Ibrahim Maalouf
Dalida by Ibrahim Maalouf

I confess I had never heard the name Ibrahim Maalouf. I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance when the release of a tribute album to Dalida, made at the end of 2017, reached my ears. All I can tell you about Mr. Maalouf is that he is a Franco-Lebanese trumpeter, singer, and arranger with a jazz soul.

The intentions of the album are found in the very words of its creator:

"Dalida was so spicy, sometimes punk, then disco, melancholic, fashionable, crazy...Dalida Jazz? Why not..."

Thus was born "Dalida by Ibrahim Maalouf," a Jazz tribute that also features the collaboration of ten artists, among whom the most notable are Mika and Monica Bellucci.

The greatest merit of this work is that it is not merely a simple reinterpretation, more or less respectful and more or less "innovative," like most tribute albums, but rather a search oriented towards a true artistic direction.

The choice of songs might be considered predictable, having opted for the most well-known ones; on the other hand, we might also consider that the choice of songs most imprinted in the ears of Dalida's faithful listeners is an act of boldness. Aren't the most beloved notes the ones towards which every listener-admirer is ready to cry sacrilege?

Perhaps the most fervent defenders of Dalida will already be on alert at the mention of the word "Jazz." Speaking of Jazz, the quickest mental reference is that of improvisation, but let's immediately distance ourselves from fears and stereotypes by saying that in this album, we are faced with a composed and atmospheric work.

Clicking "play" on the car CD player or on the phone screen, or, I hope, letting the turntable's needle begin its journey through the grooves of the most elegant medium, we are greeted by Maalouf's trumpet. The piece offered to us is "Bambino," but it is unrecognizable for the first 17 instrumental seconds. In the original introduction of the song, Dalida's voice unfurled at full lungs, calling twice for that "Bambino." The French singer's version emphasized the grotesque aspect of the sung event. In this reinterpretation, however, the disappointed interiority of the boy too young to "play with Love" is problematized.

"Sunken eyes, sad face, and pale cheeks"

The whispered voice and arrangement highlight the sensuality of this "cherub" (thus epitheted in the song), which is easy to imagine as a pre-Raphaelite figure.

Sensuality and dolor, feelings that orbited the very person of Dalida, are the main notes of the album in question.

The peak of sensuality is reached in the reinterpretation of "Parole, parole." In the version proposed by Maalouf, interestingly, compared to the well-known Italian version or the French one where Mina was implored by Alberto Lupo and Dalida by Alain Delon, the roles are reversed. Here Monica Bellucci delights in the shallow courtship, and Ibrahim Maalouf, with an affected and rather feminine voice, rejects the flattery by branding them as "Parole, parole, parole..." In the end, there is even the suspicion that they are both pretending...who knows. It has something contemporary; that contemporary labeled as "liquid" some time ago.

An even more effective reversal is reserved for the most doleful track. The most melancholic-sounding track is "Laissez-moi danser," Dalida's disco hit.

Just as with "Bambino," we have 17 seconds of intro, this time entrusted to a piano. Again, the change of attire makes it unrecognizable before the words appear. However, even recalling the text, a certain estrangement remains: the sequins Dalida used to wear have disappeared, the dancers who accompanied the blonde and flowing-haired singer have vanished; the variety show choreographies are no more.

Now to tell us:

I live on Love and dances

There is only one voice; a woeful voice, almost tending towards tears, and

Let me dance, let me

It unveils all the humor that was probably already there when it emerged from Dalida's vocal cords.

To explain the difference between the comic and the humorous, did Pirandello not perhaps induce us to reason between the "awareness" and the "feeling of the opposite" in front of the image of a lady all dolled up and dressed in youthful clothes?

Ibrahim Maalouf, reworking "Laissez-moi danser," was a master at capturing the "feeling of the opposite."

Hoping to have sparked in you the desire to listen to this album, I bid you farewell.