Ali Azmat rebels against the Bollywood chalo bandwagon

With his second solo album, Klashinfolk, out in stores, Ali Azmat chats with Instep and tells us why Bollywood is not his end game and why he is not in any mood to actively promote his album

By Maheen Sabeeh

Making music in a chaotic world  “You’ve lost some weight,” says Ali Azmat as we meet for an interview. I was ill, I tell him. “You’re not shooting…” he trails off laughingly. No I’m not, I say, amused at his guess. You? “Nah, I’m too broke,” he says in that self deprecating manner that is characteristic Ali Azmat. It took quite a few calls to finally nail Ali down for an interview. Who is he hiding from? “I hate all this interview, promotion stuff. But I will do it. It isn’t desperation but I will do it because one has to,” he says scratching his head. The shaved head and slight stubble, replacing the wild curls of the nineties, aren’t the only concession Ali has made to age. The jovial spirit has vanished. The eyes seem weary, the demeanour somber – the kind that is hardly witnessed – and yet for all his notions of seeming paranoia, Ali isn’t divorced from reality. He may prefer to live in his own universe but that is only because he is too aware of the world itself. “We need relief, all of us, you, me and everybody else,” he says echoing the feelings of a nation that is struggling with the very real problems of terrorism, poverty, economic crunch among many others.  The series of blasts around the World Performing Arts that recently concluded in Lahore only compounded the fear. But the defiance of the Peerzada family to still go on with the show was a gesture that Ali vehemently supports. “I was at the press conference and the Peerzadas took a stand that was necessary,” he says.  From the onset of this interview, it is obvious Ali has been thinking, some might say too much, about anything and everything under the sun. His words hang in the air, atmospherically. And he moves from topic to topic at a rapid speed. As he sits opposite me, smoking a cigarette, it is clear that he has a lot to say. But he prefers to do it through his music. Ali Azmat maybe Pakistan’s favourite rock star but the man has quite a few sides to him that often only mirror in his music and rarely in his public image. The journey so far: From broke musician to rock star  Leaving home at the age of just seventeen, Ali never looked back. From studying in Australia to singing A-ha’s ‘Take On Me’ at weddings in his first ever band Jupiters, Ali has defied the norms, again and again. In the early nineties, Junoon came and changed the scene in Pakistan. They did for rock what Alamgir, Nazia and Zoheb Hassan and much more significantly Vital Signs did for pop. Junoon, as they say, was the band that gave birth to groundbreaking rock in Pakistan but for Ali, the success came much later. “I have lived on daal-chawal and walked on the streets because I didn’t have a car. I wasn’t always living in this apartment. I would live with friends or take in a roommate. I had to make an effort to learn English. My parents are not English. And I might have spoke English at school but with friends and family, I spoke in Punjabi or Urdu. Guitar khareednay ka paisa nahin tha (There wasn’t enough money to buy a guitar),” says Ali, going back to his days of struggling that continued for years right up until Azadi (1997) happened. After that, the stakes changed and the enterprise of Junoon took off. If Talaash was the beginning, Azadi consolidated Junoon to new heights of fame. The band went to India and toured around the world, packing Central Park in New York and Royal Albert Hall in London with thousands of fans. Ali Azmat, the front man shined in the light as Pakistan’s most fiery performer. He became the enigmatic icon to legions of fans in Pakistan and abroad. But soon the once-formidable Junoon started crashing albeit the awful Ishq (2001). The final nail in the coffin came with Deewar (2003) that saw Salman Ahmed take on the mike in full throes. That and the departure of bassist Brian O Connell was only a sign of the shift that was beginning in Junoon.  On Deewar, the only songs that became favourites were the ones that had the stamp of Ali Azmat, the composer, on them. “‘Garaj Baras’, ‘Tara Jala’, ‘Sapnay’ – from Deewar – were for Social Circus. But Junoon said, ‘nahi yaar, these songs are good, let’s take it in the album’. I had to re-start and write more songs. I had to have the confidence to say that ‘I’ll write more songs’,” says Ali, telling me about the beginning of the end of Junoon. With Salman Ahmed moving to America with his family for good, it became impossible for Junoon to survive. Ironically enough, with the demise of Junoon, Pakistan found a solo artist who would once again go on to redefine rock music, although on a radically different note. And it happened in 2005 with the mighty record called Social Circus that saw the rebirth of Ali Azmat. “Social Circus was a very disjointed album. I was leaving Junoon and I was recording the album and the pressure was that ‘I couldn’t do it’. It took me a long time. I would write for ten days and take off for a tour with Junoon for a month. Then record tracks. I spent at least two and half years with Social Circus,” says Ali looking back at the album that reaffirmed our faith in him as a musician. The record won awards, critical acclaim and was a super success. With Social Circus, Ali went around the world touring. In Pakistan alone, he did over 100 concerts.  “I remember September 2005 vividly. We played 17 shows in that month. After that the earthquake happened and it all went downhill from there,” he trails off. The October 2005 earthquake and the devastation that followed was the beginning. In 2007, one political crisis after another with frequent bomb blasts throughout the country, the assassination of former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, brought the scene to a radical stop. And even in 2008, as music albums release regularly, the future of music, concerts and entertainment on the whole, seems bleak. But not one to give up, Ali kept the spirit intact and earlier this year released his second solo album, the cynically titled Klashinfolk. What is Klashinfolk? From the chords on the first song, ‘Gallan’, it is apparent that this is Ali Azmat on his best. Intricate and beautiful at times, insanely fun at others, truly spectacular in its sound, the album sees Ali Azmat don the roles of singer, songwriter and producer. “This was probably the easiest album I’ve done. Songs came out, I mean they happened. And I didn’t force anything. Songwriting comes before anything else. Once you have a song, only then will you start jamming with the band. The next process was with the band. So I need this part going here, guitar is singing this, bass is doing that. “I had the picture in my head so I would give them their parts – Omran, Gumby and Manu – and they did a great job. We practiced for two weeks and it sounded good so we just decided to record it. The recording process was also easy. We recorded the first five songs in three days, the other five-six songs we did in four days so the tracking happened in seven days. It was all very free-flowing, you know?” says Ali.  What’s remarkable about the album is that it is hugely different than its predecessor Social Circus and yet it is signature Ali Azmat. Ali brought the change not just with the direction he took but also with the musicians who collaborated with him on this album.

