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Rethinking Our Ideals: Multiculturalism

November 22, 2011 at 9:10 pm

Originally published in the Daily Princetonian November 22, 2011 as Thoughts from abroad: Rethinking our ideals.

Europe seems confused about multiculturalism. David Cameron and Angela Merkel have both proclaimed in the last 12 months that multiculturalism is dead. This is the same David Cameron that four years ago was celebrating how much immigrants had given the UK. His rationalization now is not that multiculturalism was wrong all along or that a European identity in the 21st century does not include immigrants. In fact, if predictions of population demographics in the coming years are to be trusted Europe needs immigrants now more than ever.

So what is Europe’s argument for letting multiculturalism go? For the most part politicians seem to highlight continued segregation in communities, a lack of cultural integration, tensions between state and nongovernmental community groups — especially Muslim ones. European governments feel they have failed to realize and promote a vision of multiculturalism that is accepted and embraced by all stakeholders.

Point taken. But ground reality suggests the situation might not be as bleak. Ignore for the sake of argument the violent, at times racist, rhetoric that European politicians have employed. In Britain at least that leaves a society with a heavy immigrant population that oft lives in its own areas, keeps its own systems and inhabits little cocoons in larger England. It’s not integrated in the traditional sense, but it’s not hostile in the traditional sense either. You don’t walk into these communities fearing covert political action or underlying violent sentiment. As a South Asian visitor from America studying abroad in England, I feel both immigrants and hosts seem to realize that they are dependent on each other and so both live their lives and do their jobs. You have a pleasant conversation, exchange business, and that’s all.

There are differences in how immigrants and hosts relate to national identity. But it is no longer black and white. Second- and third-generation immigrants are now trying to forge new collective identities for themselves. They see both their own cultural past and Britain’s heritage as things they derive from but don’t belong to. Their identity is fluid and in a process of major reimagination. And the question is: Are they still immigrants? In fact, this question is pertinent to all sorts of individuals who have claim to broadly transnational identities — such as international students, who often integrate into larger societies as part of an academic culture but still aren’t naturalized.

New reports from America have revealed that the NYPD is spying on Muslim students and even on Muslim partners in the community. There is mistrust everywhere, and ethnic and racial profiling is rampant as ever. The new government line for security procedures says that flags are raised not because of ethnicity but because of activity that fits certain patterns. There is little clarification on what that means, but it seems like it could mean this: We don’t target you for a security check because you’re from the Middle East and Muslim; we do it because you take frequent trips to the Middle East and because you have activity with Muslim communities.

That is twisty logic that might work in courtrooms but shouldn’t work in moral debate. For some reason security policies are no longer about protecting fundamental rights — they are targeted solely at combating terrorism. There is a subtle but important difference there. If the moral justification for security policy is to protect human rights — specifically the right to life and protection from external aggression — then racial profiling would be unacceptable, itself being an infringement on equal treatment and non-discrimination policies. But when we make security policy just about anti-terrorism it is easy to fall into the trap of accepting anything that might be politically correct at the time.

Compared to America spying on even its own Muslim citizens, multiculturalism hardly seems as big a problem in Europe. But then I have to stop in my tracks and think of how I answer the question: “How are things in America? Have you ever felt targeted?” I always answer: “Not outside of airports, no.”

That makes me question my viewpoint as a student in both America and Europe. Politicians have made strong statements, governments have taken Islamophobic positions, but I don’t feel targeted in everyday life. I assume that debates about immigrants would be as explosive in regions other than the West if they were important political issues there. I understand that xenophobia is not unique to the West.

But aiding that xenophobia with charged political rhetoric is unique to the West, and it is this that turns xenophobia into racism. It is the difference between an uneasy query into understanding other cultures and specifically targeting them because we are afraid. Somewhere along the line a knee-jerk uneasiness with immigrants has become a more organized, structurally racist viewpoint of national identity.

My question to policymakers is simple: If multiculturalism is dead, what do we replace it with? My claim to a transnational identity is motivated by the feeling that I have learned more and furthered a stronger human understanding by living in different cultures. For me multiculturalism is a romantic idealization of all our principles about human rights and equality coming to fruition. It is not just demographics but something much bigger. I hope others too see reason to protect it.

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Review: Pakistan – Folk and Pop Instrumentals

November 6, 2011 at 8:15 pm

This is a review I wrote over the summer for a blog that still hasn’t materialized. So I thought I’d put it on here before it dies in the depths of my soon to be obsolete file system. I shouldn’t really call it a review as much as my thoughts aloud.

A ghazal-like alaap is interrupted by an excited call of ‘Take over Panthers’, and the rush of a slightly ear-splitting powerful guitar sound very like the 60s rock that the world has heard. The first few seconds of the Pakistan: Folk and Pop Instrumentals (1966-1976) LP are a signal of something challenging, perhaps powerful, perhaps revolutionary, but who knows whether it ever got there. It takes only a few more minutes to realize that the interruption is not meant to be a call to reject the East and embrace the West, but a mere reinterpretation of both. It’s quite shocking how little we know about Pakistani rock from the time, and one wonders if it suffered the consequences of being misinterpreted itself; an energetic call to enjoy ourselves being heard as the revolutionary twangs of violence and immorality.

