Addicted to love
lf there is any person who signifies pop when it comes to musicians in the entertainment industry, it’s Haroon Rashid. He was previously one-half of the now defunct band Awaz, one of the most successful musical acts in the country and perhaps Pakistan’s original boy band. Lack of creative productivity coupled with a severe clash of egos — as is the norm with acts that gain success overnight — with band-mate Faakhir resulted in Haroon branching out of the band and going solo sometime in the late 1990s.

His departure from the band caused tongues to wag, all of them asking the same question: what caused the duo’s break-up? What also followed was a constant comparison of Haroon with Faakhir, who had also released a solo album that became a humongous hit with the masses. What was even more amusing to note was that their musical styles are not very different from each other. Perhaps his association with Faakhir in Awaz is something that Haroon will find very difficult to separate from the individual identity he is trying so hard to establish.

Their music might be similar but their personalities differ greatly. Whereas Faakhir is known for being somewhat of a metrosexual and has a reputation for taking great pains in (and directing) make-up, Haroon comes across as very casual. Polite, well-spoken and pleasantly candid when it comes to his music and his life, Haroon is what most people would describe as an overall really nice guy. Three albums with Awaz and two solo albums later, he is now back with his sixth album (and third solo album), Haroon ka Nasha, released last Tuesday in a ceremony in Karachi. Amusingly enough, the CD cover contains a disclaimer by Haroon against drug use and the context in which the word ‘nasha’ has been used.

In this candid conversation with Images, Haroon bares all from the early Awaz years to the falling out of what is considered to be Pakistani pop’s most bubblegum act, to going solo and releasing his third solo album.

Haroon ka Nasha was released after a considerable gap since the launch of his last album. Why so? ‘“Since the last album, it has been almost four years, because I went on a long tour and sometime in 2005, I decided to sit down and work on another album,” says Haroon, adding, “and because I record, mix and engineer all of the music myself, I had lost those skills while I was on tour. I had to sit down and brush up my engineering skills and on top of that I bought new equipment and had to go online and do a bit of research on it. Getting into the whole engineering side of music is what made me take so long in releasing this album as well.”

Elaborating on his new album, he says, “This album is purely Haroon, but I have also worked with a couple of other musicians as well such as Assad Ahmed (of Karavan fame) on a couple of tracks and Vickey (a talented kid) on keyboards. I worked with Shuja on a song or two and I’ve also played guitars on quite a few songs as well.”

So what separates Haroon ka Nasha from his last album? “It’s a lot more polished, the songs are more intricate, have more weight and the lyrics are possibly deeper than the ones on my last album.”

Listening to the album, one has to admit that the lyrics and the melodies are catchy, yet they have the same bubblegum pop element to them that has been predominant in almost all of Awaz’s and Haroon’s albums. The subject of the songs hasn’t changed either. They still talk about the lighter and darker side of love, albeit in a manner that makes it easier to relate to them, especially for the light listener.

Having been around for several years, Haroon’s opinion on the sudden spurt of record labels, and if it is any better than before is: “In the past it was a pathetic joke. The only advantage was that they would hand out vast sums of money, these pirate record labels. But what’s happened in the past two years is that they have been shut down because they were heavily involved in piracy. I think it’s brilliant what’s happening right now and my experience with The Musik Records has been great. It’s for the first time in Pakistan that I have experienced working with a professional label or a professional setup. They have separate individuals for marketing, promotion, distribution and it’s a very good team … I’m not used to that.

“Previously, the artiste himself was the record label who had to compose music, find a lyricist, record, mix, find a director for the video, produce the video and then just give the finished product for distribution. Now the setup is changing and it’s taking on a more professional approach,” he adds, the tone of his voice indicating just how strongly he feels about it.

Awaz was probably Pakistan’s first proper boy band — from playing on top of school buildings and small functions and having record labels slam their doors on them to touring internationally — everything seemed to be going in the right direction for the band. What caused the eventual fallout? Haroon pauses for a moment before delving into the skeletal closet that was Awaz.

“When it did happen, it happened really fast. For about two or three years we were unstoppable and went all around the world, we did two or three albums really quickly after that. It was after Shola that everything started to fall apart in the band that was Awaz. Assad left, Assad came, so there was confusion there. There was confusion in the direction of the music and then there were major ego clashes because suddenly everyone in the band thought they were gods.”

Any regrets? “None. I did everything on my part to keep Awaz together. And I was the one who went to the extent to say that we’re not working on another album simply because we couldn’t. No one was willing to compromise. I thought that if it’s not going to work with the three of us coming together, I was going to start an Awaz album alone. I worked on two songs, one of which was Jee ke Dekha, and then Yaara. When I did the latter, I thought ‘this doesn’t sound like Awaz and it’s really a solo album’. Who am I kidding? So then I called up the guys, (in September 1999) and told them that I needed a break from Awaz and that I was going solo.”

Haroon going solo with Yaara is remembered till today. The video was probably one of the first few Pakistani pop videos to come out on Channel [V] and sees Haroon jumping around in forests and constructed castles a la Robin Hood to rescue a fair maiden.

