On November 13, the lights of Carnegie Hall will shine on an exceptional moment for Elham Al Marzooqi — the UAE’s first professional female Emirati cellist — as she performs with the orchestra in A Journey to the New World, presented by the Reina Sofía School of Music in collaboration with the Abu Dhabi Festival, the flagship initiative of the Abu Dhabi Music & Arts Foundation. It is a cultural milestone, where East meets West under the baton of artistry and ambition. But Elham’s world extends beyond the stage: she is a Senior Legal Counsel by day, performer by night, and in between, a mother and actress. Somehow, she hits every note. We set out to discover how. Our only conclusion? Time management, in her hands, sounds like a superpower.

— You are moving now from Abu Dhabi to Carnegie Hall, and this journey sounds amazing. What does this debut mean to you — both as a musician and as an Emirati artist presenting your country on the global scene?

— It is very difficult to put into words, but I will try. I was always a musician. I started when I was five, with piano, because my mom had a music institute in Abu Dhabi — the first of its kind. She loved music, started an institute, and in the 80s there was nothing like that here. If I hadn’t had that, I wouldn’t have delved into the art of music; it wasn’t something we typically do as Emiratis. I have to thank my mother for pushing me. She tried with my brother; she couldn’t.

The first step was piano. I loved the idea of being part of an orchestra, but I realised piano is a solitary instrument. I wanted a community. That is when the cello came in nearly 20 years ago. I love deep sound and resonance; it appealed to me. I never thought picking up the cello — listening to Yo-Yo Ma’s Bach Cello Suites, wanting to play like that — would end up at Carnegie Hall.

I got a phone call in 2024 from Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Foundation (ADMAF). All credit to them: they are pushing Emirati artists onto the stage and have full belief in us. I am also a full-time practicing lawyer, so it is a little crazy to say I am a cellist and then go to Carnegie Hall — and, as far as I can find, as the first Emirati on stage there, and a woman. That shows ADMAF and Abu Dhabi Festival have put their faith in me to represent my country on a global stage.

Musicians everywhere know what Carnegie Hall represents: the pinnacle of professionalism and expertise. I am still a musician who loves to learn — new repertoire, being part of an orchestra, a community. I have joined and toured with other orchestras to be part of that ecosystem. This represents everything; it lets me breathe a little and have faith in my skills. But it doesn’t stop with Carnegie; there is always more to learn. Music is vast and never-ending.

I like different genres. With DCT I did International Jazz Day on April 30. They called and asked if I wanted to be on stage with, for example, Herbie Hancock. I thought, should I do this? My mantra is no regrets — feel the fear and go ahead. I said yes. It was a huge honour. Being at Carnegie, as an Emirati, as part of ADMAF and Abu Dhabi Festival — with whom I have collaborated many times — is a testament to their faith in us.

— You mentioned Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Foundation. How did it shape your artistic journey over the years? Can we dive into this more?

— Sure. With ADMAF and Abu Dhabi Festival, I was invited to a first recording for “Symphony of Three — Peace, Love, Tolerance,” three composers reflecting the Abrahamic faiths. We went to Poland, and produced an album by Abu Dhabi Festival and ADMAF. I was the guest cellist, recording with the Beethoven Academy Orchestra, who were very gracious. If you look on Apple Music and type my name, that project is there — huge for me.

After that, in the 2023 edition, with the Filarmonica del Teatro Comunale di Modena, Tan Dun — Grammy and Academy Award winner — was the conductor. We performed his works, including Middle East and UAE premieres: the Concerto for Pipa and Strings and “Buddha Passion.”

In 2024 I was invited to the Puccini Opera Gala in Abu Dhabi Festival with the Puccini Festival Orchestra under conductor Jacopo Sipari di Pescasseroli. Also in 2024 I performed with the China National Symphony Orchestra for their closing performance, playing “Scheherazade.” Very prestigious, high-caliber orchestras.

ADMAF and Abu Dhabi Festival curate their programmes very well. I am a lawyer in the events industry at Ethara (Senior Legal Counsel), so I have an eye for this. Their themes and pieces are carefully selected; it sets them apart from other festivals. I am grateful they have taken me under their wing. This Carnegie Hall is my debut in their international tour with Abu Dhabi Festival and ADMAF. I am excited to rehearse with the Reina Sofía School of Music. I was in Madrid last week, saw the school — very impressive. I am eager for the collaboration, the camaraderie, the intuitive relationships among orchestra members. That is why I became a musician: not to be solitary but to be part of a community.

— Here is the topic I wanted to discuss: collaborations. You did big collaborations — with A. R. Rahman, with Andrea Bocelli. It is hard to choose, but can you tell me which collaboration was transformative — perhaps life-changing not just for your musical career but for something else?

— It is difficult, because each concert brings a different feeling. With ADMAF and “Scheherazade,” when it crescendos and reaches the climax, you forget everything and feel it.

