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For the longest, rap music has celebrated confidence and bravado. But in a genre where vulnerability is still uncharted territory and often seen as a risk (particularly for men), The Man Who Lost His Heart stands out. Egyptian rapper and producer Marwan Moussa redefines masculinity in his latest album, not through dominance, but through emotional honesty, refusing to mask his pain behind performative toughness and nonchalance.
During a recent radio interview, the rapper mentioned two events that were integral to the making of this album: the passing of his mother and the war in Gaza. Marwan takes listeners through a spiralling emotional journey, unearthing his most silent battles and offering an unfiltered glimpse into his inner worlds. The musicality throughout the project is layered and intricate, mirroring his state of emotional complexity, echoing the album’s overarching themes. Co-produced with producer HatemBas, the duo raises the bar with a stellar production that feels deeply intentional.
A day before the album’s release, Marwan took to X and wrote about his approach to production this time around. He explained that after witnessing the events of October 7 and the reactions from some of his Western peers, something shifted in him. “I couldn’t just use a Western kick or snare,” he wrote. “It became clear to me: this is our sound, and that’s theirs.” That realisation pushed him to rethink his entire sonic framework. Instead of borrowing from American rap templates, Marwan set out to craft something original, rooted in his identity. The result is a 23-track album exploring the five stages of grief, told through a new sonic language built from scratch.
STAGE I
One thing we know about grief is that it’s never linear. It’s unpredictable and inescapable. You can try to outrun it, only to find it waiting for you at the finish line. The album’s intro, titled “SAD2NY”, opens with muffled background sounds, almost as if we’re inside Marwan’s mind, submerged in the noise of his psyche. He’s in a confrontation with himself, conflicted and self-critical. The production is minimal, stripping away any possible distractions from Marwan’s verse. It instantly feels a lot more intimate and sets the tone for what’s to come. The track ends with a familiar voice, one we heard in his 2024 summer single, “3AMEL EH”. Throughout the album, Donia Wael’s voice becomes a guiding presence, weaving the five stages together and grounding Marwan throughout his emotional journey.
In the opening tracks, Marwan appears to lean into distractions to maintain his grip on reality, avoiding confrontation with his emotions. In the denial stage, he seeks refuge in several outlets: his career on “MARO MASHAKEL”, romantic distractions on “KALEMENY BELEL”, featuring Egyptian rapper Lega-Cy.
إكتئابي لونه مش سواد
Camouflage تمويه لابس
نازل عادي اهو مع الشباب
بس من جوا شعور بالهلاك
“My depression isn’t black in colour. It’s camouflage, a disguise. I’m out here with the guys, acting normal. But inside, it feels like I’m perishing.”
Marwan acknowledges his emotions but isn’t ready to fully process his loss just yet, so he attempts to disguise them, carrying on with day-to-day life.
STAGE II
But as denial starts to fade and reality begins to settle in, anger takes hold, making Karim Osama’s feature on track “3ALA FEN?” another perfect addition to the album. But Marwan’s real outburst is felt on “BA2ES”. The track is trance-inducing and is charged with a Zār-like energy, with an intensity that is also felt on “BOSAKBER”, which was released last month, accompanied by a music video. In the video, Marwan appears to be facing himself, encircled by whirling Darawish, possibly symbolising his pursuit of spiritual healing. The production is layered with shaabi trap drums and Marwan’s frustrated tone, it’s the sound of someone finally starting to feel all they were once avoiding.
This second stage of the album is rooted in Marwan’s signature production style. Across his discography, Marwan has consistently rejected Western influences, choosing instead to embrace Eastern and distinctly Egyptian elements in his production. On “TAQATO3”, the track samples “Sahgar El Lamon” (Lemon Tree) by Mohammed Mounir, a melancholic ballad about love and loss, the song is gentle, yet contrasts beautifully against HatemBas’s intense production. A standout moment of this song is when Marwan tips his hat to Abyusif, a pillar of Egypt’s rap scene, saying:
دخلت المجال ده بالصدفة لولا ألطاي ما كانوش شافوا مروان
The two artists share a long history of rap beef that has since been resolved. Moussa openly acknowledges Abyusif’s influence on his own musical journey, going so far as to say that without Altay (Abyusif), Marwan the rapper might have never existed. As we move onto the rest of the song, Marwan’s anger isn’t as loud as we’ve heard in previous tracks; it’s simmering beneath the surface. He addresses the weight of the responsibilities he’s been carrying, possibly alluding to growing up in a divorced household and caring for his mother before her passing. He also mentions meeting his soulmate during that time, though things ultimately didn’t work out between them.
STAGE III
Almost halfway through the album, we’re met with what soon became one of my personal favourite tracks, “LELAT ARAQ”, meaning ‘Sleepless Night’ or ‘Insomniac’. At its core, the song is about raw exhaustion and the weight that Marwan carries throughout the project. From the opening verse, Marwan dives deep into reflections on loss, time lost, and the emotional toll of navigating his chaotic world. He also addresses betrayal in lines like:
أنا مُحاط بكلاب سعرانة فإتعلمت أعُض
“I’m surrounded by rabid dogs, so I learned to bite.”
It shows a man worn down by the cards he’s been dealt, but still clinging to some inner moral compass. The hook is a moment of vulnerability, and subtly hints that he’s in the bargaining stage of grief, wishing to relive one meaningful night regardless of the cost:
ولو لقيتِك واقفة عَ الطريق هآخدك عالم تاني بس بعيد أدفع أي تمن بس نعيد ليلة من الذكريات إللي عشناها
“And if I find you standing by the road, I’ll take you far away.