Omran Shafique stepped in place of Ziyyad Gulzar on electric guitars while Kamran ‘Manu’ Zafar and Gumby took on bass guitars and drums respectively.  “The line up of course makes a difference. Gumby’s playing had a huge impact on the album. Gumby is like this rock drummer so he had to be toned down. On ‘Gallan’, for instance, Gumby goes haywire but it’s very systematic. Omran’s very adaptable and groovy. Manu is an excellent player,” says Ali of the line up that forms his live band. For an album that deserves to shine in the spotlight, Ali has done the opposite.

He has promoted the album but not in the same vein as he did for Social Circus. Why?  “I hate myself on television. Now I understand bands like Pink Floyd or Pearl Jam. Maybe my hate hasn’t reached the level where I completely cut off. To some degree I have. I haven’t done any interviews in the last two and a half years. Maybe one here and there now with the album out. I’m confused because I must do it to promote the album and at the same time, I don’t really want to. And I try ke apna rona nahi roun ziyada jo mein abhi tumhei bata raha hoon. I keep that out and try to make it fun whenever I am on television or doing interviews. I say things and often they are not the most charming. Later when I see myself on TV, I am like, ‘F***, what the hell did I do? I shouldn’t be on television’. But you have to and this is what we’ve created. We created the monster so now deal with it. But you know I’ll do a few.” “I don’t dream of Bollywood” Since the last two years or so, every musician, it seems, is heading to India. Not just to perform but to release their albums or if luck strikes, score a deal in a Bollywood film. But Ali Azmat is walking the other way. India is certainly not the barometer for Ali. Klashinfolk might release in India but Ali is completely unfazed if it doesn’t. “The Indian market is not very responsive to my kind of music anyway. My album is music-oriented as opposed to film-oriented. Indians, they respect stupidity. According to Indian standards, a good song is one to which you can get drunk and dance to. Anything beyond that is indigestible there,” says Ali who is unrelenting in his criticism. “Do you know that no radio stations in India play our pop/rock music? They call you for an interview and ask you what song should we play, you pick your own tune and they say no. We only play Bollywood. So why call us for an interview? I left two radio stations – one in Delhi, one in Mumbai – when they pulled such a stunt. I mean ‘Pehli Nazar’ (Atif Aslam’s track from Indian film Race) turned out to be a Korean song, people criticized that fact but it is still a hit. Now it suits Atif Aslam to do a song like that. But that’s not something I will do. And they will take Atif or Jal over me because they want to be there. It’s a game that everybody plays. But I don’t want to play. I go to India, I get frustrated and I come back and I don’t do it. Atif’s face is more prominent in India than mine because of his film projects and that is fine with me. They don’t show my face on Indian telly screens and that is alright.” It isn’t that Ali isn’t open to Bollywood at all. But to him a film that requires him to become a Bollywood playback singer and change his music, even if it is a star-studded, is not worth the effort. “Okay, I’m not doing ‘Kuri Tu Lagni Naughty’ (a reference to Adeel Chaudhry’s tune in Kismet Konnection). It’s a bad song and it’s a bad video. Pop/rock has never survived in India. They will give preference to Bollywood. I am not even going to try and compete with a Shahrukh Khan because the budget of one song he does is 1.5 crore and rising. That and naked babes or almost. Maybe I should take my clothes off and do jhing jhing jhing,” says Ali laughingly. “It’s only people who will appreciate my music and believe that it will fit in their film and add more character or edge to it, will use it. ‘Sawaal’ is not a filmi song but I gave it to Rahul Dholakia for his film because he understood it. He said it would add to the film so I said, fine take it. I gave ‘Naina’ to Sudhir Mishra for Tera Kya Hoga Johnny because I like him as a filmmaker. I like his subjects,” says Ali about his projects in Bollywood. ‘Sawal’ and ‘Naina’ may not become the next ‘Mitwa’ or ‘Pehli Nazar’ but it is Ali playing the game on his own rules. And for this man, that really is the bigger thing.  He may host the Lux Style Awards but that is merely a means to an end. “I don’t take myself seriously, not as a musician and not as a host. I’ll do the hosting if it means I’ll make a few bucks.” This year Ali came under fire for his jokes that were off-track and seemed to portray a sense of humour that was crasser and less humourous. “They were jokes. It was a spur of the moment thing. Why make a controversy by talking about it,” says Ali.

