Between roots and reinvention: Moroccan-Belgian singer Tawsen's musical evolution across cultures

"I started making music as a joke — and it somehow became my life," Moroccan-Belgian singer Tawsen tells The New Arab, laughing as he looks back on how his career began.

"Honestly, we didn't listen to music at home. I didn't have piano lessons. I wasn't meant to do this," the 28-year-old continues.

"Sometimes, when I'm on stage singing to a crowd, I still catch myself thinking, 'What's happening? How did I get here?'"

But hearing his music, it's clear that his unexpected journey was meant to be. What began as messing around in a studio with friends soon took on a life of its own.

Posting tracks online and experimenting with different sounds, Tawsen slowly discovered that music wasn't just a hobby — it was a way to express himself and connect with people in ways he had never expected.

"I was just the guy doing hooks at first," Tawsen shares. "But when we started university, life got messy, and everyone went down different paths. So, I started making music on my own."

Tawsen's music moves between cultures, languages, and musical styles, creating a universal sound that resonates with people by breaking barriers, building connections, and reflecting shared human experiences.

That sense of fluidity is central to Chokran, Tawsen's upcoming album, which translates as 'thank you' in English and celebrates his Arab and Moroccan heritage.

The road to Tawsen's success, however, has not always been straightforward.

Early in his career, Tawsen's music was shaped for a French audience, leaving little space to explore Arabic and Moroccan sounds. At times, he says, industry voices questioned those choices.

"Back then, I made tracks like Safe Salina, and the feedback was always the same: 'We don't understand the hook. Why are you putting Arab names on your EPs?'" he recalls, referring to earlier albums such as Al Warda and Al Mawja.

Despite the scepticism, Safe Salina became his first major breakthrough, focusing on a relationship that had ended and featuring lyrics that convey the singer's pain and heartbreak, with his emotions compared to disasters like Katrina and Hiroshima.

"This moment in my life was when I really tried to connect more with my roots," he says. "I wanted to incorporate more Arabic influence into my music, go to Morocco, shoot videos there and collaborate with local artists."

He notes that while some of that vision came to life, the creative freedom he sought remained out of reach.

"We did some of that," he says, "but I still didn't have complete artistic freedom or a clear direction yet."

Today, however, that direction is clearer than ever. Fully independent and in control of his sound, Tawsen no longer feels the need to compromise parts of his identity. Instead, he brings them together on his own terms.

"I'm independent. I have my own label, and I'm doing my own stuff," he explains. "I can finally sing in Arabic and put my culture and identity into my music 100%, with maybe a few little words here and there in other languages."

A return to roots

Embracing culture and identity sits at the heart of Chokran, which he is still completing and expects to release later this year.

For him, the title was an obvious choice. "Chokran was, for me, just an easy word," he explains. "Everyone knows what chokran means — French people, English people. You don't have to be Syrian or Moroccan to get it."

He continues, "It's me showing gratitude — to the fans, to the team, to myself, and also to God. It's about good, positive energy. I wanted to create in a positive way, to put as much of the Arab genre into it as possible, but also make it fresh — like a new wave of music.”

With this album, Tawsen is also moving away from the "romantic lover-boy" image that has followed him throughout much of his career. 

A shift in tone is evident in his collaboration on the sensual track Kayani with Egyptian singer Bayou, whose music video shows both singers basking in the sun on Egypt's North Coast, surrounded by beautiful women, exuding confidence, and flaunting their toned physiques.

"I just wanted to do something different," Tawsen says. "I wanted to go deeper — to speak about dreams, the pressure of music, the struggle of trying to achieve your goals, and how hard that can be."

That desire for depth is perhaps most apparent in Den Den, a track that blends contemporary rap and R&B with Morocco's chaâbi sound, a genre whose name translates as "of the people" or "folk," to explore themes of identity, loyalty, and survival.

Tawsen brings this to life through a cultural lens deeply rooted in Moroccan heritage, with the music video featuring chikhates — flamenco-like female folk singers and dancers historically known as voices of both celebration and protest — sparkling in glittering costumes, as well as men in white jellabas and red tarbouche.

Filled with striking visuals, including the unexpected sight of flying peacocks, the music video clearly conveys what Tawsen stands for: celebrating Morocco, its people, and his own values of confidence and joy. Ultimately, he presents himself as a singer who is proud of his roots and fully confident in where he's headed.

"It's about me, a Moroccan-European guy, trying to go back to Morocco. In the second verse, I'm talking about how I'm here, but always feel like I'm there. It's like, where do I belong?" he questions. 

"I've experienced this over the past couple of years, where I don't quite fit into the French industry, but I'm trying to break into the Moroccan Arabic scene. The problem is that sometimes people think I'm a European artist, so they say, 'You don't belong here.' But in Europe, they see me as a Moroccan artist.

"This clash is where the idea started, and what I really wanted was to create something energetic, different, and surprising," Tawsen shares about the making of Den Den.

The search for depth continues in Khallini — meaning 'leave me' — a track that embraces Moroccan sounds sung in Darija and incorporates Raï, a popular North African genre that blends traditional folk with rhythmic drums and socially conscious lyrics, alongside the oud, a stringed instrument central to many Moroccan musical ensembles.

Written as an ode to his mother, this song may be the first time Tawsen opens up emotionally and embraces his vulnerable side, conveying longing and tenderness while exploring universal themes of love, loss, and connection, as reflected in the lyrics: "Mother, please help me sing. Sing to me to relieve all this pain."

Much like Den Den, the Khallini music video, directed by Farid Malki and shot in a riad in Casablanca, delves even deeper into Tawsen's desire for depth.

The video uses visual storytelling to depict a psychological journey in which everyday spaces transform into surreal, dreamlike settings, inviting multiple interpretations, including the emotional escape Tawsen seeks as he steps out of pain and into a space of imagination or emotional release.

The visuals also highlight iconic Moroccan cultural symbols, such as the hammam and Tangia — a traditional meat stew prepared in an urn-shaped terracotta pot — which represent tradition, family, and the everyday life that shaped Tawsen's upbringing, all of which feed into the singer's deeper connection to his roots.

Striking the right balance 

Looking ahead, Tawsen sees opportunity rather than pressure. He remains mindful of the challenge of evolving his sound while staying true to what long-time fans love.

"I'm trying to strike the right balance between the new Tawsen and the old Tawsen," he says, laughing. "A lot of fans tell me, 'Tawsen, we liked you before,' so I just have to find that balance."

Live performances are also on the horizon, including a landmark moment: his first headline concert in Morocco.

"My first concert at home," he says. "I think people are going to love it. I've never performed my own show there before, and the audience will already know a lot of the songs."

For now, however, Tawsen's focus is firmly on releasing new music, both for Chokran and what comes next.

"It's all about dropping music," he adds. "I have so many songs, and I just want to share them and see how people respond. I love sharing my music, so there's a lot more coming."

Zainab Mehdi is The New Arab's Associate Editor and researcher specialising in governance, development, and conflict in the Middle East and North Africa region 

Follow her on Instagram: @zaiamehdi_/@zainabmehdiwrites_