News
When Moroccan artist El Mehdi released El Kass Hlou late last year, it landed like a quiet revolution, a sonic homage to the pioneers of Moroccan music like Houcine Slaoui, filtered through a raw, contemporary lens. Now he returns with ENCORE, a new single and self-directed visual that continues the thread: paying tribute to his culture and roots without falling into the trap of cliché or reductive symbolism. Shot on a rooftop in Salé, the video fuses the sacred with the modern, featuring El Mehdi in rare 18th-century Amazigh jewellery from the Pierre Bergé Museum and a custom look by Egyptian-American designer Mina Tahir. Part of his forthcoming EP set to drop later this year, ENCORE is not so much a sequel as a reckoning, a cinematic loop of collapse and return, exploring memory, identity, and the question of belonging.
We spoke to El Mehdi to take a closer look at the visuals and fashion behind ENCORE.
1. You directed the video yourself, and the entire narrative unfolds in a single, striking location. What drew you to that setting, and how does it reflect the internal struggle we hear in the lyrics; the sense of fighting, falling, and resurfacing over and over again?
What drew me to that location was the striking contrast between the immaculate, towering white walls, almost like a fortress, a lookout where you’d stand to scan for danger, and the vibrant sprawling city below. The horizon feels wide open, full of possibility, yet I remain confined. It perfectly mirrors the feeling of being trapped behind emotional walls we build to protect ourselves. Walls that, over time, become our prison. Out of desperation, I take a radical leap: jumping from the tower in an attempt to reach for the world below, at peace with the idea I might not survive. Yet somehow, I always find myself back behind those same walls.
2. There’s definitely a clear visual loop in the video, the character caught in an endless cycle, falling repeatedly in the same spot. That imagery resonates with the chorus: “Je lutte et succombe encore / J’émerge et replonge encore”. Was that cyclical structure, both visually and emotionally, something you had in mind from the beginning?
Yes, absolutely. Even the song’s main melody follows a repetitive pattern mirroring that cycle I wanted to express. A cycle I was stuck in for years: hope rising, then falling again; a fleeting sense of control slipping into collapse. The track itself is split into two distinct parts, marked by the shouted “El Mehdi”. The first half feels composed, almost delicate, as if holding things together. Then the energy shifts. The second half grows urgent, my voice sometimes distorting, embodying those moments when I lose control.
In the video, I wanted viewers to feel that same frustration, the urgent need for change and resolution. The visuals reflect this tension: rich in detail, from the cityscape to shimmering jewellery, once again full of possibilities, yet confined to a single look, place, and repeated action.
3. That repetition even appears in the editing, with certain shots recurring like memories or flashbacks. Was that a conscious decision to mirror the déjà vu and unresolved tension you sing about?
Exactly! Like reliving the same moments encore et encore. It was especially challenging because I had to visualise the entire edit in advance, ensuring every shot flowed into the next before shooting. There was no room for improvisation or extra B-roll footage to fall back on.
That very constraint perfectly reflected the core theme behind ENCORE, even in the directing and editing process: the relentless pressure to control and anticipate everything, leaving no space for freedom and spontaneity.
4. Let’s talk about the physical expression of that struggle. The bruised makeup, the bleeding lip. What were you trying to convey through that wounded version of yourself?
I wanted to highlight the contrast between appearance, the things we can control, and reality, the parts we can’t hide. I’m adorned with opulent silver jewellery and a sumptuous tunic with intricate patterns, almost as a distraction. Yet beneath it all, my skin is bruised and marked. It’s about the cost of maintaining appearances, of holding yourself together on the outside while falling apart inside.
Shoutout to my incredible hair and makeup artist Jess Cohen whose artistry brought this vision to life with remarkable sensitivity.
5. You wear rare 18th-century Amazigh jewellery, lent by the Pierre Bergé Museum of Berber Arts in Marrakech, an act of cultural reclamation in itself. How did that collaboration come about? Museums aren’t exactly in the habit of lending their archives for music videos.
My Amazigh heritage is a source of deep pride and ongoing discovery. It’s important for me to celebrate it through my work. It’s about reconnection. I knew from the start I wanted to feature Amazigh jewellery in this particular project because, to me, these pieces embody the duality at the core of ENCORE.
