There is something otherworldly about Meryem. The artist’s voice envelops you, embraces you, and doesn’t let you go. It’s a new voice, yet somehow already familiar, a disturbing and unforgettable torrent of passions. At a time when women, from Lana Del Rey to Weyes Blood, are ruling the pop genre with their inventive hits, Meryem Aboulouafa is already one of the great revelations of 2020.
Born in Casablanca, where she still lives, the artist discovered music at a young age through her family. Her father introduced her to rock classics, namely the Beatles, the Stones, and Pink Floyd, as well as to the greats of French music, such as Piaf, Brel, and Brassens. As she pursued music theory and violin lessons at the Conservatory of Music, Meryem, a solitary child, took refuge in writing in order to tame her inner storms. Her poems in Arabic and French formed the first step of her writing process.

Before ever thinking about a career in music, Meryem was enrolled at the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Casablanca to study interior architecture. During this time, she wrote her first songs alone on her guitar and, soon enough, her compositions and encounters began opening doors for her. Meryem had her first experiences working in a studio with more sophisticated instrumentations and performing on stage. When her music eventually reached the ears of Manu Barron, head of the French label Animal63 (The Blaze, Myth Syzer, Johan Papaconstantino, Gabriel Auguste), Barron was bewitched by Meryem’s sublime talent, and the two began working together.

Act 2 of Meryem’s musical life began in 2017, when Barron offered to re-record several of her tracks with new collaborators. This is when she first met Keren Ann, who would prove significant for her career. The songwriter helped Meryem sort through ideas and desires, and showed her how to make her texts more fluid. On the production side, two artists tackled the construction and reconstruction of the tracks: Jean-Baptiste de Laubier, aka Para One, known for his energetic techno as well as the more contemplative soundtracks he created for Céline Sciamma’s cinema; and musician and composer Maxime Daoud, who produces soft melancholic music under the name Ojard.

With this album, Meryem Aboulouafa excels at what we might call a ‘game of references,’ as it would be futile to track down her many influences. We can only barely draw parallels with Kate Bush for her limitless imagination, with James Blake for this rare art of creating intimacy and the emotions that flow from it, or with Oum Kalsoum, for this ability to hypnotize through a universal language without denying the musical traditions of his origins. Even if the woman and the artist are still asking questions, the answers offered by the magnificent Meryem are enough to create powerful feelings of joy.