Ramy Ayach grateful he didn’t lose his mind

As Arab pop stars go, Ramy Ayach might just be one of the busiest. With a new album on his hands, a debut movie role in the works, a tour taking him right through to next year, a series of restaurants as well as a children’s foundation to his name, and a recent marriage to fashion designer Dalida Said to boot, the Lebanese sensation barely has time to just sit back, relax and be the heartthrob crooner he’s known to be.

tabloid! caught up with Ayach as he performed to packed performances in Dubai recently, ahead of his appearance at this weekend’s Tropfest in Abu Dhabi, for a candid chat, talking fame, fashion and the fallacy of “downtime”.

You had two performances in Dubai this week and the mall was packed. Do you get used to such a massive reception?

Never. You never get used to such a feeling. The stage commands respect, and dignity. When you get used to this feeling, it means you’ve misplaced the dignified exchange between you and the stage, and you’ve begun to lessen your respect towards it. This is forbidden for any artist. The stage always has to retain its sanctity. It’s a sacred place, I consider it, because you have to respect it a lot, and sanctify it a lot. Because first and foremost, [the stage] is a blessing, it’s a boon, it’s the place where people love you, and it’s a very big responsibility.

You’ve been doing this for a very long time — over half your life. You became famous with your first hit at 15, and now you’re 33. If you were sitting across from 15-year-old Ramy Ayach today, what would you tell him?

Nothing. You know why? I don’t have any advice, because I believe that everything was meant to be. Everything is in its right place. You can’t change anything; everything is written. I’m opposed to the idea of changing the past. I would just tell him, “Take care of yourself the way you took care of yourself.” I went through a lot of wrong turns; God saved me from them. A boy of 15 could’ve been dragged into many things, but I wasn’t, because the base, thank God, was a bit sturdy, so I was able to protect myself. I’m going to let you in on a little secret – the only thing that could happen in a situation like that is for a person to lose their mind. Because at 15, you either become arrogant, or you go crazy, or you stop being sociable or social. But thank God, I got through it.

You started on the television show Studio Al Fann, which back then was the main talent competition in the Arab world. Since then, many similar shows have emerged: Star Academy, Arab Idol, The Voice, Arabs Got Talent. How do you think this is impacting the music scene?

Studio Al Fann was every four years. I consider that a complete answer to your question. I’ll give you another example. We used to wait for a magazine to come out each month like we would wait for bread; we’d wait to see what the latest news is. Now magazines are becoming obsolete because so many outlets are beating them, like social media. The same thing is true of television programmes. Studio Al Fann had poise, power, responsibility, and a seriousness that is opposite to all the rest of these shows, unfortunately. That’s the secret. That’s the one thing that separates [Studio Al Fann] from other shows. Of course I’m proud to have come out of Studio Al Fann, of course I’m so lucky — there’s no doubt about it.

But talent shows are overdone now?

Of course.

You performed with Mohammad Assaf, who recently won Arab Idol and emerged as both a political figure and a musician. Did you have any words for him?

The case that he came out of it as a Palestinian — this is something that makes your heart grow, first of all, and this is evidence that there is so much hidden talent, especially in a country like Palestine — don’t you agree? So when Mohammad came out of that specific environment, in this specific manner, it’s something to be proud of. Of course, there were a lot of discussions between Mohammad and I, particularly after he won. The things I told him are the same things I told you I would say to myself. I told him, “Mohammad, be wary of arrogance. If you become arrogant now, what are you going to leave for yourself down the line? You’re still a young man who is loved. Be careful not to go crazy. Be careful not to go insane. Because overnight, you’ve become something different. Stay focused all the time, and through this all, keep your faith and don’t abandon in it. Thank [God] every second, because he gave you this, and he can take this away. So thank him every second, and stay focused at all times.

Some might say you’re the whole package. Singer, songwriter, composer, you’ve done it all — but you’re also a heartthrob. How do you feel about the label?

This comes as a plus to what you’ve already built. But at the same time, what you’re focusing on is what you want to achieve out of music. You know, I’m not the looks only. I live in the studio. I work like a dinosaur in the studio, 24/7, the whole time — music, music, and musicians and music. I mean, this is my life. The other stuff comes as a plus, and I thank God for it, but to me — it’s part of the fun. Let it be.

You got married last month. Congratulations! Your wife, Dalida Said, is a fashion designer. Do you feel like she’s influenced your style?

No, though I like to take her opinion. But magically, we have the same taste in a scary way. Maybe because she used to be a fan, and she’s so much into my style, I swayed her style choices in my direction before she even met me. Maybe that’s what makes us have the same style now. It’s the first time I say this, by the way, so I hope your recorder catches it!

You have nearly half a million Twitter followers. It’s not an easy feat. What is special about you that makes people want to hit ‘follow’ on social media?

Honesty. You don’t have to wear a mask with people sharing with you your daily life — your daily moments. No masks here. Just say what you have to say as if you’re saying it to your mother, or your brother. You can’t hide that much from people who are surrounding you so consistently. This is something to be proud about. The idea of Twitter has its negatives, it’s not all positive. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who are sent to say whatever they want on Twitter. Everyone can blast their opinion publicly now. Someone who doesn’t understand art might speak to you. And yet, there are many people who love you. I’ve never read comments in my life. Never, ever. I hear comments from people who give real comments. There are a lot of people who want to fight you, but that doesn’t exist in my life.

You have a debut film role in a movie coming up called Coincidence (Sudfah). You’ve proved yourself as a musician, but many musicians who try to cross over onto the silver screen fail. Are you nervous about that?

Not at all. If it doesn’t succeed, it doesn’t succeed. In the end, this is not my end goal, nor is it my journey in life. It’s part of what I do, it’s not what I do. What I do is that I sing — I perform. So, if it succeeds, it succeeds, and if it doesn’t, I’ll stop. That’s the end of that!

You have a lot on your plate right now. The movie, your upcoming album, a boutique hotel and restaurants; you’re the face of Sony headphones in the Middle East, you have foundation for children. Do you have any downtime?

I’m a hunter; I’m always in the forest. That’s my time off. I’m not involved in everything 100%, business is an investment. I’m very involved [Ayach Childhood Foundation], but my wife is the manager right now, so she’s taking a large weight off my shoulders. I supervise everything in a significant way from my office, but thank God, I’m finding a larger portion of time for my music and for my existence in the forest.

What’s next for Ramy Ayach?

I have a large tour coming up, starting in Egypt, three shows in Jordan, two shows in Tunisia, a show in Lebanon, and I will be back in Abu Dhabi for the New Year. After that, we’ll start on the movie and other endeavours, whether it be Ayach Childhood Foundation or whatever else. I’ll grow my endeavours as much as possible. What’s life about, anyway? You can only try to do something you’re proud of, in the end. Our hero [legendary composer Wadih Al Safi] passed away, so now we’ve gone cold. There’s going to be a chill left behind now, and we’re all going to try to keep warm in whichever ways we can.