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Rocking the city
Junoon rocks Karachi with Noori, EP, and Fuzon
On a warm Saturday night deep in the heart of Korangi, away from the hustle and
bustle of city life, four bands descended onto the stage for Jammin Karachi, a
charity concert that was held to benefit an eye hospital. The show brought
together some of the blazing young guns heralding the new age of perestroika
that is reanimating the plastic heart of Pakistani pop, some of whom made covert
references to the conflict in Iraq in between their sets, as well as the old
warhorses responsible for rock music these days. EP, or Entity Paradigm, Noori,
Fuzon and, surprise of surprises, Junoon, played over four hours of rock, pop
and alternative music at the PAF Yatch Club for rabid Karachiites pining for a
change form the dollops of sugary sweet lip-synched torture that is poured on to
them at most concerts.
A capacity crowd soon formed at the venue, as the organizers had managed to grab
hold of not only the hottest names in music today, but the ever elusive Junoon,
who were regrouping for a renewed assault on the local market after all the
nasty rumours of breakups and other intrigues. This was their first live
performance in the city after a gap of several months.
EP, fronted by the charismatic Ahmad Ali Butt of Jutt and Bond fame, who also
happens to be the scion of Zille Huma, opened the proceedings just an hour
behind schedule with their Nu-metal meets Vital Signs mix of distorted riffs and
barked raps. The first thing that hit the listener was the sheer size of the
band. At last head count, there were eight members in the group, give or take a
drummer.
Butt saab was greeted with chants of aloo by feisty concertgoers, but he took
most of it in stride offering choice Punjabi jabs in return. They opened with a
remix of Tu hai kahan, the all-star cola anthem, which was flavoured with a
volley of Butt's Limp Bizkit/Linkin Park inspired raps. Musically, the rhythm
section of the band - the bassist and drummer - were phenomenal, with intricate
patterns and dexterous rolls.
EP's set was heavily interspersed with covers, possibly because of the dearth of
original material in their repertoire. The lead vocalist was weak throughout,
and at times barely audible, and it was Butt's raps and the band's instrumental
dexterity that kept them afloat. Some claimed he had a throat infection of
sorts, and that was why he was not up to par. One certainly hopes so, because it
would be a shame if this was what all their live performances sounded like. Prog-metal
outfit Tool was saluted with Stinkfist, as the singer bravely tried to match the
unmatchable vocal skills of Maynard James Keenan.
EP dedicated Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the name of, to the victims
of the 'recent tension' as a veiled reference to the Neo-imperialist aggression
in Iraq. It was veiled for two reasons, the first, as Butt himself admitted, was
that this was a charity show and the second being that artists and entertainers
in our country are supposed to look pretty and jump up and down to please the
crowd. If they, God forbid, make any provocative socio-political statements,
what would all the nice multinational sponsors think? Everybody loves an
agreeable, clean-cut complacent pop star. The song itself was done well, even
though it is near impossible to cover Tom Morello. The wailing solo was
predictably murdered, but it was a nice try. The band has potential, but they
just need to fine tune their live act, as their set at Jammin Karachi seemed
more like an elaborate Rockfest set.
Noori, the newest blue-eyed boys of Pak pop, received a thunderous reception
from the crowd. Their reputation precedes them, it seems. Having heard them
mostly in low-fi, unplugged mode, it was a delight to hear the band plugged in.
One great thing about the show was that the waiting time between artists was
minimal, as the bands took the stage barely five to ten minutes after the
previous act had closed its set.
Ali Noor and Co. opened with the jangly Tum hans diye, and the crowd erupted
into a sing-along. Though the songs were the same, it was as if they were given
a new lease on life thanks to the ample assistance of amps and distortion
pedals. On Doobara phir say, a spirited full on electric three-chord Punjabi
punk blast of energy, ace drummer Gumby provided the necessary thunder. Alert
jawans of the Pakistan Air Force made sure the crowd enjoyed themselves but
didn't get too wild. You didn't want to mess with these guys.
The ballad Bol was dedicated by Noor to 'all the nice girls' (his core audience
presumably). On Dil ki qasam, Gumby facilitated with a monstrous drum intro that
gave way to the jagged-edged guitar. Though Manwa re was an expected crowd
pleaser, the guitar solo seemed a little lifeless. Some were of the opinion that
the spirited Turkish drum and mellowed out guitar that features on the studio
version of the track just can't be reproduced live by the band. Top marks to
Noori for a solid performance that didn't use the crutch of covers to help them
hobble along, proving that they could swing with the big boys, Ali Noor's
prancing around stage like a hyper schoolboy et all.
Fuzon, the 'next big thing,' took the stage just before the headliners. Along
with the permanent trio were session players Farjad (who incidentally was
Noori's drummer before Gumby took the reins) and Sameer Ahmad, Karavan's bass
whiz. Deewane was their set opener, and Shallum's guitar, one of the principle
attractions of the band's sound, was almost drowned out and barely audible.
Things got in synch with Piyar na raha¸ where the guitarist seemed to come out
of way left field, peppering the tune with oddball special effects, as well as
good keyboard work. The vocals of this band obviously need no kudos, as it goes
without saying. On Sagar, Shallum went nova with a wicked solo, which was
anchored by solid bass work by Sameer. For Akhiyan, the lead singer prompted the
crowd onto their feet, saying he would only perform if they got off their
derrieres. The musty smell of youth - teen spirit as it were - mixed with the
pop rock riffs was a molotov cocktail of energy waiting to explode in a charged
youthquake. Security men were seen calming many excited youths in a
not-so-subtle fashion.
The acts had gotten progressively better; the juvenile yet charged EP paving the
way for the pop-crunch of Noori, who in turn abdicated in favour of the polished
vocals and elastic riffs of Fuzon. But now the moment of truth had arrived. The
band that had started it all way back was due. Expectations were high for Junoon.
The crowd, on their feet, waited with bated breath for their cola-chugging
heroes. Alas, when the band took the stage, all lofty expectations came crashing
down.
Yes, they brought the house down with Mera mahi, but was the crowd getting high
off nostalgia or a scorching performance? Compared to their younger, greener
peers, Junoon sounded awfully flat. Faithful defenders countered that the band
was a little rusty because of their absence from the scene for so long but come
now, they must have been playing live somewhere in their time off. To add to the
fracas, the crowd turned nasty as zealous security men wrestled hyper youths to
the ground as the area in front of the stage had degenerated into a raging
bhangra pit. Ali Azmat wrapped the PAF on its knuckles in a set of sarcastic
jibes aimed at the 'VIP culture.' He had a point, as the entire front row was
cordoned off initially for the men in jackboots and their families. Azmat
rightfully claimed that it was for the people in the back, the real fans, for
whom they were performing.
Salman Ahmad's guitar came out as very muted and a little lacklustre. The only
thing that carried the band through was the rhythm section of Brian O'Connel and
the spot-on drumming of a hired gun - Alan Smith. At the conclusion, Junoon
invited members of Fuzon for a lovey-dovey version of Jazba-i-Junoon, which was
supposed to be some oblique condemnation of war.
Overall, a sensory overload of music that was threatened to be pre-empted by the
iron fist of the authorities, the hooliganism by certain sections of the crowd
and the smell of liquor in the air, Jammin Karachi was in reality a microcosm of
new age anarchy with a kickin' soundtrack in the middle of next to nowhere.
Qasim Abdallah Moini
The Dawn
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