This Saturday, Kazdoura will take the stage in Riyadh at XP Music Futures by MDLBEAST — one of the most anticipated music festivals of the year — a brilliant achievement for any band and solo artist, but if you think it is their only stop, think twice.

Formed in Toronto by Syrian singer Leen and Lebanese–Kuwait–raised musician Johnny, Kazdoura have been making waves across the globe — from a rainy London stadium last month to our beloved Dubai Helipad just a week ago thanks to a collaboration between booking platform Amp and the UAE’s leading community-driven music discovery platform Vinyl Souk.

Their blended backgrounds shape a sound that feels warm, familiar, and instantly recognisable. Much of their songwriting comes from experiences that aren’t always easy to speak about, yet somehow become fine — even healing — when sung. Perhaps that is why their fans connect so deeply with their lyrics. But let’s take it step by step.

What experiences are they drawing from? How do they divide their roles within the band? And what are they dreaming up next?

Let’s dive in.

— Your band began in Toronto in 2020. Over the past five years, what has been the most challenging moment, and how did you overcome it?

Leen: One of the biggest challenges was definitely during COVID. Canada had one of the longest lockdowns, so for months we couldn’t perform, meet people, or build our presence through live shows. It was frustrating, especially because we were only just starting out. But instead of treating it as a completely lost period, we tried to turn it into something productive.

We focused on TikTok — posting regularly, experimenting, and just having fun with it. A few videos went viral, and suddenly our music was reaching people around the world. So by the time Canada opened up again, we already had listeners who recognised us from TikTok.

That period also gave us an incredible amount of time to write. We were literally at home every day, so we used it to explore ideas, write original music, and shape our sound in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if we had been constantly gigging.

Johnny: Exactly — challenges always come, but funding was another major one. Making music professionally requires investment: recording, production, mixing, filming. In the early days, we really struggled with that. We worked with people who could help us on a very tight budget, and sometimes it felt limiting because our vision was bigger than what we could afford to create.

But over time we learnt how to collaborate more creatively, make the most of what we had, and surround ourselves with people who genuinely believed in what we were doing.

— Your band name means “a short spontaneous trip” in Levantine Arabic. What other name options did you consider before choosing this one?

Johnny: When we first started playing together, we honestly had no intention of forming a band. We were just two musicians experimenting, performing around Toronto, and enjoying the process. It was only later — when people started showing up, and when we began writing our own songs — that we felt we needed an artist name. Some of the early ideas were Beit, which means “home”, and Boza, meaning ice cream. Leen also suggested things like “Milk Garden” and “Milk Valley.” Leen: But Kazdoura felt the most natural. At the time, we were playing regularly at a place that served Lebanese–Armenian cuisine, and the vibe was exactly like a kazdoura — fun, social, spontaneous. People would come for the food, the warmth, the music — it felt like a little cultural stroll. And because we often played covers from across the Arab world, we’d tell the audience, “We’re taking you on a kazdoura from Egypt to Syria to Algeria.”

— You are Syrian and Lebanese, yet you live and create in Canada. How does this mix of identities shape your music and the stories you tell?

Johnny: Our backgrounds couldn’t be more different, and that contrast is genuinely one of our biggest strengths. I grew up in Kuwait, surrounded by all kinds of cultures and music. I was mainly listening to rock, jazz, funk — very Western genres — and that naturally shaped the way I approach arrangements and production.

Leen’s musical grounding, however, is in classical Arabic music — full of melody, emotion and tradition. So our sound ends up being this blend of both worlds: Western grooves and arrangements woven together with Arabic melodic sensibilities. That duality really defines us.

Leen: And lyrically, my writing comes from my own lived experience — especially being a refugee from Syria and starting over in a new country. That mixture of identities finds its way into every song we create.

— Your single "Khayal" explores themes of displacement and the immigrant experience. How did it come to life, and was it difficult to share such vulnerable emotions?

Leen: Khayal came out very naturally. I never sit down and say, “Today I am going to write about trauma,” or “Today I will write about nostalgia.” — it is more that whatever I am feeling at the time finds its way into the lyrics. Being forced to leave your home in the middle of a war, leaving behind your family and everything familiar, is something that stays with you for years. It shapes how you see the world.

I moved to Canada nine years ago, but I only wrote Khayal a couple of years back, because those emotions don’t just fade. Homesickness doesn’t run on a timeline. I feel like I will keep writing about this part of my life until I am fully healed — and even then, the experience will always live somewhere inside me.

And you have to understand, I am always writing — I have got notebooks filled with lyrics from different moments in my life. When we begin a new song, I revisit them and shape the words to fit the mood of the music. That process is healing in itself; it helps me understand the emotions I am carrying.

— What is your warmest childhood memory?

Leen: For me, it is always the summers by the sea. Every year, my parents would take us from Aleppo to Latakia, and we would spend months on the coast with my cousins — I have 21 on my mum’s side alone. There were so many of us, spending the whole day playing, swimming, and inventing games out of absolutely nothing.

