Ibrahim Maalouf: “I’ve always believed that music should be limitless… i can blend my trumpet’s melodic lines with the sharp, rhythmic beats of rap”

To understand Trumpets of Michel-Ange (TOMA) and the composer-musician who made it, Ibrahim Maalouf, one must return to his roots, the village of Kafarakab, Lebanon. An hour’s drive east of Beirut, this is the birthplace of Ibrahim Maalouf’s father, Nassim. It is also the ancestral home of the Maalouf family who founded it five centuries ago. Their surname has since spread, making a lasting impact on the world’s literature and music. Uncle Amin has become one of France and Lebanon’s most celebrated authors, with his novels translated into over 40 languages, while Ibrahim’s international career has spiralled upwards irrepressibly since Quincy Jones spotted him at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 2017.

‘Kafarakab’ derives from the Arabic words ‘kfar’ (home) and ‘akab’ (hawk). And it is tempting to stretch the metaphor of this gracious bird of prey to Ibrahim’s persona and career. You can see it as a symbol of his enduring global presence, his restless roaming allied to an ability to rise above the turmoil, to observe from a distance, and yet remain deeply connected to his land and its traditions. Many of these qualities have been channelled into TOMA, his 19th solo album in a phenomenal 27-year career.

“When did this album germinate?” I ask the 43-year-old after his return from Lebanon four days prior. We’re sitting in a quiet Parisian café, above the joyous bedlam that is the Paris Olympics. Ibrahim pauses: “It depends what you mean by ‘germinate.’ Some of the compositions go back to when I was 12 or 13. Altogether, it represents 30 years of my music. But it was only around two years ago that I finally decided to produce an album around my father’s four-valve trumpet. I needed to reach a certain maturity, to make it simple yet profound, to find the right musicians to create a sound that is both festive and reflective. Sometimes, the simplest ideas are the most difficult to implement.”

A case in point might be his father’s invention of the quarter-tone trumpet – a modification that allows the instrument to play the complex microtonal scales of Arabic music, intervals that are smaller than a semitone. It was a breakthrough that, says Ibrahim, saved his father’s life. It also opened up new horizons for his son. “My dad would share his invention with me every day from the age of seven to 14. Today, I feel that legacy every time I pick up that trumpet. It’s a way of speaking my father’s language, even if we don’t always understand each other.”

Ibrahim takes me back one generation further to his paternal grandfather, Rushdi, a poet and musicologist, and his maternal grandfather Assad. The former was a multi-instrumentalist who stands proudly at the back of the photo of a 22-piece fanfare that adorns the cover of his latest album, Trumpets of Michel-Ange. “This cliché was taken exactly a century ago. At the time, it was very trendy to be in a fanfare, it was the TikTok of that generation.” He chuckles at his own slightly outlandish comparison. “Anyway, the fanfare became part of my father’s culture and, in the end, the passion for this instrument brought him to France.” By then, Nassim had noticed the frustration of trumpet players in the Beirut fanfare who felt limited in reaching certain notes in classical Arabic maqams. The 22-year-old came up with the idea of adding a valve and piston and brought it to legendary Parisian trumpet player Maurice André. “It added twice as many notes to the trumpet, so it was no surprise that Maurice was impressed by this brash young artist with an inventive mind.” André took the fledging musician under his wing and then persuaded the world-renowned maker of brass instruments, Selmer, to craft the first quarter-tone trumpet. Nassim never looked back, playing for years at the Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre church near Notre Dame which Ibrahim still attends. The instrument’s history is not lost on Ibrahim, whose music carries the weight of centuries of cultural and musical exchange between the East and the West. “It’s a part of me,” he says. “My father’s story, my grandparents’ story… they’re all in my music. This album is a way of honouring that legacy.”

It’s a legacy which Ibrahim has taken to spaces even he wouldn’t have dreamt of. As one of the most renowned trumpet players of his generation, his career has been a journey between these worlds, both temporal and geographical. He’s explored the repertory of baroque music, dived into the legacies of Oum Kalthoum and Dalida, jousted with the De La Soul rappers, shared the reopening of the Bataclan concert hall with Sting, and composed over 20 movie soundtracks – what he calls his favourite exercise. But TOMA is something different. Ibrahim’s latest work is a living testament to family, tradition and the inescapable weight of history. It becomes clear his relationship with his father, Nassim, is far from simple. “It’s close but uneasy,” Ibrahim admits. Nassim, a retired classical trumpet soloist who revolutionised the instrument, has only ever attended one of his son’s concerts. “He’s never said why,” Ibrahim says with a quiet shrug, the words heavy with unspoken emotions. The album’s penultimate track, ‘Timeless’, closes with a solo by Nassim and the hesitant trumpet notes of Ibrahim’s three-year-old son Nael: “One of the most important moments of my life,” Ibrahim shares and I notice his son’s name tattooed on his left arm. “You hear my second child blowing into a trumpet for the first time ever. And the only recording I have of my dad, taken by a smartphone, is from the only concert of mine he attended in 27 years.”

