The Rock Night at the WPAF 2008 brought together some of the best in music
All pretences wiped away, I admit that while growing up, Ali Azmat was the one musician or Junoon was the only Pakistani band that I thought deserved true homage. At that age, when idealism is the biggest turn on and music a very raw sensory stimulus, Junoon defined a generation. This year at the World Performing Art Festival, while bombs were dropping in Bajaur, nostalgia swept me off my feet in Lahore.
I will not keep the best for last; I will start with Ali Azmat. If I begin with anything else, the pages would crumble with the acridity of my ink.
Omran Shafique on lead guitar, Kamran Zafar (Mannu), on bass, Waqar Ahmad on drums and Ali Azmat on vocals. Would it be fair to compare Ali and his work today with Junoon? I think not. It’s a different sound, coming from a completely different place.
Even though Overload, the band right before Ali’s performance took its sweet time wrapping up their long set, people were there. Not as many as there would have been if Ali had performed in safer times, or on a warmer night, so in relativity many did wait. None were disappointed.
How could they be? Here was a band where the bass player actually moved with the groove, where his slap-plucking techniques stood out with the composition and his energy defined the rhythm section. Speaking of which, Waqar, the drummer, a relatively new component, had the energy which numbers like Garaj Baras needed and the aesthetics that Pappu Yaar needed. Then there is Omran, who as a part of Mauj and Coven is the very definition of “tight knit” and owned the night with his fills, leads and moves on stage. Ali did the Ali thing: He came to a slightly disheartened audience, he saw their mood and he conquered with jibes and song alike.
I do not need to say which song was sung better or which one had better instrumentation or even point out the one where someone messed up because the feeling with the last note hanging in the frosty night was of adrenaline flowing. The feeling that in Pakistan is missed out on, as no one really holds the concert quite the way Ali can and has for years now.
The boys that head bang to Akaash or Jal, come watch this entourage. The difference between Ali and the rest: The moment where your body aligns itself with the music is imperceptible yet when the performance ends, you are tachycardic — your pupils dilated and you would not feel the cold, in essence you would be tripping on Ali.
Rock was an expression of the free swinging ’60s and ’70s. The unkempt big hair, the clothes, the sex and the drugs, all were a reflection of a generation trying to escape the harsh realities of the Vietnam War and the post-WWII depression. The music was raw, rebellious and often psychedelic in tone. Shehzad Hameed brought back some of that feel on Rock Night.
The slight man with the grand locks made an impression. Even though the sound was slightly cheesy, the lyrics slightly out there, it was full of the idealism of dreams and the stinging bitterness of reality that pushes through the surface every now and then.
The vocal tone and the progression in most songs were instrumental in bringing together the feel that made the performance unexpectedly fun. It seemed that Shehzad had a bass player who also shared his energy: Farhan Ali. Post-performance, Farhan admitted that he enjoyed being on stage with Shehzad though it was sad, he said, to see such few people when last year the same night was a full house. Like most musicians and artistes these days, he admitted the socio-political situation in the country was just not helpful and it was upsetting to see how difficult it had become to hold such events.
The flip side of this raw rock energy driven by unrealised dreams was Overload. The divas of neo-electronica percussion-oriented rock (yes, I just made that term up) were in full swing with a recovered Mehmood in tow. Thanks to the rapidly deteriorating sound quality of these events, Farhad had to spend a good 20 minutes in a post-sound check sound fix. Once things were in order, Overload delivered as promised. Their set list had a punch and having Misha on vocals adds to the diverse experience that is Overload. Her voice compliments the electronica feel and her physical presence is of course always appreciable.
This year’s Rock Night had an unprecedented act: Borstel Escape. They were perhaps the youngest musicians ever seen at the WPAF. Even though their dedication was admirable and their energy unmatched (who can match pubescent fervour!) one would ask, did they truly belong at a festival of this level? It is perhaps the largest audience that comes together annually for a show. Musicians who take that stage should have paid their dues. And that does not always come with age as there were other acts that night older than Borstel Escape that needed to work much harder before taking the same stage as Ali Azmat or Overload or even Shehzad. Borstel Escape was, however, noted by one of the drummers who performed that night: “Their attitude and aggression must be appreciated, although the drummer could have done a better job.”
Everything before these acts is a discordant cacophonous blur and a waste of good ink space: With all these global warming warnings, I am all for protecting the environment from deforestation and sound pollution.
Published in Images, Dawn on November 23 2008
Sunday, January 25, 2009
NATURAL HIGHS
The eleven days of plays, puppets, dance, comedy and music — every last dreg was needed to drown away the blues that Pakistan is going through. This realisation hit me when I was standing in front of the stage on the rock night.
The brilliance of the World Performing Arts Festival was and always will be that it provides an array of entertainment which appeals to a large range of audience. Ghazal, pop, rock, classical, world music; all these nights provided ample opportunity for everyone to dress up, sit in the open-air theatre at Alhamra, and for three hours forget that there were problems to be dealt with.
The interesting thing about memories is that they are strongly linked with the sense of smell. Each of these nights had a distinct odour — the ghazal and folk nights smelt of paan mingled with the overpowering smell of excitement; rock night was visited by the perfume of Mary Jane and world music night tantalised the teetotalers with the sweet overripe smell of sugar whisky.
The most iconic moment of the festival in terms of music was Abida Parveen bowing to a standing ovation on the mystic night. The euphoria that often follows charged sermons by great figures was reflected everywhere — Abida’s control of the crowd with a drop of her voice in the middle of Mast Qalandar, the stupor that overtook everyone during the crescendo of her songs and the way everyone greeted her post-performance backstage. It was a performance that in retrospect overshadowed the explosions and the memory will be held precious for a long time to come.
Saieen Zahoor, who performed on the folk and mystic nights is always noteworthy. Even though his repertoire of songs is now slightly frayed and threadbare, his vocal range and timbre are worth catching at every performance.
