Q&A: Jana Diab on The Making of 'Season One' and Her Artistic Evolution
INTERVIEW
INTERVIEW
☆ By Nthatile Mavuso ☆
Photos By Claryn Chong
BRINGING DEPTH AND GRACE, JANA DIAB REDEFINES SELF-EXPRESSION AND AUTHENTICITY. The 23 year-old Cairo-born and London-based singer and musician creates songs that fuse a striking vulnerability with an equally intense honesty. Resonating with listeners who find her longing, pain, and love to be truly tangible.
Diab was introduced to theater and Broadway shows by her mother, sparking an early fascination with the magic of production. This passion inspired her to create her immersive world of sound: one that is more heavily inspired by the kaleidoscopic, avant-garde pop sound of artists like Lorde, Half Waif, and Saya Gray compared to the Arab music she heard while she was growing up. However, this is not to say she is not influenced at all. Instead, through her parents embodying their love for Arab music, Diab explores the intricacies of this influence in her storytelling.
Her songwriting offers an honest glimpse into the mind of a 20-something third-culture kid, finding her way through life’s complexities, navigating her ADHD, and embracing her evolving identity. Diab sparks conversations about how her dual background gives her a unique perspective to challenge norms. Having released her debut project, Season One, with Interscope Records, the captivating musician is set to release the EP’s deluxe version on November 8 with four amazing additional tracks that only further cement her emerging star status.
LUNA had an absorbing conversation with Diab about the beauty of heritage in her music, connecting and inspiring third culture kids, and Season One (Extended).
LUNA: You were on vocal rest. Are you feeling better now?
DIAB: Yes, I am. I saw a vocal coach yesterday, and he worked wonders because my voice is much better today. But honestly, when I’m not singing, I feel purposeless. If I’m unable to do the one thing that gives me purpose, I feel really down. Vocally, I’m fine—not as bad as two days ago. But we’ve had to cancel sessions and many other things, so it’s hard to balance taking care of my voice with trying to make music. The fact that I can’t create right now is tough, especially since this time in my career is so important to me.
My voice is better—still a bit croaky, as you can hear, but it’s improving. I’m focusing on rehabilitation because I have pre-nodules. My vocal folds are swollen, so I have to be extra careful.
LUNA: Creating music seems like everything to you. Where did your journey with music begin?
DIAB: You might expect me to say it all began when I grew up in Egypt. I lived there for 10 years before moving to London. I grew up in a very musical household—my dad’s an artist, and my mom works in theater production. I think any impact that environment had on me was mostly subconscious. I would hear my dad playing music, blasting it in the living room, and always creating. I’m sure that influenced me in some way. But I feel like moving to London had the biggest influence on me, especially through my interactions with people. I would go to theater productions, and watch people perform, and that’s when I first felt that this is what I want to do. I wanted to tell stories, to create.
Growing up, I was also very focused on self-reflection and trying to be the best version of myself. I think doing that work played a huge role in my songwriting, helping me find an outlet to articulate everything I was feeling with detail. Moving from Egypt to London was a drastic change, especially culturally—it was a shock. To find myself, I had to dig deep and reflect on who I am and why I feel certain ways about things. That process helped me.
My dad’s an artist, so that helped. It might sound predictable, but I think it affected me on a subconscious level. Growing up around music had to have had an impact, especially seeing someone so dedicated to his craft. My mom was also incredibly dedicated to her work. As an Arab woman, she faced many limitations, but when we moved to London, her career took off because she worked incredibly hard. Having that influence gave me a strong work ethic and made me believe that achieving my goals was possible.
LUNA: That’s a wonderful answer and a great way to look at it. I think it’s beautiful how you draw from so many inspirations in your life. You also mentioned moving from one country to another and experiencing a cultural shift. So, how do you think that sense of—well, I don’t want to say displacement, but more like a shift in comfort—helped you incorporate more vulnerability into your songwriting?
DIAB: I spent so much time with my mom, and having her input and perspective on life was invaluable. Being around an adult who had experienced so much—turmoil, anxiety, stress, and achievements—helped me see the world on a deeper level. I learned to really analyze my position and accept it, without feeling so down. When I moved to London, I missed my friends, my people, and where I came from, but I found a new community here that I love. I’m so grateful for this experience because I wouldn’t be where I am today without it.
