Music is everywhere. We start, live, and end our days with songs by people we may never meet, yet somehow know intimately — for their music lays bare the soul within. But how do these artists we listen to every day actually live? Do they spend hours shaping ideas before writing the tune we wake up to, or do they simply sit down and let whatever is in their head spill out — giving us the track that carries us through the gym? Do they whisper a prayer before stepping on stage, or walk out in silence? And do they test their songs on close friends, or keep everything to themselves until it is ready to be shared?

I can’t speak for them all, but I can tell you about one: Yazeed Fahad. A young Saudi talent now signed to MDLBEAST Records — the country’s leading label championing emerging musicians — Yazeed has already released ten tracks, performed on major stages, and is here to share his story and his music.

— Let’s start from the beginning. Could you tell me a little about your childhood and how you were first introduced to the world of music?

— It wasn’t the easiest childhood, and I don’t always feel comfortable going into detail, but what I can say is that being the eldest in the family shapes you in ways you don’t realise at the time. You go through experiences your parents might not yet know how to handle, and you often end up carrying responsibilities you are not quite ready for. Music didn’t come into my life straight away, but when it did, it gave me a way to make sense of all those feelings.

— What was your relationship with music back then — did you study it formally, or was it more about listening and exploring on your own?

— I never had a formal music education — no conservatoire or even music school. For me, music was more of a discovery. As a child I travelled a lot, and wherever I went I was captivated by the sounds around me — from the radio and street performers to the music people played at home. The real spark came in 2018, when I first picked up a guitar. Something about it just drew me in. At that point in my life, I didn’t have many things I truly loved, but I knew straight away this was going to be one of them. I taught myself from scratch, without any formal training, and every bit of progress felt like a personal victory.

— I heard you picked up the guitar through YouTube tutorials. Is that true?

— Yes, that is true. I actually learnt from YouTube. The reason I chose the guitar is a bit of a funny one — it all came down to a single song: "Let Her Go by Passenger". I was captivated by the intro and promised myself that one day I would be able to play it. That promise became my motivation. The guitar also felt far more accessible — something I could carry around and make my own, unlike a piano. Over time it has become my closest companion, really — almost an extension of how I express myself.

— Can you take me through your creative process? What usually happens when you begin writing a new song?

— If I had to sum it up in one word, I would say it is instinctive. All I really need is my guitar, and sometimes a loop. I just start playing whatever comes naturally and let the emotions of the moment guide me. I don’t sit down with a strict plan or do research — I simply open myself up to the feeling. I record voice notes on my phone so I don’t lose ideas, then I will play the same thing over and over — sometimes fifty times — until something clicks. If it stirs something real in me, whether joy, sadness, or unease, then I know I have created something worth keeping.

— Do you need to force yourself into writing?

— Yes, definitely. There are days when inspiration doesn’t come naturally, but I have learnt that discipline is part of creativity. For me, practice isn’t just about sharpening my technical skills, it is about training myself to capture emotions, even when they don’t arrive fully formed. Sometimes I would sit with the guitar simply to see what emerges.

— How many are sitting in your notebooks compared to the ones you’ve already shared with the public?

— If I have released around ten songs, I have probably got another thirty tucked away. For me, every song I write is something I completely believe in — it is never just a draft or a throwaway idea. But not everything finds its moment to be released. Some pieces feel too personal, others I want to keep developing, and some I’m saving for the right context. I think of them as chapters that are written, but waiting to be published.

— How do you decide which ones to share and which to hold back?

— If I don’t genuinely feel a song, I simply can’t release it. It is painful — almost like letting go of one of your children — but sometimes an idea feels too fragile, or I worry it won’t be understood. Perhaps that is just my ego, but I would rather keep it to myself than see it misinterpreted.

That said, they are never wasted. I often return to older pieces, rearrange them, and give them a new life. I have already done that with at least five songs, and I have ended up loving them even more. I see these unreleased works as material I can draw on whenever the moment feels right. And yes, I will admit there are times when it is also down to laziness.

— Do you share these unreleased songs with friends or producers to get feedback before deciding?

— To be honest, not really. With all respect to my colleagues, I don’t lean much on other people’s opinions. By the time I take a song into the studio, I already believe in it so strongly that I’m not looking for anyone to tell me yes or no. If I feel it deeply — whether sadness, joy or conviction — that is enough for me.

I think that is actually my strength. I know when something is good, especially in my own music. Others might catch glimpses of the potential, but only I live with myself every day, and only I can fully see it. Of course, I will listen to advice on details or production, but the heart of the song — its essence — is mine alone. And because I am my own harshest critic, if I have chosen to share a song, it means I already believe in it completely.

— “Ana” was your first song written in Arabic, after previously writing in English. What made you decide to make that change?

— I had always wanted to write in Arabic, but it took me a while to build up the courage. In Saudi Arabia, the music scene is still quite young, and there isn’t a huge amount of variety, so doing something different means being ready for criticism. At first, writing in English felt like the safer choice. The turning point came when I asked my sister if I should give Arabic a try. She was busy and just said, “Yes, do it.” For her it was nothing, but for me it felt like the permission I had been waiting for. That small push changed everything. Writing Ana in Arabic turned out to be one of the best decisions I have made — it felt authentic, as if I was finally singing in my own voice.

— I can imagine you have drawn inspiration from other artists. If you had to choose just one artist to listen to for the rest of your life, who would it be?

