Jordi Van Spanje in Faces
photo by Sølve Sundsbø
styling by Anastasia Barbieri
for Vogue Hommes Autumn/Winter 2016
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— Tamino for Vogue Hommes, Spring / Summer 2019 (x)
Prince of Melancholy
By Sophie Rosemont / Photographed by Paolo Roversi / Styled by Anastasia Barbieri
‘Let’s get together when there’s time,’ he says. ‘I’ve finally taken a break and just been to a week of fashion shows, so I am less anxious than usual’. When you have known the young man since his first EP was released, in 2017, you know he’s not exaggerating. The apparent serenity scarcely hides the tension, the tension of forward-thinking perfectionists, whilst allowing their talent to mature and develop.
Dark eyes, a tall slender figure and jet-black hair, Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad was born in Antwerp of a Belgian mother and Egyptian father. He doesn’t only reflect his mixed origins through his physique. In his music, he calls to mind a form of romantic rock influenced by Nick Cave (even though his high-pitched voice is more suggestive of Jeff Buckley or Thom Yorke) and the melodies of the ancestral East. His grandfather was none other than Moharam Fouad, nicknamed ‘the sound of the Nile’, an extremely popular singer and actor in Egypt. He died when Tamino was a little boy, but he profoundly inspired him: ‘I love his music. And I could identify with what I was told about him. He was obsessed by his work and never stopped singing.’
The artistic tastes of Tamino, who was so named as a tribute to the prince in Mozart’s Magic Flute, date from when he was very young. At the age of eight, he dreamt up a play and asked his little brother to play the main character: ‘I had a specific idea of what I wanted, and when he didn’t acquiesce, I flew into a rage. I was a little dictator! It was then that my parents realized that I had a strong interest in the arts, the theater, etc.’ His mother was a music-lover and always playing the piano. She initiated her son, who, after taking several classical lessons, quickly broke away from the classics: ‘I didn’t have the patience to learn the pieces as I was expected to. I wanted to interpret them differently. I admire the discipline of classical musicians, but my idea was to create a story and embody it, expressing what I wanted to say. It’s an experience. A song you like that transports you, instantly, is instinctive. You don’t know where it comes from. I don’t want to think of that too much when I’m composing, otherwise the spontaneity gets lost, and the pressure rises.’
After his secondary schooling, he headed to Amsterdam to attend the conservatory there, as it had a reputation for being open-minded. Alone in the Dutch city where he didn’t know a soul, he composed a number of songs in his room. Once they were shared on the Internet, the buzz was such that he went back to Belgium to devote himself to his career. He had offers to perform on stage, on the radio, was invited to appear on TV and given front-row seats at runway shows. No one could resist his young leading man looks straight out of The Arabian Nights. The title of his first album Amir, actually means ‘prince’ in Arabic. Radiohead’s eminent bass player, Colin Greenwood, stars on ‘Indigo Night’ and was one of Tamino’s earliest fans. ‘Habibi,’ with its twilit mood, was an instant hit that revealed his talent for soft velvet folk.
The twelve songs on Amir, recorded with an orchestra of Tunisian, Iraqi and Syrian musicians, speak as much of love as of solitude, sensuality and contemplation, rather like those of Leonard Cohen. ‘He’s the ultimate model, a high-flying poet,’ he sighs. ‘Even though he was a passionate person, he never tried to alter his destiny, he remained elegant whatever the occasion. And, at 80, he was still recording superb albums.’ Tamino also calls to mind Nick Cave, for the corrosive, contagious tenor of his style of rock, but not just that: ‘When he gets up in the morning and puts a suit on. Whether it’s to rehearse, go on stage or get a coffee, he is always impeccably dressed.’ Rather like Tamino, in a more urbane, more understated, style. Tamino’s favorite color is black, which is at the same time romantic, gothic, minimalist, and adaptable, which he likes.
When you meet him on a cold Paris Fashion Week Saturday, he is trying clothes on at his compatriot Ann Demeulemeester’s, who also dresses Patti Smith and PJ Harvey. ‘With Ann, I understood that a garment could be the extension of who you are, that comfort didn’t exclude the singularity of a look. Today, my creativity varies according to what I’m wearing.’ For Tamino, music inspires fashion and vice versa. ‘A fabric, a cut, an attitude can bring a melody to life. The correspondence between the two seems obvious to me.’ That said, he is far from being obsessed about his appearance. At the moment, he spends his days on the road to promote Amir. Whereas he doesn’t compose when he’s on tour, he reads Dostoyevsky, and the Lebanese poet, Khalil Gibran, whom he quotes: ‘In depth of my soul there is / A wordless song – a song that lives / In the seed of my heart’ (from ‘Song of the Soul’, 1912). Perhaps a way for Tamino to assert his need to be alone, which is vital to him when he is composing, providing a space for him to exercise his love of words. ‘Even if at first I think about the melodies and the orchestration,’ he says, ‘I can’t imagine that a song doesn’t convey a message, or at least a feeling, that it is empty.’ He hasn’t discarded his childhood dream of being an actor, but says that if he had to take a break from music for a film shoot, the role would really have to be worthwhile.
When asked for what his definition of elegance is, he answers immediately: ‘Being kind to others, respectful, while at the same time being sure of who you are. Recently, I met Yohji Yamamoto. He’s an example of this. He is kind to everyone, relaxed, yet never leaves anything to chance.’ The same chance, or destiny, mektoub in Arabic, that has cast its benign light on Tamino.
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