With A. R. Rahman, we did a few concerts — Expo 2020, Etihad Arena (full house). The energy — you end up dancing in your seat. At the Ambani wedding, it felt like a festival; you are in your seat for hours, playing numbers with the orchestra, with in-ears and a whole tech setup — very different from classical concerts.

With Andrea Bocelli in Saudi, before COVID, in the second half he came in wearing attire embracing the culture; it was emotional. With Beyoncé, again dancing in our seats — the energy. The professionalism behind the scenes is elite; everyone worked flat out for a week: dancers, crew — the audience doesn’t see how much work it takes.

Anoushka Shankar’s music is beautiful and challenging. During COVID we had limited time, tests, and different rehearsal spaces in Dubai. From Abu Dhabi I travelled twice a week after work, rehearsed four hours each time, drove back — “just do it” mentality.

I am also collaborating with AR on a film project — as an actor. I got a call from Nayla, an amazing Emirati director and the first female Emirati director. I congratulated her on her film grant (I also received a grant for music the previous year). She asked if I had thought about acting. I auditioned, got a part, filmed a week in Ras Al Khaimah. A. R. Rahman is the composer. The movie, “BAAB (meaning “door” in Arabic),” is Emirati cinema — a horror/supernatural theme — coming out in January 2026, inshallah.

— How do rehearsals before the movie differ from concerts? How does the process differ — filming feels almost 24/7.

— As an actor, it is very different. I drove to Ras Al Khaimah to sort props molded to me, then back to Abu Dhabi. For a week I took annual leave. Call times could be 11 pm or 1 am to film at night, working until 5 am, with a lot of waiting around on set.

Recording music for film is different again. With Firdaus Orchestra we recorded “Ponniyin Selvan 2” (AR’s composition), “Mountain Boy,” and others. Sometimes there is no time to rehearse — you see the music and play. The sound engineer runs the session; the composer may be present or on Zoom from another country, like when we did “Symphony of Three” in Poland. Technology enables this. Expo City Dubai’s Firdaus Studio is an amazing recording setup.

That is how I cut my teeth in recording. Performance is one side; recording is another. You make mistakes, redo takes; sometimes the engineer says, “Play this again.” We have stepped out to practice for an hour and come back. There is a lot of sitting around while staging, music, or mixing is sorted.

While waiting, I open my laptop and work on legal matters. People say, “What are you doing?” I say, “I’m working.” None of this is easy. I have a family — two kids — and a very supportive husband who says, “Do it, I’ll deal with the kids.” Preteens bring their own challenges — schooling, life. I delegate, decide what is essential and what is nice to have, and drop a few things. I don’t aim to be the best at everything; we are all struggling. I take the opportunities in front of me because I don’t like regrets.

My parents live next door; they say, “Don’t burn out.” They wanted me to study music at university; I said no, went the other way, and ended up back in music in a full circle. I count my blessings.

— You are literally covering two big spheres at once — living two lives. Some struggle with one job; you are doing two, and it feels like you do it because you love it. How do these two spheres interact? Do they affect each other?

— They do, and I am fortunate. At Ethara we handle many events, performances, triple-A artists, motorsports — the adrenaline is high. As promoters, we negotiate triple-A artist agreements. Wearing artist, lawyer, and promoter hats helps me see whose interests I am serving. I will say, for example, we can’t take all the artist’s rights — it is their music — so we redraft templates to be fair and save time.

I love my company because I am a lawyer in this industry, and they know I am an artist. I have performed at team-hall meetings. When legal issues touch the music industry, they tap into my industry knowledge. There is synergy. If I were in oil and gas or banking, it would be different; I prefer this.

— You chose law while your parents preferred music. What was your thought process, and when did you decide to come back to music?

— My first degree was in English and French in the UK. My parents asked why not study music; back then, before the internet, there wasn’t external support here, so I chose languages. In France I met friends who became lawyers after studying history or English. That sounded interesting, so I pivoted.

I found a UK program with a law degree route. I did a master’s, then another, at Bristol. As an Emirati, I wondered how to become an English lawyer — visa issues. I applied to 70 vacation placements, got four. One firm needed Arabic speakers in aviation litigation. After the internship, they offered a training contract. They fought with the Home Office for my visa. I qualified as an English solicitor — few Emiratis are, largely due to visas (it is easier now).

I tend to do things differently. While peers did medicine, I went another way. Music resurfaced while I was training as a lawyer. That is when the cello journey really began. I hyper-focused — even while pregnant, taking two- to three-hour lessons in the UK. It became an obsession that paid off: community orchestras, then more opportunities.

I won a UAE Ministry of Culture grant in 2023 to join the Beethoven Academy Orchestra for their “Lion King” project in Poland. In 2024 I received the “Most Influential Woman — Excellence in Music” award. (It is super heavy — like a weapon!) My kids see it and say, “Put it here!” It is nice to be acknowledged, but I tend to say, “Done — what’s next?” I need to remember to let things sink in.