The ghazal and pop nights were confusing this year. The family of Amanat Ali Khan and Hamid Ali Khan was all over the place with performances on both nights. Some would say that the pop night presented them with a commercially viable option, though both nights seemed to pander to similar aims. The night was saved from abject repetition by the graceful performance of Tina Sani. Paying homage to poet Faraz Ahmad, she reflected what can be termed a “complete product” as her musicians were colour-coordinated, the orchestration was very pleasing to the ear and the entire performance was an ode to smart business moves.
Contrary to the rock night, the pop night was a parallel universe where bad music was good, where ‘live’ meant ‘playback’ and where comic attire was confused with couture and fashion. Up close and personal, the person behind the lens can observe more than the artistes imagine and Circle of Trust seemed to be singing or talking into a mike that was switched off.
Aaroh from Karachi performed for the first time at the festival and their performance was defined by the energy of the lead singer. Farooq was all over the stage, bouncing like a pogo stick, leaving no corner ignored. His act was in stark contrast to Strings’ who were supposed to be the highlight of the night.
Faisal Kapadia and Bilal Maqsood are certainly a well-turned-out duo, which is recognised on an international level and they have won many an award. Yet watching them live on stage felt more like coming across them on television as it seemed recorded, complete with post-production and camera moves. Not that they sounded anything less than what is expected of them. Sadly Mekaal Hasan’s performance on the fusion night was cancelled on account of the explosions; otherwise the audience would have had an opportunity to see the difference between a live performance and a great live performance.
The second world music night hosted two very noteworthy performances. The improvised instrumental between Shallum Xavier, Ingrid Kindem, Farhan Ali and a flutist was by far one of the noteworthy fusions heard this year. It had great underlying potential, yet was too short to reach even a buildup.
The other act that everyone should have heard was the group of Argentinean musicians from France. Manosanta was literally the “magic hand of the shaman” that soothes troubles away. At the festival with an awesome session bassist, Marco Jabea who had double-jointed hips in addition to his groovy bass, Manosanta consisted of Louis Pousa as the earnest songwriter and vocalist Thomas Huet, the very sweet drummer and Eddy Homassi, the percussion player with a wry sense of humour. Their music inspired from Tango and Cumbia was perfect for dancing, yet had lyrics that stemmed from the pain of immigrants and real-life tragedies.
Published in Images, Dawn on November 30th 2008 in the article "Festival report"
The brilliance of the World Performing Arts Festival was and always will be that it provides an array of entertainment which appeals to a large range of audience. Ghazal, pop, rock, classical, world music; all these nights provided ample opportunity for everyone to dress up, sit in the open-air theatre at Alhamra, and for three hours forget that there were problems to be dealt with.
The interesting thing about memories is that they are strongly linked with the sense of smell. Each of these nights had a distinct odour — the ghazal and folk nights smelt of paan mingled with the overpowering smell of excitement; rock night was visited by the perfume of Mary Jane and world music night tantalised the teetotalers with the sweet overripe smell of sugar whisky.
The most iconic moment of the festival in terms of music was Abida Parveen bowing to a standing ovation on the mystic night. The euphoria that often follows charged sermons by great figures was reflected everywhere — Abida’s control of the crowd with a drop of her voice in the middle of Mast Qalandar, the stupor that overtook everyone during the crescendo of her songs and the way everyone greeted her post-performance backstage. It was a performance that in retrospect overshadowed the explosions and the memory will be held precious for a long time to come.
Saieen Zahoor, who performed on the folk and mystic nights is always noteworthy. Even though his repertoire of songs is now slightly frayed and threadbare, his vocal range and timbre are worth catching at every performance.
The ghazal and pop nights were confusing this year. The family of Amanat Ali Khan and Hamid Ali Khan was all over the place with performances on both nights. Some would say that the pop night presented them with a commercially viable option, though both nights seemed to pander to similar aims. The night was saved from abject repetition by the graceful performance of Tina Sani. Paying homage to poet Faraz Ahmad, she reflected what can be termed a “complete product” as her musicians were colour-coordinated, the orchestration was very pleasing to the ear and the entire performance was an ode to smart business moves.
Contrary to the rock night, the pop night was a parallel universe where bad music was good, where ‘live’ meant ‘playback’ and where comic attire was confused with couture and fashion. Up close and personal, the person behind the lens can observe more than the artistes imagine and Circle of Trust seemed to be singing or talking into a mike that was switched off.
Aaroh from Karachi performed for the first time at the festival and their performance was defined by the energy of the lead singer. Farooq was all over the stage, bouncing like a pogo stick, leaving no corner ignored. His act was in stark contrast to Strings’ who were supposed to be the highlight of the night.
Faisal Kapadia and Bilal Maqsood are certainly a well-turned-out duo, which is recognised on an international level and they have won many an award. Yet watching them live on stage felt more like coming across them on television as it seemed recorded, complete with post-production and camera moves. Not that they sounded anything less than what is expected of them. Sadly Mekaal Hasan’s performance on the fusion night was cancelled on account of the explosions; otherwise the audience would have had an opportunity to see the difference between a live performance and a great live performance.
The second world music night hosted two very noteworthy performances. The improvised instrumental between Shallum Xavier, Ingrid Kindem, Farhan Ali and a flutist was by far one of the noteworthy fusions heard this year. It had great underlying potential, yet was too short to reach even a buildup.
The other act that everyone should have heard was the group of Argentinean musicians from France. Manosanta was literally the “magic hand of the shaman” that soothes troubles away. At the festival with an awesome session bassist, Marco Jabea who had double-jointed hips in addition to his groovy bass, Manosanta consisted of Louis Pousa as the earnest songwriter and vocalist Thomas Huet, the very sweet drummer and Eddy Homassi, the percussion player with a wry sense of humour. Their music inspired from Tango and Cumbia was perfect for dancing, yet had lyrics that stemmed from the pain of immigrants and real-life tragedies.