The album is a compilation put together by Stuart Ellis of Radiodiffusion International, and both his blog posts on the Radiodiffusion website and the album itself reflects his fascination with this genre of South Asian experimentation from the ‘swinging 70s’, a title celebrating Karachi’s avid night life before the Zia regime had its ways. As much as the album is a signal to Pakistan’s famed and fabled ‘other side’, it is also a look into the music that film industries from both Pakistan and India did not care about. The Zia regime’s views and the film industries disinterest seem to have completely removed record of this music from our cultural history. As rock re-emerged post Zia, there is little reference to this material, but what is interesting is how similar trends seem to have popped up again. In many ways then, perhaps little has changed from the time.

Fusion goes back farther than Coke Studio and Junoon, and the message hits home with the Panthers’ electric sitar, that is supported by a pronounced bass in a sound that always gives the feeling that it wants to move forwards, expand. The Mods go beyond instrumentation, recording folk melodies with western instrumentation, not without a twist or two. It is suspected that record labels perhaps only let them use limited recording facilities to record folk tunes, not more experimental stuff. The Blue Birds again extend a playful flirtation with folk melodies, and like most modern Pakistani rock, there’s something very local, very obviously desi about their sound even as they take on a ride with less traditional parts to their music. A slightly more hummable electric guitar takes over as you delve into The Bugs.

Interestingly these are not unfamiliar techniques for fusion. Adding an eastern instrument to a guitar, bass and drum sound or playing an eastern melody on western instruments, both have been rediscovered this decade.

Renowned film composers Sohail Rana and Nisar Bazmi are also featured on the album but in a slightly different persona than expected. Sohail Rana’s sound could be an electric rock anthem from Liverpool but happens to be Lahori, and features some truly psychedelic sitar work. An acoustic guitar finally makes its way through courtesy Nisar Bazmi, and it seems like there’s some Zeb and Haniya in there. Perhaps fitting considering his affiliation with new talent. And then there’s some mad bass again. There’s nothing quite like the way the sitar fits in with everything else here.

It’s funny perhaps that we might look at this music in reverse, trying to find references to modern music in sounds from the 60s and 70s, a handicap arguably the result of our cultural ignorance and hysteria. Our lack of connection to any of this music is a signal of the drain the Zia era seems to have given us, and like the songs on this album, have rendered us voiceless, merely instruments of the many battles we face.

Slightly less depressing however, are the songs by The Aay Jays, The Abstract and The Fore Thoughts, that round off the album. There is the slight familiarity of shaadi or ‘function’ music in all three, perhaps because of the powerful organ sound, which is powerful because of its mere presence and the slight drain it might give your ears. The instruments themselves take you back to the PTV days (where in this case, back is forwards), but the function sound masks a strong groove, played on bass and an ensemble of percussion instruments that vary in most songs. It’s a different sort of mood setting sound, a conversation, a suggestion and a celebration all at once.

Many western reviewers have highlighted the bands’ nightclub audiences, but whether they actually played at raving dance parties or as polite entertainment at tamer diner parties is not completely clear. Perhaps both are true. For now however, their sound is conveniently classified into garage rock, surf rock, fusion rock, or folk rock, whichever you may find easier to push into your listening vocabulary.

Hearing the album is bittersweet, in some ways. There is more to us than we thought, more to us than anyone may still think. Yet our voices remain under threat as they were forty years ago, and like the musical traditions that we rediscovered, we’ve rediscovered other, less pleasant things too. Ellis dug up old records and found the original masters that have been featured on this album. He also tracked many of the musicians down, along with many others that seemed to have never recorded at all. The musicians all relocated to the West, leaving what appears as no trail behind.

But, if things haven’t changed much at all, than we can be happy that things haven’t taken as bad a down turn as we think they might have, and there’s less to worry about. Like always, let the shaadi music ensue.

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Coke Studio’s Possible Timelessness.

November 5, 2011 at 7:20 pm

To Kia Hua played on shuffle on Monday and got me thinking on the levels of interaction in Coke Studio. I thought I’d write a short post before I forget what I was thinking.

The process represented by To Kia Hua epitomizes what makes the Coke Studio discourse compelling and revolutionary.  It’s perhaps best to point out here that this is not my favorite Coke Studio song, not from this season, certainly not from the ones past but the process was illustrative.

Here’s a look at the levels of interpretation in the song:

  • Bilal Khan takes emotional sentiment from college-aged fellows around him and writes a song of lost love and discovering your way. He said once that this was perhaps the one song he wrote about general feelings not necessary those of his own.
  • The original underground aesthetic of the song is presented in a bootleg video of trademark Khan on acoustic guitar. It’s a style to me, made necessary by expensive studio time, lack of studio space, perhaps even lack of electricity to plug an amp (although that’s stretching it I admit)
  • Rohail Hyatt listens to presumably a slightly more semi-professional recording of the song, and his head starts whirring with ideas
  • Khan plays it live for Hyatt, Hyatt brings in Babar Khanna
  • Babar Khanna formulates a dhol groove to accompany the song, this becomes it’s new centre. So the process thus far has changed the focus from Khan’s guitar to Khanna’s percussions, orchestrated by Hyatt.
  • The House Band builds off of Khanna’s dhol groove. The more I listen to it the more I realize what Rohail Hyatt said in an interview. The entire song is based not on a reworking of Khan’s underground recording, but on Khanna’s improvised dhol groove. Sure, Khan’s song remains, but it is Khanna that runs it now.
  • Hyatt then reinterprets the whole process in his own vision, mastering and producing to a final version, emphasizing the dhol groove, creating strong emotional starts and stops. It is the flamingly progressive look to Khan’s original which was deep but stationary.

