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The fuehrer wore green
By Nadeem Farooq Paracha
Hail!
What is patriotism? To me it is something to do with insecurity and/or having an identity crisis. Maybe also with the veiling of a guilty conscience regarding certain uncontrollable racist/fascist/xenophobic feelings?
Patriotism, at least on most occasions, becomes the voice and look filtering out from this veil. Becoming acceptable chauvinism or xenophobia?
But then there is this other kind as well. Patriotism as a cleverly used device to work as an apologetic stance or a deceiving front to meet certain amoral goals associated with free market enterprise and politics.
In fact, religion or the use of it in this respect too is closely related to patriotism and its modern-day usage.
But why am I talking about patriotism here? Where else, I say? Isn’t each and every Pakistani pop artist so very patriotic? I mean, this is what they are always trying to suggest.
Telling us, quite like the way our political and religious leaders have been doing for the last 58 years, that “We are Pakistanis!”, “We are Musalmans!” and so on and on and on.
I wonder, why we as a nation have always felt that us being Pakistanis or Muslims needs to be shouted, chanted, thumped upon and sung about over and over and over again?
How many songs can you count with words like: “Ham Pakistani hain” or “Hum Muslaman hain?” Too many for comfort.
Why the persistent doubt? I mean, I hardly meet anyone who tells me he or she is not a Pakistani but a Zulu or a Ukrainian (!) And I have yet to meet a practicing Muslim wanting a regular dose of naats and patriotic songs about our glorious musalmaniat, to save them from loosing their faith. And how many of you really give a damn about confused pop stars masquerading/moonlighting as spokespersons for media savvy preachers?
What is even worse is the way all this is harped upon. Sometimes to the point of sounding almost xenophobic, if not downright fascist!
Really, most “patriotic songs” of the last twenty years almost sound like diet versions of Nazi beer songs!
And it pains and amuses me when I see young men and women joyfully mouthing the same ghisay–pittey notions and concepts of Pakistaniat and Muslamaniat which the feudal lords, mullahs (and now) corporate capitalists have used to make total fools out of one and sundry.
But the truth is, not everyone falls for such sugarcoated deception, soft xenophobia and cynical lip service. And our gallant pop stars should understand this.
So why not sing about a Pakistan we all know about? Ah, but that may not get you any sponsors…
By the way, which one is pink?
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It has to be about feel first and then technique. That’s what pop/rock should be about. And is!
The Pakistani modern pop scene has now been around for quite a while. Enough to throw up a few of the lands own guitar heroes. And when such talk takes place the first names that get spoken are of Aamir Zaki or Mekaal Hassan. Fine players, indeed. Technically correct, no doubt about it, but somehow they always make a point to speak about it. As if they have doubts themselves.
Never could understand how can a true artist and a pretty emotional chap like Zaki end up making such cold and clean-cut music. At least till now he has. His one and only solo effort, 1995’s Signature, though a sparkling example of the science of guitar playing, sounded distant, impersonal and rather cold. Almost as if structured and well calculated elevator music!
Mekaal has the same problem. He’s more akin to be an instructor/professor of guitar histrionics than a passionate player. He might even take this as a compliment. But the truth is, if it wasn’t for the pure emotional ways of his band’s lead singer, his solo album, Samparoon, might not have been more than lounge music for drawing–room champagne–laden gatherings in Lahore.
Harsh? Maybe so, but only because Junoon’s Salman Ahmed figures so low in such talk.
I may have had serious problems with the man (and Junoon’s) post-Inquilaab politics and cynical corporate economics, but the truth remains: He should be the leading name in the context of trailblazing and influential guitar players of the country.
He has done more for the guitar and guitar oriented music in Pakistan than all the others put together.
His main weapon: He is simple and straight up! And that is exactly why (even till last year’s dreadful, Deewar), he continues to be a thrilling riff master, catchy and ballsy as hell.
His riffs for chestnuts like “Jogia,” “Talaash,” “Woh,” “Mahi,” “Saain,” “Yaar Bina,” and “Ghoom” are great. They’re as good, instinctive, powerful and catchy as a riff could be.
Another underrated player is former Vital Signs guitarist, Rizwan–ul–Haq. Just check out his overall playing on the band’s Vol:II album and you’ll know what I mean. Simple, catchy, highly emotive and therefore wonderful. Almost Floydian (ala Dave Gilmoure, as Rohail ol’ boy would have it).
Of course, then there is the ubiquitous Assad Ahmed of Karavan. Aptly talented and highly experienced but one wonders, wouldn’t he be stuck in is old '80s hair–metal ways had it not been for Salman? Think about it. Had it not been for Salman and the way he so delightfully weaved guitar riffs and music with local pop, folk and even filmi music, most Pakistani players that followed him would be no more than silly air guitarists or shameless mimics! (Not that a lot aren’t already).
All the Shalims and Ali Noors and EPs and what not must remember (and cherish) this. But do be careful. Salman’s ego has a way of bloating beyond its usual capacity!
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