"It's taken me six years to finish this album," says Schaz Khan, her voice filled with determination, her words echoing the hard work she's put in.
Jalan – the music video – was released four years ago, directed by Wajahat Rauf, and was the talk of the town. Though it was quickly labelled as controversial, Schaz herself didn't understand the controversy that it stirred. "It was just a video about a woman in a government job who gets pressurised by her male peers and develops a split personality," Schaz recalls. "There was nothing controversial about it and yet people labelled it controversial."
Still, she was undeterred and has since then been hard at work on the album, Jalan. Produced by Emad ur Rahman, the album features a host of other musicians, namely Shallum Xavier, Omar Bilal Akther and Aamir Zaki on the guitars. What was it like for her to work with them? "To me, they're all friends so I never had any boundaries working with any of them, I didn't limit myself in terms of being a musician." In fact, she went on to say, she's learned from working with them as well. "Once you're working with so many talented people, the learning process begins both ways, I've learned from them, and they've also learned from me."
Speaking about the album itself, Schaz reveals that at its core the album is about herself. "Since I've written the tracks myself, I'm a very down to earth person, very common. This album is about loving, enjoying the feeling of being in love and ultimately, about losing the love. It's about all the difference situations of being in love."
The album starts with Mastana. A groovy number with a catchy beat, it starts off slowly but once it peaks up steam, it doesn't stop till the end. It's not fast, but it has its own pace and carries the listener through. The title track Jalan is next and ultimately reminds you of the song, Fever with a hint of Strings thrown in (especially their first album). Though we've heard this before, this is the first time we hear it in the context of this album. It may be old, but surprisingly it fits in well. The serenade of the guitars – especially the solo in towards the end – makes this track a worthy listen.
Teri Ratain is a ballad with a lot of potential, but loses its way somewhere. It definitely could've been a better track at a much lesser length. Hamain kya hogaya is probably the best tracks on the album. Emad and Schaz both complement each other's vocals and carry the song – and the listener – along with poignant vocals and lyrics.
Aye sanam sounds like it's been stretched as it starts off with a slow pace and works its way towards a slightly faster one and ends rather abruptly. A good song which could've been better with pace control. Meray yar is upbeat and catchy, something you don't hear these days and catches the listener off guard as they find themselves tapping their feet along to the beat.
Meray he raho takes the longing and melancholy a bit further as you can literally hear the sadness in Schaz's voice as she sings about losing love. This is the slowest track on the album and its lyrics reflect Schaz's personality the most. It's pretty clear that she's singing from her heart. Jan e jana is a loud desi disco track, which sounds almost obnoxious if compared to the rest of the tracks. It fits nowhere in the album and should've been left off. The album ends with a remixed version of Jalan which compliments the original track.
Jalan by Schaz Khan is an impressive first album. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but it is definitely a worthy listen. An insight in a singer's life, of her hard work put into the album and the things she has gone through. Emad carefully sprinkled his input all over the album, and though it may not have worked on all the tracks, it does create a synergy within the album and gives it Schaz's inner voice.
Showing posts with label pakistani music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pakistani music. Show all posts
17.5.09
A Tale of Two Cities
By Sonya Rehman and Khaver Siddiqi
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. Charles Dickens’ literary masterpiece, ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ begins with these words. Though the novel has a theme of self-sacrifice and resurrection, the starting line of the novel can be applied here in Pakistan, to the two of its largest and most prominent cities; Karachi and Lahore.
Indeed both cities have seen the best of times and the worst of times, as far as the music industry is concerned, but how do these cities relate to one another? How does their music combine and form the modern music scene as we know it?
The music that originates from the Punjab is as intricate as its historic architecture. Lahore, the Garden of the Mughals, has seen a myriad of melodies, genres, and vocals alongside a variety of musical instruments (both new and old) over the past few decades. This has given rise to the city’s diverse sound of music and rapidly evolving culture.
