.:[Double Click To][Close]:.
Get paid To Promote 
at any Location





Showing posts with label youth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youth. Show all posts

UthRecords Songs as Pakistani Fast Bowlers




"Where does Pakistan keep finding these amazing fast bowlers from? Probably the same place they find great musicians from"
- Ancient Chinese Proverb

Somewhere beneath the madness of the world cup, one of pakistan's most significant cultural moments was gleefully occurring. I am referring to what is currently the second most important TV show in Pakistan - uth records.

Now i realise that some of you might have missed it (catch all of the first season here) And I also know that many of you are still trying to adjust your mind's bleary eyes from the crushing hangover of the world cup. so, in an extravagant display of my magnanimity and confused mindset, i am going to put indulge in some intellectual crossing of these two perennial nashay - music and cricket.

presenting - UthRecords Songs As Pakistani Fast Bowlers.

(please note that the analogies are for the songs, not the artists. thanks.)

Jumbo Jatt - Jahiliya

In the recent past, Sheikhupura has beget two fast men to make it into the national side. A few years ago, during a vist there, i met three men whose primary pursuits involved getting drunk and betting on cricket. they had been avid followers of the domestic circuit for reasons of both passion and money, and they were extremely confused by something. of the two bowlers i speak of, one had been a waif like no-hope who had nothing special about him. a waste of space, they condemned him. the other, had it all.

and yet, mohammad asif was making mark nicholson cream his pants, while rana naved-ul-hasan was getting the thanks-for-coming notes.

it makes sense. rana's seam when he releases the ball is truer than a biblical prophet. he bowls at real pace, yet his slower deliveries are as deceptive as an akmal brother. he ticks every check box a premier fast bowler needs to. and yet.

something isn't there - the sum is not greater, even lesser than the parts.

that's the feeling i get with this song. i can't quite see what's wrong with it. the lyrics are contemporary, the sound is great, the length is just right, and faraz anwar provides some fascinating virtuousity right at the end. and yet.

perhaps it just sounds too much like a lot of other things.

the vocalist is good, but not distinctive. the guitars are awesome, but in an adequate way, if that makes any sense. perhaps the song suffers from hitting the right areas too much, and not providing a moment that surprises you.

don't get me wrong - its not in any way a bad song. it's rather tasty, but in a aalo-gobi kind of way, where you know its filled your stomach, but you're not going to spend the next day dreaming about  it.

Jahiliya - Rana Naved




Usman Riaz - Hum Tum

If you ever talk to any Pakistani fan about fast bowling, particularly those from the 90s, they'll tell you a legend. a legend of a bowler so fast, he made shoaib look pedestrian. a bowler so demonic that lara himself bowed to his greatness. the bowler in question was mohammad zahid, and we'll forever associate him with the refrain - what if? what if his action hadn't caused his spine to shatter, curtailing his career? what if we had speed guns then to measure him, or what if we hadn't spent all our energies taking care of the other express man of that time - shoaib akhtar? what if?

and "what if" is the question that keeps coming back to you in this song.

let's face it - Usman Riaz is a talent of a phenomenal level. its kind of apt that he is such a fragile looking person, because that's the feeling you get from listening to him - someone so precocious and odiously talented feels too good to be true, you fear that this ugly world will devour him.

and perhaps recognizing that, Gumby and Omran were extremely careful with his song. they got the help of the supremely creative Sir Ahmed, they drafted in one of Pakistani pop's best vocalists. they did everything possible to make this work.

but when you listen to the song, you wonder - what if the vocals didn't come in to drown out the gorgeous guitar and piano solos? what if they had gone with a different feel, which wasn't so eager to be catchy? what if usman had just been left to his own devices? what if the collaborator was someone unassuming and unknown, instead of a colossal ego with a beard?

i honestly wanted to refrain from being bitchy in this review, but ali noor's attitude kinda pissed me off. with the utmost respect, the man deserves his ego. but like those tales of senior cricketers snubbing the youngersters in the team they feared would take their places, ali noor doesn't really go out to embrace the wunderkid, instead admonisihing him that the only way to do the song would be his way.

the silver lining of course is that the show has put usman riaz on the map. we all know him now, and perhaps a lot of us would be hungering for something more sublime from him. perhaps we will be more willing to treat him and accept him for the virtuouso he obviously is, and we will make peace that he won't give us catchy songs. i sure as hell hope so, because i don't want to be asking 'what if' with this guy any longer.

