Loading ...Nasri Shamseddine’s Voice Lives On: A Tribute from His Loved Ones
By: Layan Srour / Arab America Content Writer
Nasri Shamseddine was a renowned Lebanese singer and actor. He was celebrated for his deep, resonant voice and significant contributions to Lebanese folk music and was a longtime collaborator with musicians across the Middle East. He performed in musicals, plays, and films that captured the essence of Lebanese folklore and tradition. In honor of Nasri Shamseddine’s legacy, I spoke with his daughter and her son to reflect on his life, music, and impact. Their memories and stories offer a personal glimpse into the man behind the legendary voice.
How did Nasri Shamseddine’s music shape your earliest memories and influence your musical journey as you grew up?
Nasri Sobh: We grew up with his music. My earliest memories of my grandfather are tied to his songs and plays. My mother played his music every single day in our house. By the time I could speak, read, and write, I had already memorized countless songs. When I began studying music in elementary school, I started to appreciate artistry even more.
What moment made you truly realize the impact of Nasri’s legacy, and how has that shaped your connection to him over the years?
Almaza Shamseddine: Nasri had a saying, “إتقِ شر من أحسنت إليه,” which means, “Beware of the evil that can come from those you have been kind to.”
Nasri Sobh: My first realization of his legacy was when they built a memorial statue of him in our village, Joun, Lebanon. Everyone was there—politicians, musicians, and the media. Seeing all these people gathered for my grandfather changed my life as a seven-year-old. Even though he had passed away some time ago, there has been a continuous effort to honor him. Whether through the news, television, musicians covering his music, or even performances, his legacy and impact are evident. It’s incredible and an honor to share his name.
What are some of the lesser-known challenges Nasri faced in his career, and how did they reflect his character and dedication to music?
Almaza Shamseddine: In 1969, Nasri had a show in Beirut. At that time, all performances were live—there were no playbacks. The night before the show, he lost his voice and was devastated, especially because Farid al-Atrash was going to be in attendance. But the next morning, his voice miraculously returned. Everyone was in shock—no one knew how it happened. That night, he performed, and Farid was amazed.
On another occasion, Nasri and his crew had a show in the United States. After the performance, the company took all the money and refused to pay anyone. To make sure his crew could return to Lebanon, Nasri took out a loan from the bank and covered their travel expenses. He did this many times but never told anyone—he didn’t want anyone to suffer or hold that burden.
How did Nasri navigate the challenges of breaking into the music industry?
Almaza Shamseddine: At that time in Lebanon, Muslim artists did not receive the same opportunities as Christian artists. Nasri’s breakthrough was significant and symbolic for many people and for many reasons. From a young age, he had a distinct, powerful voice. His family knew he had talent, but they also believed he wouldn’t have the opportunity to pursue it. However, Nasri was determined—and he made it happen.
Nasri Sobh: He created an opportunity for himself. Long story short, he snuck into a singing audition when he wasn’t supposed to be there. They loved his voice so much that they couldn’t turn him away and made an exception for him. For a time, he was the only Shia Muslim in the music industry. He stood for something—if he could do it, anyone could.
Despite his fame, he often felt like an outsider, an outcast because of his background and identity. But he never compromised his beliefs. He did what he had to do—and he never gave up. He left a lasting impression on people, and I think that’s incredibly symbolic. Every room he entered and every piece of art he created carried that same impact.
How did he navigate the challenges of having little control over his own work?
Nasri Sobh: At that time, no artist really had rights like they do today. His deal was basically, “Here’s this opportunity, but you own nothing and you decide nothing” He had to decide if it was worth it. He loved music so much that he didn’t give it up. Nasri didn’t do it for the money or the fame. He wanted to be one of the first, but certainly not the last. My grandfather sacrificed a lot of those things in terms of his rights, his creative ability, and his money.
In what ways do you see Nasri’s spirit and values living on in your family, whether through music, traditions, or the way you carry yourselves?
Nasri Sobh: My mother is the oldest child in the family and was his right hand. She helped him with everything and knew him better than anyone. She not only helped raise her siblings but also raised us with the same ideals, morals, and values that Nasri lived by. My mother was his best friend—his everything.
My mom always told us stories about him. He was strong-willed and incredibly determined. No matter what, he stood by his morals and beliefs. I think he knew exactly who he was, what he brought to the table, and he never compromised that for anyone. My mother is very much the same way, and she raised us to carry those values as well. I take immense pride not only in sharing his name but in upholding those principles.
There are about 15 of us grandkids, and while none of us are “Nasri-level” talented, the spirit of music has definitely been passed down. Whenever we get together as a family, it turns into a jam session—everyone is singing. Some of us play instruments, some sing, and some do Dabke. Many of Nasri’s songs were about Dabke, and some of us even teach it. We’re proud to keep that tradition alive.
How did his experiences shape the way he guided and protected those closest to him?
Nasri Sobh: My mother grew up around the scene, so he would take her to a lot of different events and rehearsals. To her, it wasn’t new—she had always been immersed in the music industry.
When my mother was 17, she decided, without telling anybody, that she was going to pursue a music career of some sort. Being around her dad, she picked up on a lot of things. When she auditioned for Caracalla, they asked her if Nasri knew she was there. She said, “Yeah, Dad said it was fine and told me to pursue my dreams.” Right as they were heading out for a tour, they knew something was very fishy.
They knew that her father was protective, so they gave him a call, and he said, “No, of course not.” Without telling her, they turned the car around and took her home.
Nasri wasn’t strict, but he was going through things. He didn’t want my mother to go through what he went through, given their background and the fact that she was a young woman. My grandfather never wanted to show anybody his struggles or that he was being attacked. She, unfortunately, took a step back from music because that experience really put things into perspective for her. His opening up to her was a realization that he was a real person behind the star.
What’s something unexpected about Nasri—something that might surprise even his biggest fans?
Nasri Sobh: His mustache and Tarboosh (a felt Arab hat) were part of his signature look, but he didn’t invent it. In fact, his mustache was a prop—it wasn’t real! No one recognized him without it.
Many of his plays and songs were about hunting. Contrary to popular belief, these characters weren’t just for show—they were simply Nasri being Nasri. He was a hunter himself. In his old home, there’s still a display of his collection of rifles and hunting gear. Growing up, I thought those were just movie props he had collected! But he was actually a hunter and would go hunting in his free time.
If Nasri had lived longer, how do you think his legacy might have evolved?
Nasri Sobh: Nasri passed away at a young age, but also at the peak of his career. I truly believe that if he had lived longer, his legacy would have grown even stronger and become even more prominent. If you watch videos of him on YouTube, many of the comments say, “gone too soon.” People wanted more—ma shib3o (they couldn’t get enough) of his music and art.
Though his time was short-lived, his impact was undeniable. It was always clear who he was, what he stood for, and what he wanted to say.
About the Article and Author: Layan Srour, a Lebanese musician based in Detroit, Michigan, is passionate about blending her culture through music, research, and education in the United States. 40 Minutes With is a weekly feature where Layan interviews an Arab American musician, exploring their journey through music and culture in America. Connect with Layan on Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, or via email.
Want more articles like this? Sign up for our e-newsletter! Check out our blog here!