TOMA is both a tribute and a reconciliation, an album about the transmission of love, music and identity from one generation to the next. The ten tracks weave together the story of two lovers forging a family, watching their children grow and experiencing the bittersweetness of their offspring leaving the nest. While TOMA is undoubtedly a tribute to Nassim, it is also a celebration of the broader idea of transmission – between fathers and sons, mentors and protégés, and across cultures. The same ‘Timeless’ features a dazzling collaboration with legendary late Malian kora player Toumani Diabaté and his son Sidiki. It emphasises the theme of generational exchange. For Ibrahim, the collaboration with the Diabaté family was a natural fit. “Toumani and Sidiki are a perfect example of how music transcends generations,” he explains. “Just like my father passed on the trumpet to me, Toumani passed the kora down to Sidiki. It was a beautiful thing to share.” (Mysteriously, this sublime collaboration is not mentioned in the information around the album’s release).

The release of TOMA comes at a time of immense global upheaval. The Near East continues to be ravaged by conflict, with Lebanon in a state of economic and social collapse and Gaza reeling from an unprecedented military onslaught. “But this violence is also here,” he says. “After the civil war in Lebanon, I had hoped that France would be welcoming. But now I see it grappling with the kind of nationalism and political polarisation that destroyed us. At present, I feel people who look like me, or whose names are like mine are not welcome anymore.” In the face of these crises, Ibrahim hopes his music offers a glimmer of hope. “The world is in a terrible state,” he acknowledges. “Can music do anything for the Near East now? I don’t know. I think people are completely crazy on all sides and I think, well, at least music has the power to heal, to bring people together the world over.” The sense of global connection is woven into the very fabric of the album. Track ‘Au Revoir’ features the sublime Iranian actress Golshifteh Farahani on a hang drum, symbolising the cross-cultural collaboration that defines Ibrahim’s work. Americans Trombone Shorty and Endea Owens contribute their jazz inflections to ‘Capitals’ and ‘Fly with Me’, respectively. And there’s an exchange with young Ugandan dancers, whose vibrant performances bring a sense of joy and celebration to the music video accompanying ‘Love Anthem’. “I’ve never been to Uganda,” Ibrahim admits, “but when I saw those dancers performing this for me, it felt like they were dancing to Lebanese music. It was amazing.”

As if one project weren’t enough, Ibrahim is simultaneously releasing a live album, Paris in Love. This recording reminds us of Ibrahim’s artistry, his ability to cross genres effortlessly. “I’ve always believed that music should be limitless,” Ibrahim says. “On Paris in Love, I wanted to show that I can blend my trumpet’s melodic lines with the sharp, rhythmic beats of rap. Rap is about storytelling,” he reflects. “It’s not so different from jazz or classical music in that sense. They’re all about expressing something real, something raw. With Paris in Love, I’m showing that I’m as comfortable with rap as I am with jazz or classical Arabic music.” This versatility is part of what makes Ibrahim such a compelling figure in the contemporary music scene. He constantly questions, pushing his belief that music can transcend genre, culture and language – reaching audiences from different walks of life.

As our conversation draws to a close, Ibrahim’s eyes light up and he speaks about the future. He has big plans for the quarter-tone trumpet, not just as an instrument but as a cultural force. Through his TOMA project – an initiative that combines a music academy in Paris, a brand and a platform for musicians – he hopes to spread his father’s invention to a global audience. “We’ve already sold over 200 copies of the quarter-tone trumpet,” Ibrahim says proudly. “For professionals, each is handcrafted, like a tailor making a suit to fit the personality of the client. My father always dreamed that one day everyone would play this trumpet. I’m trying to make that dream a reality.” Yet, it’s an obsession he keeps far from his family life. He lives in the splendid isolation of Ile-de-France’s Juine Valley where other virtuosos hide: Bojan Z, Henri Texier, to name a few. There, Ibrahim and his wife – the rising singer Hiba Tawaji – and their three children have built a house where little betrays their profession. “We don’t want to be engulfed by our passion, our music and awards stay in our studio; we need to cut off, take a distance, focus on our kids.”

On Trumpets of Michel-Ange, Ibrahim Maalouf has created a work of love, both for his father and for the world at large. In a time of crisis, it reminds us that music is itself a form of resistance against despair. Whether through the joyful rhythms of collaboration or the quieter, more introspective moments of family connection, Ibrahim Maalouf’s trumpet rings out as a symbol of resilience. And as the hawk continues to soar above, so too does his music – hovering, watching and, perhaps, offering light to those who need it most.

This article originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Songlines. Never miss an issue – subscribe today