Since you’ve been around  When Ali Azmat took his first footsteps in the music industry, it was roughly two decades ago. It was a different era, one without powerful tools like Facebook or YouTube and even music channels. “There was PTV who had issues with our long hair. Then came Music Channel Charts (MCC) but we survived through it all. Indus Music changed the scene for an entire generation. And now we have Aag, Play, The Musik and MTV.” Ali Azmat made it but he saw hardships that most musicians don’t have to see, certainly not on the same level. Is it easier now?

“Yes and no. It is easy because of the mediums but to survive, you need shows and that ain’t happening anytime soon. There is no investment, no infrastructure, no event management, no professionals – it isn’t even an industry. A few individuals don’t make an industry,” says Ali who dismisses the notion that music has come far in Pakistan. But where he isn’t interested in debating about the music industry, he does believe in the talent of a few individuals. “Zeb and Haniya are nice. They are chicks who are not flashy. They are songwriters. Haniya and Zeb compose, they can play guitars. I love Mauj. I think Sajid Ghafoor and Shiraz Uppal are better songwriters than most including myself. I think Zeeshan Parwez is an exceptional talent.” And what about Ali Zafar and Atif Aslam? “I don’t necessarily like their music. But they’ve made it,” Ali says simply. It isn’t about the hype with Ali Azmat. Not anymore. He has seen and been a part of it for too long and he is no longer deluded enough to buy into it. A hard day’s night Ali Azmat’s music isn’t the only thing that makes him such a fascinating character to the world. He has been one of the few, perhaps the only, celebrity who has always been open and honest about his lifestyle. The notorious bachelor has a reputation that paints him as the bad boy.

“There is a war with female relationships. When you’re younger and stupider, you’re like ‘ya baby’, but now, you’re like, ‘forget it. I’m not gonna go through that.’”  Ali Azmat lives alone. Unlike his musical colleagues, Ali Haider, Rohail Hyatt, Shahi Hasan, Salman Ahmed, Junaid Jamshed, Faisal Kapadia – to name a few, he is neither married nor is he planning on tying the knot anytime soon. Are you lonely, I ask him? “No,” Ali retorts quickly and continues, “I’m alone but I’m not lonely. I conditioned myself to be this way. You go through all sorts of uneasy emotions and you realise it’s better to be alone. I mean if you’re in friction with yourself and you add someone else to it, then you’ll go crazy. Sometimes my physical or my emotional needs will lead to some reaction and I might say ‘I wanna be with you’ but later I realise, nah not really. It maybe just physical and it can be emotional. I need somebody to understand me for a small period of time. But when I have to take them along, it becomes a huge undertaking so why go through that and make someone else unhappy,” Ali says strongly. As we hit the end of the interview, one thing is clear: Ali Azmat may have changed but the explosion and the passion behind the man, is far from over. Stirring and fabulous, introvert and extrovert in equal measure, it is inconceivable to imagine music in Pakistan without Ali Azmat. He remains the original, homegrown rock-a-fella. Much has changed but some things are still the same.

