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MUSICBOX: Bricks in the wall
The very news of Junoon launching a new album has caused quite a stir in the local music scene. The group has gone back to their basics — rock music — on the new record Dewaar which is totally devoid of Sufism. This album also features keyboards and samples. The band has experimented with song structures and the results are not bad to say the least.
Containing 13 tracks, most of the lyrics have been co-written by Salman Ahmad and Sabir Zafar. While the lyrics are mediocre at best, it is the music that will have the strongest impact on the listener. Lead single Pappu Yaar Tang Na Kar springs a surprise because of the song’s funky sound. The rock number has Jimi Hendrix’s ‘inspiration’ written all over it and may not be the most original composition, but it is definitely a party anthem that will leave you spinning around. The song is aimed at the masses with its Punjabi lyrics.
As for more serious fare, Taara Jala hypnotizes as Ali Azmat is at his mercurial best. The number is surely the piece de resistance of the album. The band claims that it is the longest Pakistani song ever (clocking in at over seven minutes), which is debatable, but the length hardly matters as the quality of the tune prevails.
Maza Zindagi Ka rocks with its fast pace while Jhoolay Lal is rhythmically very smooth. Garaj Baras has a classical approach to it. The song also adds another feather to Junoon’s cap as it is reported to have been selected for the soundtrack of an Indian movie. Baarish is kind of like a lullaby and creates imagery which can easily transport one to fantasy land. On the song Hungama, the band uses the poetry of Mirza Ghalib for the first time.
Perhaps some hardcore fans will miss the Sufi element that is absent from the band’s newest release. It was this genre of music that took the group to the zenith of their career and became their signature sound. Dewaar is a definite departure from this sound and deserves a pat on the back, as it is a step forward for Junoon.—Azeem Haider
A rush of blood
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Rush has been making intelligent noise for over 30 years now. The Canadian power trio – drummer and lyricist Neal Peart, singer/bassist Geddy Lee and guitarist Alex Lifeson – took the genre of progressive rock and turned it upside down. Though their career is too vast and prolific to chronicle in a single CD, The Spirit of Radio culls choice cuts from each of their defining eras.The record opens with Lifeson’s thick, angst-ridden riffage on Working Man. The title is self-explanatory: the travails of your average 9-to-5 toiler are expounded with gritty details, cushioned by a steady beat and Lee’s monolithic bass. The singer’s shrill voice is an acquired taste, much like the more pungent varieties of cheese, but as the chiming guitar work of Fly By Night proves, the depth of Rush’s musicianship is enough to take the serious listener under.
But don’t be deceived by the mean ax-work or high-pitched, wailing vocals: these guys are no metal morons. Peart writes some intense, intellectual lyrics. Critics of the band would classify them as pretentious and self-indulgent, yet there is no denying the genius behind the words of a tune like The Trees, in which the drummer likens a forest of oaks and smaller trees to a corporation where the workers (small trees) are pitched against the management (oaks). The trees complain that the oaks, because of their size, are hogging all the sunlight. Pure genius.
The band roars back with the confident synth-swagger of Tom Sawyer, a rock-hard retake on Mark Twain’s classic anti-hero. But this Tom Sawyer doesn’t sail down rivers on a lazy raft. No sir. Today’s Tom Sawyer is a modern day warrior. Rush can still tell a story, as they do in the magnificent, epic Red Barchetta, about escaping to another world by running the deadly race. Speed may kill, but it inspires swell songwriting.
The morose synth chords that introduce the brilliant Subdivisions signal the height of the band’s love affair with synthesizers that began in the mid-’70s and lasted up till the mid-’90s. Yet Vapor Trails, their 2002 effort, was nearly void of all keyboards.
Though abroad the CD has 16 tracks, the local version only has 15, missing Time Stand Still. Nevertheless, for those bred on nu-metal, this retrospective is enough of an introduction to open up a deeper, wider perspective that could perhaps reveal the true soul of rock music as it once was. If not, you can at least get your money’s worth by head banging to the 2112 Overture.—-QAM
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