Arabic Neo-Soul
Ma-Beyn: A Musical Constitution For A Generation In Silent Revolt
By Hala (Halo) Srouji
In a region shaped by decolonial struggle, expression itself can be an act of resilience. For Egyptian-Palestinian artist Mariam Shaath—better known by her artistic name Ma-Beyn (which means “in-between”)—her self-titled debut album is exactly that: a third space where music becomes testimony, a way of resisting oppression while searching for clarity within it. Her lyrics move between the intimate and the collective, refusing to separate personal identity from the collective reality.
What makes Ma-Beyn’s debut all the more striking is its form: a 30-minute visual album where the art direction moves as organically as the words and flow themselves. Inviting collaborators from the region—with Palestinian and Sudanese rap features—she builds a narrative that would convince every Arab to sing along. Her project becomes a soundtrack to relief and reimagining—an artwork that listens to all the chaos, reshapes it, and offers it back in rhythms, love, and wisdom. We caught up with Ma-Beyn to talk about her art, her vision, and to ask when the next album will drop already.
HALO:
I’m so excited to be speaking with you! How do you feel after your album-debut concert? How did it feel hearing people sing your lyrics back to you?
MA.BEYN:
Honestly, it was the first time that ever happened to me! Before, the only times were with my close friends — people who were with me when I was writing the songs, or who knew them from way back. So this was something totally new for me. I felt so many emotions at once! I couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, it was so moving. Just the idea that maybe I inspired someone or touched them that deeply — that’s everything. That’s enough. I could die tomorrow happily.
HALO:
Imagine the younger generation who might be influenced by you… maybe one day you’ll be as famous as Amr Diab!
MA.BEYN:
I’m so happy with my little cute community, the kind, supportive people around me.
HALO:
Tell us a bit about the music scene in Egypt. You worked with Kubbara and had some amazing artists on the album.
MA.BEYN:
I love the music coming out of Egypt so much and often find myself encouraged, but lately I feel a bit discouraged. Mostly because of the kind of topics being discussed in the songs. I feel like we’re living in a sort of emergency moment — like how can what’s happening in the world around us not trigger artists’ instincts? Historically at these times of collective crisis, artists in the region are laser focused and play a huge role in the narrative, sometimes songs can move mountains and go down in history. But I don’t mean to sound judgmental at all. It’s just that I wish we were all screaming together.
One project coming out of the mainstream recently I thought was very special: Marwan Moussa’s last album The Man Who Lost His Heart, it gave me some hope. First, because he talked about real issues, about his personal story and human experience, and he structured it in such a creative, intentional way. It had a clear artistic message but he still managed to add catchy melodies and relatability to all, it is possible to make music for the masses and still hold on to an authentic concept. And it was a big project, especially for someone that is well-known in the era of the algorithm and short form content.
Then you’ve got artists on the rise like Kamikazem, Mujvhed, Karamel, and of course Da9ud El Manteqy— whom I’ve been working on a big album with. That’s my next big project.
Mujvhed moved to Cairo from Khartoum and he has so many stories to tell. I really connected with his perspective and life experience, so it was an honor to have him on the album. At the concert, he got to perform his own songs too, and my audience got to know him — luckily we’re a community with shared values so everybody loved him!
I want everyone doing meaningful work to be seen and supported. That’s what makes me happy about this community — even if we’re small, the bonds are really strong.
For that concert, I invited my friends and people from the scene, but I also did something I’m really happy about: I made a list of a few people I’d noticed on Instagram who always supported me — commenting, liking, messaging me asking about new releases — people I only knew through their love for my music. I invited them to the show, and they were the ones singing along with my friends. It was so special to finally meet them in person.
HALO:
Hopefully the community will keep growing. I heard you say in another interview that you feel like you’re late to the game, even though you’ve only been at it for three years. But your song shook everyone at Metro — your voice, your presence, your identity are all so strong. Why do you feel that pressure?
MA.BEYN:
That’s a good question. Part of it definitely isn’t healthy — it comes from the fast-paced world we live in. We’re on Instagram all the time, watching people put out content non-stop. And I didn’t study music formally — I studied fine arts.
HALO:
But your voice is so powerful and never off-key. You never took vocal lessons?