Hum Tum - Mohammad Zahid
Athar Sani - Jaane Kyun

"Sometimes in the heart, yes I do wish that I have the same kind of fans that Afridi and Shoaib have, the same fan following. But even then, I am satisfied with the following I have but I am never satisfied with my performance."

Umar Gul is quite an enigma for a Pakistani fast bowler. he has no airs, no tantrums, no controversies. he's a guy who went from here,

to here,

and he still comes across as the most honest, down to earth, sincere person to ever play for our ever-mercurial, self-destructive, attention-whore of a team.

in fact, in many ways he's like an anonymous fast bowler from another country - a bresnan, or an elworthy or a bichel. men who bowl honestly, who always try hard, who hit the right spots, and who you can always depend on. but what makes gul stand out is the fact that he has those amazing yorkers. you might go for a whole spell and spend half of it without seeing anything approaching brilliance, but when he comes good, he reminds you why exactly he deserves many more accolades than he ever gets. he reminds you why he's no forgotten fast men, but rather a proud addition to pakistan's pantheon of pacers.

this song is exactly like that. when you hear it for the first time, or perhaps when you are in a hurry, it sounds like a great song from an indian movie or pop album (which isn't saying much) yet, if you delve a little deeper, its beauty starts to come through. you realise that athar isn't just a good singer, he's a damn good one. you start hearing those subtle strums on the guitar, you feel the synth slowly enveloping you. you realise that the lyrics aren't as obvious as the chorus might have made you think. and you start realising that this song is something special. it won't get the headlines, and it won't make it into the greatest ever lists. yet it will be more than something dependable, something that would require patience. like gul, this song doesn't contract genital warts or smoke pot to get attention. it remains true to itself, and that's a quality that will endear this song to you quite unlike anything else.

Jaane Kyun - Umar Gul
Natasha Ejaz - The Right Way to Fall

I have to admit, i don't have a good analogy for this one. allow me to explain why. the first reaction i get when i listen to this song is how gorgeously smooth it is. there isn't quite another word that explains it as well - this song is like silk-made sharks in an ocean of cream. although i suppose if i am delving into culinary analogies, i should choose something which also reflects how light this song feels. not in a way that is vaccuous, but rather its lightness comes from a sort of whimsical joy it exhibits.

keeping that in mind, the best bowler-fit would be michael holding. if you haven't seen holding in action, click here and understand why umpires would claim they couldn't hear him approach when he bowled because his action was so rythimical it was virtually silent.

but holding's a jamaican. wasim bhai's action was beautifully efficient, but his action was not really the definig feature about him, so that's another analogy that tanks. the closest one that comes to mind is aqib javed.

aqib was a lot better bowler than history allows us to remember, mainly because he was drowned out by the two Ws. but aqib was also all about grace and guile, his approach was simple and yet it masked a ferocity.

in the same way, this song is deceptively simple because it masks an immediate ferocity of talent beneath. along with usman, natasha ejaz stood out as someone voraciously talented in this show. and its quite amazing that she didn't choose to have all of that in display in one go. instead, we got a song which is understated, yet of the kind which justifies why music players have the Repeat One option.

the real beauty of this song is natasha's voice, but you also have to acknowledge the 'techno-hip-hop' bits the producers provided. they complement the song beautifully, and never overstep the mark. trust me on this, you might not immediately shout and scream about this, but this song is something special.

