Haitham ElManawaty (Panic Later) Transforms the Music Landscape with Za3lana’s 3D Animation Breakthrough

This recognition is a reminder that innovation matters, and that there’s no ceiling to how far our ideas can go when we trust in the process and in each other.

It pushes me to keep experimenting—to keep blending visual art, animation, and music in ways that feel real, emotional, and unapologetically ours. It’s not just about making songs anymore; it’s about building experiences that move people and redefine what’s possible.

It wasn’t a sudden lightning strike but a quiet realization that music was always there, threading itself through everything I loved. But the defining moment was standing in a small studio, hearing a rough mix of one of my first tracks, and feeling a rush of emotion so real it gave me chills.

I realized then that if I could feel that, I could help others feel it, too. And that’s been the compass ever since.

Pressure. Real, raw, heavy pressure. Most people see pressure as a negative force, but for me, it’s been the birthplace of creativity. When everything feels too big, too fast, too much, that’s when the best ideas surface. It’s about turning that heat into something powerful, into a melody or a visual that captures exactly what words alone can’t.

To be honest, I don’t really believe in rituals — we believe in pressure. It’s part of our DNA. We thrive when things get chaotic, when the stakes are high, and when it feels like there’s no way out except through pure creativity.

Our “habit” is to lean into the discomfort, push beyond the first obvious idea, and treat every session like it’s make-or-break. It’s not about waiting for inspiration to strike; it’s about showing up ready to battle for it. Pressure isn’t the enemy at PanicLater — it’s the fuel that sharpens everything we do.

It’s like controlled chaos, more of a jazz jam session that somehow, against all odds, finds its perfect shape. There’s a lot of raw energy and improvisation early on, but slowly, instinct and craftsmanship sculpt it into something deliberate and lasting. It’s about allowing the unexpected to breathe while still honoring the discipline of the craft.

I want them to feel seen. I want them to hear a song or watch a video and think, “Someone gets it. Someone lived this too.” Whether it’s joy, heartbreak, hope, or rebellion — I want the video to hold up a mirror to their emotions and remind them they’re not alone.

Choosing to create a fully animated music video from scratch, with local talent, without cutting corners and without compromising the vision, wasn’t safe. It wasn’t easy. But taking that risk not only created something historic, it opened the door for a whole new generation of artists to believe that if we push hard enough, we can set new standards.

It wasn’t one song, it was a moment. I remember hearing a track that blended heartbreak and hope in the same breath, and it hit me: music isn’t just entertainment, it’s survival.

Artists like Pink Floyd, Nina Simone, and Abdel Halim Hafez taught me early on that music is both a weapon and a refuge. That feeling never left.

The moment we saw the first rendered frames of the animated music video and realized it worked, it marked a shift from dreaming to achieving. It wasn’t just my turning point; it was ours, a collective win that showed what happens when you trust creativity, talent, and resilience over fear and doubt.

A living proof that when passion meets pressure and vision meets collaboration, history is made.

And this is what Panic Later is all about.

Building something that hadn’t been done before, without a blueprint to follow. Every day brought a new obstacle—technical, creative, emotional. We pushed through by remembering why we started: to create something bigger than ourselves. Every late night, every setback became fuel. The mission was clear, and we refused to back down.

We’re diving deeper into the fusion of sound and visuals—not just music videos, but immersive experiences where audiences don’t just listen, they live inside the music. I’m excited to explore more conceptual storytelling, blending orchestral elements with deep house, cinematic soundscapes, and soulful vocals.

If PanicLater could collaborate with anyone, it would be with artists who understand that real magic happens at the edge of chaos—people like Kanye West in his rawest form, Daft Punk at their boldest, or even iconic local legends who weren’t afraid to break the rules.

The vibe would be unapologetic, high-energy, and genre-bending. It would be a sound that doesn’t ask for permission, just like PanicLater. The track would feel like a shot of adrenaline—gritty, cinematic, futuristic, and deeply human—where every beat carries the signature PanicLater DNA: pressure turned into power.

Don’t create for awards. Create for truth, for feeling, for the people who will find pieces of themselves in your work. Awards are beautiful acknowledgments — but the real prize is building something honest enough to last. Trust your instincts, honor your collaborators, and keep pushing even when it’s terrifying. That’s where the magic is.