Music liberated me.
I have learned to create from a hybridized point of view. It's an asset - something rather liberating.
World music can be sometimes like the lumber room in which all the non-English singers are dumped. When you are singing in Arabic, no matter what your style of music or artistic proposition is, you are faced with some of that reality.
I had the urge to face my own limitation, and I needed to be bigger. I needed to be more professional and be in a more competitive environment because I wanted to grow as an artist. That's why I went to Europe.
Back in Kuwait, I had started listening to a lot of English language music: western music, I would say - Kate Bush and Radiohead - and I loved Chet Baker, Etna James, a lot of singers and a lot of bands.
I had an Arabic background. but I lived a very scattered childhood. I didn't belong to any one culture, which meant I didn't have musical geographies in my head.
The Arabic world was very interesting in the 1920s to '60s: there was something booming culturally, and I found my culture very desirable when I listened to these songs.
The Arabic music I listen to is extremely edgy. Ironic, sarcastic, sensual, erotic.
I've always fought any form of censorship.
There is something spiritual about art that connects us with ourselves and with others; it's really about coming together and creating bridges.
I am interested in exploring encounters where worlds meet and not where they separate.