Of course there’s other stuff going on too. Watching the song with the visuals is so much more powerful than the audio. The amount of people and effort (and money) involved shows. The bridge (arguably the most interesting part of Khan’s compostions) is more prominent.

And the simple fact that Coke Studio itself can be so many different things. It is simultaneously a curated look into Pakistani music, a massive Coca-Cola ad, a Rohail Hyatt thought experiment, and a window to Pakistani music for internationals and estranged locals alike. To many others it’s sheer power stalls the music industry by being the centre of attention and grabbing all the big names, and more importantly telling everyone who the big names are and should be. Many are estranged but I tend to take the Studio’s side, not theirs.

What makes Junoon timeless to me is the discourse that goes on there. The east meets west persona is not a reinterpretation of one musical genre, it is many people’s takes on many ideas put together, and packaged with one strong emotion. Similarly Coke Studio, orchestrated by Hyatt is packed with cycles on decoding everything around us and then putting it back together in a nice package that sells ridiculously well.

Sure it’s somewhat formulaic now. Pick new starts, a couple of old timers, put a few together, add traditional elements to Western Rock, package with high quality video and good sound and that good old disclaimer before you download. Part of the charm of Seasons 1 and 2 is gone because the formula appears to be turning static. I’m sure Hyatt himself would disagree. But some greatness remains.(I wrote this Monday but delayed to put it up because I wanted to put up something on Imran Khan’s rally first, too much emotion there to let go with my random Coke Studio analyses)

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10 years on from 9/11

September 15, 2011 at 4:58 am

Originally published at Next Gen Journal, 12/9/2011.

A break from writing turned rather long, so please excuse the follies in this one. And the few after actually, but you get the idea.

I was out with my grandmother on the streets of Lahore 10 years ago. We walked through the lounge door, and the news was on, the dreadful image that haunts us all today repeating itself behind a numbing barrage of voices and confusion. I sat there writing invitation cards to my 11th birthday, not quite understanding what it meant or what to make of it all.

10 years, and I still don’t. Life has been thrown open by all of this, that awful image defining what we fight for, what we fight against, the battles that our minds stumble through every day, the struggle to find the truth, figure out our identities, understand our beliefs, test our beliefs,  defend our beliefs, then struggle again to figure out what they are.

People often ask me how things are in Pakistan. I’ve live abroad for over two years now, and I still haven’t figured out how to answer that question. On one hand, I’ve lived in Pakistan all my life.   I still live there when I’m not studying or working abroad, and life is good. We go see the new Kung Fu Panda in 3D, and I go visit my old school with nervous high school seniors talking about applying to college in the US. Things are the same. On the other hand, I now prove my identity at a few checkpoints, run through a bunch of body guards with machine guns and then get pat down to do it. And the news is true, factually at least, whatever goes with it is confusing to say the least.

Today, when I’m abroad, I want to not be Pakistani sometimes, just so that I can be who I am without being contained by my nationality, but it’s hard to do. I am very Pakistani. I don’t understand politics.  I’m a geek, and my accent with all its changes is still rather brown. There’s obviously more, but it’s all there. And when I’m abroad I inevitably find myself trying to be a Pakistani ambassador, getting viewpoints across, trying to defend things, accepting the wrongs, standing by the rights. And at home, I’m the American ambassador championing freedom, tolerance and life, but then at a loss at times to defend some foreign policy that scares all of us in Pakistan.

I can’t play blame games, for quite frankly who am I to play the blame game.  I am no policy expert. I like many others am confused about what I want to do, what I believe, who to believe and what I must to do for all of this. All I can tell people is about myself, my life that is Pakistani, now somewhat American and somewhat otherwise. After 9/11, me and my friends are forced to figure out our beliefs, things we perhaps should have done anyway. And while our nature tells us to tread back safely into our cultural and historical set of beliefs when we’re confused, everything around us tells us there’s something wrong.

Slowly some of us make our peace with parts of belief, and begin to stitch it all together. Except now our families are also under threat for wanting to prevent bloodshed, and you’d think wanting to not fight war would help.

Perhaps it does get awkward at times being Muslim on 9/11. Am I expected to be apologetic? It reminds me of the Park 51 scenario. I feel for the families of everyone that lost their lives on 9/11, and for everyone else whose world changed in even the slightest way. I didn’t lose someone close on 9/11 itself, but my world has changed since. I don’t know what to do to try and keep life safe, and I wish I had a remedy, but perhaps everyone is at a loss for one. We have our ways, but the killing continues and at times becoming numb to everything is what results, and one wonders what sort of people that makes us.