“It was actually the best thing I did and I only wish I’d done it two years earlier because Awaz didn’t release an album for four years and it wasn’t like we were working towards one either. We weren’t working towards anything. Every time we’d sit together, nothing would come out,” says Haroon, solidifying his stance on going solo.

Is he on amicable terms with the rest of the Awaz band members? “With Faakhir? No. With Assad, I am. In fact he has worked with me on this album.”

Coming back to Haroon ka Nasha, the album contains a single in English titled Big Corporation Man. The song has catchy lyrics and has a late ’80s or an early ’90s appeal to it, something that is carried forward throughout in Haroon ka Nasha.

Haroon hasn’t ventured away from the typical bubblegum Pakistani pop sound that he is known for, whereas while the album itself might fare well with the masses, it will most likely not be remembered for bringing anything uniquely new to the current music scenario.

Photos: Tapu Javeri

First Published:
Images
March 25, 2007

Instant karma

Ten years from now, they will still be known as the musicians from Peshawar who sang in English: an identity they will find very hard to shrug off. When Sajid and Zeeshan first came onto the Pakistani music scene, the idea of desi musicians singing in a foreign language was relatively unheard of. Now, however, there are quite a few making rounds on the tube and elsewhere. Theirs is also the only two-member musical band in this country that does not require a traditional four-member setup for performances.

With Sajid Ghafoor on the vocals, harmonica and on the rhythm, lead and occasionally bass guitar, and Zeeshan Parwez on the synthesiser, mouth-organ, keyboards, arrangements and production, you have the eponymously-named band, Sajid and Zeeshan.

One thing that becomes evident while interacting with them is that at first, Zeeshan seems to be the more outgoing of the two: he is the first one to step forward and talk and will go to great lengths to make people around him feel at ease. On the other hand, Sajid is relatively quieter, observant and watchful without being intrusive. He opens up gradually, revealing a sense of humour that becomes downright silly and has a great talent for imitation. In him you will see the wisdom of one who has seen much and is at peace with himself.

Between them, Zeeshan may appear to be the one who is in-charge: he constantly attends to phone calls, plans their next move and schedules their media appearances and interviews. But Sajid constantly asserts his authority, albeit quietly. There is no power struggle in this duo, their differences and similarities are well-complemented.

Currently, Sajid and Zeeshan have hit the studio and are recording their second album. When asked about what the sound on the next album will be like, they say "each album doesn't follow a pre-determined theme or pattern and therefore nothing can be said". They have, however, recorded a much-anticipated Pushto track, the single Lambay.

Lambay (literal meaning: flames) is a song written and composed by Sajid and is the band�s first attempt at releasing a song in a language other than English. There are predominant guitars in the musical composition of the song and according to Sajid, he sees them experimenting with the traditional Pushto style of music.

More precisely, the word lambay is used in contexts where the intensity of a singular emotion consumes the person experiencing it, thereby enveloping him/her in its flames. The song is about experiencing such an emotion. It has already been recorded and will be released as a single and will not be a part of the upcoming Sajid and Zeeshan album. The band members are currently working on a concept for its video.

About the roots of his musical skills, Sajid, whose primary profession is that of a lecturer of law at the Peshawar University, recollects that his earliest memories of listening to music were those of Boney M and Abba on his dad's stereo. He picked up his first guitar in 1989. "My mother presented me with a Russian acoustic guitar which she got from somewhere in Peshawar. The action was so high I could hardly hold the strings. So I would just strum the guitar and make up crappy songs”, he says. “I never really learnt how to play the guitar from anyone. Nobody taught me how to write songs or compose them either; it was all through trial and error. One thing which helped my musical expression was the fact that I was living in Peshawar. Here, one doesn’t have much of a social life. That left me with more time to think, feel and bring it all back into music”.

Zeeshan, on the other hand, was living in Karachi around the time he started honing his skills on the keyboard. “I was inspired by my brother, Salman, who was into keyboards and made a song in 1988 which ended up getting pretty good airplay on PTV”, he says. When his father passed away, Zeeshan and his family had to relocate to Peshawar. “After his death, I drifted away from music-making, drawing and illustrations. I was in Peshawar doing nothing”, he says.

Then, Sarmad, Sajid’s younger brother and founding-member of the band Rung, encouraged Zeeshan to polish his music skills once again. Zeeshan first met Sajid sometime in 1998 and recollects, “At that time, Sajid and Sarmad had their own band called Still, and they needed a keyboard player for one of their concerts. Sajid had lots of songs and he showed them to me. He is an excellent songwriter and composer and I was good with arrangements, so we decided to get together and do something that might actually turn out to be worthwhile. “It would be another five years before the two would decide to do music together, in 2003.

“We never made any commitment initially”, remembers Sajid, talking about the time they released their first single, King of Self on the airwaves, “but people started appreciating the song and we liked it and thought that we should have regular dozes of it every now and then”.

