Making her story!
By Nadeem Farooq Paracha
The Nazia Tribute Concert
Good evening
I’ve covered a number of concerts during my 12-year-career but the ones I’ve really enjoyed, I can count on my fingers. The 1989 Vital Signs’ show at the Hashoo Auditorium; the 1993 Talaash concert by Junoon at the Karachi Arts Council; the VS & Awaz concert in 1993, at the KDA Stadium. And now this: The recently held Nazia Hassan Tribute Concert at the Karachi Gymkhana. By enjoying I mean, when a point comes for me to break-out of the “objective” stiffness I carry as a critic, and eventually become just another sing-along and clapping face in the crowd at the Karachi Gymkhana on the coolish evening of March 9, 2002. How could I let go of the opportunity of watching Hadiqa and guitarist, Aamir Zaki, perform (as Rough Cut) with flute and tabla. But more so, I would have given anything to watch the platform on which the Vital Signs revived themselves after about seven years. What’s more, it was the Signs’ original line-up, including Salman Ahmed, even though, the Signs will now have to look for a guitarist because, of course, Salman is having a hell of a time with his own band, Junoon. And finally, I have always been a fan of Nazia and Zoheb Hassan. So how could I have missed the opportunity of watching Zoheb perform live (with producer/composer, Biddu) for the first time?
The show got off to a slow start when (host) Anwar Maqsood announced the evening’s first performer, the veteran neo-filmi-pop act, Salim Javed. Javed was actually brought in to replace his younger (and bigger) neo-filmi contemporary, Shehzad Roy, who couldn’t make it to the event. Javed lip-synched a song from his last year’s album, but failed to give the concert a crackling start.
Into the deep-blue
The next act was Rough Cut. No lip-synching here. They were totally live! With eccentric guitar-whiz Aamir Zaki, the elusive vocalist, Hadiqa , famous flute-player, Baqar Abbas (who has worked extensively with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan), and the equally famous tabla-player, Ashraf Ali. But the two songs that Rough Cut played, mostly kept reminding me of a Pakistani Portishead. The songs were not ballads, as such, but rather, they radiated a steady, highly melancholic deep blue energy. Zaki was brilliant while matching his playing with off-beat tabla beats and then switching to bass (which he plays equally well), to then lucidly swing along with both the tabla and some beautiful flute-playing. Hadiqa, as usual, was majestic!
Fat man dancing
Anyway, Rough Cut’s moody spell was soon followed by '80s filmi-pop star, Mohammad Ali Shekhi. Even though Shekhi has been trying to keep himself “fit” to keep-up with local pop’s younger lot, he has totally failed to score a big hit album or song through-out the 90s and till the very evening of March, 9, 2002.
But “never say die” seems to be his on-going philosophy. He has just refused to retire or fade away, even though, his fame and fan following is absolutely no-where and without doubt his music has deteriorated. I’m sure he would have been far more successful had he decided to sing, or even lip-synch, his most loved (and incidently last) big hit: 1985’s “Huma, Huma.”
47 ain’t a good age to do bhangra,dad!
Lip-Sinked!
Vocalist and video/teleplay director, Yasir Akhtar was brought in by Zoheb after The Strings failed to turn up at the last moment. Incidently, Akthar had finally scored a hit album (last year’s My Love), after two flop albums by his band, Arid Zone, and another flop as a solo artiste. In other words, My Love’s hit status certainly helped Yasir attract the attention of the crowd which, before him, had been left bewildered, after the Shekhi debacle.
The crowd reaction was mixed. Some clapped like his were the two most boring songs of the evening, and a voice which sounded “weak” after compared to Shekhi’s (who, by the way, has at least managed to keep his vocal chords intact); while on the other hand, I saw a couple of sections of teenaged girls singing-along while Yasir lip-sinked, I mean, lip-synched his album’s title ditty.
Waiting for Allah
The scene’s newest bhangra-pop sensation, Jawad Ahmed, was next. His second album, 2001’s Uchiaan Majajan Wali was not only one of last year’s biggest-selling releases, this year as well, it’s doing great business, finally making Jawad as big in Karachi as he is in the Punjab.
Believe me, and since I’ve been in the business of pop-journalism for over a decade, it won’t be an overstatement if I suggest that Jawad is the Pakistani pop vocalist whose voice reminds one of a young Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan! So what the flying fudge is he doing by trying to become another Abrar-ul-Haq?!
And, by the way, hat’s-off to Zoheb who actually managed to bring-in Jawad for the missing Najam Shiraz, because since Najam is another one of the scene’s most passionate vocalists, it just had to be the power of Jawad’s awesome vocals that could have (and did!), replace Najam’s unexplained absence.
So, the question now is that, is Jawad stuck as a bhangra-pop star, or will he move back (as in forward!), towards making a much better produced and marketed version of his 2000’s debut album? The crowd went wild when he lip-synched Ucchiann Majajan Wali, but I’m sure, he would have gotten the same reception, had he sung Allah Meray Dil Kay Andar.
The time of the Signs
The Signs’ arrival and reunion (and that too with their original guitarist, Salman Ahmed), at the concert was a special event indeed. My friendship with Salman and Rohail has come, gone and come back a long way. However, the moment Anwar Maqsood announced the arrival of the Signs, it was at once followed by a huge roar and an excited round of cheering and clapping from the crowd. Right away, vocalist JJ (in great form), bassist Shahzad (aka Shahi), guitarist Salman, and synth-player, Rohail (backed by veteran drummer, Allan [ex-Milestones/Akaash/Fuel-2-Fire and currently of Karavan], and a tabla-player), moved into one of their debut album’s most loved songs, the beautiful and melodic, Yeh Shaam. Half-way through the song, large sections of the crowd started to sing-along, leaving the Signs pleasantly surprised. Because, after all, the song had been first released 12 years ago, and a whole new generation of pop fans has grown-up ever since; or teens and twenty-somethings who were most probably in their shorts/frocks in 1988-89!