10 years on and we’re scared of Friday prayers, we’ve lost loved ones, we’ve lost our integrity and our dignity. And my American self wants to be more American, so I can help, and I wish there was more we could do to ease the pain. May all those we lost rest in peace, and may we all feel the hope for a more peaceful future.

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War Minus The Shooting.

March 29, 2011 at 10:10 am

Published in the Daily Princetonian, 29 March 2011.

By the time you read this, there will be about 20 hours before the start of what is arguably the most explosive cricket game in years.

Pakistan and India face off at Mohali, India in the semifinal of the Cricket World Cup, the third largest sporting event in the world behind the FIFA World Cup and the Olympics. Any World Cup semifinal is historic, and any India-Pakistan game is brimming with emotion and spirit, but this particular combination is something else.

Pakistan has reached the knockout stage of the World Cup for the first time in 12 years after a heartbreaking loss to Australia in the 1999 final. The country has not played a home cricket game for two years, after gunmen attacked the visiting Sri Lankan cricket team. Pakistan was then stripped of rights to host the World Cup this spring, along with India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh. Being hit by a betting scandal last summer also damaged the team, and it was said that Pakistan went into the tournament as a non-contender for the first time in decades. But after all the drama, the team has held its own against cricketing giants, ending Australia’s 12-year unbeaten streak in World Cup matches that began in 1999 and then marching into the semifinals.

In Pakistan, what was a tentative hopefulness before the World Cup has changed back into the fervor of old. Thousands are on the streets; cricket fever is back. Win or lose, for once, the polarization typical of Pakistani society has given way to just plain craziness over a cricket game, and it’s amazing.

India is no different. Unlike Pakistan, however, the Indian team went into the tournament as favorites, faltered a bit, and then found its footing again. Recently buoyed by handing the final knockout to the mighty Australians, the Indians have burst the World Cup wide open once again.

Remixed anthems, posters and calls for prayer have all made their way over the Internet, and for once I feel less bubbled at Princeton. It’s hard to keep this energy out of your feed if you know anyone from South Asia.

Hotels within 25 kilometers of the venue in Mohali are full, there is no more space in the airport for private planes, ad rates are at an all time high and an Indian parrot that predicted a Pakistani win has been killed. For humans, though, cricket can have an unusually reconciliatory power. On more than one occasion, traveling across the border to watch cricket games has sparked great inroads into citizen diplomacy between the two countries. And even within these countries, cast, creed, religion — all are forgotten for a game.

I find it very difficult to explain cricket to my friends here. “It’s not really a sport, it’s just a bunch of people standing around in the sun, talking politics, mostly.” The tea breaks help, too. But come Wednesday morning at 5 a.m., viewing parties shall commence in many places all over campus. There will be swearing, there will be screaming and there might be the odd fistfight. We’re already wondering how to minimize tensions between the Indians and Pakistanis on campus. Judging by the Facebook banter, things might get tense. If any of us wake you up, our apologies in advance, but we have little control over our emotions in this terribly volatile situation. And in our defense, we’re not alone: We’re a small subset of about a billion and a half people who are also going crazy.

An effort was made to formally bring this fervor to campus in the form of Princeton Club Cricket. I’ve been an officer for the club since it was reintroduced, and we’ve slowly gathered a following that often joins us on the Dillon Gymnasium floor at 11 p.m. for two hours of cricket. As the winter ends, the challenge of finding a field is renewed, and hopefully we can get practice up and running as soon as possible.

Cricket has in fact been a part of Princeton’s heritage. The first collegiate football game between Harvard and Princeton was played on a cricket field in Hoboken, N.J., as my friend and I found out while aimlessly staring at the pictures in the Whitman Common Room in an attempt to avoid writing code. I hope that one day Princeton will resume playing cricket on cricket fields.

For many of us in Princeton Club Cricket, our membership is partly about the sport (if we agree to call it that), and partly about reliving the childhood memories associated with a sense of national pride. In many ways, South Asian cricket is our little rebellion against the world, a show of strength and an exhibition of technical prowess that can match that of anyone else in the world.

Here’s to some more interest in this historic sport, a peaceful Wednesday morning and a win for Pakistan. (May I also point out that tensions have already escalated, as this piece made its way through an Indian executive editor for opinion).

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A New Generation of Rock.

March 18, 2011 at 2:33 pm

Article originally published on Koolmuzone on March 18, 2011.

The rise of Bilal Khan, the Aunty Disco Project & Uth records has signaled the coming of a new generation of rock music from Pakistan’s renewed underground scene. After the rise of Noori and eP, along with Indus Music, the VJ generation and a post Junoon revelation, it seems that generation of rockers will take a new place in Pakistan’s rock industry.

The energetic rock anthems have since become somewhat hollow, and as Pakistan’s politics and society have hit new rock bottoms, rock has had to find new issues, new emotions to deal with. It seems the big guns have had to deal with social issues, and bringing audiences back together. Strings, Atif, Ali Zafar and then Noori to some degree have tried to mature their pop acts into deeper, more relevant offerings.

