|
|
|
Peace that turned to war
In the shadow of Karachi’s Jinnah Terminal, which is still an imposing structure after all these years, there was taking place a commotion that would rival any air-traffic control logjam. Despite the distant early warnings and the forecast of inclement weather, the Rock and Bhangra ‘peace’ concert had been given the clearance for final approach from the control tower. However, what took place was nothing short of bedlam, and it seemed this flight should have been grounded from the word go due to its lack of airworthiness.
Billed as a peace concert (or should that have read ‘piece’ concert?), there was nothing peaceful about the event in the slightest. If anything, it appeared to be a battleground. Staged at the Civil Aviation Club, one had a premonition of the things to come as an unruly crowd of young men gathered outside the venue trying to gatecrash. Kickoff time was listed as 8:30pm, but the concert took tardiness to new extremes when the first lick of music was heard only a few minutes before midnight.
A group, or rather an individual, along with two musicians who play-acted on their instruments and lip-synced to a CD, started off. Message was their name, if one recalls correctly. The reason for this clouded memory is that there was nothing memorable about this performance. The first real act to take the stage was Mizmar. They took off with a rip-roaring cover of Alamgir’s Dekha na tha. The musicianship of this band is quite passable, yet the vocals need a major overhaul. They continued with an odd choice of covers that included material from Nusrat Fateh Ali, Abida Parveen and…Bon Jovi. All the while, the crowd was getting more ferocious by the minute. The families were separated from the singles by a flimsy tin and bamboo ‘fence,’ sparsely manned by lathi-wielding private security men, and most of the youth on the singles’ side were uncouth, unruly and asking for trouble.
As the event was being recorded for television, the organizers begged the crowd to calm down, which, by this time, had begun to foment into a bloodthirsty, drunk mob. Noori took the stage after Mizmar and as usual, did their best to entertain the crowd with their high-NRG antics. However, the unruly elements of the crowd showed their cosmopolitan, pluralistic nature by taunting the group with calls of paindoo. Despite this clumsy show of ignominy, the band put on a brave face and soldiered on with their staple sugary, punker fare. One has to admit, the solo for Manwa re was done a lot better than they usually do live.
But as the rock rolled profusely, things were getting uglier by the minute. You know a show is in trouble when the various lathi-charges and other tomfoolery attract more attention than what is going on, on stage. As hooligans started shedding clothes in a drunken frenzy, families made a beeline for the exit. These were the despicable circumstances amid which Haroon took the stage. With Asad Ahmed backing him on the guitar (no it wasn’t an Awaz reunion), bhangra-pop’s dedicated soldier tried to weather the storm as best he could with his up-and-at-em propulsive pop. By the time Fuzon was due on, the venue resembled a peripheral circle of hell, perhaps where minor sinners are to be sequestered. They kicked of with the familiar opening salvo of Deewane, but their set was over before it began. The crowd was by now totally and completely out of control. Indus Music’s equipment had been damaged, the clothes of several females had reportedly been torn off by lecherous men amongst the audience and to put it mildly, a minor disaster was playing itself out.
All this, and Junoon and Anaida were yet to come. Considering the chaos that had succeeded in destroying all semblance of order, the organizers were forced to suspend the proceedings after Fuzon bid adieu after their second or third song. After several impassioned pleas for calm and order, the monstrous crowd finally hunkered down. Junoon put on a cracking show, apparently having rediscovered their touch after a lukewarm performance in Korangi a couple of weeks back. As the clock-face flashed 3:15am, this pen pusher decided to call it a night. Credible reports claimed that after Junoon had performed, Anaida took the stage and a much calmer, controlled crowd was at this point ‘mesmerized’ by the foreigner’s performance. However, as dawn was almost about to break, most people had already left.
What went wrong? Good question. The question is what didn’t go wrong. How was this fiasco allowed to take place? Concerts are one of the few avenues of entertainment left for Karachiites, and with right-wingers itching to have them put in cold storage, with this kind of barbarism, can you blame them? This kind of unacceptable behaviour is the proverbial last nail in the coffin. Let’s hope the organizers learn from this experience and come down hard on drunk hooligans and other riff-raff who, out of their frustration, make something as innocuous as a concert a living hell for the rest of us.
Foreign appeal
Adding a bit of variety to the local scene was a performer from foreign shores. The dainty Anaida, with her sugary-sweet ethno-pop, helped calm the rabid crowd considerably with her gyrations and risqué stage antics. Speaking prior to the performance in what seemed to be a British-by-way-of the Middle East accent before the ruckus, she explained her origins.
“I started doing theatre when I was six. As a few of the plays I did were musicals, that is how I discovered I could sing. I did voice-overs and jingles, and from there got an offer to do an album. It’s been ten years since I became a professional and released my first album.”
One of her early singles that gave her a breakthrough in the Indo-pop world was Hotline, a vampish little number in which the singer flaunted her appeal. Understandably, the song made waves on both sides of the border, as Pakistan was just starting its torrid, testy relationship with satellite television that had just begun to proliferate amongst the masses with the advent of stations like the Star network, MTV Asia and Channel V.
“I’ve released four Hindi albums, an Arabic album, a Greek single, an English single — assorted stuff, including some work for Walt Disney,,” the singer says, parading her discography. She has also contributed to the renowned Buddha Bar series of world music compilations masterminded by French DJ Claude Challet.
The Mumbai based artist is an interesting admixture of cultures, boasting Greek and Persian parentage, while claiming to be able to sing in eight languages (out of which she speaks only four). Apart from the aforementioned tongues, she sings in Tamil, Spanish, Italian and Urdu as well. She had been to Pakistan before, but this was her first public performance.
Why was it, despite the deep penetration of Hindi filmi music, Hindi pop was almost always dead on arrival as far as the Pakistani market was concerned?
“In India, Hindi film music is what rules the market. Pop is relatively small, but then you’re talking of a country of one billion people,” she explains, insinuating that in India itself, pop music has to fight against the behemoth of Indian film music for a place in the sun.
As for Pakistani artists trying their luck across the border, Anaida has some interesting observations.
“There have been Pakistani artists who have been extremely successful in India — some who have been more successful in India than in Pakistan! A few of them have made India home and have settled there and have become successful in the industry. Adnan Sami is one. Junoonn’s album did fabulously well, Ali Haider released his album in India.”
What was her philosophy while making music?
“Sometimes there are projects that I do that are someone else’s. Then there are times I do projects which are purely for my pleasure. I don’t do them for money or for anything else, and I produce them. You can’t always do what you like, but sometimes you get to do your own thing. I’ve been experimenting with my music since I started. I can confidently say I am one of the few artists in India that keeps changing. From completely bubblegum pop to something more mature like Indian folk to something that is really dark and alternative — itt’s been a journey. As your tastes change, you look for more in your music.”
|
|
|
|
