Filmed over 31 grueling days in war-torn Gaza, amidst the relentless bombardment and the haunting specter of destruction, “Lazem” a dark and hypnotic production by “Bshndy” (Mohammed al Zanoun – Instagram) and “nvb$” (Osama Kolthoum – Instagram) emerged. Despite being physically trapped in Gaza and the fragile internet connection, the track and accompanying music video made its way online for the world to hear, reaching its hand out into the digital void. But it has fallen on deaf ears, barely escaping the confines of the small underground Palestinian music scene.
Since the outbreak of the attacks on Gaza in October 2023, a wave of global solidarity and support for Palestinians has swelled, eventually diverting its attention to those in the diaspora. As much as the support has been instrumental in bringing attention to the plight of Gaza, and the Palestinian cause in general, it has inadvertently overshadowed the voices of those living amidst the daily horrors of war. Their human stories, their dreams and aspirations, are tragically drowned out in the cacophony of global discourse. The relentless stream of gruesome images and heart-wrenching narratives risks dehumanizing the very people at the heart of this conflict. Countless stories from Gaza remain trapped within its borders, unseen and unheard by the world.
Bshndy and Osama’s voices are among those lost in this maelstrom. Disconnected from the world by media censorship, crippled internet infrastructure, and the constant violation of their basic human rights, their music struggles to find an audience. Even arranging a simple phone call for this interview proved to be an arduous task. They had to travel to a relative’s house, relying on a precarious hotspot connection, just to share their story.
“Producing this project was incredibly challenging,” they confided, their words heavy with the weight of their reality, “amidst the aggression, destruction, and the disregard for international norms and the sanctity of human life.”
Speaking to me over an Instagram call from Rafah, their temporary refuge after being displaced multiple times, their resilience was both startling and inspiring. Amidst the unimaginable, they found moments of levity, their laughter a defiant act against the darkness that surrounded them. They shared stories of resilience and gallows humour – of people selling aid supplies, of wishing for cigarettes and coffee instead of food, of Osama’s cat succumbing to depression and biting himself in distress. “Even the cats get depressed,” Osama remarked with a wry smile. “Welcome to Gaza.”
They recounted their harrowing journeys since October 2023 – the displacement, the separation from loved ones, the loss, the pain, the despair. Yet, all of this was delivered with an unsettling detachment, speaking to the numbing effect of enduring such relentless trauma. Listening to their stories, I struggled to comprehend how these young men continued to function, let alone create art, in the face of such adversity.
Yet, despite the literal attacks on their lives, they made a track. And shot a whole music video for it, on an iPhone nonetheless, in the midst of war. “We, as part of this community, suffer from the ravages of a war of starvation and annihilation. However, our belief in the justice of our cause and the importance and necessity of our voices as artists compelled us to present this work to you as a reminder that Gaza is a city where people die every day, individuals with their talents, aspirations and dreams,” they said.
To contextualize this track, we need to backtrack a bit to pre-war days. Once a larger group of friends, all joined together by this love for music, they joined forces to launch “Vent” a music label and collective that they envisioned would host all their sonic endeavors and help export their music from Gaza to the world. In September 2023, just one month before the grave unraveling of war and destruction that would ravage their home city, they released a four-track EP “3dm moman3a.” They had big dreams, goals, ambitions, and a studio they lovingly and slowly were gathering equipment for. “Our goal as a team at Vent is to complete our musical project, no matter how high the cost and no matter how difficult the circumstances. We will make of this art something that instills hope in us for a better life and a free homeland.”
And a few months later, when they found themselves displaced in Rafah, clinging to the fragments of their former lives, living day-to-day trying to figure out the next move, the next place, in the utter chaos and uncertainty around them, all the cards stacked against them, they stuck to the plan, and continued to make music.
As Osama explains, “When Bshndy came to me, he had just come out of a tough war zone and he started speaking to me about what he saw and experienced and all the trauma that he endured. I was like stop, “I don’t want to hear about that. Let’s make music. “
So, they quickly started working on wrapping up a track that was already in the works “Lazem.” Although they were physically trapped in Gaza, their fragile internet connection and small network of fellow musicians in neighboring countries kept their music dreams alive. It was a lifeline. They spoke to their friend and fellow artist Abul3ees in Jerusalem who would eventually link them with another fellow artist across the border in Egypt, Logical Da9ud, who would eventually end up mastering the track, making it ready to be released out of Gaza for the world to hear.