— That is a very difficult question, because I don’t attach myself to a single artist. I admire many of them, but I don’t follow anyone religiously. What matters to me is the song itself — if it is good, I will listen to it hundreds of times.

But if I had to choose, it would probably be someone with a wide range, so I wouldn’t get bored. Perhaps Billy Joel. He has so many different styles, and that sort of variety keeps me inspired. "Piano Man" is a classic — you really ought to give it a listen.

— Out of the songs you have released, which one feels closest to your heart?

— Without a doubt, “Ana”. The word means “me” in Arabic, and the song really is my story. It began as a simple voicemail I recorded, and when I played it back it moved me so deeply I wanted to cry — but I couldn’t, because I don’t even know how to. That is how raw it was. That moment made me realise I could bring something truly meaningful into the Arabic music scene. I have found that when a song stirs that kind of sadness in me, it often resonates with others too. There are even subtitles on YouTube, so people can follow the lyrics and share in that feeling. For me, it is the song that captures who I am more than any other.

— You have performed at some major events such as Riyadh Season and XP Music Futures. Were you nervous before stepping on stage at those big shows?

— Absolutely — the nerves are always there. But I see them as a good thing; they remind me that what I am doing matters. Before a performance I definitely feel the pressure, but the moment I step on stage and see the audience, it turns into excitement. It is as if all the emotions I gave been carrying get poured straight into the music. Those big stages also remind me why I do this in the first place — to share something personal and connect with people on a bigger scale. It is a powerful feeling.

— And how do you deal with the stress before performances?

— Honestly, I just tell myself, "Forget it — you have got to do it. Otherwise, you are not going anywhere." It is as simple as that. I could give you a more philosophical answer, but in the end, that is really what it comes down to.

I don’t have any particular rituals before going on stage. Some artists pray, hug their bandmates, or follow certain traditions, but I don’t. What I do instead is doubt myself a lot — and strangely, that helps. I picture the worst-case scenario, and when it doesn’t happen, I feel relieved and perform better.

There was one time when it did happen, though. I was singing and someone in the crowd shouted, "Take the mic away from him!" That moment really shook me, but it also prepared me for the future. These days I try to perform in spaces where I feel safe, but I still carry that experience with me. It was painful at the time, yet in the end, it made me stronger.

— In one of your interviews you said: “I played the victim for a long time until I realised that doesn’t create my future.” Can you tell me more about that period of your life?

— I was really talking about the first 25 years of my life. At the time, you don’t even realise it is happening — you slip into playing the victim without noticing. You start blaming those around you, for small things and big things alike, even for not loving you enough. But eventually I realised it does no good. You can take what you need from that feeling, but then you have to let it go, otherwise you will never move forward. Writing a song about it was my way of closing that chapter.

It is a horrible place to be, because you can do so many good things, give your best, and still find yourself dragged back into that mindset. It leaves you frustrated and angry, because it doesn’t build a future — it only traps you in the past. I kept thinking: this isn’t fair on myself. I have only got one life, limited time, and countless chances to make good memories. Living as a victim isn’t what I want.

In a way, though, it shaped me as a musician. It gave me a deeper understanding of people, and I value that. But looking back, I still feel angry, because I know I am more than that. I am not a victim. I have always wanted to be the main character in my own life. So even when I write about pain or difficulty, I try to do it from that perspective — not as someone helpless, but as someone owning their story.

— Recently you released tracks through MDLBEAST Records. How does it feel to work with such a big entertainment company and cultural platform? Do you feel supported in your journey?

— Absolutely. Working with MDLBEAST has made my life so much easier. Since joining, I have grown a lot as an artist. They have given me the tools to push myself, focus more on my work, and aim to become the best version of myself.

— What advice would you give to beginners who dream of starting a music career? Should they try to find a producer or platform to guide them?

— My advice applies not just to music, but to any field. First, you have to be good enough at what you do so that no one can take it away from you. If you get an opportunity but don’t yet have the tools or the skill, it can backfire and crush your confidence. That is why you need to sit with yourself, practise, and build real confidence before putting your work out there.

When I first sang in front of my uncle, who performs Saudi folk music, he gave me the harshest feedback — he told me I had the worst voice and shouldn’t think about singing. It was painful, but I took it as a challenge and worked hard to prove him wrong. Not everyone can take criticism that way, though. Some might believe it and give up. That is why it is so important to know yourself and believe in your potential before sharing it with the world.

— Tell me about your latest release, "Habibty Inti". How was the project created, and what is behind it?

— MDLBEAST wanted me to try something more upbeat. They told my producer, “Please, get him to make a happy song — everything he sings is so sad, and we want to hear another side of him.” I am always open to new ideas, so my producer took the lead on this one. He gave me different chords and melodies and asked if I could write lyrics to them. I thought, why not — I will give it a try.

What surprised me was that I ended up singing in Egyptian without even realising it. The melody carried such an Egyptian feel that the words just came out that way. When I sent the demo over, the producer’s reaction was so enthusiastic it gave me a real boost of confidence.

The song turned out to be a love song, which made me connect with it even more. It is not my usual style, but that is why it felt so special. I asked myself: if I were to find the one, what would I want to say to her? The lyrics reflect that — dreaming of a simple life together in a small home, built on genuine love. And for me, that is the message at the heart of it: even on the darkest days, love and understanding always win through.