Published in Images, Dawn on November 30th 2008 in the article "Festival report"
The System
Of Live Music At Swanky Restaurants
The System can lead to a revolution in the music-appreciation culture in Lahore. The million dollar question is: will it sustain itself and create new values, or will we be looking at another corporate-controlled venture that’s as good as the money it gets?
The brainchild of a few musicians, The System is a new mechanism that will purportedly keep music afloat in dire times. Spearheaded by Farhad Humayun, it seems to be aimed at creating a culture of frequent concerts, to sustain the music fraternity. The second of such concerts was held at a swanky dining establishment that provided more ambience to the event than expected. Feeling more like a live music night held at a club, The System provided the people of Lahore with an alternative to eating in restaurants and at weddings.
At the moment, the most positive element of The System is its patronage of young or under-showcased talent. A young band with no single out in the market, Simt made its name when it won a rock competition earlier this year. Songs like Pyar di Ganderi are already well known and their original singles seem commercially viable. Though the set at The System could have used a rhythm section, the engaging Haroon Shahid and stoic Hassan Omer held their own, giving a taste of their band that in full partaking might become a pop icon!
Wajiha from the Lahore University of Management Sciences took the audience through a rather monotonous story that had Crazy by Seal and Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes plugged into the plotline. With a vocal tone that was very appealing, but a stage presence that fell flat, Wajiha, with some more experience, might become a welcome addition to the constantly burgeoning music scene of Lahore.
With a cello, violin and a new stylist, Call was brimming over with musicians on the 6’X10’ stage. While all of the other band members were on one page, Junaid was on another. With facial expressions and head tilts that belonged in a music video, Junaid sang Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls to a crowd full of impressionable youths – by now we are aware of the power of misled impressionable young adults: think all endorsements that have the face of Atif Aslam or Ali Zafar.
The System can lead to a revolution in the music-appreciation culture in Lahore. The million dollar question is: will it sustain itself and create new values, or will we be looking at another corporate controlled venture that’s as good as the money it gets?
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday January 4th, 2009
The System can lead to a revolution in the music-appreciation culture in Lahore. The million dollar question is: will it sustain itself and create new values, or will we be looking at another corporate-controlled venture that’s as good as the money it gets?
The brainchild of a few musicians, The System is a new mechanism that will purportedly keep music afloat in dire times. Spearheaded by Farhad Humayun, it seems to be aimed at creating a culture of frequent concerts, to sustain the music fraternity. The second of such concerts was held at a swanky dining establishment that provided more ambience to the event than expected. Feeling more like a live music night held at a club, The System provided the people of Lahore with an alternative to eating in restaurants and at weddings.
At the moment, the most positive element of The System is its patronage of young or under-showcased talent. A young band with no single out in the market, Simt made its name when it won a rock competition earlier this year. Songs like Pyar di Ganderi are already well known and their original singles seem commercially viable. Though the set at The System could have used a rhythm section, the engaging Haroon Shahid and stoic Hassan Omer held their own, giving a taste of their band that in full partaking might become a pop icon!
Wajiha from the Lahore University of Management Sciences took the audience through a rather monotonous story that had Crazy by Seal and Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes plugged into the plotline. With a vocal tone that was very appealing, but a stage presence that fell flat, Wajiha, with some more experience, might become a welcome addition to the constantly burgeoning music scene of Lahore.
With a cello, violin and a new stylist, Call was brimming over with musicians on the 6’X10’ stage. While all of the other band members were on one page, Junaid was on another. With facial expressions and head tilts that belonged in a music video, Junaid sang Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls to a crowd full of impressionable youths – by now we are aware of the power of misled impressionable young adults: think all endorsements that have the face of Atif Aslam or Ali Zafar.
The System can lead to a revolution in the music-appreciation culture in Lahore. The million dollar question is: will it sustain itself and create new values, or will we be looking at another corporate controlled venture that’s as good as the money it gets?
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday January 4th, 2009
The Good, The Bad & The Ugly
2008 was a tumultuous one for the world: recessions, terrorism, wars and all sorts of nasty things. The trickle down effect eventually reached our music fraternity (for the lack of females that were available for comment!) and its seedling industry. How do the rock and pop gurus who cared to talk to us think the year affected them? Read on for their best and worst moments in 2008.
AHMED ALI BUTT
Finishing the album Feedback was the best moment and the current state of the music industry is the worst.
ALI HAMZA
I think the best moment was when I wrote this song Bhanware in an hour or so. It will probably be featured in the upcoming album or the one after.
I don’t know what the worst moments in music making are. Till you have achieved something, all of the rest are the ‘worst’ moments!
ALI NOOR
I don’t have a worst moment. The best moment was when we released the video of Doh Dil and did the music for it.
BILAL MAQSOOD
The worst experience first: It happened in Dubai, Oct 2008. We were performing with Shaan and Overload. The sound check was just OK. We were not too happy with it but then we thought that we would still be able to manage with it. Overload finished their set and it was our turn. We went on the stage, plugged in our instruments and from there onwards it was our like our worst nightmare.
We played the first song just by sheer guess work. Faisal couldn’t hear his vocals, I couldn’t hear my guitar. All we could hear were the drums and harmonies on stage.
We took a little break and tried to fix the sound. The second song started and the sound became even worse. In order to make our vocals clearer the sound technician pushed all the faders up to the maximum and all the mikes started to feedback. Our stage was resonating with all sorts of squeaky sounds. Then we took another break and told the sound technician to bring everything down.
I ended up singing Anjane with no drums, no guitar and just extremely loud vocals. We apologised to the crowd and explained the whole situation to them. We wanted to leave the set in the middle but the crowd didn’t let us go. So I think we managed a couple of more songs but it was getting too frustrating for us, so we apologised again and left.