MA.BEYN:
Well, when I was studying Art in the UK, my roommate Hoda — who’s still my best friend — was studying music. She got me into musical theatre, something I used to laugh at, but then it totally captivated me. That’s when I started writing songs. At first in English, but I quickly realized it didn’t work — because what I really wanted to express was identity and history. Even my essays and dissertation at university were about decolonization and cultural resistance.
So I dove deeper, and realized I needed an instrument to translate my ideas and started to learn the keyboard. But when I first entered the scene, I had no real tools or training. I just jumped in blindly. That’s why I feel late sometimes.
Even now I don’t only call myself a singer. Visual arts are still at the core for me. When I write songs, I’m always also thinking about the visuals. Sometimes they come together. The idea of my “album-film” was exactly that — one continuous story, like a novel, with flow and purpose from start to finish.
HALO:
And that flow is so clear — each track stronger than the last. Across different styles you keep coming back to Palestine, love, and how you live through it all. In your song Ma3 El Salama you even say it’s best to take the middle path, not be extreme. Was that intentional?
MA.BEYN:
Definitely. The war affected me a lot, especially spiritually. Over the past two years my faith has deepened so much, and that I think that shows in the album. It’s self-titled because it’s me saying, “Assalamu alaikum, I’m Ma-Beyn, this is who I am and what I care about.” Every track comes from that intention — telling my story and how I feel about everything happening around me.
The album-film was the same. The team and I spent a lot of time shaping the message, even with a moderate budget. In the end we shot everything in 18 hours in Kubbara’s garage, with DIY set design. We really stretched ourselves, but we were ambitious.
HALO:
Every artist who tries to live off their art eventually faces tough choices. Where are you in that journey?
MA.BEYN:
It’s hard. It’s really hard. There are lots of opportunities for brand collaborations or ads but so many of the big spenders are totally not aligned with me artistically or ethically. Of course, that’s not easy — I think, “How do I stay true to my principles and still make a living?” Luckily, my label, Empire, is a good fit. It was actually founded by a Palestinian and the president of the SWANA region is also Palestinian who goes way back in the music industry. They respect my values and I’m grateful. But being signed to a label isn’t enough to make a proper living, artists need commercial opportunities. So I’m working on building and deepening partnerships with brands that create with intention and strong values.
Take the biggest hit in Egypt this year, Khatfouni — it’s literally an ad! The line between art and advertising has really blurred. On one hand, it’s positive, because for years the only music industry that existed here was commercial pop, which was limiting. Now rap, alternative, and indie scenes are getting deals too, which is healthy for the long term. But we need to stay cautious and make sure that even in the case of an ad, there is real creative substance in the music.
HALO:
Especially with the economic crisis. As you say in your song, “I have a million questions for you”, but let me end with this: where are you from in Palestine and in Egypt?
MA.BEYN:
My dad’s family, the Shaaths, are from Khan Younis in Gaza. The family is scattered all over the world now, but we’re very close. Lots of people in my family, especially the older generation are in communication with Shaaths in Gaza and sadly we lost many members in the past two years — may they rest in peace and be forever remembered for their legacy of bravery and resilience. I have relatives in the West Bank too, my grandfather still lives in Ramallah. On my mom’s side, my grandmother is from Ayoub and my grandfather from Munira, both hardworking people who taught me so much about gratitude and living sustainably because they came from humble beginnings and my grandma grew up on the farm.
HALO:
At the beginning of the album, you have a sample of someone saying, “Don’t stand on the wrong side of history…”
MA.BEYN:
That’s my dad! My family’s actually on the album — my aunt and dad sing with me on “Ana Masri Falastini.”
HALO:
And who’s the one talking about love? It sounds like an Egyptian movie…
MA.BEYN:
That’s my grandma! She’s very cinematic.
Hala (Halo) Srouji
Hala (Halo) Srouji is a writer and production manager with a background in editing, journalism, and sustainability. With over two decades of experience in communications and media across the Middle East and the U.S., she curates cross-disciplinary editorial projects that spotlight cultural dialogue, creative collaboration, and environmental awareness. Hala is currently managing and facilitating part of Fann w Fenjen’s interviews with and between artists, bringing a unique and new perspective to artist visibility in media
- Hala (Halo) Srouji
- Hala (Halo) Srouji
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