When the BBC World Service asked its listeners to come up with the ''world's Top 10 favorite'' songs, Mr. Sahir's ''Ana wa Laila'' (''Me and Laila') was No. 6, two places above Cher's ''Believe.''

With close-cropped black hair, a stocky build, a chiseled face, a hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans, Mr. Sahir looked more like a soccer player than a pop singer. He moved through the casino without bodyguards or an entourage, said he was not worried about his safety while in the United States, did not believe that the government here was monitoring his movement and seemed surprised when asked if it was difficult for him to get obtain a work permit.

In fact, to some degree, he seemed almost unaware that being an Iraqi in the United States today was far different from what it was 17 months ago, a change that has prevented many Middle Eastern musicians from obtaining work permits and visas. ''He has no fear,'' said Dawn Elder, his manager in North America and Europe. ''He says if something is going to happen to him, it's going to happen. He believes in living life to its fullest. And I agree: you need to not be afraid of life.''

For others, to see him perform is to make a statement. Leigh-Ann Hahn, a world-music presenter who flew in from Los Angeles for the show, said: ''When I told my mother I was going to an Arabic-owned resort to see an Iraqi musician, she was aghast. But I told her that he was a renowned vocalist, he was carrying a message of peace, and it was important that I have the opportunity to see him perform.''

Iraq is considered by some to be the cradle of classic Arabic poetry and music, a tradition carried on by the Musical Institute of Baghdad, where Mr. Sahir studied. Born in northern Iraq, he lived in austerity with nine siblings. At age 10 he sold his bicycle to buy a guitar and started inventing romantic stories for his girlfriends. By age 13 he was not only writing love letters for his older brothers to send to girlfriends but also composing classical-based songs for his own girlfriends.

Known primarily as a songwriter for other musicians, he worked for several years to persuade the music establishment there to let him both compose and sing his own songs. And when he finally appeared on television with his own ''Ladghat el Hayya'' (''The Snake Bite'') in 1987, it was banned for lyrics that discussed Baghdad's atmosphere of fear and restriction near the end of the Iran-Iraq war.