Meter & Lafanga

In a span of less than one year, VJs Meter and Lafanga have carved a name for themselves amongst the Pakistani youth. Instep takes an inside look and finds out what makes the flop aadmi and ultimate anglicized akhrot tick…

By Maheen Sabeeh

The men for the masses There is a stereotype that comes with being a VJ. Usually VJs are the urban hip youngsters, sometimes with crazy hair, designer bags, spontaneous attitude (that may or may not work) and English language, often laced with ‘fake’ accents. Some are intelligent and pretty, others are annoying and successful and that is perhaps the most basic definition of what a VJ epitomizes in Pakistan.The term ‘VJ’ took its first footsteps in a popular dance club in New York, the Peppermint Lounge and the concept came to Pakistan more than two decades ago when a program called Veejay was launched. Now, we may have five music channels but there are few VJs who have made a name for themselves amongst the Pakistani masses. Two of those rare exceptions are Meter and Lafanga.
Amidst the horde of English speaking veejays who are obviously emulating the West, Meter and Lafanga stand out as clearly as Atif Aslam’s voice does in the music scene.And that is essentially because they are not trying out a formula that plagues most music/youth/lifestyle channels. Urdu is the language of Pakistan and both Meter and Lafanga realize it. Meter can’t speak Urdu with correct enunciation and yet he still attempts it as much as he can along with Lafanga, who knows that English is not the language of his people.
Roughly six years ago when VJs Dino, Anoushey and Faizan Haque started out, they were accepted… in the absence of others. But now it is easy to find Anuoshey-type VJs on every channel. VJs don’t have identities that separate one from the other. It’s the same type of clothing, some type of gibberish and this is why Meter and Lafanga stand out. They ask the most offbeat of questions – that range from (a) where did the dupatta go? (b) water shortage in Pakistan (c) lack of healthcareThey prefer walking the streets and interviewing the average man on the roadside as opposed to celebrities, they cater to the Pakistani youth that urban hipsters can never truly understand and they have made it their mission to understand, guide, remind and help the youth of Pakistan to realize their full potential. That is why their popularity is on the rise.
Who are they? VJs Lafanga and Meter are actually Nabeel Sher, 23, and Asif Khattak, 28, respectively. In person, these guys are an extension of their VJ ‘characters’.Asif is the older, slightly wiser but headstrong Pathan. His views are firm but behind them is a logic that is hard to turn down. “I know I’m very convincing,” he says with a chuckle. Asif does hold a soft spot for Nabeel, who is five years younger.“He’s like my younger brother,” says Asif of Nabeel to which Nabeel responds, “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t know about him.”
With a curled smile and playful demeanour, Nabeel is the guy most boys of Pakistan will relate to with a natural ease. Compared to Asif, Nabeel is a little more relaxed and a little less serious about life and everything else in between. Having lived in Karachi for most of his life, Nabeel has seen the ups and downs personally that plague the lives of most Karachiites.”Most of your youth is spending time on the Internet. Playing games, chatting with infinite number of girls and vice versa, cramming up in a room with ten DVDs and not coming out even for fresh air – and that is because they have no avenues of entertainment and because sports is not developed in Pakistan. Tennis, hockey, cricket, football, snooker – why can’t they be shaped in such a way that instead of wasting time or hiding at home, kids would actually come out.”
For Nabeel, it isn’t a job at a youth channel that has made him connect with the youth but now he has a platform to voice his concerns.”Who cares about the biker boys?” and adds, “These are the boys who roam the streets and pass comments on women. But you have to realize they need something to do. Where do they go? You go to anywhere between Expo Centre and The Forum, families are allowed. So a bunch of rowdy boys are discriminated against. They are a part of your youth,” says Nabeel disappointedly.These are the issues close to his heart and this is where ‘Flop Aadmi’ stemmed from. “Flop Aadmi is someone who tries to do the right thing but ends up in trouble. And yet, he is not a complete loser and that is why people understand him,” says Nabeel retrospectively.On the other hand is Asif, who is neither as joyful nor as optimistic as Nabeel. Having spent a major chunk of his life in Saudia Arabia, Asif has beliefs that many would call “rigid” but for him, it isn’t about what people think. “It really doesn’t matter. I don’t try to be a parent to the kids who’re watching me. But the things that they’re discovering, I’ve been through them