[WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT]

Wake Island is many things - to some, it's a band. To others, it's a place. But for Phil Manasseh and Nadim Maghzal, it's the culmination of the immigrant experience. One that was shaped by culture shock, and capped with a newfound understanding of themselves, and the two places they call home.

A joke I always make when when people come to me like, 'You haven't seen this film?' I'm like 'No, because when you were watching this film, I was in a bunker hiding from bombs.' - Phil Manasseh

As teens, after leaving their hometown of Beirut in search for a better life in Montreal, they struggled with adjusting to the Canadian culture. And although Phil and Nadim didn't know each other up until that point, they both attended McGill University, where they eventually met. They found common ground in their shared struggle, and used music as an outlet to express their frustrations.

It's a unique story - Phil and Nadim's experiences cut so deep, and the music they made was so personal, that the course of their lives changed entirely. After graduating, they put their degrees aside, and formed the electronic duo known today as Wake Island.

GROWING UP IN A CIVIL WAR

The perspectives of both Phil and Nadim were rooted in a childhood shaped by Lebanon's civil war, when they were splitting time between school and their family's bunkers. "There were times where bombs and rifles were being shot… I remember being in a bunker which was pretty much the basement of our building… Being down there, it was exciting, like all the neighbours are here and I can hear adults talk. And it didn't feel to us like we were hiding," Phil remembers.

Nadim recalls having a very similar childhood. "We'd play cards. It's like camping - eat canned food, canned milk... and not go to school. But at the same time, we knew that we were there because things were very dangerous," Nadim said.

And being a teenager during those years was was actually quite awesome. People wanted to live man. They were like in bunkers for literally 25 years 30 years, and it's as if like you open the door, and now they just want to live. - Nadim Maghzal

For kids growing up in the midst of a brutal civil war, even that sense of normal reached a breaking point. The fighting in Beirut became so intense, their parents made the choice to leave.

Phil's family ended up in France, and Nadim spent three years in Canada.

When the fighting cooled down, they moved back to Beirut, and both of them struggled to fit in, and make friends. It took years, but Nadim eventually started hitting his stride in high school. And just as the war was truly coming to an end, Lebanon was breaking out of its own shell.

"Being a teenager during those years was was actually quite awesome. People wanted to live man. They were like in bunkers for literally 25 years 30 years, and it's as if like you open the door, and now they just want to live," Nadim remembers.

FINDING MUSIC

People in Lebanon were living boldy - partying, buying beach houses, and the entertainment industry was booming. Along the way, Phil and Nadim discovered a love for music. "It's just a beautiful feeling to just open that box and like play that piece of music, it was really, really great... And then I would like listen to Metallica, and I'd rip through their whole catalog, and be like 'Oh this is so good,'" Nadim said.

For Phil though, things were much different. At some point, he realized that he was gay, but lived in denial about it. It was hard for him to explore who he really was - everything around him railed against what he was feeling inside. So the piano became his safe place, and the only outlet he had, to be himself.

It gave me a big thrill to have people listen, when I gave people the opportunity to eavesdrop on me and feeling something... And at the same time, I guess I wanted them to know how I felt. So I guess that's how the piano became a major part of my life, where it became this way I had to just express myself. - Phil Manasseh

"It gave me a big thrill to have people listen, when I gave people the opportunity to eavesdrop on me and feeling something... And at the same time, I guess I wanted them to know how I felt. So I guess that's how the piano became a major part of my life, where it became this way I had to just express myself," Phil said.

In his last year of high school, Phil began making plans to leave Beirut, and find a university outside of Lebanon. A place where he might be able to finally be himself. At the same time, Nadim's dream of becoming a musician was taking hold, but his parents had other ideas. They wanted him to be an engineer, a doctor, or a lawyer.

"In the 90s was a climate where you had to rebuild the country. It was on our generation's shoulders to rebuild the country. The country was wiped. So that also reinforced that idea that often, a lot of immigrants from all over Asia are brought up with the same ideas of like, get in these careers. These are the careers that are right."

Regardless, Phil and Nadim both took the leap, and left Beirut behind for Montreal. To their parents, they were starting a journey that would eventually land them a respectable career. For Nadim though, studying biology was just a guise to pursue his real dream - music. And for Phil, an economics major, things were a little more complicated. He was pursuing a safe place to find himself. But they both had a massive obstacle to overcome first - culture shock.

(Zoé Lopez Joly)

CULTURE SHOCK

When they got to Montreal, both of them struggled with language barriers, and found themselves feeling awkward in social settings. They felt lost when their peers expected them to be in tune with North American pop culture. "A joke I always make when when people come to me, like, 'You haven't seen this film?' I'm like, 'No, because when you were watching this film, I was in a bunker hiding from bombs,'" Phil joked.

Nadim often felt isolated, even though he living in a massive city. "The first, big striking thing is moving downtown into these huge anonymous towers with units. It's like a shock. Like there were 30 floors, and like maybe 30 apartments per floor, it's like six thousand people or so, of being alienated," Nadim said.

The first first big striking thing is moving downtown into these huge anonymous towers with units. It's like a shock. Like there were 30 floors, and like maybe 30 apartments per floor, it's like six thousand people or so, of being alienated. - Nadim Maghzal

Somewhere in the middle of all that culture shock, Phil and Nadim met each other. They were neighbours living in the same hi-rise building in downtown Montreal. They found solace in the fact that they were both going through the same struggle to adapt. So they hung out, and started trying to make sense of it all through music.

"The music, really felt like, life at that moment. And I feel like that was very, very good, as a medium, to let out the frustrations that came from all these cultural shocks, and from the inadequacy, like, we felt like we didn't belong, at all," Phil remembers.

Phil and Nadim had once again found their outlet in music. During regular jam sessions, they worked hard to find chemistry, but it wasn't easy at first. While these two outsiders were struggling to find their place in Canada, their music followed a similar path. In the beginning, there was excitement, but then, they found out pretty quickly that they still had a lot to learn.

WAKE ISLAND IS BORN

The more they were able to adapt, and find their own place within Canadian culture, their music also came together. What was once a platform for Phil and Nadim to vent their frustrations with the culture, was now the link they needed to connect with it. Music had become that common ground - a way for Phil and Nadim to finally find a sense of community, and a sense of belonging.

It's just that I lived a lot of my life feeling like I was like constrained or jailed by expectations, and norms in society, and I didn't like it… And and I didn't want to add another jail to my life. And so I knew that I was going to be a musician. - Phil Manasseh

"We made very, very good friendships with people we toured with. When they say music is a universal language, I mean it's true. In the end, you know, like, a beat is a beat, whether it's from the Middle East or whether it's from here. So it's definitely something that helped us integrate into society," Nadim said.

And in the end, the experience was so profound that, after graduation, they both chose to put aside their degrees and dedicate their lives to making music. "It's just that I lived a lot of my life feeling like I was like constrained or jailed by expectations, and norms in society, and I didn't like it… And and I didn't want to add another jail to my life. And so I knew that I was going to be a musician," Phil reflected.

To hear more of Wake Island's music, and to see if they'll be playing in your town, you can find out more here.