I’d pay any price just to relive one night from the memories we shared.”
“LELAT ARAQ” feels like a confessional late-night monologue, followed by “FAHMAN DONYA”, where we once again find Marwan wearing his heart on his sleeve. The beat marks a striking departure from anything we’ve heard from Marwan before. One of the album’s greatest strengths lies in exactly that—how it confidently reveals the full breadth of his artistic range. Throughout the track, he repeats the line: “الصورة مقسومة نصين بالظبط” / “The picture is split exactly in half”, a motif that highlights his internal dichotomy, between who he truly is and how the world perceives him, between clarity and chaos. He’s caught in the middle of opposing forces: right and wrong, past and present, reality and ambition. Beyond the self-reflection, he also calls out the hypocrisy surrounding him with lines like:
غش، غل، كذب، كراهية، كل شيء متاح
في دنيا فيها الصادق قيمته أقل من الكذاب”
“Cheating, grudges, lies, hatred, everything’s allowed
In a world where the honest man is worth less than the liar.”
Later, he reaffirms his identity:
ما سِبتش مصر، أنا لسه في بيتي ما عِشتش فيك وما عِشتش زيف أنا من الأرياف، أنا راجل البيت
“I didn’t leave Egypt, I’m still in my home. I never lived fake, never lived a fake. I’m from the countryside, I’m the man of the house.”
Despite being half-German and living abroad for years, Marwan has never distanced himself from his Egyptian identity. These lines feel like a direct response to anyone who’s ever doubted whether he was truly ‘Egyptian enough.’
One of the album’s lengthier and most emotionally honest tracks is “RO7 B ALBAK”. What stands out most is the beat switch halfway through, reminding us again of the dualities embedded in this album. The first half is mellow and melancholic. Marwan sounds almost broken, his voice laced with vulnerability, but then unexpectedly, both the beat and his cadence take a 180-degree turn, flowing over boom bap, completely shifting the mood.
STAGE IV
Afroto joins Marwan on “YAMMAH”, a track produced by El Waili—the undisputed king of electro shaabi genre bending mixes. Afroto’s feature doesn’t come as a surprise, given the close bond he shares with Marwan personally and musically. While the track might not leave as strong a lasting impression as some of the earlier ones, it is still a solid addition to the album.
STAGE V
“SAM3AK”, featuring Donia Wael, is a full-circle moment. Her voice, which previously appeared as ad-libs throughout the project, is now a full feature. The track marks a noticeable style shift, with Marwan rapping over a lo-fi beat layered with soft piano keys. His lyrics remain transparent, but his delivery is noticeably unrushed, his mid-pace flow allowing every word to resonate. The track also addresses bigger existential questions about the current political state of the world and the anxious uncertainty that comes with it, he says:
الصين، أمريكا، روسيا، إيران، فرنسا، ألمانيا
القوات العظمى سايقة، عايزينا نروح في داهية
داخلين على أيام ما يعلم بيها إلا ربنا
“China, America, Russia, Iran, France, Germany
The superpowers are in control, they want to see us destroyed
We’re heading into days that only God knows the outcome of.”
Marwan also criticises the habits of his generation and the traps we’ve all fallen into in lines like:
التكنولوچيا أكتر حاجة فادت وأذِت جيلنا
أصلًا كل إللي بنشوفه في فيدنا مش بيفيدنا
زرع في الناس كلها جنون عظمة بلا إستثنا ياه، حطينا ثقتنا في أجهزة بتدرِسنا
It’s followed by “MAT7ASIBNISH,” a jazzy boom bap track with a hint of blues. This shift in production feels intentional, possibly reflecting the final stages of grief, where Marwan seems to be at peace with the past. His tone softens, but his introspection stays sharp. The album ends on a higher note than where it began. Marwan isn’t as broken as he was in the intro. Even the beat is more upbeat, and the shift in tone feels like confidence, like someone who’s been through it all and come out the other side unshaken. This is especially evident on “MAKAVELI,” referring to the sneaky and cunning Machiavellian mentality, alongside the final guest appearance from Sudanese rapper Hleem Taj Alser. This confidence comes through even more clearly and powerfully in the album’s closing track, “ES2AL MAGARAB,” where the message is unmistakable from the very first line.
الصعوبات إللي بنمر بيها هي إللي بتبنينا
“The hardships we go through are what shape us.”
The track feels like Marwan’s victory lap. His final reflection after a long battle with his demons and personal hardships. He’s no longer broken. Despite everything, he concludes the project with a sense of gratitude and says:
الحمد لله ع إللي شُفته، لولاه ما كنتش فُزت
“Thank God for what I’ve been through. Without it, I wouldn’t have won.”
The Man Who Lost His Heart isn’t the kind of album you play at a house party. It is surely not made for mainstream appeal, although a few tracks might eventually break through. Unapologetically personal, it stands as a raw testimony to the power of embracing vulnerability. In an industry driven by consumerism, quick hot singles, and short-lived EPs, releasing a cohesive and emotionally resonant full-length album is a statement in itself. The question now is whether the audience is ready. Will this album strike a chord deep enough to earn longevity and replay value? Could this be our region’s Mr. Morale moment? Or is this level of introspective maturity still ahead of its time?
