Loading ..."Make Your Voice Heard": 40 Minutes with Wanees Zarour
By: Layan Srour / Arab America Contributing Writer
Wanees Zarour is a Palestinian composer, violinist, oud, and buzuq player based in Chicago. Born and raised in Ramallah, he was immersed in music from a young age, surrounded by a family of music lovers. Over the past two decades, he’s become a central figure in Chicago’s music scene, known for leading genre-spanning ensembles that blend Arabic music with jazz and global traditions. His projects, including the Middle East Music Ensemble at the University of Chicago, The East Loop, and the Chicago Immigrant Orchestra, reflect a deep commitment to identity, collaboration, and pushing musical boundaries.
Can you tell me a little bit about your upbringing and how it influenced your journey into music?
I had family members who were musicians. My mother sang, not publicly, but she has a beautiful voice. My grandparents were music lovers too. They always had Umm Kulthum playing in their house. I was exposed to a wide spectrum of Arabic music. Ziad Rahbani, for example, is a major influence on me.
The music education and scene in Palestine have grown a lot and become much more vibrant since I was a kid. When I was growing up, there were much fewer musicians than today. Now, there are so many projects and educational institutions, like the Edward Said National Conservatory of Music, that are doing incredible work. Growing up in Palestine puts you in a much different situation than other parts of the world. Movement is very restricted—it’s difficult to go from one place to another. It’s hard to connect with others and with the rest of the world.
But I was fortunate enough to have opportunities to travel, meet people, and gain a broader perspective. When I eventually moved to the United States, especially Chicago, I began performing in the music scene here, primarily as a violinist, oud, and buzuq player.
How did your ensembles begin?
In 2010, I started directing the University of Chicago Middle East Music Ensemble, a large ensemble based at the University of Chicago. It’s always been a growing project that has a lot of community involvement, and it’s grown significantly because there’s been an increase in the Arab, Turkish and Persian communities wanting to participate in their musical heritage.
In this 88-piece orchestra, we perform anywhere from Arabic, Turkish, Persian, to Armenian music. A quarter of the orchestra is students, but it’s mostly formed by community members. It’s a significant project because of the time it takes to arrange music that wasn’t necessarily written for the amount and types of instruments we have. It’s become a hybrid between an orchestra, a big band, and even a choir, fronted by Middle Eastern instruments and vocalists. It’s a fixture in the Chicago music scene, with an incredible ecosystem of community and audience support.
The other ensemble I have is the Wanees Zarour Ensemble, which is a string quartet and jazz rhythm section. Our album in 2014 was an exploration between maqam and harmony. My other project, The East Loop, is one that means a lot to me right now. We have a record coming out this year with my compositions. This record digs into the idea of dual identity. I’m all Palestinian from head to toe, and I have lived here, in Chicago, for most of my life. I have a master’s degree in jazz composition, so I feel at home in both the jazz tradition and the Maqam tradition. East Loop brings the maqam tradition into a jazz septet framework.
There’s also the Chicago Immigrant Orchestra. This ensemble has a rotating roster of around 20 people, with about 12 on stage at a time, all of whom are essentially the cultural bearers of a lot of different traditions from around the world who are based in Chicago, coming together and making new music. They’re not all necessarily new compositions, but it’s a completely new approach to how music sounds. I co-direct this ensemble with Fareed Haque, who’s a great Chilean and Pakistani guitarist.
We have people from all over the world—a Mongolian throat singer, Chinese ruan player, Indian veena player, Indian percussionist, Arabic, Nigerian, and Persian singers, and more. I didn’t even name everyone! This ensemble is very interesting because we write and arrange the music collectively. Each one of these musicians is a master at their craft, and they know how to bring their sound into the mix. It existed in the early 2000s and was on hiatus. The city of Chicago approached me and Fareed to restart it, so we brought together a new roster of musicians, and a fresh approach to music making.
Have you faced any challenges in the industry or just being an Arab in America?
It’s kind of a double-edged sword. Being an Arab musician in America is challenging because it’s a very specific niche. Our community has generally been used to seeing music as a form of entertainment, but that’s changing very rapidly with the wonderful generation that’s coming up.
In terms of identity, yes, there are struggles. I think Chicago is a good city for us, truly. I imagine it would be much more difficult in other places, but Chicago is a welcoming place. It’s a great place to create music. It’s a great place to imagine, put together projects, and collaborate with musicians from every background imaginable.
It is a hard question to answer because I’ve never not been an Arab in America. I don’t know what “the other side” feels like. You operate in a different place, but you know you are different and process things differently, given what you have seen, lived, and grown up with. My perspective is different from many others who have lived here or were born here. At the end, art is about perspective.
There’s always a strong connection to the homeland in everything I do and compose. The way I think about things and approach art and its importance has a lot to do with my time in Palestine, not my time here. My time here has lately felt logistical. Sometimes you feel like you belong, and then sometimes you feel like you don’t quite. Maybe parts of you belong, but your identity doesn’t. I’m always wrestling with questions of identity, especially now in light of the brutal situation in Gaza.
What advice would you give to Arab Americans aspiring to enter the music world?
Here’s a suggestion—take it really seriously. Don’t take yourself too seriously, but take your craft really, really seriously. Don’t cut corners; just do it, dive in, and be in it. People will feel how much you’re committed to it, and I think that’s a very important aspect of making music, especially as an Arab. You want to bring your voice, but there’s a lot of learning and practicing involved.
You’re never going to get to a spot where you’re “perfect”; humility is very important. I’ll never be somebody who knows it all, but I’ll always be someone who learns and improves. Tell your story. Make your voice heard.
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.
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