I’m
smiling wide. When was the last time I smiled
this way after listening to a Pakistani pop
album? Back in 1991 due to the Vital Signs solidly
melodic chestnut, VS:2. Of course that smile
kept being misplaced and out-weighed by those
frowns of anguish every time that awful Pepsi
jingle kept rolling like a rude mocking clown
at the end of the album. When else? After listening
to Junoon’s Inqulaab (1996). Especially stuff
like “Sain” and “Roh Ki Hay Pyaas.” It’s an
album I keep going back to ever since Junoon
finally caved in to Coke’s carbonated demands
for logo-on-cover, jingle-in-album BS and went
out (my) window! Creative bankruptcy was the
‘natural’ (?) result.
Deewar
is a good case in point.
EP,
Noori, Ahmed Jehanzeb and especially Fuzon have
all impressed me as newcomers; but totally unimpressed
I am though by most other (both new and seasoned)
acts.
Mainly
old warhorses like Hadiqa (these days putting
more effort in her wardrobe, than music); and
of course Junoon; Abrar, Jawad, Shahzad Roy,
et al. Faakhir and Haroon are still too short
for me to take any serious notice (wink, wink).
So
thank god for the earlier mentioned four. They
weren’t smile-wide material, as such, but hey,
there are many moments in their respective debut
albums which should make matter like Junoon
to take their cola and run (and make JJ take
permanent residence around Riwind. In fact,
should drag pop-naatkhuaan and Tapal mujahid,
Najam along as well … that is if he hasn’t already!).
Tsk, tsk…What a waste.
Ah,
but then came the long awaited Mekaal Hassan
debut album. Having met him once back in Lahore
in 1995, he reminded me of a younger version
of Aamir Zaki. The eye for technical details,
“pure music theories”, a soft spot for Pat Mathini’s
neo-jazz phase and an urge to impress the local
classical music ustads by matching their magical
sitar and tabla runs with the guitar and drums.
Well,
eight years later when I finished my first few
runs of the Sampooran CD, I realized his ambitions
hadn’t faltered or changed. In fact they had
grown into something grander and more ambitious.
Something the otherwise brilliant Zaki failed
to do on his own solo effort (1995’s competent
but patchy neo-jazz-meets-FM-pop debut), Signature.
Because Mekaal on Samooran, apart from also
building his compositions on generic neo-jazz
foundations and constructing a mixture of layers
of old-school eastern classical music and traditional
Southern Punjab’s sufi folk mantras, keeps building
in various other styles to keep the music interesting,
dynamic and highly assessable, instead of jarring
the listener with its wily experimental streaks,
or leaving the audience bored with predictable
neo-jazz lounge attacks, something Zaki’s debut
can be accused of.
The
styles and genres Mekaal uses other than the
ones already mentioned are themselves demanding
and require astute musicianship: Such as, ‘70s-style
Progressive-Rock (ala Yes, ELP, and even bits
of King Crimson and Jethro Tull); and the kind
of Progressive-jazz-fusion of Ustad Fathe Ali
Khan and maybe Nusrat Fathe Ali’s early recordings
with Peter Gabriel?
The
opening track “Sajan” works as a trailer for
the grand shape of things to come. Does not
attempt to go beyond the across the board basics
of the album, i.e neo-jazz-fusion (especially
communicated by the usual off-beat snare-dominated
jazz drumming), and that mixture of Eastern
classical dynamics and sufi folk. Nothing stunning,
but works well as a subtle, likable opener.
But
then comes the wizardry “Waris Shah”, also one
of my favorites. And it is on this piece, Mekaal
and his band of seasoned jazz men and classical
artists, liberally weave in elements of virtuoso
‘70s prog-rock, which when played expertly into
the basic neo-jazz-meets-eastern classical equation,
turns “Waris Shah” into one of the most complex
compositions this side of Pakistani (or for
that matter Indian) pop.
The
mood built by “Waris Shah” is sustained successfully
sustained by the melancholic “Raba.” On it the
band plays with the same mixture of basic and
layered styles but slows down the tempo to give
Mekaal his first opportunity to often lead in
prominent guitar parts which in tone and texture
reminds one of Floyd’s Dave Gilmore but more
so, classical Steve Vai. In the end however,
his playing is almost exactly the way a guitar
should sound in and around music such as this.
Next
in line is “Sanwal.” Perhaps the album’s weakest
link which in an attempt to achieve a bit too
much fails to go anywhere. In fact almost half
way through it just falls flat and sounds as
if just going through the motions.
However
the setback is soon taken care of by the epical
“Sampooran” and “Darbari.” The layered formula
being used by the band so far now comes to a
full circle by virtue of these two tracks which
to me sounded like the great Pathanay Khan jamming
with vintage ELP or Yes and the flute players
of those Buddha Bar compilations! The tempo
changes, the dynamic turns, weird and teasing
signature lines , wow. It seems Mekaal had been
making electric notes while witnessing sufi
musicians playing at those wonderful Punjab
folk melas in Lahore?
“Ya
Ali” is Mekaal’s answer to all those so-called
heavy metal pretenders who have yet to realize
(a fact first realized by ‘70s Black Sabbath
and then grunge men like Soundgaden and Alice
In Chains), that heavy rock means slow, crunchy
and bulldozer –like guitar riffs and not exactly
the shallow drop-D pretensions of Linkin Park,
Nickleback and the likes.
This
is not to suggest Mekaal proudly salutes Sabbath’s
heavy-as-hell riff master Tony Iomie, but he
does take the crunchy guitar approach to communicate
the eerie and haunting malang-on-bhang whiplash
of “Ya Ali.” It’s quite an awesome track, mixing
sonic allusions of the dhamaal dance with a
classic slow-mo’ heavy rock charge.
The instrumental “Late Moon” sums up an excellent
debut outing, a track which on the surface may
seem like a throw-away filler but flimsy music
backboned by minimilistic but mighty addictive
quasi-industrial drum beat leaves a hum-able
impression in the mind.
Well
done Mekaal. You have arrived.