Right Way to Fall - Aqib Javed




RamLal - Naughty Boy

Its almost too easy to find a Pakistani fast bowler who is analogous with a song called Naughty Boy, but let's not rush ourselves.

The bowler in question needs to be a druggie, a rogue, a subversive fellow who hits it with the ladies but isn't quite sure why. A guy who doesn't obviously come across as a problem, yet he is. more importantly, he needs to be a bowler who appears unassuming, and yet has the ability to make you start jumping with joy. someone who has the skills to seduce you without really looking like it.

step forward, Mohammad Asif.

the defining feature (rather memory) of asif's bowling was how the ball would wobble like a nautch-girl delivering thumkas in an item number. you could never tell from the seam which way an asif delivery would go, but it would perform all sorts of sorcery. in another culture, asif would have been a mcgrath - hugely succesful yet no more than a bland metronome. but because asif was pakistani, his bowling would have the same staid pace, but the wickedness of a saasu maa missing her tajori ki chabiyan.

that's what naughty boy is all about. its not in-your-face-rock. instead it has this jazzy, big band kind of feel, which like asif amongst the speedsters, is wonderfully refreshing. the guitars in this song are also delectable, changing tone and rythm deceptively yet decisevely. and the killer, that asif-esque moment of sublime brilliance, is the trumpet, which suddenly takes this song beyond decades and genres. but perhaps you were too busy laughing/being aghast at the subversive nature of the lyrics. its rare for such an honest and casual approach to 'dating' and 'mazay' being seen in the open in pakistan, but naughty boy does it in a way no one else has managed. Naughty Boy is a song that ambles up to the crease and doesn't exert too much effort, and yet its detached coolness kinda blows you away.

Naughty Boy - Mohammad Asif




Yasir & Jawad - Riedi Gul

My first memory of Mohammad Amir was at the World T20 final. till that moment, i'd known he'd existed because i'd seen him in the previous matches. and i knew that pakpassion had been hyping him up like crazy. but then again, they do that with everyone. i hadn't seen anything extraordinary till then. five deliveries changed my mind forever.

let's get the context in here. this was a world cup final. at fucking lord's, which has more history and tradition than the Jews. and at the crease was the small matter of the man of the tournament, the guy they'd just named a new stroke after. and the bowler was an unknown teenager.

this was a moment so huge physicists had to be called in to measure it.

and what did amir do - he siezed it.

no, he didn't just sieze it, he came up with the most surreal spell of momentum shattering bowling i had ever seen on such a huge stage since those two balls at the MCG. and from that moment, you knew that amir belonged. he was young, and raw, and there was a way to go, but he belonged and what's more, he was a superstar. no question.

i think you get my point here. this song, the moment you hear it, the moment the rubab comes in, the moment the beauty of the vocals hits you, the moment that the meethas of the song, the subtleties giving way to the soaring climax, the whole deal HITS you, you know these guys belong. you know these guys are superstars, not celebrities. its the sort of song, which even when you discount for my fetish for pashto vocals, makes you swell up your chest and feel good about living in a time and place where such beautiful music is made. it makes you feel good about yourself, even when all you've done is listen to it. it's that frickin' good.

now let's just hope that this song never meets anyone named mazhar.

Reidi Gul - Mohammad Amir.



Post-Script: Two shout outs remain here. the first is to zeeshan parwez and the program itself, but i'll save that for another post. the second goes out to Gumby and Omran.

its really difficult to truly see just how amazing these two have been for this show. for starters, they're not two-bit hotel lobby musicians, they're absolutely huge stars in their own right. and yet, not only are their egos safely parked elsewhere, they go out of their way to get the kids to relax, and with each of them, they've been brilliant in getting the best ouf of them. that's no mean feat when you consider the constraints of time and the innate pakistani penchant for marroing.

more importantly, they've led brilliantly with their instincts. other than usman riaz, where perhaps there was some overanalysing to blame, each of the songs have been produced but not overproduced. the collaborations are generally inspired - the biggest hit was the trumpet for Ramlal and the tabla for Athar Sani, but the decision to go rather bare with Reidi Gull was just as impressive. with each song, these guys were genuinely eager to get the best thing out there. and for that, a big sabz salam.

