Among the projects DIY Solidarity funded this year was Dajjeh (ضجة, Arabic for “loud noise,” a word often used to mean something disturbingly awful), an informal collective of seven people based in Beirut, Lebanon. Since February 2024, Dajjeh has been putting on non-commercial DIY punk shows after the local scene felt stagnant amid economic crisis, war, instability, and burnout.
Their initial goal was simply to revive punk shows in Beirut. When the war intensified from September to November 2024 they paused all events, but Dajjeh resumed in 2025 and have been striving for a monthly schedule ever since. Dajjeh’s gigs now serve as a vital network for Lebanese punks and a stepping stone for new bands—many of which play their debut shows there. After sending funds to help them get a bass amp for gigs, we reached out for an interview that the collective answered together.
In the 20th century, Lebanon was more open to the West than most other Arab countries, and metal music was quite popular there in the 1980s and ’90s. Were there any punks before/during the civil war?
So we’re not experts but as far as our sense of it goes, Lebanon’s music scene before the civil war was pretty vibrant. In the 1960s and ‘70s, there was a lot of traditional music with themes of pan-Arabism, nationalism, and socialism but there was also a fair bit of experimentation with jazz, funk, and even psychedelic rock. The civil war started in 1975 so it would have been very early for punk to have made it. If it existed it didn’t leave any traces that we’ve been able to find: in our circles, no one from that generation has shared stories of a punk scene, though one of our uncles does recall someone in his neighborhood who had the classic punk look, mohawk and all. So while it’s hard to confirm a real punk movement before the civil war, it’s possible that isolated individuals embraced it. Of course, there’s a lot of ways for people to be punks, so there probably were.
In 2013, TAM89 Records released the 7-inch split Underground Lebanon, featuring Detox and Beirut Scum Society. Detox also released a CD in the same year. Which other bands from that period should we know about?
There were a bunch of really cool bands in those days, including the ones you mentioned. There was also Benzene, Deepthroat, Angry Farmers, Scumcorpse, Thrashstorm, and Damaar (دمار) playing in Beirut. We’re sure there are a ton of other bands we’re not mentioning. In Syria, Mazhott (ماظوط) also had a great EP in 2013.
Dajjeh is a seven-member collective, which is quite a large group. How did you come together, what activities are you putting out, and how do you coordinate among yourselves?
We were friends first, and came together that way. Our main activity is the shows which we try to do once a month when the situation in the country allows, which means during the most intense phase of the war there was a big pause. We mostly coordinate via a WhatsApp chat and we see each other all the time and are able to talk things through that way. It’s all pretty natural.
Beirut’s hardcore punk band ta2reeban (تقريبًا) recently released a demo that has drawn some international attention. We’ve heard that some of the band members are also part of the Dajjeh collective, is that correct? Is it true the songs were recorded just a day before Israel carried out its pager attack and the war escalated?
All three members of ta2reeban are members of Dajjeh so there’s definitely a crossover. The songs weren’t actually recorded the day before the pager attack—they were recorded in August. But the release was September 16, the day before the pager attack. All the songs were written and recorded during the ongoing war. But starting in mid-September the war reached a level in Beirut where it didn’t make sense at all to play shows or even practice.
How did the September bombings affect you? Do you take part in mutual aid and community support efforts for the displaced people in southern Beirut? What’s the current situation?
Everyone in the country was affected by the war. The day after the pagers there was another attack, using booby-trapped walkie-talkies. Then five days later there was a massive bombing campaign that killed hundreds of people in a single day. In the entire period up until the ceasefire agreement there were ongoing strikes and thousands were killed. Israel continues to violate the ceasefire in the south, and occasionally in Beirut. And the genocide in Gaza continues, as you know.
So it was like a week where, between the beginning and end of that week, everything changed. Several members of Dajjeh mobilized into mutual aid groups that distributed supplies to displaced people from around the country, alongside friends inside and outside the music world. But we didn’t organize aid work as Dajjeh because there were other collectives that we’re also a part of that were better set-up for that work and it made more sense to put our energies into those collectives rather than try and go it alone.
How do DIY shows in Lebanon typically look like? They’re probably a mix of punk, metal, and other genres. What kinds of people attend these shows, and have you run into any problems? What kinds of venues host Dajjeh’s gigs?
The shows are typically like 200 people, with a big mix of ages but it skews a bit on the younger side, like under 25. There is definitely a mix of punk, metal, and some noise—people who subscribe to the DIY ethos even if they don’t sound like classic hardcore as a musical genre. All sorts of people come to the shows, from all kinds of backgrounds and that’s one of our favorite things. It’s a really open scene and a lot of the people don’t have a ton in common besides their love for the music. We’ve had a couple fights, a couple noise complaints, but nothing too serious. At the end of the day, it’s a punk show, you know?
Within a DIY framework, how do Dajjeh and the bands playing punk shows pool resources (money, backline, transportation) to make these concerts happen? What are some examples of cooperation and creativity you can share?