all probably and I know what its like,” says Asif sagaciously. Living abroad as a Pakistani is never easy and Asif knows it only too well. Growing up in Saudia Arabia, Asif has seen the racialism that comes with being an outsider. “I was always told that ‘you’re a second class citizen, you get in trouble and it won’t be nice’. And even then I always defended Pakistan to the point that it often got me in trouble. Later I realized that I was defending something that wasn’t there,” says Asif with a hint of disillusionment and continues, “50 per cent of our population is under 18. And I feel that partly our youth is ungrateful. Life is what you make of it and you don’t always need money to be happy. The problem here is that the communication gap between parents and children is just too wide and that is something that needs to be tackled. This is why when I say something on TV, it might be listened to by the youngsters because I am not their parent and if I’m still saying it, there is a reason for it.” Both Asif (Meter) and Nabeel (Lafanga) are connected to the youth of Pakistan and yet the questions they ask, their ideals make them the unconventional guys on TV, especially a youth channel. Most of their co-hosts are not like them and one can sense a level of friction. “We have professional relationships and we get along fine. We may not agree on everything but we do know how to respect our counterparts,” says Nabeel. Sadly enough, even in Pakistan, there is a stereotype is attached to one’s nationality. The fact that Asif is a Pathan whose Urdu enunciation isn’t really good is used as a stereotype against him. “There is a new breed of Pathans, Punjabis, Sindhis coming in but yes, I have been subjected to domestic racialism because of who I am and the accent with which I speak,” he says. Hopefully, Meter will make that accent a lot more socially acceptable. The one factor on which they both agree in is that even as they are in the media, they are not really in it for the fame. “I don’t know if I’m good enough to be invited to the social parties that have become a norm and neither do I want to be. It’s all a pretension and I don’t care for it,” says Nabeel nonchalantly. It takes guts to create VJs like these, and Aag did exactly that and has manged to turn them into the unlikely superstars of the Veejay world. Lafanga, the ‘flop aadmi’ and Meter (‘jis ka meter tou down hai’) have become hugely popular because the large mass of Pakistan can relate to them. What lies ahead… Neither of these two planned being VJs. But now that they have it, their vision is toward benefiting Pakistan.“I really believe that this is the first generation since our forefathers that has the brain and vision to make a change for the betterment of their country and future,” says Nabeel and Asif seconds that voice. The current volatile state of Pakistan is a cause for concern and both Asif and Nabeel feel that a change is needed especially with elections coming up later this year.“Everyone above 18 needs to vote, they just have to. You can’t complain and not make a conscious effort yourself,” says Nabeel and Asif agrees and adds, “I would say everyone needs to vote and even more importantly they need to vote for someone who is relatively new. Even if they don’t know anything about him, they should vote for him. Because we keep bringing the same leaders back and it is not helping this country.” They may be politically incorrect and yet they make more sense than most of our leaders. And it is this sincerity of these two guys that makes them such a hit. The impact Meter and Lafanga have had on pop culture is unprecedented. They are perhaps two guys who no one is indifferent to even if one disagrees with their views. In some ways, the acceptance of Meter and Lafanga is a sign of what people want. “I’d credit Mani with opening doors for all of us. He was the first offbeat VJ in the urban VJ culture,” says Asif. But what separates Nabeel and Asif from Mani and everyone else is their approach to a subject. Neither of the two consider themselves icons. According to Asif, “I’m only a reminder of how things should be and can be as opposed to what they are. There is a reason why our religion has laws. I’m just a reminder of it.” Asif wants to help the youth and in the future he sees himself making documentaries on issues pertinent to the fabric of our society. “I want to help the emotionally underprivileged,” he says thoughtfully. And then there is Lafanga who is interested in acting. “I would love to work in telefilms should an opportunity present itself. I am not a fan of our soaps anymore because they are just not us but inspired from across the border,” says Nabeel who has acted back in his college days. It remains to be seen where Asif and Nabeel head out next but as long as they are out on the streets of Pakistan, inspiring and encouraging the youth to think, there is hope… for all of us, regardless of what our accents are.