— Your journey is impressive, and you don’t complain — you are proud, which makes people around you proud as well.

— Thank you. There is no point complaining. I could say no, but I don’t. I take it on and then rest on the weekend — be a potato. This is a blessing. If I were in the UK or US, I wouldn’t have these opportunities. I didn’t study music or cello at university, though I would love to part-time here. I count my blessings — alhamdulillah.

— You often emphasise female power in music. How do you feel your role in empowering women in a still male-oriented sphere?

— Let’s face it: many orchestras are male-dominated. My orchestra, Firdaus, is all women (except the maestro). Dubai’s government supports that; Abu Dhabi’s government supports through collaborations like ADMAF and Abu Dhabi Festival, bringing world orchestras and saying, “Elham, you’re Emirati and an artist — we want to elevate you.” Sometimes there is only one rehearsal day; it requires hours of practice.

DCT calls and says, “Be part of Jazz Day,” and now my name is cemented on April 30 every year. There aren’t many Emirati women in music at scale. I might be an anomaly — just doing it regardless of what people say. Some women face family pressure and can’t go on stage publicly. But with Abu Dhabi as a UNESCO City of Music, and seeing an Emirati woman on stage, you can’t say Emiratis don’t do this. Facts matter: there is one right there. The world didn’t fall apart; no one burst into flames. People will talk — “She doesn’t look Emirati,” etc. — I step back and say, “Interesting. What’s next?”

The government supports us; I wouldn’t have received the grant otherwise. Expo 2020’s orchestra mandate was all women. I wouldn’t be auditioning for a film. My leadership at work — Emiratis — asks me to perform for the company. By acting rather than talking, the seed is planted.

— Do you raise this point deliberately in interviews, or do you prefer to move on your path and let your actions be the reference?

— I am not going to be everyone’s favourite. In any industry, you sometimes ruffle feathers. Imposter syndrome happens — it is natural. I tell others: use me as a reference if it helps you elevate yourself. You can study what your parents want and still do music on the side — do it well.

Big caveat: you can’t do both at the same pace. Sometimes a month is full of music and work eases, with more delegation at home; sometimes music is quiet. Be realistic; otherwise it is unsustainable. You pull one string, then another. The older I get, the more pragmatic.

For example: I just came back from a Canada tour with Firdaus for the First World Congress on the Social Impact of Music — four concerts. Three days later I went to Madrid for my kids’ football, came back for three weeks of rehearsal while working, then to New York and Washington, then Berlin for UAE National Day to perform the UAE and German anthems. After that I will rest, then it is Formula 1 week — I have to be on the ground working with racers, activations, and artists. Full adrenaline, then downtime — I look forward to it.

— If you could formulate your path into one message from the stage, what would it be?

— Don’t compare yourself to others — comparison is the thief of joy. Use others as inspiration, not a blueprint. There are many ways to be a musician: recording artist, on stage, quartets, different genres. Don’t pigeonhole yourself. Take opportunities. I could have said no to jazz, but I said yes, learned, and loved it. Feel the fear and do it anyway. I don’t want to regret not doing something.

— What is the most common question people ask when they learn you are a cellist and a lawyer?

— “How do you do it?” I don’t do both at the same time; I find creative ways. Sometimes I work remotely; work knows I am in the studio. If I am called to record or rehearse a bit, I go, then come back to work. It is doable. As women, we are gifted with multitasking — we are the superior gender (not anti-man, but men can’t multitask like we do!). I was once triple-booked in one place; I just did it — and dinged my car in the process.

It is time management: decide what is essential and what can be dropped. Ask whether something serves you. And as an artist, I am passionate about this: you would never ask a lawyer to work for free, yet people ask artists in exchange for “exposure.” Exposure doesn’t pay the bills. I tell musicians: don’t accept that beyond reasonable limits. Clients getting paid for projects should pay artists. Musicians work longer to reach their level than I did to become a lawyer; they deserve respect. I advocate for that.

— Unfortunately, it is common globally. We also try to push against it — visibility is different from abusing someone’s activity.

— Exactly. “Exposure” won’t pay the gas bill. I am blunt about it because otherwise it wastes my time. Many musicians aren’t as blunt, and I know I am privileged, so I try to advocate.

— If you were a piece of music — a symphony or sonata — what would you be? The closest to your soul.

— I like fun pieces. In the cello repertoire, I love listening to the Bach Cello Suites — different keys, different phases of life. The last one, in D major, feels like a burst of life — shedding everything, a realisation, an ecstasy. I often have a poker face; my excitement is inside, and that piece feels like it is bursting out.

We are working on Dvořák’s “New World” Symphony for Carnegie — beautiful lines and melodies. The repertoire is vast; you can spend a lifetime finding beautiful music. That is the beauty of it.