The Green Day of Zagazig: Vemto Builds a Dream From the Rooftop Up

What Vemto is doing isn’t just punk—it’s punk in a place where punk shouldn’t exist. When I met Vemto, I felt like I’d stepped into one of those ‘90s coming-of-age movies. You know the scene: you sneak into the older brother’s room, and are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of hair gel and walls plastered with Nirvana and Green Day posters. Except here, the “older brothers” in question are three teenage boys from Zagazig who welcome you in like an old friend and offer you a seat beside their amp.

Vemto is made up of Mahmoud, Fares and Tohamy, a trio of 16 and 17-year-olds who look like they’ve walked straight off the set of ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ if it had been recorded on a rooftop in Egypt. Despite the first impression some may have after seeing their messy hair and eyeliner, they’re truly the kindest, most grounded kids I’ve met, handing me their skateboard to mess around with during their photoshoot and teaching me their own made-up punk handshake that I still can’t quite get right.

“We are Vemto the band, we’re 16 years old—well, not all of us, some just turned 17—and this is our interview with SceneNoise,” Mahmoud grins into the mic. It’s chaotic, charming and completely them.

Punk Starts in the Quietest Places

Before there was a band, there were three boys trying to make sense of boredom, bullying, and that teenage restlessness that has nowhere to go in small towns. “We were really hated in school,” Mahmoud tells me. “So we decided to annoy people even more by making music.”

The name “Vemto” itself is an inside joke. “Fares and I were arguing on a call,” Mahmoud says, half-laughing. “I said Vimto was the best drink ever. He started swearing at me. I was like, cool—guess that’s our band name now.”

It stuck. Because of course it did.

First Songs, First Stages

Like most teenage bands, they started with covers. After a brief back-and-forth about which was their actual first, they land on ‘Marigold’ by Nirvana. “That’s the one,” Fares nods. The influence is clear—not just in the music, but in the way they carry themselves. A bit slouched, a bit sarcastic, but always present.

Their first original track, ‘مكحله عينها’, was born out of impulse. “We played it on a rooftop party,” Mahmoud says. “It wasn’t even supposed to be a gig—just 30 of our friends. But people loved it. We recorded it on a phone at first, then our manager Cherine Amr helped us clean it up. Put it on TikTok—and boom.”

Now that rooftop has become their headquarters. “We used to rehearse at a friend’s house,” Tohamy says, “but he kicked us out of the band and the house. So we built our own space on the roof. Got egg cartons for soundproofing. Spray-painted the walls.”

The room there is punk-chaos incarnate: stacked cassettes, empty Vimto cans, a filthy old mattress, spray paint on everything, and this one dodgy fan that threatens to fall at any moment. It shouldn’t work—but it does. It feels like home. Even the neighbours, who once complained about the noise, have grown used to it. “They actually kind of like us now,” Fares smirks. 

Zagazig’s Only Band (For Now)

In a town where the most live music you’ll hear is probably a wedding DJ, Vemto is something of a phenomenon. “We’re the only band in Zagazig,” Mahmoud shrugs. “It’s cool, but also… kinda lonely.”

That solitude doesn’t stop them—it fuels them. “People have started dressing like us,” Fares says. “More eyeliner. More hair dye. Some kids want to start bands now exist. No venues. No gear. No infrastructure. Just energy and heart and noise. And maybe that’s why it hits different.

No School, No Rules, Just Songs

When the question of school is brought up, Mahmoud laughs. “Ask them,” he says. “I dropped out.”

Fares and Tohamy are still technically students, but music is the real curriculum. “We don’t study,” Fares admits. “We just play.”

So far, it’s been working. Ziad Zaza reached out. Sherine and Massar Egbari sent love and support. In the middle of all the chaos, they’re finding recognition—not for being polished, but for being real.

The Future’s a Rooftop Away

When asked what’s next, Mahmoud responds, “Maybe a tour? Banha, Mansoura… cities no punk band’s been to before.” Their dream collab? “MTM,” Mahmoud says.

Fares nods. “Or Green Day,” he grins, pointing to their faded band tees.

And five years from now?

“Same rooftop. Same mattress. Same dodgy fan,” Mahmoud says. “Waiting to perform at a party the next day.”

The magic of Vemto isn’t in the noise they make—it’s in the space they create. A space where being loud, weird, kind, and passionate isn’t just allowed—it’s the whole point. A space that, for a moment, made me feel like a teenager again—skating across a dusty roof on a borrowed board, learning a punk handshake, and listening to someone play a song they just wrote.

And maybe that’s what punk’s really about.