Some may say however, that this generation did not live up to its promise. Despite the phenonmenal rise of 2003′s musicians, many have released only a handful of songs, let alone albums. Atif has been an exception, and his work with Bollywood’s music directors has probably helped there. But many other musicians have released only two albums and some singles over this last decade.

Despite some disappointments however, we have found some heroes that will guide a new generation of musicians. Uth Records’ Gumby and Omran Shafique have taken the mantle as producers, their work with Coke Studio has been the subject of much praise anyway. And besides their individual acts, they continue to play for other musicians as well, and their work continues to reach us in many ways. Similarly Salman Ahmed, Rohail Hyatt and Shazi Hasan from the Vital Signs and Junoon era continue to experiment and find new identity.

After the boom in 2003, and Pepsi’s Battle of the Bands, some thought Lahore’s underground scene was dead. They moaned the loss of the connections bands had to make with fans, and rued the flooding of bad songs with expensive videos on television.

A new generation of underground rock has given us hope however. Just as we see ADP lead the charge of Karachi’s rock, Bilal Khan rejuvenates Lahore’s scene and other acts pop up all over. Thankfully underground rock from outside Lahore and Karachi has hit the mainstream. Islamabad’s Bumbu Sauce, Peshawar’s Yasir & Jawad, Jamshoro’s Sketches and more.

And this new rise can teach new rockers many things.

First, good production values are important. Many a listener may not be able to pinpoint what exact differences exist between a well produced song and a cheap one, but many will often define it as ‘better quality’. It seems audiences only pay attention to songs that bands feel is worth investing in as well. Take ADP for example. Despite a healthy following of a talented live set available online, it was only after a mainstream release of ‘better quality’ sounding singles that they hit mainstream. But as they have also taught, money is not all you need. As OBA’s blog posts recount, they don’t spend money on expensive studios, but continue to perfect the recording themselves. They don’t make huge budget videos, and have acknowledged the lackluster jobs TV channels are doing.

Similar appreciation for produciton values can also be seen through Coke Studio, Uth Records, and even the initial rise of Noori and eP, who were produced by acclaimed producers such as Mekaal Hasan. Similarly Junoon used Salman Ahmad’s roots in New York to use the facilities in America, Ali Zafar used studios in India and even London, and Bumbu Sauce too recorded in Quebec.

Second, it is important for bands to create a connection with audiences. An expensive video will only last so long. It is important for bands to hit common ground with everybody else. And ADP’s strong live performances are as important to me as their blog posts, which connect us with the band. OBA recounts how he wanted to be part of a Zeppelin like mysterious band, but perhaps the fact that he’s not is what makes the band so appealing.

Similarly Bilal Khan’s immediate interaction with fans tells a similar story, not unlike Yasir & Jawad (feat. Wali)’s cult following.

And as the Sketches have shown, there is more to our heritage than Junoon found. We loved Junoon for finding something unique about ourselves, but it is tiring to hear the same things again. The Sketches have dug deeper, into their own influences and into our heritage, and found the work of Allan Faqir again. Even the Sufi image is maturing, and this is all good news.

One hopes that many of these part time musicians get through their struggles with TV channels, record labels and security issues to actually make some money and get some appreciation for their work. Hopefully they won’t go unnoticed like Pakistani rock from the 70s.

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Starbucks and Foreign Policy.

March 17, 2011 at 3:53 pm

Published in the Daily Princetonian’s Opinion Section Friday March 11, 2011.

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The protests in the Middle East and the United States government’s tentative initial response to them have allowed critics once again to criticize America’s contradictory policies.
To many, America’s support of dictators in the Middle East is evidence of the United States’ self-preserving policy of making inroads into global politics completely on the grounds of what is good for itself. Of course, the legitimate counterargument is that nearly every country in the world is probably acting this way and probably ought to be. Who is even directly responsible for the dictators’ power is a question unto itself.

While this criticism of a self-preserving government might be valid, it tends to not hold ground on its own. But an additional premise solidifies the argument— that is, many find America’s dual role as a self-preserving country and the self-proclaimed global police contradictory. Critics find efforts to spread democracy inconsistent with a long support of dictators that benefit America politically and economically.

There is a somewhat baseless anti-American sentiment in the Muslim world — hence the old idea that all things American have an immoral aspect. But as many immigrants return from an America that attracted them with its educational and economic institutions, there is hope that such baseless disapproval will be ameliorated, making critiques of American policy more objective, accepting and sound in their approach compared to previous outright rejection.

And there is already some criticism of America that is sound. Because of this criticism, it is in the interest of both Americans and critics of America to distinguish between sound and baseless criticism, while many international students such as myself go back to their home countries with visions of America that are less than optimistic. To many critics, and to many of us, America is still the superpower (with conflicting interests) that should not be meddling with others’ affairs.

Simultaneously however, these individuals who have spent time in America happily take on American cultural tradition, follow the Oscars and “How I Met Your Mother” and may even make English music with American accents. They hang around in jeans, take their morning coffee and work with American software, often selling to American markets or even working for American firms from abroad. Isn’t that contradictory?

To most of the press in the United States, it seems to be so. A few months ago, The New York Times highlighted the irony of a Pakistani alternative rock song that criticized American policy that did so with an American accent. But the U.S. press is unfortunately looking over the fact that, just as large diasporas from the Middle East or South Asia bring their culture with them as they immigrate to America, similar diasporas are now taking American culture with them back to their home countries. And American culture continues to makes headway with a culture industry that is popular everywhere.

