Special Feature:

On Bedouin Burger, Beirut, & Beyond

Lynn Adib x Collis Browne

On Bedouin Burger, Beirut, & Beyond

portrait of Lynn Adib

COLLIS BROWNE: Thank you for this conversation. It feels fitting to be doing it in Beirut. Both of us have a long-standing connection to Beirut, even though neither of us lives in Beirut. I know that you’re originally from Syria. When did you come to Beirut? What’s the connection?

LYNN ADIB: I grew up in Syria until 2009, then I moved to Paris, where I lived for nine years. When the war in Syria stopped in 2018, I decided to leave France and go back to Syria. I went to Damascus and soon realized that it was going to be difficult for me to do the project I wanted to do in Damascus. Then I met Zeid Hamdan [the other half of duo Bedouin Burger], who was living in Beirut. I decided to go to Beirut because there was a lot happening there. I also have a lot of friends in Beirut. It’s crazy… it felt like destiny. It’s like Zeid and I needed to meet each other at that time in our lives. The project was created so organically… it was me and him just hanging out all the time. I was singing the tunes in the studio; he was working on them. Even the name of the band was a joke between me and him. It was a blessed period of our lives, even though Beirut was going through such a hard time. It was maybe the worst year in Lebanon since the war. It was 2019, a few months before Covid. Covid allowed us to be very creative. We had so much time, because time stopped… We had nothing to do but take refuge in the studio and work. This is one of the rare things I really miss about C Covid… our relationship to time.

The name of the band came from the feeling of being like Bedouins, meaning that I really don’t feel I have a place I can call home, and every place is kind of my home. “Home” is where I meet beautiful people who nourish my soul. And I have found so beautiful people here in Beirut. The idea of home is related to this project… the notion of home has to change for us to survive.

COLLIS: I love the idea of home as movable, or as a place tied to the people more than the land. I think it’s an idea that, especially in the region here, everyone kind of has to adopt. I think it’s a survival mode also… There is a long and complicated relationship between Syria and Lebanon, because historically these two countries share a very similar kind of culture. It was the same land. The border was drawn by the French. But in modern history, there are times when Syria has occupied Lebanon… But I’m interested in the Syrian perspective. Tell me more about this.

LYNN: I don’t know where to start, because it’s such a broad conversation, but I’m just going to say what I felt when I came to Beirut as a Syrian. I did feel that speaking Arabic all the time was not a very good thing in a lot of settings. I was feeling that I had to use my French or English to fit into the society somehow. In Syria, it’s completely the opposite. When you speak French or English, people think you are just pretending to be on a higher social level, and they don’t really like that. So Arabic proficiency is something that is very respected in Syria. I am proud of the fact that I speak Arabic well, and it is something that I’ve missed here in Beirut. I’m privileged as a Syrian here because of my French education. I see other Syrians struggle… they take the jobs that Lebanese people don’t want to take. It is very hard for me to accept.

Even yesterday… we went to a restaurant and all the servers were Syrian. I knew that from their accent. I’m very disappointed by what happened after the regime fell. I’m also very optimistic about Syria, about Lebanon, about the region, even though we know that the danger is nearby… but I still feel that this area is so blessed. I feel that I touch life when I’m in Beirut and in Damascus… that I can see what life looks like. I’m optimistic, also, because there are so many young people now in Damascus and Syria, and they’re trying to move things forward. We take as an example what happened in Lebanon, where Lebanon is culturally… there are so many things that are not working well here, and there is so much chaos, but in so many ways it’s very inspiring. I love that.

portrait of Lynn Adib

COLLIS: We’re based in New York, so we were seeing the Syrian regime fall from afar… I guess at that point, you went back and visited family…

LYNN: Yeah, I put on a concert there that was incredibly powerful for me, because I’d never sung in Syria. I mean, not after I left the choir, because I grew up singing in a choir… but under my name… this was the first official concert for me in Syria. It was a tiny concert, but it was incredibly powerful for me.

We allowed ourselves to be happy for a while. I understand why people were also alarmed, especially people who were living there. I have so many friends who never wanted to leave Syria during the revolution, who are all thinking about leaving now. It seems that there is a plan for Syria to be fragmented… and it’s happening within the Syrian society, unfortunately, by the creation of chaos and uncertainty and instability…

portrait of Lynn Adib

COLLIS: It’s absolutely fueled by the external forces. It’s the colonial divide and conquer. That’s the story of Lebanon. Can music be a force to affect all of this?

LYNN: It’s a question I always ask myself: does art really change things? I think it can when it really reflects the artist’s vision, purely and without any filter. Ziad Rahbani [Lebanese composer and son of legendary singer Fairuz], who passed just recently in July 2025, is one of the rare artists in the world who was so true to what he said that he suffered personally from it. He was alone. And this can change things. It can change something within people’s souls. But it’s very rare that we encounter this kind of art. It’s very rare. Authenticity; that’s what I’m getting at. We are in an era of over-consumption in general, including over-consumption of art and music. This is because of social media… We want to hear new things all the time. We want the artist to produce new material all the time. The artist doesn’t have time to be true to themselves and think about what’s going on and do something true to who they are, which actually can move things forward.

We are consuming so much information all the time that we don’t have time to just stand still. This is what I feel is missing.

Dictators and presidents and wars come and go, but culture and songs remain if they are authentic. They remain in our memory more than anything else, more than war.

I do believe that at the end, it’s life that wins over death and darkness… and music is part of life, true music, beautiful music, authentic music is part of life, and it always wins. I don’t think it stops war right away. It doesn’t save a child in Gaza. But this is what’s crazy about life; our relationship to death is so fragile that sometimes, even if we die, it’s not that we really die. There’s something that remains and will change things later on.

portrait of Lynn Adib

COLLIS: Are you creating new things as Bedouin Burger, that reflect the times?

LYNN: In this album, Zeid and I were reflecting on the moment we met during the revolution here in Lebanon. All the songs were either songs that we love singing because they are traditional songs, or compositions of mine that I proposed to Zeid, or compositions we created together. “Nomad” was a song that was co-written by me and Zeid when we were both in France. It reflects on the feeling of living in exile. We kind of stopped time by doing this project. Thankfully, I have Zeid in my life who understands that I need to breathe, to do something different than Bedouin Burger, to go back a to something that’s personal. I’m really blessed that Zeid understands.

portrait of Lynn Adib

In Conversation:
Photography by:

Filmmaker: Omar Gabriel
Sound Operator: Geddy Kamel
Assistant Camera: Omar Al Zouaapi
Production Manager: Dana Khlat

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