The best music experience for us would be the launch of our fifth album Koi Aaney Wala Hai, which was released in May 2008. We spent four months in the studios to record it and are extremely happy with the result. Koi Aaney Wala Hai is definitely our best work till date.
FAISAL RAFI
Well, the best music moment from 2008 for me was the Munchkin’s gig. A few days ago, they rocked it out: it was loud and noisy and I needed that!
The worst moment was Dino’s album, I mean he should quit! Personally my best moment was recording Ustad Fateh Ali Khan and Nafees Ahmed, the sitar player. It was the first time that they were singing and playing together and I was seeing it for the first time as well. Personally I don’t allow the worst to enter my studio!
FARHAD HUMAYUN
The best moment was at the Rafi Peer World Performing Arts Festival, where I did a solo performance: I wasn’t expecting any audience to be there that night. I’m not a singer and I sang as well, and I got a good round of applause, which was encouraging and it opened new doors for me.
The worst thing about 2008 is that we did not play much, but whenever we played we played well and got a good response. But we could have played a lot more.
FARHAN ALI
The best was when I did instrumentals with Farhad Humayun and Shahzad Hameed on the World Performing Arts Festival’s Music Night. The worst was when were backstage, waiting to play on Fusion Night with Fariha Pervaiz in the same festival and the blasts happened – the performance was cancelled
HAMZA JAFFERY
The best moment was performing at The System. I was really ill, I had a chest infection, I thought show barbaad ho jayay ga, but the show went really well. The sound was really good. The best monitoring we have had on stage ever. The worst moment hasn’t happened as yet and it won’t happen.
HANIYA ASLAM
My best would be right after the album release, when everyone heard our work and the feedback started coming in. The worst was falling backstage at the LSA! The only saving grace was that I didn’t fall on camera!
HAROON RAHID
The best music moment in 2008… I did a lot of fantastic shows, a brilliant show in Norway on the 14th of August 2008. The Prime Minister of Norway was there, it was a terrific show. I signed a record a deal with Universal records, a major record label, to launch me in a big way in India. Furthermore, I recorded some brilliant new songs.
The worst moment I would have to say, is the state of affairs in the country, when things are so in the country, people are more concerned about the turmoil, rather than paying attention to culture arts and music, they are pushed down priorities.
I performed a show at the hockey stadium in Lahore, right next to the Al Hamra, and while I was on stage, two or three bombs went off. That was very disheartening that we were trying to put on this great event, unfortunately, seems a shame that such things have to happen.
HAROON SHAHID
The best moment for me was winning the Rafi Peer and Levi’s Rock Club and the worst was the night those blasts happened during the World Performing Arts Festival.
HASIL QURAISHI
Best moment: Apart from the Sahil record which I was working on concurrently, I did loads of production work with people. One of them was this guy from dubai whose album I worked on. Adding to that, the Sahil record should be out mid next year.
The worst: some Pakistani singer singing in some Shahid Kapoor movie!
JAFAR ZAIDI
The best and the worst… the best should be the fact that I had a chance to collaborate with some of the top musicians in Pakistan for my album. I guess I don’t really think there has been a bad moment for me musically so far this year… not that I can think of anything honestly.
OMRAN SHAFIQUE
Mauj winning a few awards, including the Best Rock Song at the TMAs was a highlight and not getting the Mauj album out this year was obviously a huge disappointment!
SAMEER AHMED
The best moment would have to be when Co-VEN finally got into the studio to start recording our next album. We have been working on these songs for some time and we’re very excited to finally record them.
The worst moment has been the recent bombing of the World Performing Arts Festival. That was very unfortunate.
SHIRAZ UPPAL
The best moment was when I sang Secret of Success for A. R. Rahman’s upcoming film Boys. The worst was that a lots of concerts were cancelled because of security reasons.
SAJID ALI GHAFFOR
The worst: Things were really bad in the country, others artists also suffered and as a result we couldn’t have enough gigs. Things are always looming even when having a good time. Even the fun had lost the ‘fun’ factor. The best was probably that we enjoyed playing gigs in Lahore. Apart from that we had a concert in Berlin on the 28th of November 2008.
SHALLUM XAVIER
The best for me was our live concert in September in Trivamdrum, Kerela, India. It was a part of their annual harvest festival; it’s the biggest one in Kerala. Before us, Pakistani bands were not even allowed to enter the state. And we performed for a large number of people, around 30,000.
And the worst was when I got to know about the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. We had a tour beginning from the 4th of Dec to the 22nd. For me that was very shocking.
WAQAR AHMED KHAN:
My best moments were: my first gig with the Mekaal Hassan Band on the 30th of April 2008 at Peru’s Café and my first gig with Ali Azmat on 19th of October 2008 at the Bahria University in Karachi.
The worst moment was when the MHB concert was cancelled due to a series of blasts at the Rafi Peer Festivel. We were on our way to the venue, when that happened. It was very sad!
ZULFIQAR ALI KHAN Aka Xulfi
Performing songs from the album Jilawatan with a completely different arrangement using violins and cellos at The System II was one of the best moments. Thinking of these songs in an absolutely alternate arrangement was an experience of its own. Though it was quite an intense experience for me, composing new melodies and arrangements for the songs, but was quite a fulfilling one. The new instrumentation actually bought a new life to the songs, not just for the audience but for me as well.
Secondly, this was only the third concert of mine that my mother has attended; her presence made it one of my most memorable. Worst moment: there was nothing that bad.
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday January 4, 2009
AHMED ALI BUTT
Finishing the album Feedback was the best moment and the current state of the music industry is the worst.
ALI HAMZA
I think the best moment was when I wrote this song Bhanware in an hour or so. It will probably be featured in the upcoming album or the one after.
I don’t know what the worst moments in music making are. Till you have achieved something, all of the rest are the ‘worst’ moments!
ALI NOOR
I don’t have a worst moment. The best moment was when we released the video of Doh Dil and did the music for it.