Slowly but surely, people from all over the world, including those from the Middle East and South Asia, are taking American culture and assimilating it into their own. This process has become ridiculously easier with the advent of first the Internet, then “Web 2.0” and now even smartphones, allowing the global world to connect whenever, wherever.

As American culture spreads, we realize that the discourse of cultures is becoming something that can travel. Culture is no longer locked to a certain geographical area and neither is national identity nor political allegiance. The number of Pakistani bloggers and Twitter users that critique both U.S. and Pakistani policy on the War on Terror from inside America is slowly rising. Needless to say, they will do this with acquired American accents, wearing jeans, sipping some Starbucks coffee as they type on their MacBooks. This example illustrates that new technology and an increasing rate of immigration are bringing global populations closer together than ever; the technology has more far-reaching effects than international students’ being able to call their parents for free any time they want.

America’s role as a self-interested actor, then, thanks to technology, is more easily critiqued than ever before. And as an increased worldwide adoption of American culture shows, there is little inherent issue with the American image that remains outside of policy. Fortunately, now is the best time ever for both America and the international students who forge a bridge between the United States and their home counties to take advantage of this cultural mixing to educate foreign policy.

Here’s to the hope that we can quit playing games and that a global political police should now consist of individuals from all over the world who can collectively act in self-interest, as we realize that both our cultures, as well as our political actions, are now global commodities.

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Junoon Manifests in ADP.

February 9, 2011 at 12:12 am

Raat Jaagi (Live at Get Your Aunty On!) by auntydiscoproject

Every time I hear Raat Jaagi it makes me think of how influential Junoon really was.

Disclaimer: All the conclusions of this post may be completely coincidental, or totally untrue. But we’ll give it a shot.

The main riff is really reminiscent of many non-Sufi Junoon songs which employed similar riffs such as Khooey Aankhein and Heeray. Ali Alam’s (I think that’s him singing there) vocals have this great quality of being upbeat all the time, and yet being able to extract various emotions without changing tone drastically. From the upbeat, comforting, happy vibes of Ham Naa Rahay, he switches to a sort of unsettling, teasing broken vocal here. Ali Alam is no Ali Azmat, but I think both the band and the fans have taken to the energy in the music, evidenced by this life performance, and go with the flow. And rather uncannily, Ali Azmat too has the skill to evoke raw, unsettling emotion.

But if you’re still looking for more Junoon references, the song even quotes “ye waade jhoote, ye kasmein jhooti hain“, from Khooey Aankhein.

I often feel that Junoon has been the most defining of bands for post 2000 acts. The Vital Signs and Nazia Hasan were of course present, but no one has managed to mimic the Signs’ Floydian sound or Nazia Hasan’s true funky pop vibe. Unfortunately commercial music has shifted from pop that pushed boundaries to cheap rock that is often meaningless, loud, noisy and quite frankly an insult to audiences’ intelligence. Interestingly, the only band which openly cites The Signs and Nazia Hasan as important influences has gone on to define a completely unique sound itself, which has also remained largely unimitated. The Strings sound that’s composed of broken guitar riffs, unusual rhythms generated from vocal harmonies, guitars or eastern percussion that take center stage ahead of the drums, with keyboards often accentuating the melody along with melodious guitar solos and a huge vocal range. Perhaps that is hard to imitate.

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A Powerful Entrance – Bumbu Sauce.

February 8, 2011 at 10:47 pm

Recently wrote a piece for Koolmuzone, on upcoming act Bumbu Sauce. Originally published online (original => here) January 8, 2011.

Today’s big acts have got their music out in the early 2000s in various ways, many made it big through Pepsi’s Battle of the Bands, and others rode the P2P sharing wave to become common names. However, the TV explosion and the presence of many average acts over airwaves and the internet often makes it difficult for quality acts to shine through the crowd. Recent exceptions have been the Cheapmunks, with their unique brand of East meets West music, and from the comedy world, Naked Tyrant Productions, whose unabashed take on Lahori life has taken the internet by storm.

Rock musicians have a harder job though, one might argue. As musicians and bands develop, they of course begin to create fan followings that will track releases and concerts, but it is breaking through an existent crowd of old timers, emerging rockers and new acts that makes it incredibly hard to try and reach audiences to begin with.

This has put Bumbu Sauce‘s entry into a class of its own really, and the release of their EP, Bistee Proof, has been quite the rage. Both the music and the way it has been released has been smart, very smart.

Jiggernaut
(Watch => here)

The Sauce’s first single didn’t make a lot waves in the local scene, but the American accent and mentions of the Taliban got the New York Times’ Lede Blog listening. The song was also featured in a Declan Walsh article in the Guardian. Alternatively referred to as ‘The Taliban Song’, Jiggernaut shows the first signs of the band’s signature wordplay. Of course the NYT pick up also lent them the opportunity to resurface as the band ‘as featured in the New York Times’. That was going to get people’s attention, smartly done sirs.