Shooting from the hip about the business of music

Starting off as a sound engineer, Faisal Rafi has come far. The co-producer of hit Rahat Fateh Ali Khan songs, ‘Jiya Dhadak Dhadak Jaaye’ and ‘Mann ki Lagan’, Faisal has worked with some of the most prolific musicians in the country including Junoon, Rohail Hyatt, Shahi Hasan, Gumby, Aamir Zaki… as well as the legendary Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan among various others. Instep speaks with Faisal Rafi about classical music versus pop, piracy, record labels, the India-Pakistan difference and why he decided to produce the debut album of the young musical group that is Kaavish…

By Maheen Sabeeh

Instep: Define good music. Faisal Rafi: I don’t function on chords; whatever sounds right is good music. If there are four people in a room and they agree that what they just recorded sounds good, it’s good. I feel mathematics has taken away from the art of music.Instep: You also managed to rope in Channel V for a major concert in the late nineties. How did that happen?FR: Back in 95-96, I was doing sound for shows for music acts like Junoon, Vital Signs and the others. I had a company Stone Sound. During those days I met this guy Richard through Nizar Lalani; he was the Channel V representative in Dubai. Through Richard I met the General Manager of Channel V. We became friends and we thought of doing something in Pakistan. It was the Nawaz Sharif era… bura scene tha…
Instep: No long hair, no jeans… FR: Exactly. That event was a success and a failure. It was a success because amidst that entire ban, finally something did happened. It was a failure because it was a financial loss. The loss didn’t matter and our sponsors were willing to bear it. It was the first time such a big event was done in Pakistan. Instep: This was the concert with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and… FR: It was weird. It was Nusrat, Awaz, Najam and Aamir Zaki. Instep: That’s an interesting mix. FR: You think? It featured Aamir Zaki because I wanted to push him. He needed to get off his butt and do something. I guess it was an impulse action. Instep: So you started off with a sound company and then you did this one-off event. FR: Yes. I had been doing sound and lighting anyway so I thought why not just organize a concert? I used all possible contacts to put this show together. We got permission from everywhere. I begged the then DC of Police who was a religious guy. Instep: What happened to the sound company? FR: I was very tired of the company. Kabhi Karachi, kabhi Lahore – I was sick of it. I wanted to do something different. At that time, a friend of mine, Sajjad Panjwani – who is no longer alive – was running a company called Visible Changes. Everyone from Junoon to VS to Hadiqa – was signed up with him. When I decided to shut down my company, he asked me to work with him. I joined and incidentally the first album I worked on with Sajjad’s company was a compilation of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s live music. I had collected recordings of Nusrat’s last few shows in Pakistan. We got permission from Nusrat’s family and that was the first time that I worked with Shahi Hasan. Vital Signs had just disbanded and Shahi was setting up a studio. We decided to work with Rahat Fateh Ali Khan; he was young back then, 22 perhaps and he had a squeaky voice. Visible Changes financed the project and Shahi and I flew out to Lahore. We recorded some stuff at Shahi’s studio and some at Mekaal’s… Instep: Mekaal Hasan? FR: Yes. It was one of the earliest recordings at his studio, ‘Mann Ki Lagan’ as well as other numbers. Meanwhile, Sajjad was going through some financial difficulty so he decided to shutdown his company and moved to the US. Then Shahi wanted to work on some solo stuff. I needed security in my life. Rohail Hyatt was opening up Pyramid Productions. Rohail also needed security in the sense that he wanted a friend to come and work as head of his production department. I told him that I’ll work 2-3 years for you and he thought that was fine. So I worked there for two years… Instep: How was it working at Pyramid Productions? FR: It was a good experience. Rohail (Hyatt) is a good person to collaborate with. He’s got ideas. He follows them up. He keeps quiet and does the work as opposed to just talking. He’s a good friend also… Instep: After Pyramid, what happened? FR: After two full years, I quit. I went back into music because that is the only thing I know. Shahi and I decided to work together again. We reopened some of Rahat’s work and developed some new instrumentals and stuff. Rahat also got on my case and he wanted to do a full album. Instep: So began Rahat Fateh Ali’s Charkha… FR: Ahan! We had a list of about twenty songs that we had recorded earlier. We short-listed ten of them. Shahi had just gotten married; he was busy with some work. I had to get the Rahat album done so then came Rohail. It worked out fine. You guys will hopefully hear Charkha soon. Instep: Why did you guys go for an Indian record label for a release? Charkha was supposed to release six months ago but till now, it is not out. FR: We went with Sa Re Ga Ma (it was HMV back then) because they financed the whole thing. Yahan tau sab kuch karney key baad deal hoti hain. But now the album is releasing in Pakistan through Fire Records. The label is part of the biggest media group in Pakistan; it’s not a shady operation being carried out of a shop in Rainbow Centre. I guess both labels are waiting for the right time. Sa Re Ga Ma is going through some changes so I guess that maybe a reason. It will be out soon though. Instep: You don’t have any complaints with your local record label. In the industry, many are always complaining that record labels steal musical rights, they don’t pay. FR: The music industry should stop moaning and groaning. It is a developing industry so work and let it develop. Whatever we asked for, we were paid. So why should I complain? People need to look at the bigger picture. Instep: But what about young talent. Record labels don’t invest in them… FR: Yes, I agree. And if those young musicians end up using pirated software I would still say okay, they had no choice. But you can’t point fingers, key ji hamarey music key rights nahin hai. The software that is being used by our musical acts here is pirated. 90 per cent of software used for music production in Pakistan is illegal. Indian movies as well as films from around the world are pirated. Apne rights ho magar piracy karni hai. It is hypocritical. You can scan every single piece of equipment here and see for yourself. I bought all this equipment legally. Those who know the cost are stunned. I’ll buy one movie instead of 20 but I’ll buy it legally. So the point is, yes there are problems. But we are still developing as an industry. Let it develop then scream and shout. And hey, if that young talent walks through my door, I will produce their music too. Instep: Under what circumstances would you allow yourself to work with a young musical act? FR: I am working with Kaavish. I will work with others as well. It’s not just a question of singing in the right note. I would like to work with people who come in my studio and nail it. Those will be people who will think beyond being on the telly. Music is not part time. Let’s take the West as an example. People like Jimmy Page, Robert Plant – they have dedicated their entire lives to music. It’s not a hobby. Instep: Where do you stand on Association of Music Professionals of Pakistan (AMPP)? FR: AMPP is the need of the hour. Musicians as a whole need this form of representation. But it doesn’t just mean five of our senior pop musicians. It should also include musicians from our folk and classical side. They sell far more than our pop/rock acts. Everyone found out about AMPP. It was in the papers and it made a lot of noise. But here’s the thing. There are musicians who have been doing music long before any of our commercial pop/rock artists were even born and everyone has ripped them off over and over again. These classical greats are our seniors. Just because they are classical, it doesn’t mean they aren’t musicians. So, they should be a part of this too. If they have Ustad Fateh Ali from Patiala and Ustad Fateh Ali from Gwalior, it will benefit not just these Ustads but AMPP too. If Ustad Fateh Ali of Gawalior comes out and speaks about how necessary AMPP is, it will get noticed. People will be like, ‘achaa, yaar music ki association bangayi hai’. I don’t know why those people aren’t being involved or haven’t been approached! Innho ney approach kis ko kiya hai? Six people will gather and that’s it. It has to involve EVERYONE.

