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Static
I used to treat you right, give you my time
But when I turn my back on you,
then you do what you do
Mr Writer ...
Why don’t you tell it like it is
Why don’t you tell it like it really is
—Stereophonics, Mr Writer
Criticism is something we as a nation don’t take too well. Though this is a sweeping generalization (I’ve begun to seriously believe sweeping genralizations are much, much closer to the truth than any politically correct crap you might come across these days) no one, regardless of age, gender, nationality or religion likes to be criticized. I mean, take a gander at the aforementioned lyrics by Welsh trio Stereophonics. Though the group is far from spectacular, Mr Writer was a cracker of a song (the video wasn’t half bad either, what with sinister-looking clowns and all). It basically crystalizes the age-old hatred that exists between critics and rock stars.
Getting back to criticism and particularly Pakistani dislike for it, no one from the sabzi wallah to the powers that be that run things in our republic, like to take any lip from anyone. Try telling the sabzi wallah the produce you’re paying exorbitant prices for is rotten and he’ll tell you to go somewhere else if you don’t like it. Try consistently critcizing the government’s maladministration and chances are (unless you’re fabulously well-connected) you’ll earn an all-expenses paid trip to Adiala Jail, with an open-ended stay in the presidential suite. If you’re worth it. If not, there’s always the good old police encounter to take care of business. And, God forbid, if you ever try to review music (or any other art form for that matter) honestly, watch the venom flow as all the nice little pseudo-rock stars who kissed your assets previously try and get you assassinated.
As I mentioned earlier, even out West, where freedom of speech and expression is respected more than it is in our eastern lands, rock stars and critics hate each other’s guts. Do yourself a favour and head to Karachi’s raddi market in Khori Garden (residents of other cities do the same. I’m sure you have similar places in Lahore and Pindi). Pick up an issue of Rolling Stone from, say, 10 years ago (before the once-respected rock bible turned into borderline softcore, planting half-naked groupies on the cover to spark sales) and read some of the music reviews. Critics like David Fricke can be brutal, yet honest. And that is why they are respected. And that is also why some musicians hate them.
You see, if I’m a musically-challenged individual, in my head I like to think I’m the greatest prodigy since Bach. And that’s where things get tricky. Trying to convince someone that what they’ve put out on record, despite all the ‘hard work’ that’s gone into making it, isn’t quite Led Zeppelin, is a dirty job. But someone’s got to do it. Hard work is good. Matter of fact, if we had more hard-working people on earth, this would actually be a much more pleasant ball of mud to live on. But hard work doesn’t always translate into good music. For the majority of people ‘working hard’ as ‘artists’ in both the local and international music industry, I’m sure their hard work would pay off more if they ditched the instruments and concentrated on becoming good doctors, lawyers and insurance salesmen.
If your music sucks, it sucks. There’s no nice way to go about it. And most of what’s being churned out today just plain sucks. But don’t ever tell ‘em that, if you value your job and in some instances, your life. Admittedly, some critics have ulterior motives, be it personal vendettas or what is most commonly referred to in the vernacular as lifafa journalism. Which basically means: get the journo an envelope full of dough and watch the sparkling reviews magically appear in the columns of respected publications. In other cases, if the rock/pop stars refuse to pay up or don’t share their booze, drugs or groupies with the pen-pusher, expect to see scathing reviews in the morning paper. Yes, ladies and gentleman, the glittering world of pop music can turn into an ugly two-faced monster that will bite your head off at a moment’s notice. And some of our ‘journalist’ friends aren’t exactly Gentlemen Jims either.
But in Pakistan, I have discovered it doesn’t pay to be an honest critic. When I started off as a novice in this field five years ago, my reviews were, in a nutshell, very timid. But, through various degrees of self-probing, I arrived at the conclusion that I wouldn’t be doing justice to either my profession or my conscience as an earnest listener if I wrote powder-puff reviews. That didn’t mean I immediately set out to rip the very next thing that crossed my desk to shreds. The hikmat-i-amli I embraced was constructive criticism. Be honest, offer advice if there is any hope of redemption, but above all, be honest. Or maintain silence if something sucks beyond belief and you are under duress to review it.
Suffice to say I’ve made plenty of enemies in the music business. But what pains me more than the hollow threats I often receive is the deceitful nature of the pop star crowd. Here are these people writing mostly (bad) songs about love and peace. But the moment you criticize them, they turn ugly, light years away from the lovey-dovey crap they sing about. I think that speaks of the psyche of the subjugated eastern mind more than anything else. We might be physically free people, but our small minds are still trapped in the dungeon of self-doubt and inferiority. And if someone tries to be honest about our shortcomings, immediately, the knives come out. It is 100 per cent unadulterated hypocrisy. When you put out anything for public consumption, expect criticism. If you can’t take the heat, get out of the inferno.
On a side-note, I recently had the misfortune of watching the newest Mishi Khan video. Heaven help us. To quote a Tool song, I was ‘disgustipated’. I mean, what is this woman doing? She’s prancing around with Ahmed Butt (and no, he still hasn’t learnt a new facial expression yet) in what looks like Dubai. I sincerely hope this doesn’t damage relations between Pakistan and the UAE. I mean, can just anyone cut a single, record a video and ship it off to the video channels? If that be the case, I’m quitting my job, becoming a rock star and recording an album. Any takers?—QAM
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