Mojambo
(Watch => here)

Mojambo is really what defines the band for me. It’s collection of seemingly random urban phrases got me smiling straight away, and many that have heard the song have thought this way too. Make no mistake though, this is not meant for easy listening, per se. The song structure is simple, but it is really Mr Mojambo himself, that makes this song great. As the band said in a radio appearance, Mojambo is all of us. That’s perhaps as good as answer as we’re going to get so might as well leave it at that.

The lyrics make this a great potential viral video, and the tight Twitter community has embraced Mojambo’s ‘Punkjabi’ aesthetic as the band puts it.

Bunnayn(za)
(Watch => here)

Are they a one hit wonder? Question had to pop up some time. What a time then for the band to release an adaptation of a poem by Anwar Masood. Adapting old urdu and Punjabi poetry has been a good way for Sufi rockers to gain some recognition if done well, an art mastered by Junoon and followed by many that they inspired. But this is perhaps one of the first times that a Punk band has adapted old poetry. They of course add their own twist with the Bunnayn(za) chorus (if I can call it a chorus). And that bass line, will that get on your head.

My Punjabi Love (For You)

The fourth and last track of the EP is an interesting hummable song, perhaps the easiest to listen to of the lot for those that prefer softer rock, but it only begins to make sense in terms of the band’s aesthetic once you hear the rest of the album out. The catchy riff gets you going, but had it been the first release, it just wouldn’t have helped create the image the band seems to want to have. The video isn’t out yet, but it should make its way to some playlists on its own time.

The Wrap Up

The band has used the EP concept well. 2010 was the first year that band’s chose to release not singles but collections of songs, and many found it better to do so as an EP rather than a full album, which makes sense. Many new acts have put up their music on Soundcloud, and with the resentment surrounding Music channels on TV, bands may choose to leave videos till later.

Bumbu Sauce to classify themselves as Punk rock, and while many might consider them not really punk rockers per se, perhaps there’s little need to argue. Their DIY approach and intelligent marketing plan have already got them going. Small concerts are already underway in Lahore and Islamabad and one hopes they have some new music out soon. If they’re interested they could possible be great in an advertising agency, but I hope they choose to stick with guitars over billboards.

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Tony Blair, Imran Khan, Sunglasses & That Guitar Sound.

December 24, 2010 at 6:56 am

If the myth is true (or it may just be me imagining things, very likely), and Jinnah did want to make Pakistan a new Britain, he might not be too happy with the way things were going. I don’t think he was expecting people to draw parallels between Britpop and the local Bandbaja, but I guess it’s a start.

Pakistani musicians, along with the rest of the country, have been through multiple identity crises. The press, quick to give them labels, often as either ‘patriotic’ or even just ‘burgers’, is quick to have them typecast and ready for some short shelf life. Unless of course you’re labeled a ‘big gun’, beyond which you are likely to stay afloat with a concert here or there and an album reflecting (or reposing) old glory. With the entrance of Bollywood as a possible market, the old question of keeping the music ‘Pakistani’ is forefront again. Perhaps it was more intellectual a query a few years ago, and for the most part people might no longer even care. Unless of course they’re doling out praise for the very Pakistani Coke Studio.

The 90s had seen a similar chain of thought in Britain, where musicians formed the short lived but exciting Britpop movement as a response to America’s newly popular grunge craze. As British identity muddled itself in the larger pop culture scene of popular English music, many 90s bands tried to hold on to their British heritage, writing lyrics about British life, connecting with the golden age of late 60s British rock and even trying to let go of that American accent.

Britpop at its peak formed an important part of the ‘Cool Britannia’ movement, joining hands with the Tony Blair and his ‘New Labour’ package. While the quick end of the Britpop craze was to coincide with the death of Princess Diana, what was interesting was the Britpop’s rallying behind the new Britain of Tony Blair as they chose to preserve past glory. Perhaps even more interesting was Tony Blair’s embracing of the Britpop culture. Finally a PM who was a guitarist.

Britpop gave us Wonderwall & Parklife, but the music also addressed deeper concerns such as class differences & perception issues, as presented in Pulp’s Common People.

At around the same time, the Vital Signs were popularizing Pink Floydian soft rock on a wave of democratic euphoria with the arrival of Benazir Bhutto. They were only to be upstaged by Junoon, whose claim to fame was being banned by the governments of Benazir Bhutto & Nawaz Sharif, first after the release of Ehtesaab, an open call for political accountability, and later after their campaigns in India and Pakistan against nuclear weapons. Junoon, or more specifically Salman Ahmed, chose to rally behind cricket-hero turned champion-social-worker turned not-so-successful politician Imran Khan.

The Musharraf coup meant good news for the media, and the 2002 elections brought in a new era for private TV. Musharraf’s enlightened moderation was never really a popular phrase, for Musharraf was after all, a dictator, but for the industry, the vibe seemed to make sense. Music channels came with the TV revolution, especially after former Vital Signs member Rohail Hyatt’s Battle of the Bands sponsored by Pepsi also became popular. Some say the Battle of the Bands killed the underground scene with its lip synching gimmickery, but it also gave the world Entity Paradigm (eP), who would go on to release perhaps the best rock concept album produced in the country. A number of other acts emerged: Noori gained hype over the internet, Jal (with former lineup that included Atif Aslam) rode off the success of Aadat and popularized themselves by showing up to open at every concert, and Strings established their place with their strong comeback hit, Duur.