BILAL MAQSOOD
The worst experience first: It happened in Dubai, Oct 2008. We were performing with Shaan and Overload. The sound check was just OK. We were not too happy with it but then we thought that we would still be able to manage with it. Overload finished their set and it was our turn. We went on the stage, plugged in our instruments and from there onwards it was our like our worst nightmare.
We played the first song just by sheer guess work. Faisal couldn’t hear his vocals, I couldn’t hear my guitar. All we could hear were the drums and harmonies on stage.
We took a little break and tried to fix the sound. The second song started and the sound became even worse. In order to make our vocals clearer the sound technician pushed all the faders up to the maximum and all the mikes started to feedback. Our stage was resonating with all sorts of squeaky sounds. Then we took another break and told the sound technician to bring everything down.
I ended up singing Anjane with no drums, no guitar and just extremely loud vocals. We apologised to the crowd and explained the whole situation to them. We wanted to leave the set in the middle but the crowd didn’t let us go. So I think we managed a couple of more songs but it was getting too frustrating for us, so we apologised again and left.
The best music experience for us would be the launch of our fifth album Koi Aaney Wala Hai, which was released in May 2008. We spent four months in the studios to record it and are extremely happy with the result. Koi Aaney Wala Hai is definitely our best work till date.
FAISAL RAFI
Well, the best music moment from 2008 for me was the Munchkin’s gig. A few days ago, they rocked it out: it was loud and noisy and I needed that!
The worst moment was Dino’s album, I mean he should quit! Personally my best moment was recording Ustad Fateh Ali Khan and Nafees Ahmed, the sitar player. It was the first time that they were singing and playing together and I was seeing it for the first time as well. Personally I don’t allow the worst to enter my studio!
FARHAD HUMAYUN
The best moment was at the Rafi Peer World Performing Arts Festival, where I did a solo performance: I wasn’t expecting any audience to be there that night. I’m not a singer and I sang as well, and I got a good round of applause, which was encouraging and it opened new doors for me.
The worst thing about 2008 is that we did not play much, but whenever we played we played well and got a good response. But we could have played a lot more.
FARHAN ALI
The best was when I did instrumentals with Farhad Humayun and Shahzad Hameed on the World Performing Arts Festival’s Music Night. The worst was when were backstage, waiting to play on Fusion Night with Fariha Pervaiz in the same festival and the blasts happened – the performance was cancelled
HAMZA JAFFERY
The best moment was performing at The System. I was really ill, I had a chest infection, I thought show barbaad ho jayay ga, but the show went really well. The sound was really good. The best monitoring we have had on stage ever. The worst moment hasn’t happened as yet and it won’t happen.
HANIYA ASLAM
My best would be right after the album release, when everyone heard our work and the feedback started coming in. The worst was falling backstage at the LSA! The only saving grace was that I didn’t fall on camera!
HAROON RAHID
The best music moment in 2008… I did a lot of fantastic shows, a brilliant show in Norway on the 14th of August 2008. The Prime Minister of Norway was there, it was a terrific show. I signed a record a deal with Universal records, a major record label, to launch me in a big way in India. Furthermore, I recorded some brilliant new songs.
The worst moment I would have to say, is the state of affairs in the country, when things are so in the country, people are more concerned about the turmoil, rather than paying attention to culture arts and music, they are pushed down priorities.
I performed a show at the hockey stadium in Lahore, right next to the Al Hamra, and while I was on stage, two or three bombs went off. That was very disheartening that we were trying to put on this great event, unfortunately, seems a shame that such things have to happen.
HAROON SHAHID
The best moment for me was winning the Rafi Peer and Levi’s Rock Club and the worst was the night those blasts happened during the World Performing Arts Festival.
HASIL QURAISHI
Best moment: Apart from the Sahil record which I was working on concurrently, I did loads of production work with people. One of them was this guy from dubai whose album I worked on. Adding to that, the Sahil record should be out mid next year.
The worst: some Pakistani singer singing in some Shahid Kapoor movie!
JAFAR ZAIDI
The best and the worst… the best should be the fact that I had a chance to collaborate with some of the top musicians in Pakistan for my album. I guess I don’t really think there has been a bad moment for me musically so far this year… not that I can think of anything honestly.
OMRAN SHAFIQUE
Mauj winning a few awards, including the Best Rock Song at the TMAs was a highlight and not getting the Mauj album out this year was obviously a huge disappointment!
SAMEER AHMED
The best moment would have to be when Co-VEN finally got into the studio to start recording our next album. We have been working on these songs for some time and we’re very excited to finally record them.
The worst moment has been the recent bombing of the World Performing Arts Festival. That was very unfortunate.
SHIRAZ UPPAL
The best moment was when I sang Secret of Success for A. R. Rahman’s upcoming film Boys. The worst was that a lots of concerts were cancelled because of security reasons.
SAJID ALI GHAFFOR
The worst: Things were really bad in the country, others artists also suffered and as a result we couldn’t have enough gigs. Things are always looming even when having a good time. Even the fun had lost the ‘fun’ factor. The best was probably that we enjoyed playing gigs in Lahore. Apart from that we had a concert in Berlin on the 28th of November 2008.
SHALLUM XAVIER
The best for me was our live concert in September in Trivamdrum, Kerela, India. It was a part of their annual harvest festival; it’s the biggest one in Kerala. Before us, Pakistani bands were not even allowed to enter the state. And we performed for a large number of people, around 30,000.
And the worst was when I got to know about the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. We had a tour beginning from the 4th of Dec to the 22nd. For me that was very shocking.
WAQAR AHMED KHAN:
My best moments were: my first gig with the Mekaal Hassan Band on the 30th of April 2008 at Peru’s Café and my first gig with Ali Azmat on 19th of October 2008 at the Bahria University in Karachi.