When we were starting out we met up with an older veteran of the music scene who used to run a venue before it went out of business amid the economic crisis and he agreed to let us use his PAs, mixer, cables, and so on. Then we reached an agreement with our primary venue, which is a really cool old house in Sanayeh, to let us use the space for free. Our current bass amp is borrowed each show from a friend, and our guitar amp belongs to ta2reeban’s bassist. One of our members was able to get a drum kit from a collective that was, tragically, evicted a few years ago and no longer had a need for the drum kit, and then a couple of us with the financial means fixed it up and replaced the heads. So we’ve been basically gathering together the gear from friends and people who believe in the importance of the shows. Of course, we still lose money on every show because they’re free and we need to print posters and buy some things like toilet paper and tape. We split those losses as a collective and we’ve managed to get them down to a point where it’s basically the cost of a couple beers each month per person. And, of course, we just got some support from DIY Conspiracy that will help us get our own bass amp and we’re super excited about that.
Do you consider the Lebanese hardcore punk scene political? If so, do you think its politics differ from those espoused in the Western world? Really interested in hearing more about your ideas on the role that punk and youth subcultures can play in presenting difficult questions within a warzone, within an ongoing genocide in Gaza, and within global political processes—could you talk about this a bit more?
It’s difficult not to be political in Lebanon. The context we live in makes it nearly impossible to create or exist apolitically. That said, our collective isn’t explicitly political in the traditional sense—meaning, we’re not putting out zines, making manifestos, or always issuing clear calls to action at shows.
For us, being political is about how we do things: how we run our shows, how we show up for each other. We always have people volunteering at gigs to be available if anyone feels uncomfortable. We’re proactive about kicking out anyone being shitty—racist, sexist, homophobic, predatory, or otherwise. We don’t censor what musicians say on stage, and a lot of them use that space to speak out—against Israel, against classism, against the centralization of power and culture in Beirut, against systems that erase or marginalize them.
We want to see more queer and female-fronted bands in the scene. That’s an ongoing priority, though we haven’t been super successful. The conditions here can be isolating and hostile and that plays a role in who feels safe or encouraged to participate.
When it comes to something like Gaza or the broader global struggle—punk and youth subcultures can absolutely pose difficult questions and challenge dominant narratives. But we don’t think any one scene or collective can carry the full weight of that. These struggles are intersectional: we’re talking about colonialism, apartheid, occupation, war, capitalism, racism, migrant labor, queerphobia, class violence… They need to be taken on by many groups, through many different forms of resistance, creativity, and care. Punk can be one of those forms. It can offer people a platform, a community, a temporary space of refusal. But it also has to be connected to other movements and ways of doing politics. Otherwise it risks becoming aesthetic or performative.
How important are Arab identities and local dialects to the underground music scene in the region? Detox had a Saudi singer, right? What kind of connections or networks link the various Arab-world punk and DIY music scenes?
These aren’t very big scenes so everyone who is into punk and DIY in the Arab world or the Middle East broadly eventually finds each other it seems like. We’ve met awesome people in or from a number of countries in the region, usually over the internet but sometimes in person. As far as language and identity goes, it’s really personal for each individual. Everyone chooses how they want to express themselves, and it can change over time. Authenticity can be a chain around the neck of musicians in the region—like they have to represent some sociological or historical reality. It’s fine if they do, it’s fine if they don’t.
Hip-hop has been largely influential among youth in Lebanon, Palestine, and Egypt since the mid-’90s. Is it still as charged and important for young people today? Are there any Arab music or art styles that, in your view, share the same fundamentally emancipatory or rebellious spirit as punk?
Hip-hop is huge here, there are so many up and coming rappers and a huge and amazing community gathered around hip-hop. And a ton of it is very political and talks about the struggle for a decent life in countries where the governments are uniformly pretty terrible. But another genre that deserves a shout-out is traditional Arabic music—there are a ton of musicians going back into the 20th century canon that were so revolutionary, like Sheikh Imam. Punk, or any style, doesn’t have a monopoly on political critique and maybe it’s dangerous to view any genre as fundamentally emancipatory.
Which bands, releases, or other collectives like Dajjeh should we check out? Are there any good English-language resources where we can learn more about Lebanese/Arab punk and subcultures?
The archive isn’t our specialty but Rehla magazine had a cool project looking at a lot of the bands active between 2005 and 2019, which is a good place to start. Then you can look up the bands they mention online and check out their music.
As far as bands, you should listen to Haram, Demokhratia ( ديمخراطية), Ikhras (إخرَس), Khassarat (خسارات), Zanjeer (زنجیر), Taqbir (تكبير), Detox, Mazhott (ماظوط), Beirut Scum Society, ta2reeban (تقريبًا), Gliddeee, and Thrashstorm, among a ton of others, all have awesome releases out there. Stay tuned for some really exciting releases that are gonna come out of the scene here in 2025. In the meantime, come visit Beirut and you can catch those bands at Dajjeh.
Follow Dajjeh on Instagram for photos, videos, and announcements about upcoming gigs.