As for the collaboration with the Pierre Bergé Museum of *Amazigh* Arts in Marrakech, it’s a well-known institution dedicated to preserving this heritage, and also was the first of its kind in Morocco. And in all honesty, I was hesitant at first given the heavy colonial history tied to places like Jardin Majorelle.
But I felt it was important to actively engage and reclaim that space. If we don’t, those institutions continue to profit from our history while we remain sidelined, leaving what belongs to us in others’ hands, or worse, hidden away in their basements. With that in mind, we reached out, and to my surprise, they were very open and collaborative. That felt like a small but meaningful step toward reclaiming power over our narrative, and I’m deeply grateful to the team at the Museum for making this collaboration possible. And special thanks to Hayat Machache, Manager of the Museums Reserves at the Jardin Majorelle Foundation, for generously sharing her deep knowledge and for being present on set.
Wearing these rare Amazigh pieces felt incredibly powerful. They belonged to my ancestors, Amazigh women whose strength and history I deeply wanted to honor. Incorporating these pieces into my own story was my way of saying: this is ours.
6. The jewellery itself is bold and visibly heavy, yet Amazigh women have carried these pieces with pride for generations. How did it feel to wear something so rooted in ancestral memory, and how does it connect to the themes of endurance and heritage in your song?
That’s especially why I chose those pieces. Amazigh jewellery has always fascinated me. These weren’t delicate ornaments saved for special occasions. Amazigh women wore them with pride, daily, while working, moving, enduring. My grandmother, for instance, owned and wore the pointed molded silver bracelets, called Asbia’ Iquorain in Tamazight. I was captivated by their beauty, but also by how constraining they appeared. They reminded me that what empowers us can also weigh us down.
That tension, between strength and constraint, is at the heart of the song. Growing up, I was praised for my discipline and self-control. I learned to equate my worth with how much I could hold in, how well I could perform.
Though I live in a different time and place, I recognised myself in that endurance these jewellery demand. When I tried them on, their weight struck me, both physical and symbolic. Some pieces were heavy and uncomfortable, yet I felt powerful and strong wearing them, as if they were armor.
I’m incredibly proud to showcase such rare and meaningful jewellery. Not only to reflect on Amazigh identity, but also to challenge traditional ideas of masculinity within Moroccan society, since these pieces were originally worn by women. It’s a tribute to the resilience of our mothers and grandmothers while making our shared heritage feel more inclusive. My work is always about expanding that inclusivity. Bringing forward histories and voices often overlooked or silenced, and connecting past and present through a more open, shared narrative.
7. The headpiece, adorned with coins, feels especially loaded with meaning, and resonates with the lyrics of the prince and his crown: “Ce prince perdra contre sa main, la couronne autour du cou”. Can you tell us more about its story?
I deliberately avoided anything on my chest or neck. I wanted the weight on my head and hands, as if they were pulling me down, forcing me to bow, dragging me back into that endless loop. What I wore as a crown was actually a necklace. There’s something fragile, even ironic, about that gesture. It’s not about real power, but how power is perceived. A staged strength, an illusion of control. The crown becomes a performance.
8. And of course, the beautiful garment you wear. You worked with Egyptian American designer and Vogue Italia CFE winner Mina Tahir, who created a custom look that draws on traditional craftsmanship while nodding to contemporary subcultures. How did that collaboration unfold, and how did her design help bring your vision of ENCORE to life?
The moment I saw Mina’s piece, I reached out to her right away. That was back in 2022… It felt perfect for ENCORE: majestic, heavy, almost sacred, yet contemporary at its core. But what struck me most were the patterns and colours. They reminded me of the city itself.
In the music video, the city symbolises a freer world many of us struggle to reconnect with, a part of ourselves that was once shut out. Wearing something that visually echoes the city makes that longing visible, serving as a reminder that I was once part of something I can no longer access.
Working with Mina was a joy. She immediately understood the emotional and symbolic depth of the project. Getting the piece from Egypt to Salé though, that was another story. It took countless whatsapps, gentle pleading, and a few headaches, and some very creative maneuvering around Moroccan customs. But it was worth every bit of it.