The worst moment was when the MHB concert was cancelled due to a series of blasts at the Rafi Peer Festivel. We were on our way to the venue, when that happened. It was very sad!
ZULFIQAR ALI KHAN Aka Xulfi
Performing songs from the album Jilawatan with a completely different arrangement using violins and cellos at The System II was one of the best moments. Thinking of these songs in an absolutely alternate arrangement was an experience of its own. Though it was quite an intense experience for me, composing new melodies and arrangements for the songs, but was quite a fulfilling one. The new instrumentation actually bought a new life to the songs, not just for the audience but for me as well.
Secondly, this was only the third concert of mine that my mother has attended; her presence made it one of my most memorable. Worst moment: there was nothing that bad.
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday January 4, 2009
Four Concerts And A Funeral (Of Star Etiquette)
Winter sees Lahore as one big marshmallow of tents, bridal couture, candy make up, saccharine flowers and throngs of hot-blooded human icicles. Hopping from one mehendi to the other had the same effect as surfing the boob tube: short attention span, glazed eyes and a headache. The favoured remedy of this season? Four back-to-back Ali Azmat and Co-VEN concerts. After attending three: two were enough to drain out the shaadi music and the third one was thrown in for good measure.
At the third concert, Sikandar Mufti was nothing short of impressive. The man, a reincarnation of a Jamaican born to play jazz, moved his drum sticks with primordial instinct, and was by no means an easy act to follow.
lf there is ever a band that defines the phrase “tight knit”, it is the Co-VEN boys. Even with Omran (Momo) playing highly improvised leads and parts, they are a well-oiled machine. Hamza and Sameer moved on stage with an intuitive synchronization that was reflected in their performance. At the third concert, Sikandar Mufti was nothing short of impressive. The man, a reincarnation of a Jamaican born to play jazz moved his drum sticks with primordial instinct, and was by no means an easy act to follow. His rolls and solos were dancing with the groove that Co-VEN embodies.
Co-VEN’s new single Ready to Die does what historically art has been doing: reflects society in its bottom-less blacks and shallow whites with its sharp punchy lyrics and slightly dark instrumentation. The lyrics have moved from the psychedelic story telling in the last album to rhythmic realism. Though I have to admit, I had to read the lyrics or hear the recorded version to comprehend them. Playing Ready to Die over and over is like wine tasting: roll your tongue over it and it unfurls its true flavour.
Ali Azmat. Encased in the spirit of legends, Ali will not be smothered by age, his music will not be over shadowed by his status and we will always see him, more exposed in a moment of music than in his interviews. No matter how jaded the listener is; Ali Azmat brings an honest smile to the face that only good live music does.
After listening to Yaro Yahi Dosti Hai on all three concerts, it is on repeat in my head. An amazing facelift of the original: The 80’s cheese is replaced with instrumentation that you have to move to, driving away the bone-cracking Lahore chill. Dhaarti keh Khuda has similarly been reclaimed with the oomph of the band. Speaking of which, the band is a fascinating blend of musicians. Mannu, a Karachi local whose city spirit is reflected in his brilliant bass playing; Momo of the West and East, the man who turns the guitar left, into Zappa and right, into Zepplin and Wacky, the newcomer, still learning the language of this entourage of greatness, but with his own unique accent. And of course Ali, the gravitational force that keeps everyone else in orbit.
The mark of a true veteran musician is that nothing can surprise you on stage. Perhaps that experience gave Ali Azmat the poise to deal with a tar-sticky Atif Aslam at the final concert. A crash course on etiquette: if you are called on stage for one song, gracefully exit after. The out of tune, nasal pitch becomes unbearable, especially in juxtaposition with Ali Azmat’s guttural, robust vocal tone. And what nailed the painfully comic situation was Atif Aslam graciously gesturing Ali to sing the last bar of the chorus in one song; as if it was his show that Ali was crashing!
Even though the last show at a neo-tacky cafe was ever so slightly tarnished by the management of the event and the rough edges of the crowd, Tara Jala outshone everything else. All stage bloopers worthy of four concerts, including self imposed guest singers, were forgiven with this track.
So ends a season of mindless wedding hopping. Click. Valima. Click Mehendi. Click. Nikkah. Click click. Another mehendi. Click. Ali Azmat and Co-VEN. Click. Volume up. Zone out.
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday January 4, 2009
At the third concert, Sikandar Mufti was nothing short of impressive. The man, a reincarnation of a Jamaican born to play jazz, moved his drum sticks with primordial instinct, and was by no means an easy act to follow.
lf there is ever a band that defines the phrase “tight knit”, it is the Co-VEN boys. Even with Omran (Momo) playing highly improvised leads and parts, they are a well-oiled machine. Hamza and Sameer moved on stage with an intuitive synchronization that was reflected in their performance. At the third concert, Sikandar Mufti was nothing short of impressive. The man, a reincarnation of a Jamaican born to play jazz moved his drum sticks with primordial instinct, and was by no means an easy act to follow. His rolls and solos were dancing with the groove that Co-VEN embodies.
Co-VEN’s new single Ready to Die does what historically art has been doing: reflects society in its bottom-less blacks and shallow whites with its sharp punchy lyrics and slightly dark instrumentation. The lyrics have moved from the psychedelic story telling in the last album to rhythmic realism. Though I have to admit, I had to read the lyrics or hear the recorded version to comprehend them. Playing Ready to Die over and over is like wine tasting: roll your tongue over it and it unfurls its true flavour.
Ali Azmat. Encased in the spirit of legends, Ali will not be smothered by age, his music will not be over shadowed by his status and we will always see him, more exposed in a moment of music than in his interviews. No matter how jaded the listener is; Ali Azmat brings an honest smile to the face that only good live music does.