From the earthy qawwals of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, the Punjabi ditties of Abrar-ul-Haq, the pop sensations; Atif Aslam and Ali Zafar, the underground Lahori grunge/rock revolution (of a handful of bands) in the early 90s and to the revolutionaries of yesteryear – Noor Jehan, Farida Khanum, Ustad Amanat Ali Khan and many more. In addition, the dhol maestro, Pappu Saien, and the master of the ek tara, Saien Zahoor (both of whom have shared their glory performing for people at shrines to concerts), to the fresh crop of commercialized Lahori pop acts (of both the past and today), to the jaded, angst-ridden rockers/bands such as Shahzad Hameed, Call, and eP…music from Lahore has been assorted at best.
Infact the Lahori music scene has churned out so many musicians over the years that it would be almost impossible to list each band/musician down. Nonetheless, each has contributed to the country’s music scene on a macro level – making it what it is today; pulsating with promise.
Even though things have been on the downslide – given the worldwide economic recession and the security situation within the country – our local musicians have still managed to stay in the game by taking out albums (some of which are completely self-funded), and playing at concerts and gigs throughout the country.
Therefore, given the innumerable genres, the music from the Punjab cannot really be ‘defined’ as such, rather, just ‘felt’, and taken in. And perhaps this is what sets the city of Lahore’s music apart from Karachi’s music scene. Where Karachi carries its very own, signature sound, melodies from Lahore come wrapped in unrequited love, Sufi-istic devotion, and nostalgia – which oft reminds one of luminous diyas, and fresh jasmine.
On the other hand, Karachi as a city can best be described as a potpourri of people, traditions, lifestyles and history. This stepping stone of Mohammad Bin Qasim, a picturesque city of light and lightlessness, has its own distinct sound which permeates through the air and settles amongst its populace.
Music has been a vital part of this city, whether it is the sound of the drums at Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s Mazar or the tone of socialism in Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s poetry, the music (and its words) very much echo the mood of the city. It is somber and realist, laced with satire and melancholy. Karachi music has no definite history to speak of, such as Lahore has. This is because compared to Lahore; Karachi is a modern city with a modern sound. It is the sound of realism, sometimes the harshness of reality and sometimes an echo of its soul.
The music from the city by the sea is gritty, real and often makes many political statements. ‘Social Circus’ by Ali Azmat is an album that, in recent times, speaks this city’s language. Take this album and drive along the streets of Karachi and you’ll find yourself traveling the city with an accompanying soundtrack. From the raging guitars of the intro track accompanied by the blaring W-11 and all, to the calming rushes of the waves at the coast, this album really does speak the language of this city.
But its not just Azmat’s album that beckons the sights and sounds of Karachi, bands like Strings and Junoon evoke a particular Karachi sound. In terms of heritage, giants like Allan Fakir and Abida Parveen evoke a rich texture unto the language of the entire province. Going further deep into heritage we come to the mazars of Karachi, most particularly the Abdullah Shah Ghazi, the monument that is perhaps the epitome of this land, long before our time and the British Raj. One will often find people from all walks of life loitering about the mazar; some simply paying their respects through prayer whereas others through their stories of song. And it is those stories of song that truly paint an unseen picture of the city by the sea. No matter where you are in the world, if you hear tracks by these artistes or the songs of these faithful, one would be compelled to think of Karachi.
Comparisons between Lahore and Karachi are ultimately inevitable. Though we are one nation and one people, we speak many languages and we have a collective history of many generations. Though the two cities are so vastly different, so vastly apart, they are indeed just branches of the one same tree.
In Pakistan, we have at our disposal, a thoroughly rich and diverse cultural heritage, which has blossomed over the decades, if not centuries. From almost every facet of what ‘art’ encompasses – such as; music, fashion, poetry, architecture and so on.
That being stated, there is a hidden but devastating war taking place. Unlike our neighbors that celebrate, support and cherish their culture, our culture is slowly being eroded by ourselves. Our children are more familiar with Miley Cyrus’ songs and Aamir Khan’s 15 minute memory that they are ambiguous and lost to the rich culture that is their own.