While the track was finding its way around the region, taking on its own life, the duo was busy putting together an accompanying music video. “With death lurking around every corner, it was near impossible to pick up a camera and shoot for prolonged periods in the open space. So, the music video turned into a 30-day field trip,” they told me. Each day, they ventured into the ruins of their city, documenting the devastation. Abandoned factories, bombed-out buildings – these became the backdrop for their artistic expression. They filmed amid danger, their shoots interrupted by the chilling sounds of gunfire and the sight of people fleeing for their lives.
“We would go and they were really dangerous places, so sometimes we would be forced to halt everything. Sometimes shooting would break out and people would be running from the bullets and we’d catch it in on camera, mid-shoot,” shares Bshndy.
“We found ourselves here. In this moment, in this war. So, we wanted to capture everything happening to us and our people in our video. It’s a snapshot of what we’re experiencing daily,” says Osama. This video wasn’t about trying toprove something or flex some directorial prowess. Its meaning and value is derived from the sheer difficulty of shooting anything, nonetheless a music video, in the midst of war. But they used all the tools they had at their disposal – an iPhone, one laptop, their chargers, which they connected to solar panels, due to the lack of electricity, that would take more than a day to charge for just 30 minutes of juice – to put together something that was “unpretentious and simple but clean and well-crafted.” What they didn’t have in equipment and production capabilities, they made up for with their skill and dedication to creating the best piece of art they could.
With just 30 minutes to one hour of laptop power available every day, Osama got to work editing quickly. Their days were a blur of survival and creation. They visited friends living in makeshift camps, worried about their families, and constantly prepared for the possibility of further displacement. Yet, they carved out precious moments to work on their music. They heard news that the army might invade Rafah soon, so that became the deadline for the video. “We were running away from death, taking care of our families, making sure they had everything they needed. So, moving from one place to the next and resettling again, it was a long and painstaking process. The video had to be done before that would happen again,” explains Bshndy.
He pauses for a long moment. And I felt that moment needed to linger a bit longer, sensing he was mulling something over in his head. Suddenly he continued, “You know this track is just the start. Before the October events, we had a stock of music in the pipeline. We were developing our skills, and getting new equipment. I even had an EP along the way. But now I just don’t have the capability to record anything. Rafah only had one studio and it was hardly ever available. But we won’t let that stop us, there will be more tracks after “Lazem”.”
“Vent”, their small music label and collective that was just starting to come together, still lives on. Their other label mates, at the time of this interview, were separated, their families going different ways with the outbreak of the attacks and were sare currently staying in Deir El Balah.
In the life before war, they tried to live relatively normal lives, as normal as possible under occupation. Bshndy had been working at a beauty and cosmetics store for the past five years while Osama was busy finishing his Master’s degree and graphic designing his way through life. Even with Bshndy’s 12-hour work days and Osama’s studies, they used any free time they had to work on music. “Every Friday, Osama and I had a tradition. We would meet and spend the whole day together only working on music,” says Bshndy.
Their first release, a four-track EP called “3dm moman3a,” just weeks before the war, now seems tragically prescient. “It’s like it was written about the attacks,” they marveled. “It shows how this suffering didn’t start in October. It’s been an ongoing reality in Gaza.”
“But I never expected it would reach this level,” Bshndy admitted “But it did. You see us in the videos and pictures and feel for us and empathize with us. We may feel numb ourselves but nothing is like the pain of watching others suffer around you – live, right in front of your eyes.”
“The last thing we can imagine is that we would let go of our musical projects and succumb to the circumstances. Music is freedom, in all its details,” says Osama. “Music is the only thing we get to choose,” chimes in Bshndy. “We will never let it go.”
At the writing of this article, the boys are currently living in Khan Younis. They have yet to release anything after “Lazem” but I know there will be more music on the horizon.
For more stories of music from across the MENA region, visit our dedicated archives.