This post Junoon wave didn’t really have a political icon they could tag behind, for the only person in some sort of control was a military dictator, and for all the success that he had early in his tenure, he was to remain a military dictator. Instead they chose to push forward a feel-good, we-believe-in-ourselves spirit. This was spearheaded by Noori and eP. eP managed to do this despite the dark undertones of their music, which was a direction Noori too would take with their second album, but the rock anthems of Noori’s first album and eP’s burst onto the Battle of the Bands would become the soundtracks for a generation of self starters, especially for a new underground wave of musicians.

Come the late 2000s, and the progress of the industry had stagnated. Critics began to label the post Junoon wave as ‘bubble-gum rock’, and the happy spirit was old. Imran Khan’s failure continued and he was soon to boycott the elections that everybody agreed to boycott, and then didn’t, leaving him the lone ranger if you may in what he would portray as a joke for a democracy. With Musharraf’s craziness and the return of feudal politicians to parliament, the music crowd finally lost its connection, minor though it was, with the ruling force. Out goes the we-shall-be-great vibe, and in comes the we-should-do-something vibe, which by 2010 is to be replaced by the we-must-do-something-because-things-are-bad vibe. By now big guns Strings and Atif Aslam team up to sing Ab Khud Kuch Karna Parey Ga.

It was natural for one end of the spectrum to go into an almost apologetic recovery mode, and Pakistani musicians look to salvage the Pakistani identity, presenting the other side of Pakistan. The western media continues to portray this as a fighting cause in ‘the heart of the Taliban’ as they put it, evoking some proud emotion and some snide commentary about western ignorance from Pakistani commentators.

There’s then the other end of the spectrum, which takes on a strikingly Britpop like aesthetic. A dense guitar sound dominates the music, there’s some humour involved, especially in the image extraneous of the music, and talk about social issues is prominent, but not in your face. An array of pop icons and some emerging rock stars have embraced a cool vibe that doesn’t need to be making a political statement. This stemming from the fact that there really isn’t a political statement they can make. Instead they choose to embrace social initiatives, working with NGOs or even corporate sponsors that are willing to embrace some social responsibility.

Most of all however, is a genuine spirit that’s willing to have some fun because things are so screwed anyway. It is at this point that the comedy that comes from observing Pakistani politics and general failures migrates from outside satirical news shows and into the music and film world.

Some of this new wave retains some involvement with the growing fashion scene, which continues to remain at a complete disconnect with most of Pakistan. Shehzad Roy and Hadiqa Kiyani walk the ramp every now and then, and Strings will be the eternal good guys, strengthening relationships by performing on runways. But even for the not so suave guys, they maintain a similar cool controlled aesthetic, that tries to create a connection with past Pakistani music, most obviously inspired by Junoon but even with the Signs, and more recent acts like eP, Noori & Strings. While Shehzad Roy would achieve mainstream success with Laga Reh, a satirical and light hearted look at the problems of modern Pakistan, they Aunty Disco Project, or ADP is beginning to make a reputation out of their spunky live performances. After releasing an independent live album they’re in the studio now working on their first commercial release, building on a repertoire of impressive rock songs about power (Sultanat), love (many including Raat Jaagi) and friendship (Hum Naa Rahay). This is aside from a list of strong covers of western and Pakistani greats.

(Video promo & the entire song, Hum Na Rahay below:)

(Update 9:53 AM Pakistan Time: turns out the video for Hum Naa Rahay was just released last night. Embedded below:)

Britpop’s abrupt end brought Britain’s audience to the ‘default setting’ of any music scene as it’s said, pop music. Robbie Williams would take the mantle left open by Blur & Oasis, among others, and an era to talk about British problems in British ways was over.

Pakistan’s Britpop parallel is alive and well at this moment, and is being supported with similar humor from other social wellness initiatives such as Uth Oye. The music continues to talk about very Pakistani issues, at least if not in the lyrics then in radio and newspaper interviews. The TV channels that helped spark the post Junoon explosion are now at loggerheads with the musicians, this post by Omar Bilal Akhtar from ADP possibly reflecting general sentiment against a near shameless television generation.

The music maintains a western rock feel, but with the wide acceptance of Coke Studio 2, and the stage created by Junoon, a fusion with eastern elements is always welcome and often done well. The market continues to struggle to find a way to package and sell eastern classical music, but for now fusion is the preferred form. But what is the Pakistani way to tell these stories? That’s the question that continues to shape Pakistani music. The lack of a definitive answer is perhaps what makes the new music scene so great. Rohail Hyatt’s mastermind at Coke Studio continues to produce a steady stream of brilliantly recorded music, a new underground scene is emerging with success spearheaded by Aunty Disco Project and Strings leads the way in maintaining a favorable outlook no matter what they do.

Salman Ahmed of Junoon is alienated from the local media; his criticism of former bandmates and his current residence in the US has not gone down well. Meanwhile a new bunch of rockers is trying to master balancing an international outlook with a local one.

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