Smokers Cornered

A few days ago i posted a blog on dawn, which was ostensibly aimed at NFP, but not really. it appears that people are having trouble posting their comments on the page. So, feel free to speak your mind here.


Smokers Cornered

nfp.jpg

One of Pakistan's most famous columnists recently wondered aloud on these pages, as he so often does, 'how its no surprise Pakistan's current generation is so"conservative and intransigent."' The former student activist and veteran 'surkha' delved in subversive, philosophical and political contexts, and traced the problem back to his favourite hunting ground - the Islamization policies of General Zia-ul-Haq.





I'm talking, of course, about NFP.

Now, before I begin, I am at pains to stress that I don't wish to ignite a flame war here. I apologise in advance if it feels like I am resorting to petty and personal attacks, because I have no intention of doing so.


Disclaimers done, let's move on to this hit-mongering argument.



NFP, if I am correct, seems to be upset about the political leanings of the most young people of today, or rather their blatant lack of political concern amongst the rest. The current situation strikes a discordant note with his own past, those heady days when young people chose (and choose they did) the Left or the right with great fervor. 


Now it seems, the youth has no interest left in politics.



At the face of it, this claim sounds preposterous. Young Pakistanis of all stripes are obsessed with politics, and the youth with their politics-based blogs, the politics-obsessed tweets and facebook statuses seem to be no different.



But this is confusing the reality. 



If there is any sort of politics being professed by today's youth, it is the politics of individualism.

immediately, this sounds like a dirty word. individualism means selfishness and greed, it means consumerism and strait-jacket capitalism. 

thats all probably true. 


but lets try and understand why this came about.

for starters, our generation grew up during a time of the collapse of collectivism. 

in a strictly political sense, this was a time when both the Left and the Right collapsed upon each other.
ideologues on the left were reduced to hacking each other into factions. witness the fact that the pakistani left split into possibly as many factions as the PML.

but in a social sense, the right was equally undermined.

a lot of this had to do with technology. our generation saw television channels morph from the ubiquitous PTV to a cacophony of hyperbolic hosts, vengeful saas-bahus, and 24/7 hungama.


we saw the esteemed familial tradition of the telephone landline, so often an extension of patriarchal authority, become fractured into individual mobile lines for everyone, including the woebegone "common man."

we saw the already defunct system of household postal services replaced by the ravenous onslaught of the internet with individual mail addresses, and individual profiles and statuses galore.

we saw the VCR give way to the personal computer and youtube. the one dayers give way to t20s. the cassette to mp3. radio pakistan to FM 100.
 

the one common thread to all these changes was that they were all about being catered to our own individual needs. which is why men like zaid hamid and imran khan, so frequently the source of NFP sahab's ire, are so popular amongst people of our generation. 

because unlike ideologues of that past, with their rigorous demands for unflinching devotion (anyone from thatcher to mullah omer, from mao to imran khan the cricket captain) these guys offer their followers choice. the choice to wear jeans and jackets, but still spout anti-western rhetoric. the choice to speak in english and yet denounce the english speaking world. 

and that is also why their popularity can never translate into actual feet on the ground. because when they switch from offering choices to making demands, their very appeal gets eroded. 


witness the damp squib that was mr. hamid's takmeel-e-pakistan rally, or the number of seats won by the PTI. because even while our generation of individuals enjoys echoing the thoughts of these men, they don't allow them to subsume their own individual self. whenever the call goes out to follow an individual, the generation of individuals decides to choose its own path instead.


and its within this individualistic ethos that our generation finds its redemption as well.



it is why while the older generations respond to natural disasters by bringing out the begging bowl and fretting about pakistan's 'image' abroad, our generation focuses on doing what we can on our own, setting up camps and relief teams.


it is why while our elders cry themselves hoarse over whether our president is the dajjal or misunderstood, whether our cricket team cheats because of structural reasons or a few bad apples, our generation finds the roots of both evils within ourselves.


it is why while you criticize us for being politically apathetic, we continue to populate the internet with some of the most incisive political debates in recent pakistani history. 


and it is why, Sir NFP, i take umbrage to your thesis: because it robs us of our context, and reduces it to your own. 