And what is the result of that?
The result is we are now on the brink of losing our identity. Our art and culture must be held on to with an unflinching zeal. It must constantly be nurtured, nourished and cultivated without letting and allowing ‘borrowed culture’ from overseas sully it. For in these trying times, art seems to be our only release, making everything, at the end of the day seem all the more worthwhile.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. Charles Dickens’ literary masterpiece, ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ begins with these words. Though the novel has a theme of self-sacrifice and resurrection, the starting line of the novel can be applied here in Pakistan, to the two of its largest and most prominent cities; Karachi and Lahore.
Indeed both cities have seen the best of times and the worst of times, as far as the music industry is concerned, but how do these cities relate to one another? How does their music combine and form the modern music scene as we know it?
The music that originates from the Punjab is as intricate as its historic architecture. Lahore, the Garden of the Mughals, has seen a myriad of melodies, genres, and vocals alongside a variety of musical instruments (both new and old) over the past few decades. This has given rise to the city’s diverse sound of music and rapidly evolving culture.
From the earthy qawwals of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, the Punjabi ditties of Abrar-ul-Haq, the pop sensations; Atif Aslam and Ali Zafar, the underground Lahori grunge/rock revolution (of a handful of bands) in the early 90s and to the revolutionaries of yesteryear – Noor Jehan, Farida Khanum, Ustad Amanat Ali Khan and many more. In addition, the dhol maestro, Pappu Saien, and the master of the ek tara, Saien Zahoor (both of whom have shared their glory performing for people at shrines to concerts), to the fresh crop of commercialized Lahori pop acts (of both the past and today), to the jaded, angst-ridden rockers/bands such as Shahzad Hameed, Call, and eP…music from Lahore has been assorted at best.
Infact the Lahori music scene has churned out so many musicians over the years that it would be almost impossible to list each band/musician down. Nonetheless, each has contributed to the country’s music scene on a macro level – making it what it is today; pulsating with promise.
Even though things have been on the downslide – given the worldwide economic recession and the security situation within the country – our local musicians have still managed to stay in the game by taking out albums (some of which are completely self-funded), and playing at concerts and gigs throughout the country.
Therefore, given the innumerable genres, the music from the Punjab cannot really be ‘defined’ as such, rather, just ‘felt’, and taken in. And perhaps this is what sets the city of Lahore’s music apart from Karachi’s music scene. Where Karachi carries its very own, signature sound, melodies from Lahore come wrapped in unrequited love, Sufi-istic devotion, and nostalgia – which oft reminds one of luminous diyas, and fresh jasmine.
On the other hand, Karachi as a city can best be described as a potpourri of people, traditions, lifestyles and history. This stepping stone of Mohammad Bin Qasim, a picturesque city of light and lightlessness, has its own distinct sound which permeates through the air and settles amongst its populace.
Music has been a vital part of this city, whether it is the sound of the drums at Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s Mazar or the tone of socialism in Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s poetry, the music (and its words) very much echo the mood of the city. It is somber and realist, laced with satire and melancholy. Karachi music has no definite history to speak of, such as Lahore has. This is because compared to Lahore; Karachi is a modern city with a modern sound. It is the sound of realism, sometimes the harshness of reality and sometimes an echo of its soul.
The music from the city by the sea is gritty, real and often makes many political statements. ‘Social Circus’ by Ali Azmat is an album that, in recent times, speaks this city’s language. Take this album and drive along the streets of Karachi and you’ll find yourself traveling the city with an accompanying soundtrack. From the raging guitars of the intro track accompanied by the blaring W-11 and all, to the calming rushes of the waves at the coast, this album really does speak the language of this city.