Look at the world. Anywhere in the world, America or Europe – they may hate each other but if the music industry is going through a problem, musicians will unite. I’m working on both sides – pop as well as classical. I’m at a unique position and I get to listen to both sides of the story. On the pop side, people do make money. In comparison to the classical musicians, they are better off. They have billboards and record deals and they do get money for their album. Have you seen any Ustad on a billboard? Those guys have far bigger problems than our pop musicians. Main kya boloon? Classical musicians are our treasure.

Instep: You’ve been to India. How does it work there?
FR: India is a successful entertainment industry. It’s second only to Hollywood. And by virtue of their film industry, there is a massive market in India. Even though music is a huge part of our history, we deny it. In India, music is a part of their religion and culture and they embrace it. It’s been like this for hundreds of years and they have produced exceptional singers, artists. Let’s not deny that. That said, there is a lot of respect for music and musicians. People look up to you. In Pakistan, by and large, people look down on you. So, India is a very attractive market.In terms of creativity, our music is definitely better. Because of the lack of a proper flourishing film industry, our music is not bastardised. 90 per cent of all music in India now is related to their film industry. The film industry dictates the kind of music that is being put out in the market. Here you can make anything you want. Everyone including their pop artists wants to make it in films. All our musicians who go to India also go through Bollywood. Who other than Junoon has been able to sell albums without going into films? Junoon was the only one.