3 Days in Karachi

if there's one thing i truly hate about abbas, it's his bhenchod paan. every time he has it in his mouth, which is all the time, he's constantly letting out these poisonous pichkaars. 


when he does that, it produces this repulsive little sound, like a sharp hiss or a brief puckering sound, which rises during that brief moment when his lips tremble apart slightly, and a sharp sting of spittle pierces through the crevices within his teeth. 


to be sure, if there is one thing i hate about that choot, its his paan.


now, this is no fanciful statement. abbas is a truly despicable human being, so there is a lot to hate about him. 


to begin with, he is ek dam kala bhujjang - black as sin. i mean kala. but i don't mind that. 


his heart is much darker than his complexion. he was the child who would use elfy on the cats and shut their eyes. he was the boy who would slap his sisters for fun. he was the son you kept your valuables hidden from. 


and on top of that, there was his bhenchod bharham. i mean obnoxious level bharhams. constant bataein chodna. constant bravado. he was a spindly little lund, but he talked as if he owned the bhenchod city.


and as he kept talking and slurping his oral cesspool, he kept pissing out those pichkaars. 


II


there are two boys, and they are standing under a tree. there is a thin dark one who keeps pacing and spitting pan, and waving his assault weapon in the air. the more muscular one remains silent most of the time. i cannot be sure if he is saying anything at all, because i'm too far, and the thin one doesn't look like he's stopping.


abid thinks that we should move. i know we can't get a good shot of them from here, but if anyone were to come by that road, we'd have a kutta shot of the whole scene. i tell abid to be patient.


the thin one has not put his gun against the pavement, and is using his free hands to make crude gestures. he accompanies these mathira grabs with thrusting his pelvis. soon, a simple narrative emerges from this dance. 


the thin one seems to be saying that someone with large breasts encourages him to adopt a slow, languid pace during intercourse, so that he concentrates on kneading. but a lover with smaller breasts compels him to pinch and squeeze with wild abandon, a luxury which necessitates that he perform the act with a furious vigour. 


abid tells me he didn't have time to re-charge the spare battery. 

III


Asim thinks he's some bhenchod poet, some udaas aashiq who's going to take this randi world and hide all her oozing warts and fix her up so that he can marry her and take her to his gandoo village.


Saala lund.


he thinks like he's the guy who's on some mission to rid us of our sins, like he is some bhenchod avenger, like he's that gandu baazigar. 


and oh how he loves to give me this chutia smug look. how he loves to takes these deep, meaningful breaths which he uses to cover up the fact that he's got lund to say. and then there's his taliban routine every juma, where he makes this big show of going to offer the only namaaz he does all week. but oh no - somehow that makes him some bhenchod philosopher.


fact is asim is just as much as a gandoo as the rest of us,  but he's decided that he's going to ignore that. he's going to ignore the fact that he's a third class ghunda with mobile snatching as his primary vocation. he's going to ignore the fact that he is just as khwaar as all the rest of the qaum. because he is asim bhenchod ashiq. asim bhenchod hero, asim bhenchod leader.


Saala lund.

IV


The two boys now descend
Into a fight that never ends
Between them.


They speak of women they'll never see
Of how they would seduce them in their sleep
One Day.


One speaks of the goddess Katrina
Another extols the virtues of Kareena
Ad Nauseam.


