From chaâbi folk to electro-pop, El Mehdi finds his voice rooted in Amazigh pride and self-love

On a warm evening in Rabat, Moroccan-Canadian artist El Mehdi leans forward in his chair, the gloss on his lips catching the low sunlight.

"I used to sing under another name," he says, smiling. "But I had to shed that skin to reclaim myself."

He doesn’t like to talk about his early career and avoids questions he considers too personal. What he does discuss, at length and with love, is his Moroccan and Amazigh heritage — and how it pulses through his music.

Born in Morocco to an Arab mother and an Amazigh father, El Mehdi grew up between North Africa and North America. He now divides his time between Montreal, Paris and Casablanca.

For a long time, both his story and his music — as well as Moroccan culture more broadly — were viewed mainly through an Arab lens, while his Amazigh heritage was often pushed to the margins.

"I won't deny my Arab culture; it's part of me and I'm proud of it," he tells The New Arab.

"But I'm not just that. I'm Amazigh. I'm Moroccan. I'm African. And that's where the beauty lies."

El Kass Hlou: A modern spin on Moroccan chaâbi

Growing up with Colombian singer Shakira’s Lebanese-infused Latin pop and Moroccan singer Haja El Hamdaouia’s chaâbi — a North African genre meaning 'folk' or 'of the people' — El Mehdi developed a creative vision as multifaceted as being Moroccan: broad enough to embrace many genres, yet always longing to centre his identity.

His breakthrough came with El Kass Hlou (The Sweet Cup), a reimagining of the classic Moroccan chaâbi hit by Moroccan singer Houcine Slaoui, a 1940s artist whose work once electrified colonial-era Morocco. 

In his version, El Mehdi dresses like Houcine himself, stepping into the role with an elegance that feels half drag, half invocation.

He overlays the vintage melody with synth, Amazigh percussion and the slick beat of electro-pop and dance.

El Kass Hlou has been interpreted several times throughout Moroccan history.

However, most artists toned down the original metaphor — believed to refer to alcohol — and reframed it as tea, something Moroccans certainly consume (and perhaps enjoy) more than alcohol.

El Mehdi’s version, however, stays true to the metaphor’s mystery. The 'sweet cup' could represent anything the listener considers forbidden.

"Jmi3 men daqou yetʿaddeb El Kass Hlou (all who’ve tasted it are in pain) — love, the true self, anything the listener decides," says El Mehdi, smiling.

For many, El Kass Hlou was the first time they heard El Mehdi’s voice unfiltered, in a Moroccan accent, and the song quickly rose to the top of Anghami’s charts across the Maghreb and the Middle East.

Encore: Years in the making, finally released

Building on that success, El Mehdi has taken his sense of freedom further with his latest release, Encore.

Written years ago, the track wasn’t released until June, when he felt ready. Sung in French, the track is a rich blend of pop, electro, and Amazigh rhythms, infused with the heartbeat of Moroccan chaâbi — the very sounds of wedding halls, loudspeakers, and tambourines.

But it's the song's visual universe that completes the vision.

Directed by El Mehdi himself, Encore opens with the artist adorned in ancient silver jewellery and bracelets — sharp, star-shaped, and glinting like ancestral teeth.

"They belonged to women from the Aït Atta," he says. "They symbolise both power and constraint."

Ultimately, the jewellery, borrowed from the Pierre Bergé Museum of Berber Arts in Marrakech, becomes a talisman in the video, as El Mehdi drapes himself in lineage.

As for the attire, on the rooftop of a centuries-old terrace in Salé, just across from the Moroccan capital, El Mehdi wears a costume by Mina Tahir, a Cairo-born designer known for blending traditional craft with streetwear.

He moves between light and shadow, sometimes weightless, sometimes unravelling. It resembles dance, but more so a ritual: something cyclical, haunted, and unresolved.

Interestingly, in Encore, there’s a recurring motif of being stuck in a loop, waiting for change and release.  

The word 'encore' itself, in El Mehdi's universe, becomes double-edged — a plea for more but also an echo that never ends, and the singer says it refers to the urgent need for change and resolution.

Art as activism 

Beyond his music, El Mehdi has always intertwined art with activism, serving as a spokesperson for Amnesty International Canada.

"In recent years, I made the conscious choice to focus on art as my vessel for change," he shares.

"Aiming for the heart before the mind."

That sense of mission spills naturally into his work. His songs aren’t overtly political, but they carry a spirit of defiance and resistance.

In a world where masculinity is expected to look a certain way, and where Amazigh culture has long been marginalised, El Mehdi’s very presence on stage is an act of subversion.

Still, El Mehdi resists being boxed in by labels.

When faced with hateful comments on social media about how he presents himself, he meets them with humour and leans even more boldly into his identity.

"It’s definitely not easy to be attacked just for existing and being yourself," he says.

"But sometimes, all you can do is laugh it off and stay positive."

Part of his drive, he emphasises, is to become the kind of representation he wished he had growing up.

By the end of the year, the Moroccan singer will release his debut project — and with it, more pieces of himself he’s only just beginning to uncover.

Basma El Atti is a writer covering local affairs and social and cultural events in the Maghreb region