But its not just Azmat’s album that beckons the sights and sounds of Karachi, bands like Strings and Junoon evoke a particular Karachi sound. In terms of heritage, giants like Allan Fakir and Abida Parveen evoke a rich texture unto the language of the entire province. Going further deep into heritage we come to the mazars of Karachi, most particularly the Abdullah Shah Ghazi, the monument that is perhaps the epitome of this land, long before our time and the British Raj. One will often find people from all walks of life loitering about the mazar; some simply paying their respects through prayer whereas others through their stories of song. And it is those stories of song that truly paint an unseen picture of the city by the sea. No matter where you are in the world, if you hear tracks by these artistes or the songs of these faithful, one would be compelled to think of Karachi.
Comparisons between Lahore and Karachi are ultimately inevitable. Though we are one nation and one people, we speak many languages and we have a collective history of many generations. Though the two cities are so vastly different, so vastly apart, they are indeed just branches of the one same tree.
In Pakistan, we have at our disposal, a thoroughly rich and diverse cultural heritage, which has blossomed over the decades, if not centuries. From almost every facet of what ‘art’ encompasses – such as; music, fashion, poetry, architecture and so on.
That being stated, there is a hidden but devastating war taking place. Unlike our neighbors that celebrate, support and cherish their culture, our culture is slowly being eroded by ourselves. Our children are more familiar with Miley Cyrus’ songs and Aamir Khan’s 15 minute memory that they are ambiguous and lost to the rich culture that is their own.
And what is the result of that?
The result is we are now on the brink of losing our identity. Our art and culture must be held on to with an unflinching zeal. It must constantly be nurtured, nourished and cultivated without letting and allowing ‘borrowed culture’ from overseas sully it. For in these trying times, art seems to be our only release, making everything, at the end of the day seem all the more worthwhile.
19.4.09
Piracy Ahoy!
It’s the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about, except the few whose toes the mighty animal steps on. And those toes belong to musicians and artists across
Music piracy and copyright infringement is rampant in
In the last 25 years,
The International Federation for Phonographic Industries (IFPI) represents the recording industry worldwide, with a membership comprising some 1400 record companies in 72 countries and affiliated industry associations in 44 countries. IFPI's mission is to promote the value of recorded music, safeguard the rights of record producers and expand the commercial uses of recorded music in all markets where its members operate.
In 2005, the IFPI wrote a letter to the then Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz, in which the organization stated that illegal replication facilities in
Also, thanks to advances in technology, the medium of piracy is also advancing. Where there was one video cassette with one movie, now we have one DVD filled with 10 movies. Where we had audio cassettes with one album of one musical act, we now have a CD filled with the entire collection of the artist in MP3 format.
Piracy is not confined to physical aspects such as CDs or DVDs. Thanks for formats like MP3 and its respective playing devices, people now have the choice of not paying at all for their music by downloading it for free.
With such easy access to music and movies, and nearly free of cost, why would anyone want to pay for it in the first place? There have been efforts in recent times to establish proper channels both in the music and movie industry, but competition against piracy which is free and more easily available has always been a one sided battle.
The solution to piracy will not come from abroad, it will start right here at home. Though our music industry is still in its early stages and record labels are just started to learn the ropes, it will be industry and labels that will bring a fighting chance against piracy.
On the topic of copyright infringement and royalties, things aren’t much different. This nation has produced venerable legends in music, with songs that have shaped eras and touched the hearts of millions. These legends have indeed been overlooked, not just the fact that they haven’t been given the proper credits or copyrights, but because they have literally been overlooked. Instead when their songs “conveniently” become “inspiration” for new hits across the border, their name and hard work fade into the shadows of history.
Artists like Sohail Rana, Nisar Bazmi, or even Alamgir, have been overlooked as mentioned in Lost Icons, Lost Cause (IMAGES on Sunday by S Faruqi), have either left the country altogether or this mortal realm.
In the big picture, we ultimately forget that out of all of the parties involved, all the artists and companies around the world, it is
One of these days, the elephant is probably going to be too big for even the room to handle.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)