polydor (France). His clip “Soleil Soleil”, directed by Jean-Baptiste Mondino and featuring comedian Coluche, triumphs throughout Europe in the 1980s¹⁰. In 1987, the album Mots d’amour, recorded in Paris, is considered a milestone of Arab world music¹¹. International sanctions against Libya after 1986 prevent him from radiating further — but his titles are rediscovered in the 2000s by Balearic DJs who make them staples of European underground¹².

In parallel, Hamid Al Shaeri (born in Benghazi in 1961) moves to Cairo in 1974, where he becomes the pioneer of al-Jeel, that Arab synth-pop which will dominate Arab pop of the 1980s-1990s. His hit “Lolaïki” (1988) sells over a million cassettes¹³. He also produces Amr Diab’s first successes, including Nour El Ain (1996), a title that wins a World Music Award and propels Egypto-Libyan pop onto the international stage¹⁴.

Four decades of contradictions: folklorization under Kadhafi, Amazigh silence and the underground

The regime of Colonel Muammar Gaddafi (1969-2011) placed the music industry under direct influence. Mohamed Hassan, through his folklorizing style and allegiance to the regime, became the “court musician” — his tent shows, traditional attire, and closeness to the head of state made him the visible face of official music, instrumentalized as propaganda¹⁵. In parallel, Amazigh styles — Tamazight in language — underwent an Arabization policy: Amazigh cultural expressions were relegated to informality, banned publicly¹⁶.

The 1970s-1980s nonetheless saw a certain artistic emigration. Exile in Cairo and Paris allowed artists like Fakroun and Al Shaeri to shine, but also to suffer the consequences of Libya’s growing isolation¹⁷. Reggae, imported in the 1990s, became one of the few spaces of freedom — driven by Ibrahim al-Hasnawi and a myriad of anonymous interpreters¹⁸.

Revolution, renaissance, and today’s scenes

The 2011 revolution changed the landscape. Dania Ben Sassi (born 1988), an Amazigh singer, became the musical icon of the uprising. Her songs in Tamazight, including Agrawli Itri Ennegh (“The rebel is our star”), composed by her activist father, became anthems of resistance¹⁹. Her role made her the “swallow of the Libyan Amazigh spring,” according to writer Lhoussain Azergui²⁰.

Rap, long banned under Kadhafi and confined to the underground diaspora, became the voice of revolutionary dissent. Rapper MC Swat released in 2011 “Hathi Thawra” (“It is the revolution”): a sonic manifesto that mobilized Libyan youth²¹. After Kadhafi’s fall and the 2014 civil war, the scene continued to grow. Artists like Ibn Thabit (with Al Sou’al) and Rami al Kaleh ("We will not surrender", killed in 2011) embodied this resistance²².

The renaissance accelerated in the mid-2020s. The inaugural edition of the Benghazi Summer Festival in August 2024 — the country’s first major cultural event in 15 years — brought together about twenty regional artists: Egyptians Afroto, Wegz, and ElGrandeToto rubbed shoulders with Libyans Ka7la and Mansor Unknown, who played their first concert on stage in their own city²³. But this movement is threatened: by the end of 2024, eastern authorities imposed heightened censorship on rap, accusing artists of violating “moral rules,” which echoes the musical repression of the Kadhafi era²⁴.

To listen to

Libyan music is not an exotic curiosity: it is a whole country that sang — and continues to sing — despite obstacles. The Malouf of Tripoli, the Marikaoui of the south, the Gheita of Benghazi, the rap of Tripoli’s streets: there is no “mysterious desert music” here, but rather vibrant, complex, contemporary scenes — connected to global trends while remaining rooted in their history. The challenge for Libyan artists is not innovation, but the simple survival of a scene that dictatorship, war, and sanctions have weakened but never destroyed.

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