As Syria navigates its transition, the nation’s musicians are cautiously observing the Islamist rebel leadership, aiming to preserve and expand upon achievements gained throughout the nearly 14-year civil conflict. The war invigorated and directed a burgeoning heavy metal movement. Following the de-escalation of hostilities, a thriving electronic music and dance show sector emerged, revitalizing Syrian nightlife. Currently, members of this community are preparing to engage with a government led by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), an organization that previously had ties to al-Qaeda and the Islamic State. HTS has stated that it disassociated from its extremist past several years ago. DJ and musician Maher Green stated, “We have to be organised before we go to them, because they are so organised. We are willing to talk to them with logic. We are willing to talk to them with a real proposal.” Green recounted that electronic music organizers managed to establish communication with the security services of the former president. He explained, “They didn’t understand the gathering of 50 boys and girls and dancing in such a goofy way. We developed a relationship with them through the years to make it go in a good and peaceful way.” The Assad regime exhibited less tolerance towards heavy metal artists who formed underground bands in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The regime perceived this genre as a subversive Western subculture linked to Satanism. Nael al-Hadidi, a former music shop owner, recalled, “I went to the intelligence force maybe three times, just because I sold this kind of music. They made me sign some papers that I wouldn’t do it again.” This intense scrutiny diminished when the severe suppression of Syria’s pro-democracy revolution ignited a brutal civil war. Al-Hadidi noted, “Before the war, even if you grew long hair, wore black T-shirts, metal dance T-shirts, the security would take you. They suspected that you were Satanic or something. After the war started, they were too busy to dig in this way. They were more afraid about the political stuff.” This shift created an environment conducive to the rise of a dynamic heavy metal scene, which is featured in Monzer Darwish’s documentary titled *Syrian Metal is War*. While the war may have energized metal bands, it ultimately prompted a significant emigration of musicians who felt the country no longer offered them a future. Al-Hadidi, shaking his head, remarked, “Ninety percent of my friends are now in Europe, the Netherlands and Germany.” Wajd Khair, a musician who remained in Syria, ceased playing music in 2011 when the violence began. He conveyed, “It seemed that any lyrics I would write, they didn’t express what really happened, no words can express what was happening back then.” Only last year did Khair resume playing and recording. He is now contemplating the implications of the Islamist leadership for creative freedom. When asked if he would maintain a low profile until the situation clarified, he asserted, “We have to be more bold. We have to be heard. We have to let all the people know that we are here. We exist. It’s not just Islamic Front and Islamic State here. I don’t think that keeping a low profile under these circumstances is good for anyone.” Khair expressed encouragement regarding the pragmatism observed in the days following the rebel takeover. He commented, “The indicators are that we are going to better place, hopefully.” However, during his conversation, news emerged that HTS had closed the Opera House. Khair exclaimed, “Not a good sign” if true. A visit to the venue quickly revealed that officials outside confirmed it was a false alarm, and the esteemed institution, along with other public buildings, would reopen one week after the rebel victory. HTS is indeed pledging to uphold rights and freedoms. The group appears to be mindful of Damascus’s cosmopolitan culture. State television broadcast Islamic chanting last week but withdrew it within 24 hours after social media protests erupted. Outside the Opera House in the square, Safana Bakleh was attempting to perform revolutionary songs with the choir she conducts. Enthusiastic young people joined her, and she handed over her drum, allowing them to chant and sing. She acknowledged, “It’s maybe not going to be an easy path. Maybe we will have some new obstacles, but we used to have corruption, we used to have dictatorship, we used to have secret police. We’re still very hopeful for the future…because we have a very, very large group of people that are opposition and artists and actors, musicians and composers and the future of Syria.” Nevertheless, they are unwilling to trade political authoritarianism for religious fundamentalism, according to al-Hadidi. He stated, “I hope that HTS stands by their words about freedom, because we don’t want to be another Afghanistan or another country ruled by a specific party or rulers who enforce you to (follow) some rules.” Green, resolute in his desire to contribute to Syria’s future, emphasized the importance of swift action from the artistic community. He observed, “It doesn’t seem like in the first week of freeing Syria, (HTS) is willing to look for the cultural side. They have a lot of problems, they’re looking for the economy, looking for making a new government.” He added, “We are trying to organise ourselves before they start looking at culture. So that we get there first, (and we must be) united in our opinions.” Like others in the region, Green has been experimenting by blending traditional Arabic music with electronic rhythms. He described the culture of the Islamist rebels as “is religious songs and that’s it.” He continued, “This is a little bit backward for us. We were here in Syria before the war, and inside during the war, (when) we had so many experiments. We evolved so much. We have so much mixed culture.” Syria’s music scene experienced a resurgence and even flourished during the civil war; it now confronts a novel and unforeseen challenge.

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