"You're still home to me, even if the house falls apart," sings Lebanese artist Oliver Azzi in his latest single Baladi . While this lyric may read as a message to a loved one, it instead reflects the emotional distance between Oliver, his loved ones, and the Lebanon he once knew.
In doing so, it reframes human connection as a form of shelter when places no longer feel safe or recognisable, ultimately becoming the emotional centrepiece of the song.
Written amid escalating tensions as Israel's war and invasion of Lebanon intensified, Oliver explains that the emotional centre of Baladi took shape while he was flying back to Beirut from Dubai, and he describes the song as "a love letter to Lebanon."
Expanding on what home means to him in the context of Lebanon's history of civil war , economic hardship , and Israeli assaults on the country , Oliver says, "Home isn't a physical place."
He adds, "It's a feeling. It's the people we carry with us, the memories that stay with us, and the emotional connections we have with our family, our country and our loved ones. It's our childhood and everything that comes with it."
He continues by reflecting on how that connection to Lebanon remains central to him, even as the country faces ongoing political and economic instability.
"When people come to Lebanon, they experience the beaches, the mountains, the restaurants and the warmth of the people," he says.
"Politics and corruption have affected the country, but we're trying our best to keep sharing the image of Lebanon that makes people feel welcome."
Ultimately, for Oliver, his view of Lebanon is less about nostalgia and more about preserving a version of the country tied to lived experience and emotional memory.
Those themes of memory, belonging and loss are also present in the visuals for Baladi . The music video deliberately avoids focusing on any specific political event, instead exploring how conflict affects ordinary people and families in everyday life, and, rather than relying on explicit symbolism, Oliver says the aim was to reflect more universal emotions of fear, uncertainty and grief, regardless of where those experiences take place.
"The video is about memory, identity, resilience and the passage of time," he tells The New Arab, adding that it explores "the feeling people experience when everything they have built can disappear in a matter of seconds."
He continues: "Whether it's a photograph breaking, a home being destroyed, or losing the people and places you love, I wanted viewers to connect with that experience."
Authenticity, he says, was central to the entire process. "We didn't want to create a traditional music video. We wanted something that reflected the reality many Lebanese families were living through. There is fear, uncertainty and exhaustion, but there is also the need to stay strong for the people around you."
That same approach carried into the production, with Oliver and producer Ahmed Diaa grounding Baladi in regional sound and instrumentation from the start, aiming to keep it rooted in its cultural context through Arabic instruments rather than mainstream global pop sounds.
"We wanted the song to have warmth and intimacy," he shares. "The oriental instruments, including the buzuq , nai , riq percussion and cinematic strings, were important because they connect directly to our culture. We weren't focused on technique or on creating something that might go viral overnight. We approached it as a song that represents our people and our experiences."
He adds that these choices are closely tied to identity rather than aesthetics alone.
"When you hear these sounds, you immediately recognise where they come from," he says. "You know this music belongs to this part of the world. The song isn't about creating a modern hit. It's about telling a story and sharing an experience." Personal foundations The emotional honesty at the heart of Baladi can be traced back long before the song itself.
Reflecting on his upbringing, Oliver explains that growing up as an only child in a divorced household shaped many of the emotions that now run through his music, themes that can be heard in tracks such as Aa Balak , Fina , E' tizar and Hal Ehsas (starring The Voice of Hind Rajab' s lead actress Saja Kilani ).
"I grew up feeling the absence of both a mother figure and a father figure at different times because I was constantly moving between two homes," he says.
"It wasn't a traditional upbringing, but it shaped who I am, my emotions, my personality and ultimately my music."
While those experiences were difficult, he says they also helped him develop resilience and a clearer sense of self. "It made me stronger and pushed me towards my dreams," he says.
"Looking back, I'm grateful for those experiences because they played a huge role in shaping me as an artist."
Music, he adds, also became an important outlet during those formative years.
Raised on a mix of Arabic and international artists, Oliver developed influences that continue to inform his work today.
"I grew up listening to Fairuz, Ziad Rahbani and a lot of international artists as well," says Oliver.
"Artists like Akon and Eminem were part of my childhood too, so my musical influences have always been a mix of different worlds."
What stayed with him most was the sense of creative freedom those artists embodied. "The music they were creating felt ahead of its time. It showed me that you could make Arabic music that felt fresh and exciting without following a specific formula."
That idea continues to shape his work today. Having initially emerged in indie pop before later collaborating with the Lebanese indie rock band Adonis , Oliver has gradually shifted towards a sound that blends alternative pop with Arabic storytelling and emotional delivery.
"When I first started, I was more in the indie-pop space," he says. "Now I'm leaning towards alternative pop while keeping the emotional Arabic way of singing and storytelling. I'm trying to combine everything I grew up listening to with what's happening in the region today and create something that feels unique to me." Letting go of timelines Like any career, building a path in music has not been without its challenges.
Unlike many artists who start at a young age, Oliver only began pursuing music seriously at 26, a decision that initially left him feeling behind his peers.
"My biggest struggle was feeling like I was late to the party," he admits.
"I was rushing everything because I felt like I had to catch up. Then I realised that growth takes time and that you need patience if you want to build something meaningful."
That realisation has since become one of the key lessons he now shares with emerging musicians.
"What matters isn't how many songs you release," he says. "What matters is the authenticity behind every song. As long as you're true to yourself, the right audience will eventually find you."
Today, Oliver says he feels more settled in his artistic direction, focusing less on speed and more on building a long-term identity rooted in honesty, emotion and cultural grounding.
"I'm entering a really exciting chapter," he says.
"I'm working on new music, new collaborations and continuing to develop a sound that feels mine uniquely. Right now, I'm answering the big questions about who I am as an artist, what I want to say and who I want to connect with. It feels like everything is starting to come together." Zainab Mehdi is a British Iraqi journalist and the Associate Features Editor at The New Arab. She holds a BSc in Modern History and International Relations from the University of Essex and an MA in Near and Middle Eastern Studies from SOAS Follow her on Instagram: @zaiamehdi_ / @zainabmehdiwrites_