“Rebel with Your Art”: 40 Minutes with Nano Raies
By: Layan Srour / Arab America Contributing Writer
Nano Raies’s musical path is rooted in perseverance, self-discovery, and breaking boundaries. Hailing from Syria, Nano’s artistry fuses traditional Arabic sounds with bold modern influences. Her journey began in a home filled with the music of both Western and Eastern masters, inspiring a deep connection to her heritage. Despite the hardships of war, she pursued her passion for music, eventually studying at Berklee College of Music. Today, Nano is a powerful voice in the music world, using her platform to challenge societal norms and celebrate the strength and resilience of Arab women.
What about your upbringing influenced your journey into music?
The main reason I’m here today is because of my mother. She was a gifted painter. So talented, in fact, that she won first place in a competition with over 5,000 people. Despite her gift, she wasn’t allowed to pursue her dream. Her father encouraged her to study business instead of the arts. She respected him deeply, so she followed his wishes.
I think that’s why she admires the freedom I have now. She never dared to be a rebel, but she raised one. She gave me the wings she never got to use.
She’s also the reason my brother and I started learning the piano. In Homs, there was only one piano teacher. My brother was incredible, and he even won first place in Syria. I looked up to him and admired how dedicated and hardworking he was. We grew up surrounded by music—both Western and Eastern classical traditions. Schubert, Mozart, and Tchaikovsky played through our home, along with Umm Kulthum and Fairuz. Music was constant, but it was always treated as a hobby. The only time I ever saw musicians was at a hafle (a party).
How did you get into singing?
When I was a teenager, I loved singing songs by Majida El Roumi, Julia Boutros, and Fairuz. I would go to the bathroom with my CD player and spend an hour to two cycling through CDs. My mom started to really hear me sing when I was eighteen years old and encouraged me to keep singing. She wanted to find the best vocal coach for me.
I used to have two or three songs on repeat for months at a time. I must’ve sung them a million times in that bathroom, and somehow, each time felt different. It’s wild to think about. These days, I have a voice teacher who’s been teaching me for the past 20 years.
What brought your musical journey to the United States?
During the Syrian war, I was working as an architect and had just completed my MFA. But something inside me shifted. I thought, “if I’m going to live, let me live doing music.” I didn’t want it to stay a hobby. I wanted it to become my life. Every Wednesday, I’d travel from Homs to Damascus just to take a voice lesson with my coach. While most people on that bus were trying to flee, I was heading into the city for music.
Eventually, I fled to Lebanon. My vocal coach, Arax Chekijian, ended up there too, and I stayed and studied with her for three and a half years. She truly was and still is the foundational reason for my dream to come true. I worked in landscape architecture to stay afloat, but even though Lebanon offered so much, it wasn’t enough. I was dreaming bigger. I wanted to be surrounded by the best musicians, to learn and grow beyond borders.
So, I applied to Berklee College of Music, and I got in. Christiane Karam, a professor at Berklee, invited me to perform with Berklee musicians—and that was my very first concert. I even received a standing ovation! I believe it was during that performance that the donor of my scholarship was in the audience and felt inspired to support me in pursuing my dream.
At my visa interview, I sat across from an American officer. I had prepared every document, bracing myself for a long list of questions. I wasn’t really“nervous— but actually very excited and driven—I had a trusting feeling, and I connected with the officer through music; she saw my passion all over me. She smiled and said, “What’s your favorite song?” Without hesitation, I answered, “Casta Diva, and no one sings it like Maria Callas.”
Somehow, that was enough. I walked out with a visa in my hand. It felt surreal. Then, one day, I got a call from Berklee. Next thing I knew, I was in Boston, standing in a new city with nothing but two bags and a dream.
Have you faced any challenges as an Arab musician in America?
The challenge of being an artist is one thing, but being an Arab artist adds another layer. I feel like I have to wear every hat: manager, producer, promoter. I simply can’t afford to outsource it because it’s too expensive. But doing all of that takes time away from the actual music-making. Still, I have to do it. That’s how you survive. That’s how you make it.
The real challenge lies within the system. Every step forward comes with a price tag. And sometimes I sit with that—Who decides what counts as art? Who puts those numbers on it? The hundreds, the thousands, the millions? If art is only about money, then it’s no longer art.
Are there any upcoming projects you’re excited about?
I’m releasing the music video of my latest release Oh Ma Demeure, on July 3rd
What message do you strive to convey in your music?
I advocate for freedom and love. Freedom in every sense of the word, even when it means breaking the rules. So many of those rules were written by men. Before anything else, I want to be seen for who I truly am. An Arab woman is fierce, bold, strong, beautiful, and capable of anything. I want to show the world who we are. I want people to see themselves in me.
A lot of my songs dive deep or take a sarcastic jab at the systems we’re forced to live in and at things like toxic masculinity and societal expectations. That’s where my truth lives. My mother taught me to fight for freedom, and I carry that with me. I fight for everything they’ve tried to label as “wrong.”
What advice do you give to Arabs aspiring to enter the music world?
Be curious. Passion always begins with curiosity. Your desire to explore, to learn, to understand something deeply is a talent. It’s not a superpower you’re born with. It’s the result of loving something so much that you can’t help but imitate it, study it, and live inside it.
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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