Critics argue that there is no mass audience for English music in Pakistan: something that is central to their music. So what kind of listeners are they hoping to attract? “Hopefully everyone”, says Zeeshan. “We have a niche market but we also get a lot of emails from hard core Urdu music listeners as well who appreciate our work. We would like to attract everyone but even if we get a small portion of the market, we would be happy”.

Peshawar is not a place known for being very music savvy, and the idea of a band coming from there was shocking for many music enthusiasts at first. So are there any more Sajid and Zeeshan types out there? “One thing is for sure: there is amazing talent I Peshawar. It just needs proper motivation”, says Zeeshan.

“We don’t want another Sajid and Zeeshan”, replies Sajid. “We want someone who can do this better than us; that’s the only way our music can grow. You have to understand that Pakistan is a place where music is still very young. You also have to look at the political system and the way it works in different provinces.

“We do have talent but we don’t have the tools to bring this talent into the limelight. There could be lots of people out there who are way better than all the bands in Pakistan, but then one can never be sure because they have not been able to surface”.

The band is known as much for their music videos as they are for their music. Their first video, King of Self, was the first to talk about the pitfalls an artiste experiences when committing his/her art to a sponsor and cannot get out of it. The video of My Happiness saw the band jamming together. Although it did not match the success of its predecessor, it is still remembered for its simple yet classy rendition of two men jamming together.

Sajid and Zeeshan also have to their credit the Freestyle Dive music video which was the first fully-animated video of its kind to be launched in Pakistan. It bagged several awards and earned Zeeshan the title of a “revolutionary director”. The last video that they released was for the song Have to let go sometime. The fact that they chose to incorporate German subtitles in it is somewhat amusing. However, the video itself is rather grainy and does not complement the richness of the song.

Zeeshan, who is also a music video director, has done all their videos. When asked whether a Sajid and Zeeshan video would be directed by another, he says, “Probably not”.

What is undeniable is that the duo’s greatest asset – unique music and catchy lyrics – may prove to be their greatest undoing. Acoustic and electronic guitar music with electronic effects thrown in, although not a novel concept elsewhere hasn’t been experimented in Pakistan before. That very element is precisely what puts off music purists, who believe in pure and unadulterated instrumental music.

But then, pioneers (the duo were called thus by Alamgir) in any field have to face obstacles before being considered “revolutionary”. Whether Sajid and Zeeshan can truly be considered revolutionary is what their second album will show – hopefully an increased level of growth and maturity.

First Published:
Images
March 4, 2007

Starbuzz: Babar’s new ‘pahelian’

Babar Shaikh will be coming back into the realm of directing music videos after a two-year break with Pahelian, the first single off the band Mauj’s debut album. The band has been working on their debut album which is expected to be released soon.

Shaikh, who also has previously directed Mauj’s first video Khush Fehmi, says that the video is centred on the activities going on inside a barber shop. It will be a take on popular mafia films as well as depicting the irony in everyday life. “A lot of stuff had been brewing inside me these past couple of years”, says Shaikh, “anyone who sees the video will know it’s a Babar Shaikh video.”

First Published:
Images
March 4, 2007

Blue Light Special

KARACHI, March 3: Karachi seems to have caught the jazz bug. For the second time in as many weeks, the city was treated to a performance of jazz standards, this time at a high-end restaurant located in the city’s upscale Zamzama area.

Whereas last week three foreigners and one local musician regaled the audience at the city’s Arts Council’s auditorium, this time it was a quartet of local musicians who set the tone of the night with their ice-cool renditions. Featuring Gerard Manilov on the guitar, Arif Barucha on bass, Hilary Furtado playing saxophone and Jason of popular local rock band Aaroh behind the drum kit, the foursome exuded a steely sense of cool while delivering the moody tunes with style and panache.

Patrons of the restaurant continued to trickle in, in dribs and drabs as the event, scheduled for an 8pm start, didn’t get underway till around 10pm. Jazz, however, wasn’t the only thing on the melodic menu, as this untrained ear also caught hold of some blues scales within the set. This is not unusual, as the two forms of popular music, originated in the early 20th century United States, often converge and complement each other.

While Jason was the youngest member of the group, the other three were senior musicians, and one would hazard a guess that they were all members of the Goan community, one of this city’s many ethnic, linguistic and religious minorities. Among other things, this community is known for producing talented musicians, many performing with some of the most successful local pop and rock acts.

Although the quartet has only been playing together for a few days, the three senior musicians – Arif, Hilary and Gerard – in their own words have been in the game for ‘donkey’s ears.’ Though it was a little before this writer’s time, the gig reconstructed memories of what Karachi’s night-life might have been like in the seventies, complete with smartly attired musicians, smoke machines, blue mood lighting and smooth jazz wafting into the night sky.

These old time musicians are an asset to this city and its cultural scene. One hopes that along with the brash young pop pretenders that have become ubiquitous, these guys get the respect, rewards and recognition that is certainly their due.

The gig was hosted by Déjà Vu restaurant.—QAM

First Published:
The Metropolitan
March 3, 2007

note: this review, although not written by me, is a review of the first event that my firm, Vintage Media did for Docker's Sanfrancisco at my restaurant! :)