After listening to Yaro Yahi Dosti Hai on all three concerts, it is on repeat in my head. An amazing facelift of the original: The 80’s cheese is replaced with instrumentation that you have to move to, driving away the bone-cracking Lahore chill. Dhaarti keh Khuda has similarly been reclaimed with the oomph of the band. Speaking of which, the band is a fascinating blend of musicians. Mannu, a Karachi local whose city spirit is reflected in his brilliant bass playing; Momo of the West and East, the man who turns the guitar left, into Zappa and right, into Zepplin and Wacky, the newcomer, still learning the language of this entourage of greatness, but with his own unique accent. And of course Ali, the gravitational force that keeps everyone else in orbit.
The mark of a true veteran musician is that nothing can surprise you on stage. Perhaps that experience gave Ali Azmat the poise to deal with a tar-sticky Atif Aslam at the final concert. A crash course on etiquette: if you are called on stage for one song, gracefully exit after. The out of tune, nasal pitch becomes unbearable, especially in juxtaposition with Ali Azmat’s guttural, robust vocal tone. And what nailed the painfully comic situation was Atif Aslam graciously gesturing Ali to sing the last bar of the chorus in one song; as if it was his show that Ali was crashing!
Even though the last show at a neo-tacky cafe was ever so slightly tarnished by the management of the event and the rough edges of the crowd, Tara Jala outshone everything else. All stage bloopers worthy of four concerts, including self imposed guest singers, were forgiven with this track.
So ends a season of mindless wedding hopping. Click. Valima. Click Mehendi. Click. Nikkah. Click click. Another mehendi. Click. Ali Azmat and Co-VEN. Click. Volume up. Zone out.
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday January 4, 2009
Reading into songs
Reading into songs
By Halima Mansoor
Over a year ago, co-VEN came out with Volume one and two (in one edition) and now their third album is almost ready to be released. Untitled as yet, the album is bolder in terms of arrangements, compositions and once released will possibly be the only brazen, much needed intelligent socio-political rhetoric on the shelves. The single ‘Ready to Die” is on air and the video is in the works.
Speaking with Hamza, Sameer and Sikander in Omar Hussein’s studio where they recorded this album, there was a desire to understand the dynamics between being a niche band and a marketing plan. The boys obviously want to be heard and the way their album is sounding, the new material should be heard.
Is the creative cost of throwing in a formula pop track worth the possible addition in audience? Not really. “The formula’s boring” as Sikander puts it. When they can create music that’s verifiably their own, which according to Sameer is getting “nothing but positive feedback”, their path to success is going to be the one less travelled in Pakistan
How did this purportedly niche band manage to do so much work without either giving up or being put out of business? According to Hamza, the band still occupies a smaller following in comparison to entertainment moguls. It often surprises music cynics that more people than anticipated have heard co-VEN’s work; this new album will surprise them more as it is predicted to crack a fairly large opening in the niche! It seems that these boys are prepared to get what they want the old fashioned way: whole hearted effort and letting their work speak for itself.
Musicians often bitterly say that perhaps co-VEN has the luxury of being able to afford being a niche band, of playing only what they enjoy. The boys make it very clear that the desired end is that co-VEN becomes their bread and butter, not the run of the mill jobs that everyone in the music industry is forced to maintain. And if that means working hard for sometime, they understand that to be a natural process.
Listening to their album in the studio, the sound is different from their last released work. The drums contribute more, with a fuller sound; there is a distinct folk influence in guitar parts and drums. The feel of the album is tense and free flowing at the same time. ‘X-Ray’ is one of the tracks where this juxtaposition gives the song the staying power and once you wrap your head around the lyrics you have to hear it again.
Each song unfurls bass lines that have groove and make a statement. Sadly, very few albums in Pakistan pay close to attention to the bass: it is usually just a mere part of the rhythm section. In the generation after Kamran Zafar better known as Mannu, Sameer Ahmed is a bass player to pay attention to. His flair for tight funky basslines with a dark edge is more evident in this album.
The boys attribute working in Omar’s studio to be a major factor for the change in sound. Working in his studio, they felt free to experiment more, to mull over their recording takes and compositions. As opposed to the first album which was recorded within 5 days, this took over two months. The duration did not reflect laziness or the inability to commit: the songs grew as co-VEN worked together, as a band and with Omer to create the unique sound without feeling the need to conform to a set studio pattern. Sikander mentioned that working with Omar was a learning experience in terms of how the recording process works outside the sound proof room. The album in turn reflects the growth process it is the result off. No less than a mature body of work that will appeal to an international market, if the boys manage to develop a marketing plan!
The album itself was born out of jam sessions. And it has grown as the boys themselves grew in terms of musical influences, expression and the times that we all live in. When political chaos is so relevant that it is no more something that affects ‘them’ and is very much pushing and pulling every one of ‘us’. ‘X- Ray’, ‘You’, ‘Plan B’, ‘The Man Himself’ and ‘Ready to Die’ all have potent lyrics that do not shy away from pointing out the ludicrousness of this era. The lyrics are written by Hamza and he does not mince words.
“The monkey men pretend to liberate, a nation they’ve enslaved, and they spread the fear…” or “…listening to the man, with the beard and fat belly, he says to rinse off the dirty deeds…”
The direct nature of the words is not off putting, in fact it is liberating to repeat the song as it goes on in your mind after its been turned off. These words are often mouthed by arm chair revolutionaries: to say them on stage to an audience poised to inhale every word you sing shows that some musicians are willing to have an agenda which is not intertwined with a marketing strategy.
Ever since the apathy and arrogance of younger years wore off, it became a personal desire to hear our own musicians play songs that reflect the reality surrounding us as true artists have been doing for centuries. With this new album, co-VEN has risen to the occasion.
What does Hamza want for the songs lyrics he writes? Obviously for them to be heard by as many people as possible. With such a strong message in one album, the obvious question was why Hamza as the front man does not interact with the audience at concerts. After all, it is that experience that the audience takes home and later relives when they hear the track, making it a personal memento.