LUNA: That’s also what you mentioned about the warmth of coming from a place where everyone is so accommodating and caring. I think that’s a general African experience we can both relate to. I haven’t been outside of South Africa, but I can imagine the shift in terms of community. Having someone like your mother—who’s so strong-willed and dedicated to her craft—probably influenced you a lot.
DIAB: Yes, absolutely. Seeing both my mom and dad pursue their passions influenced me a lot. It’s also part of African culture—we’re loud, emotional, giving people. When I moved to London, I found it really lonely, and I struggled with that. But being alone also gave me the chance to write, create, and look inward, and for that, I’m so grateful. I’m especially grateful for my mom. Whenever I wrote a song, she’d come to my room, and I’d sing it for her. We’d debate, analyze the lyrics, and discuss every little point I was trying to express, almost like a therapy session.
Even before this interview, I called my mom and my sister to discuss my thoughts on these questions. Talking to people who truly know you helps a lot, especially in an environment where you don’t see yourself reflected. At my school, there weren’t many Arabs—actually, I don’t think there were any, except for my sister. Seeing her was a form of representation for me.
LUNA: I think you’ve answered the question I was going to ask about how your Egyptian heritage intersects with your musical inspirations. You beautifully explained how you connect to your family. When many people hear questions about their heritage, they often think about the country they come from rather than the culture itself. Your parents and family are such an integral part of your culture and where you come from. I think that’s just a very—I don’t want to use the words nice or beautiful again, but it’s a perspective I really love. Your music captures the complexities of being a third culture kid navigating ADHD and young adulthood. In today’s music landscape, many artists, like Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo, are embracing vulnerability. How do you feel about the environment you’re in regarding the way music is being made? Who inspires you, and what inspires you?
DIAB: What inspires me, particularly regarding being a third culture kid, is the human experience—feeling uncomfortable, happy, sad, excited. These are universal feelings that everyone can relate to, regardless of their background. Everyone experiences heartbreak, depression, anxiety, and feelings of not being accepted. I want my music to resonate with everyone in the world, whether you’re a third culture kid or not because we are all human and share similar emotions.
The beauty of being a third culture kid is that I can represent others in this industry. People who share that experience can see someone who looks like them, someone they can relate to, confidently pursuing their dreams. I hope to bring representation into the industry while creating art that speaks to everyone. No matter your age—whether you’re 5, 40, or 13—we can all connect through feelings of anxiety, heartbreak, and not feeling understood. I want my music to convey that it’s okay to feel how you feel, and to express both negative and positive emotions. Many people, regardless of gender, experience shame about their feelings and thoughts. As an artist, I aim to show that it’s okay to have these emotions.
LUNA: Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. As you said, the human experience is central to what we’re discussing. Right now, many artists are really good at exploring that, especially younger artists. I say that like I’m some old-timer, but I’m 21 too! It’s been nice growing up and seeing all these artists come forward, openly discussing heartbreak and emotions.
Our generation, particularly Gen Z, expresses these feelings differently. While it’s not that one generation is better than another, Gen Z has a unique way of communicating their experiences, and I think that’s really powerful.
DIAB: We are better! (laughs) But I definitely resonate with what you’re saying, especially coming from African culture. It can sometimes be taboo to talk about desires and feelings. Speaking for myself, there are societal expectations that you’re not supposed to like a boy or date at a certain age. But it’s so natural to fall in love at 15 or 16.
Within the culture I grew up in, discussing those emotions can feel quite taboo. I want to empower people from my culture to feel that it’s okay to act on their desires, excitements, and feelings of love—those things make us human. Sometimes, the cultural restrictions can be limiting and lead to feelings of shame and confusion. I don’t know if you can relate to that, or if others you know can, but I think it’s a common experience in my culture.
LUNA: I definitely think we can all relate to that. In South African music, we explore themes differently. For example, with amapiano, many people associate it with the upbeat rhythms and dancing, but there are deeper meanings in the lyrics. If you don’t know the languages, you might miss it. With so many languages in South Africa, many amapiano songs contain uplifting messages about hope, encouraging listeners that everything will be alright and that the sun will shine tomorrow.