I may be biased because I was a great Junoon fan but fact is that they sold in India without being in Bollywood. Even NFAK got major recognition after he teamed up with Javed Akhtar for ‘Afreen Afreen’. And I feel that that venture in India was nothing compared to what he has done before – his qawwalis. Whatever success I’ve had minus the event management activity has been because of films. Manish Makhija, a very old friend of mine is married to Pooja Bhatt. He had some recordings of some work Shahi Hasan and I had done years ago. Pooja heard it and Munna calls me in 2003 and says, ‘Yaar deal hogayi’ and I was like, ‘what deal?’ He asked me and Shahi to come to India. We got a small briefing, came back, did the song and the background score as well. The film (Paap) failed but the song made it. ‘Mann Ki Lagan’ was a huge hit. So, the point is no one other than Junoon has been able to make it to India just on the merit of their music. Rahat has made it in India now. He’s singing in quite a few films. Even after Charkha releases, he will always be associated to those two songs.

Instep: You agree that venturing in Bollywood is the way to sell in India?
FR: Yes. Now, their business side works. It is definitely steps ahead of us.

Instep: Their record label industry is supposedly miles ahead.
FR: Yea, they are. I have worked with a few of them such, as Sony, HMV, which is Sa Re Ga Ma now, and I have no complaints. To this day, I get royalties off music I did years ago. Musically, India is not ahead of us. Many times, it’s not that our music is bad that it doesn’t make it to Bollywood but…

Instep: It is too good?
FR: Yes! Look at us. Tell me if I’m wrong but Pakistan is a flourishing music market. It is an Islamic country that is just coming out of one Martial Law and perhaps going into another. It’s descending into chaos, and yet, music is doing extremely well here. It just goes to show how musical we are as a nation. We are in denial of our own musical heritage. This is the difference between India and us. We deny our musical heritage.

Instep: You are fan of Junoon, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Doors… How did you end up doing classical music?
FR: Whatever interaction I had with Nusrat Fateh Ali – doing sound for his shows – it was a start. Farid Ayaz introduced me to Ustad Naseeruddin Sami and a variety of classical music. My wife, Nini is a classical music enthusiast. She would listen to Pink Floyd but also to Ravi Shankar. She introduced me to a variety of classical music, instrumentals, sitar and tabla etc. She took me to APMC a couple of years ago and that is how it began. Then my interaction with Shahi – he has been into interesting music that general people aren’t – also was an influence. So that is the music I’m inclined to do. The commercial thing keeps happening on the side but classical music is my main focus.

Instep: When you say commercial work, you mean jingles?
FR: No man. Are you mad! (laughs) No no jingles.

Instep: Where does the finance come from to run this studio then?
FR: Shahi does sessions here. So that type of work keeps on going on here. That work comes my way, especially from Shahi so that this studio keeps running.

Instep: Other than Kaavish’s upcoming album and Charkha, which you co-produced, what projects are you working on?
FR: There is Drums of the Indus. It’s not drums alone. Its various elements taken from all the music that’s played along the Indus. It’s gathering music. Because drums are played were people gather. I’m the producer but various people are playing on it and helping out. Abbas Premjee, Gumby, Shahi Hasan among various others are involved. This album will have vocals as well. Some will be from the classical side and some from the pop/rock industry. There will be some instrumentals but it will be in song format. And not because its requirement but because the idea is to get it across a wide audience which includes the youth, there will be a house-dance version of this album along with the CD. It will take another six months to a year before it releases but a lot of work has been done.Then there is a compilation album with Shahi Hasan. It is being done with a company in America. It will be an archival project that will eventually come out in the market. We’ve been recorded since December with every Ustad from Fateh Ali Khan to Mubarak Ali Khan. It needs to be done because we may not hear many of these classical greats again. A year of research has gone into this project. I went to India and got hundreds of recordings from India. It will be good. I’m research fanatic but on the technical side, he put a lot of effort into this. This project is very important. It was in the ’70s that EMI did a compilation album of this sort. And after that, now it will be done.

Instep: At the APMC you were ticked off by the announcement that no recording of more than 5 minutes was allowed of Shubha Mudgal.
FR: Shubha’s a great artist, I meant no disrespect to her but she was junior compared to the others who performed that night. Un ke rights nahin hain? Shubha Mudgal ko record na karo kyunki woh India sey aayi hai but what about the rest of them?
There can’t be rights on culture. How can you copyrights kalams or raags that have been around for centuries? You can’t.

Instep: You recorded her?
FR: Yes. It’s been sent to APMC.

Instep: Is Shubha Mudgal on it?
FR: Yes, she’s on it whether she likes it or not! If she’s not on it, we’ll put it on the net. (Laughs).