A concert is not just the music, it is entertainment say the boys. It becomes another ballgame altogether. As Sameer mentioned, they are most comfortable playing in their own setting, or just for each other. This intimate communication is visible on stage as the each boy moves with this intuitive understanding of the musical and physical space the other two occupie. With a slight smile, Hamza stated that communicating with the audience while on stage is something he is working on. It also seems for this album, Hamza also worked on his style of singing. His enunciation is clearer and his voice flows smoother than ever.
co-VEN is the product of Hamza, Sameer and Sikander and while performing live, Omran Shafique. The boys own the music. While listening to the tracks in the studio, each one of them was visibly fine tuning that was being played, each one was in his own private zone where with a zero brush each musical nuance is being brushed into perfection.
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday, January 25th, 2009
By Halima Mansoor
Over a year ago, co-VEN came out with Volume one and two (in one edition) and now their third album is almost ready to be released. Untitled as yet, the album is bolder in terms of arrangements, compositions and once released will possibly be the only brazen, much needed intelligent socio-political rhetoric on the shelves. The single ‘Ready to Die” is on air and the video is in the works.
Speaking with Hamza, Sameer and Sikander in Omar Hussein’s studio where they recorded this album, there was a desire to understand the dynamics between being a niche band and a marketing plan. The boys obviously want to be heard and the way their album is sounding, the new material should be heard.
Is the creative cost of throwing in a formula pop track worth the possible addition in audience? Not really. “The formula’s boring” as Sikander puts it. When they can create music that’s verifiably their own, which according to Sameer is getting “nothing but positive feedback”, their path to success is going to be the one less travelled in Pakistan
How did this purportedly niche band manage to do so much work without either giving up or being put out of business? According to Hamza, the band still occupies a smaller following in comparison to entertainment moguls. It often surprises music cynics that more people than anticipated have heard co-VEN’s work; this new album will surprise them more as it is predicted to crack a fairly large opening in the niche! It seems that these boys are prepared to get what they want the old fashioned way: whole hearted effort and letting their work speak for itself.
Musicians often bitterly say that perhaps co-VEN has the luxury of being able to afford being a niche band, of playing only what they enjoy. The boys make it very clear that the desired end is that co-VEN becomes their bread and butter, not the run of the mill jobs that everyone in the music industry is forced to maintain. And if that means working hard for sometime, they understand that to be a natural process.
Listening to their album in the studio, the sound is different from their last released work. The drums contribute more, with a fuller sound; there is a distinct folk influence in guitar parts and drums. The feel of the album is tense and free flowing at the same time. ‘X-Ray’ is one of the tracks where this juxtaposition gives the song the staying power and once you wrap your head around the lyrics you have to hear it again.
Each song unfurls bass lines that have groove and make a statement. Sadly, very few albums in Pakistan pay close to attention to the bass: it is usually just a mere part of the rhythm section. In the generation after Kamran Zafar better known as Mannu, Sameer Ahmed is a bass player to pay attention to. His flair for tight funky basslines with a dark edge is more evident in this album.
The boys attribute working in Omar’s studio to be a major factor for the change in sound. Working in his studio, they felt free to experiment more, to mull over their recording takes and compositions. As opposed to the first album which was recorded within 5 days, this took over two months. The duration did not reflect laziness or the inability to commit: the songs grew as co-VEN worked together, as a band and with Omer to create the unique sound without feeling the need to conform to a set studio pattern. Sikander mentioned that working with Omar was a learning experience in terms of how the recording process works outside the sound proof room. The album in turn reflects the growth process it is the result off. No less than a mature body of work that will appeal to an international market, if the boys manage to develop a marketing plan!
The album itself was born out of jam sessions. And it has grown as the boys themselves grew in terms of musical influences, expression and the times that we all live in. When political chaos is so relevant that it is no more something that affects ‘them’ and is very much pushing and pulling every one of ‘us’. ‘X- Ray’, ‘You’, ‘Plan B’, ‘The Man Himself’ and ‘Ready to Die’ all have potent lyrics that do not shy away from pointing out the ludicrousness of this era. The lyrics are written by Hamza and he does not mince words.
“The monkey men pretend to liberate, a nation they’ve enslaved, and they spread the fear…” or “…listening to the man, with the beard and fat belly, he says to rinse off the dirty deeds…”
The direct nature of the words is not off putting, in fact it is liberating to repeat the song as it goes on in your mind after its been turned off. These words are often mouthed by arm chair revolutionaries: to say them on stage to an audience poised to inhale every word you sing shows that some musicians are willing to have an agenda which is not intertwined with a marketing strategy.
Ever since the apathy and arrogance of younger years wore off, it became a personal desire to hear our own musicians play songs that reflect the reality surrounding us as true artists have been doing for centuries. With this new album, co-VEN has risen to the occasion.
What does Hamza want for the songs lyrics he writes? Obviously for them to be heard by as many people as possible. With such a strong message in one album, the obvious question was why Hamza as the front man does not interact with the audience at concerts. After all, it is that experience that the audience takes home and later relives when they hear the track, making it a personal memento.
A concert is not just the music, it is entertainment say the boys. It becomes another ballgame altogether. As Sameer mentioned, they are most comfortable playing in their own setting, or just for each other. This intimate communication is visible on stage as the each boy moves with this intuitive understanding of the musical and physical space the other two occupie. With a slight smile, Hamza stated that communicating with the audience while on stage is something he is working on. It also seems for this album, Hamza also worked on his style of singing. His enunciation is clearer and his voice flows smoother than ever.
co-VEN is the product of Hamza, Sameer and Sikander and while performing live, Omran Shafique. The boys own the music. While listening to the tracks in the studio, each one of them was visibly fine tuning that was being played, each one was in his own private zone where with a zero brush each musical nuance is being brushed into perfection.
Published in Images, Dawn on Sunday, January 25th, 2009
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