With no shortage of fairy lights to stare at, books to buy, glitter to coat in and music to hear, Dubai’s eighth installment of the independent music and arts festival Grooves on the Grass opened up to a roaring crowd on Friday, Nov. 15. The concert was headlined by Lebanese indie-rock band Mashrou’ Leila, who are now a staple of alternative Arabic music festivals, as well as Swedish DJ Seinfeld. With both acts on at the same time and on different stages, we split up and experienced the two musical journeys still being developed by the Arab world to try and discover Dubai’s innovative groove.

Image courtesy of Reema El-Kaiali

“This concert is for Lebanon, and for its revolution!” Announces Hamed Sinno, lead singer of Mashrou’ Leila, in Arabic. Like The Beatles to pop, the Velvet Underground to rock and Kraftwerk to electronic, Mashrou’ Leila have been revolutionary in the Arab music scene. With them, every show is better than the last. It’s quite difficult to describe how Mashrou’ Leila have established and molded the Arabic music scene during their musical journey, but it’s completely understandable when attending one of their concerts. With the electric violin – Leila’s signature sound – in a full dancing swing with Sinno’s tenor, the band is not holding back, and the crowd certainly isn’t either. Sinno sings unabashedly about corrupt senses of nationalism, sexuality, revolution, addiction and love amongst an immense crowd of people shouting “Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!” whenever possible. The Lebanese flag is being held high. Couples of all orientations are holding each other and crying. I am with them, by myself, crying too, reveling at the release that comes from freedom and safety of expression.

There is often a lifelong conflict that comes from what is expected of you and what you want to pursue, and that is not lost on the Arab youth of today. It was often a lonely world, especially in the realm of music, and was also considered a gateway to other more “alternative” and taboo lifestyle choices. Rarely was rock music of any type celebrated, and almost never in a large group setting.

Mashrou’ Leila were the first musical break away from this idea, and that energy is felt at almost every one of their concerts I go to. Hamed talks to us openly between songs about governmental control, about the band’s difficulties going to Palestine, about his frustrations of love and complains about how the background screens are not showing the band’s – often controversial – visuals. While there may have been a technical issue, the screens came roaring back to life before and immediately after the band’s performance, and that’s all I’ll say about that.

That wouldn’t be the first time for Mashrou’ Leila to face censorship, with the band being banned from performing in both Jordan and Egypt, and having had a show canceled even in their home country of Lebanon. Specific songs aren’t allowed to be played in specific countries, specific flags can’t be held, but the beauty of Mashrou’ Leila is their unwillingness to stand down in the constant face of adversity. Instead, they choose to stand with their fans as representative. And the fans are clearly grateful, with the crowd singing to every single word spoken by Hinno, swaying to every movement of Haig Papazian’s haunting violin, jumping to Carl Greges’ drum slaps and waving their hands to Firas Abou Fakher’s instrumental swaps. Even their new song debut fell right into place with the crowd.

Image Courtesy of Aravind Kumar

In a blurred turn of events, I decided to get a cab to Dubai at about 9 p.m, to go listen to the enigmatic label head of Young Ethics. This Swedish-born, Barcelona-based house producer has long been on my radar. His live sets seemed to marry elements of dirty, 90s Chicago house, with clean microhouse and polished basslines. I didn’t quite understand his style: Did he just create a new genre? Lo-fi house?

As I walked into his Middle East debut on Friday night, the venue was exceedingly intimate, as his set ran right when Mashrou’ Leila’s did. As I settled into this white, balloon-like dome with a grassy dance floor, I realized the setting was just as absurd as DJ Seinfeld’s music. One of his first tracks was Take Me Up (1997) by Ralphi Rosario featuring the gospel-inspired vocals of Donna Blakely. A Chicago-house belter, I was taken back in time to the inception of the house from disco. He proceeded to use this lo-fidelity production style and retrofit it onto 21st-century house basslines. As he does on his own track U, he strips down elements like high-precision microhouse claps and adds rough-around-the-edge basslines alongside flowy, atmospheric synths. Together, he curates a sound that seamlessly jumps between three decades of house music.

He manned the CDJ’s like time traveling weapons, as he threw the audience back and forth in time and space. At some point, he sampled the New Order hit, Blue Monday as a bridge between an arc of acid house and some UK garage! DJ Seinfeld is reflective of an artist that actively denies conforming to the molds of today’s house music. He is more than an average selector, he is a performative ethnographer – playing the sounds of yesterday for a crowd born tomorrow.

Check out this week’s Spotify playlist to hear the sounds from this year’s Groove on the Grass in the comfort of our own highline grass.