At night, we would lie on the sand, look up at the stars, trace shapes in the sky, and then all fall asleep together on one big mattress — six kids squeezed in. Those summers were the happiest days of my childhood in Syria.

Johnny: Mine is actually very similar. I grew up in Kuwait, but every summer we would fly to Lebanon and stay for two months. Most of that time was spent by the beach with family, grandparents and friends — swimming, playing football, and just being carefree. Those summers are some of my fondest memories as well.

— How do you divide creative responsibilities — lyrics, melody, arrangement, and all the operational work that comes with being a band?

Johnny: There is no fixed formula. Every song starts in its own way. Sometimes I bring chords, a melody or a groove, and Leen shapes the lyrics and vocal lines. Other times, Leen arrives with her own melody and words, and I build the arrangement around that.

Often we simply improvise — I pick up the guitar, Leen starts singing, we record everything, and gradually turn it into something more structured. The process shifts every time. What matters most is the feeling we’re trying to capture.

Leen: Exactly — it is completely collaborative. It is never “Johnny does the music, I do the lyrics.” We both contribute to the musical side. And once the demo feels right, we bring other musicians in so they can add their own influences and flavours.

As for the operational side — the admin, planning and communication — we split it based on who is free and who is best suited to the task. But creatively, everything is shared.

— What is your typical rider like — and have you ever had a particularly memorable or “cool” one?

Johnny: We are honestly very easy-going. We don’t usually ask for anything specific backstage — the only thing we are particular about is our stage setup, simply because we perform as a five-piece: drums, bass, keys, I play guitar and saxophone, and Leen sings and plays percussion. Beyond that, we are not fussy at all.

Leen: Exactly — we are super flexible. All I really need is water and a mirror to do my makeup, and I am good to go. I do wish every venue had a small dressing room, but that isn't always the case. I have changed in toilets more times than I can count — not glamorous at all, but you just get on with it.

If there is a coffee machine, that is a lovely bonus. Usually, we arrive, do our sound check, pop out for food or coffee, come back, play the show, and then that is it.

— Is there a dream collaboration you would love to have — even if it seems impossible?

Johnny: At the moment, we are still very focused on refining our collaboration with each other, because that is the core of the band. But yes, there are definitely artists who inspire us and who we would love to work with one day. For example, we both admire Zeid Hamdan — one of the founders of Soap Kills — and his production work.

Another dream for me personally would be Ibrahim Maalouf. His trumpet playing is extraordinary, so working with him would be a huge honour. There is also Tarek Yamani — an exceptional Arabic jazz pianist from Lebanon.

— Does working as a band bring you more strengths or more challenges?

Johnny: I would say both, naturally. When we create together, we try to stay open-minded. We listen to each other’s ideas, and sometimes we agree immediately — and sometimes we don’t. That is completely normal in any collaboration.

Leen: Most of the creative process is just me and Johnny working together, trying to land on a shared vision for the song. Once we have that, it becomes much easier to explain it to the producer, the musicians, and the rest of the team. The biggest challenge is that first stage — when we are trying to find the mutual idea the whole song will revolve around.

Another challenge is the business side. We run the band completely on our own — no manager, no team. We handle everything ourselves: booking, tour management, PR, admin, social media, logistics. It is a lot, and dividing the workload between us can be tricky at times. But creatively, we are very aligned. Even when we disagree, we stay open-minded — and that is what keeps the collaboration strong.

— As your audience grows globally, has increased visibility — from positive recognition to the occasional online negativity — ever affected you personally? Do you feel any pressure around it?

Johnny: Not negatively, no. It is incredibly rewarding to meet people around the world who connect with our music. When someone recognises us or tells us a song meant something to them, it genuinely means the world. We are grateful for every person who supports us — it doesn’t feel like pressure, more like encouragement.

As for negativity, it is very rare. Occasionally someone expects us to be more politically outspoken, or to behave in a certain way, and maybe we don’t match their expectations — but we stay grounded in who we are. It doesn’t really bother us.

Leen: I agree — the visibility feels positive. These days artists rely so much on social media; years ago you needed a label or a gatekeeper to reach people, and now you can build your own audience.

When it comes to negative comments, around 95% of what we receive is supportive and kind. I honestly struggle to remember anything truly hurtful. Here and there, especially on YouTube, someone might comment on me being a Muslim Arab woman and how I “should” behave — but everyone has their own opinions. We are just being ourselves. If someone likes it, wonderful; if not, that is also fine.

— If you weren’t performing, would you still create music just for yourselves?

Johnny: Absolutely. But for us, performing and creating music are deeply connected. We both come from musical backgrounds where performing live is part of the creative process. Whether it is our own music or covers, we love sharing it with people.

Leen: I love the creative process — every single step of writing a song. Honestly, the most stressful part is after releasing it. During the writing and recording, we are not thinking about whether people will like it. We are just enjoying the process.

So yes — even if we never performed live, I would still write. It is healing, it is expressive, and it feels incredibly rewarding to see emotions move from words on a page into a full piece of music.