According to the original schedule the Signs had planned to only sing Yeh Shaam that evening. But thanks to the hearty and excited response they decided to sing another big hit from their debut album: The purely entertaining neo-filmi-pop dittie, Goray Rang Ka Zamana which gathered even a bigger and louder roar and sing-along cheering from the excited crowd; and which, not surprisingly, started chanting “more, more” at the end of the song. And since this was one of the most spontaneous VS performances this critic has ever seen, JJ suddenly led the band into two Junoon hits (1996’s “Dosti” [actually a 1989 Jupiters’ neo-filmi-pop hit], and Junoon’s own 1997 sufi-rock classic, Sayonee).
By now much of the crowd were on their feet, and still chanting “more, more!” But since the Signs scheduled time had already been stretched, they decided to provide the perfect climax by performing their first ever (and biggest) hit; a song which (before, and now, along-with, Junoon’s 1996 cracker, Jazba-e-Junoon, and, to a certain extent, Hadiqa’s 1996 hit, Inteha-e-Shauq), has been the (unofficial) Pakistani national anthem ever since its release in late-'87! Of course, I’m talking about the funky (albeit a bit too sugar-coated) Dil Dil Pakistan.
The sing-along had become so loud by now that it actually drowned JJ’s vocals!
It was an amazing come-back performance by an amazing and pioneering (but erratic), neo-filmi/FM-Pop band. And the excited and enthusiastic crowd response that they managed to gather (even after seven years of hibernation), should give them a lot more reason and meat to come out with their long-awaited fifth album. Of course they’ll have to get a new guitarist, and, I think the Signs should recall Rizwan-ul-Haq (now of Saroor), because his clear, crisp and melodic style almost perfectly suits the Signs’ trademark FM-Pop melodicism, plus the introverted, Floydian atmosphere Rohail (as co-composer and producer of the band), is always trying to capture (especially during the brilliant 1991 release, VS:2; and then again on 1995’s Hum Tum).
The Signs are back! And they are jamming away like never before. Way to come, men!
Still dancing after all these years
After the way the Signs stint had left the crowd all excited, to the extent of becoming the sort one finds at hyper-active Junoon shows, there was clear and present danger of the whole concert ending as a disappointing anti-climax. No sane act (may be apart from Junoon), would have taken the challenge of matching (let alone surpassing), the driven performance and crowd response at the culmination of the VS performance. The veteran producer/composer, Biddu who produced all N&Z albums, sensed the current the VS performance had cut across the audience. His experience left him trying to make the crowd settle down again with a soothing new-age trance music instrumental he so effortlessly conducted with his band. Soon afterwards, he announced the arrival of the evening’s second main highlight. Ironically a vocalist and composer who hasn’t sung ever since 1991, but whose songs (as vocalist/composer), constituted almost forty percent of all major N&Z hits in the '80s.
Up came Nazia’s brother, Zoheb Hassan to a big round of applause. But the question was, will (the mostly young men and women) in the crowd even remember any of his songs? Fearing this and, of course, emotionally overwhelmed with the way the tribute concert had already reached hit status, Zoheb initially declined to sing anything, sighting his emotionalism in this respect and continuing to glance at Nazia’s huge portrait behind while talking to Biddu. However, the man couldn’t keep pleading no to chants of “sing, sing” from an equally emotional and hyped crowd. Well, the the moment he tore into an early-'80s N&Z hit, Muskuraye Ja, the crowd was back in the game. And what do you know, they sang-along.
Relieved that the song was well remembered, he chose a more jumpy and dance-oriented old N&Z hit, Ooie Ooie as his next number. By now, the crowd was on its feet again. And then came the requests. First up was Zoheb’s famous ballad (from N&Z’s 1994 album, Boom Boom), Chehra, and then another beautiful, soft-pop ditty (from the duo’s last album, 1991’s Camera, Camera), Khoobsurat.
Zoheb was in top form. Singing as well (if not better!) as he used to in the hey-days of N&Z. I just can’t understand why he keeps underrating himself so much as a vocalist? Because the way he was singing, with so much passion and emotion at the concert, I believe his greatest tribute to his multi-talented pop-vocalist sister, would (and should!), be a full-length Zoheb Hassan album?
Finally, by the end of Khoobsoorat, the time had arrived to give a wonderful and eclectic evening of versatile pop performances and music a befitting climax.
For this, Zoheb was joined by the Signs’ JJ, Junoon’s Salman and Yasser Akhtar (whose mike, by the way, still seemed shut!). Out came, N&Z’s first ever hit (and perhaps their most popular): 1980’s funky filmi-disco classic, Disco Deewane. Again, the crowd were on their feet, and singing-along loud enough to even match the amplified voices of three vocalists on the stage!
What an ending it was. An ending which is most probably the start of so many talented voices who have for their own sweet reasons remained silent. Nazia, whose music is remembered as the most influential factor behind a barrage of new pop sounds and voices that erupted after late-'88; her tribute concert will be remembered as the platform from which highly talented acts like Aamir Zaki & Hadiqa (as Rough Cut); the Vital Signs and, of course, Zoheb, finally managed to rediscover the magic their music is made of..