I think it’s beautiful how you incorporate similar themes into your music, addressing the human experience. Even if vulnerability isn’t often encouraged in our cultures, your music still carries a powerful message. The music that is Indigenous to you—whether it comes from Egypt or reflects your identity as an Arab woman—will always be a part of you
DIAB: I have a massive love for Arabic music. I adore it, especially my dad's music as he’s an Arab artist. However, I grew up in London after moving there when I was ten, which exposed me to a lot of Western music. Even in Egypt, the radio played artists like Coldplay and Pitbull, so I was surrounded by that. I also attended an international school in Egypt. I appreciate the beauty of Arabic music and find what my dad has done with his music to be innovative and beautiful. However, I find myself gravitating more towards folk music, Western folk, R&B, and rap rather than Arabic music.
That’s what happens when you’re a third culture kid—you end up loving a variety of things that might not solely stem from your ethnic background. It doesn’t make me any less Arab. I’ve come to terms with the fact that not speaking much Arabic or not being inspired by Arabic music doesn’t diminish my Arab identity. It’s still part of who I am.
LUNA: You've mentioned being inspired by theatrical productions and avant-garde pop artists, which are quite theatrical and vigorous—very out there. How do you envision your live performances and visuals reflecting your music's emotional intensity and creative experimentation?
Please hold on to that question because I have a follow-up comment about experimentation. My sisters and I discussed this, and we all agreed that people shouldn't impose their own visions on what an artist's music video should look like. I believe there's definitely a middle ground in this discussion.
DIAB: Can you clarify? I'm actually interested.
LUNA: Okay, this has little to do with what I'm asking you, but as a follow-up comment: people are saying we shouldn't impose our visions around what we think a music video should look like. Instead, we should trust that the artist is making a decision and accommodate their vision. My sisters and I disagree; I believe there's a middle ground. Someone like Solange has very artistic, avant-garde music, right? But it feels like it fits in place. You're an artist, and you're very specific about your vision, so people shouldn't impose on it.
DIAB: To be honest, when it comes to visuals, I think Billie Eilish is really in touch with her emotions, and she creates such beautiful art. She's one of my favorite artists. Concerts for me are about the artist, and I struggle to find myself in them. I want to create an environment where people leave feeling that it was for them, that it helped them.
I don’t want people to just watch someone perform. When they do that, it's incredible—props to them! The talent and confidence they have are amazing. But for me, I want my showcases and performances to make people feel seen, understood, comfortable and united. If I create a concert where people come just to watch me perform, I won't get that reaction. I want to include elements like projection mapping to create an immersive experience.
LUNA: Let's talk about your debut project. Could you share your experience of making it? What was the production process like, and how long did it take?
DIAB: I created Season One with Couros Sheibani, an incredibly talented guitarist. We quickly became close friends, and during our first meeting, we wrote the title track, "Season One." The production process was transformative for me; I initially struggled to define my sound and had songs spanning multiple genres, including screamo, folk, and pop. Couros bluntly pointed out that my previous work didn't resonate, and together we decided to blend elements from all the genres I loved into one cohesive sound.
Working with Couros allowed me to explore and communicate my emotions and desires openly, which is often taboo in my culture. He created a safe space for me to express myself without judgment, making it easier to discuss topics like love and intimacy. Our shared cultural backgrounds helped foster a warm and relatable environment. This collaboration not only helped me gain confidence in expressing my emotions but also liberated me from feelings of shame. The entire EP reflects my journey and growth during that time, and I want listeners to feel my comfort and authenticity in the music. I'm incredibly grateful for Couros and the creative partnership we developed throughout the two-year process.
LUNA: How has it been having a body of work released with Interscope? And lastly, what’s next for you in your career, any upcoming performances, visuals, or new projects?
DIAB: Working with Interscope has been incredible. Meeting the team for the first time felt validating in a way I’d never experienced before. They’ve shown me such kindness and belief in my talent, dedicating themselves to helping my career grow, and that’s given me both confidence and a sense of safety. At first, I felt some imposter syndrome—like, really, me? But they’ve broken so many of the stereotypes people have about labels. Instead of limiting me, they encourage my creative freedom. I feel really lucky to be part of such a supportive team, especially with people like Kaz, Carlos, and Tessa who care so deeply.
As for what's next, I'm working on a lot more music. Couros and I plan to head to the countryside after my LA trip to write for days on end. There’s so much more to come, and this truly is just the beginning! I also have some upcoming visuals and performances in the works, but I can't reveal too much yet—just know there’s a lot to look forward to.