Screaming, straining, pulsing
Throbbing, lashing, excreting
Screaming, screaming, screaming.

V


EXT. EMPTY ROAD, DAY


          [We track across a wide, empty road in Garden, stopping bang
          in the middle of the road. there is a slight haze, and its
          cloudy and cool. The two boys are on the extreme right of
          the frame, under a tree. we hear them talk, but not
          audibly.]


                                                          CUT TO:
          CLOSE UP of ABBAS:


          [Abbas suddenly whips his head around. We can hear the faint
          sound of a rickshaw in the background.]


                                                          CUT TO:


          CLOSE UP of ASIM:


          [Asim follows suit, and instinctively, grips and squeezes
          the gargantuan gun he holds.]


                                                          CUT TO:


          [We return to the original shot. The boys are now getting
          animated, and we see a rickshaw chugging slowly towards them
          in the vast empty road.]


                              ABBAS:
                    Chal bhenchod! Aaja beta asim teri
                    baari aa gayee hai! Chal gushtee
                    kay shurroo ho ja (lets out a
                    stream of paan spittle)


                              ASIM:
                    Lun Pay aa...


                              ABBAS:
                         (screaming)
                    Kya ho gaya hai lun ke siray? Chala
                    goli madarchod yeh wali Katrina kay
                    liyain! (breaks out into maniacal
                    laughter)


                                                          CUT TO:


          [We now split the screen, with close ups of both boys. We
          see Abbas screaming as a rush of emotions wash across Asim's
          face. The background music, and general sense of chaos
          continues to rise, until...]


                                                          CUT TO:


          [We see Asim face on, screaming loudly. He opens fire, and
          holds the gun with both arms between his legs. We see
          bullets pulsing out of the weapon, with Asim's body
          convulsing with each release of a bullet, each burst of fire
          coalescing as an other-wordly experience on his face. His
          mouth hangs open, his pupils dilated, his entire being
          sublimated into the gun he holds between his legs, the gun
          which continues to spit out bullets...]


                                                          CUT TO:


INT. RICKSHAW, DAY


          [The camera is now within the rickshaw, which is a
          smouldering, burning, bleeding carcass. We see both boys in
          the background, with Abbas gesticulating wildly, while Asim
          stands there, spent, in a daze.]



VI


Holy shit!


I turn to Abid and ask him if he got it, and he has. And although we both know its not going to run on-air, the confirmation has me elated. i was already nursing a semi having witnessed that first hand, but this is too good.


The boys continue to stand there. The psycho who completely ravaged the rickshaw continues to stand still, while the other prances about the rickshaw. I keep wondering whether I should move or go in, but Abid keeps me in check. I want to send a message to the assignments desk, but I have no idea whether to call this one ethnic or not. 


I realise that they might have the same problem too. The rickshaw driver is fair, ruddy type, but his passenger, an old woman, looks much darker. The dark boy continues to run around their smoldering bodies.  


Suddenly, the killer speaks. He seems to have made up his mind and barks instructions to the other. They grab the woman, and carry her corpse to the nearby gully. The fair one then returns alone, and stands by the rickshaw which he now begins to douse in petrol.



VII


More die as violence and arson continue in Karachi


KARACHI (Staff Report): The death toll in the city rose to 85 this morning, as raging gun battles continued through out the city, with the authorities continuing to be missing from the action...


... In Garden, at least two bodies were recovered early on Saturday morning. Aasia Ahmed, a 55 year old local resident, was found dead in an alley near her home, having been shot multiple times in the head and torso. Aasia's son was an activist in the MQM, and police confirmed that her death was a target killing.


Police also recovered the body of Asfandyar Khan, a 42 year old rickshaw driver from the same vicinity. His remains were found within his rickshaw, which had been set on fire. The authorities confirmed that they were treating his death as a target killing, pointing out that several bus drivers and rickshaw drivers had been similarly burnt alive due to their ethnic origins.