A shot in the arm

One of the best things about maintaining a big tape collection is the thrill of revisiting or rediscovering an album you've neglected for a long time. The other day, I was feeling quite listless having just moved into the new apartment when I suddenly fished out this Best of Junoon compilation out of a pile of tapes in a suitcase waiting to be unpacked. This was probably my first listen in three years (and certainly my first 'serious' listen) of the entire tracklist, and by the end it had sucked all the worthlessness out of my day. The tape seemed to scream and crackle into my eardrums of its own volition, perhaps out of those years of neglect.

As is my regular habit, I spent a couple of minutes glancing at the album cover and ridiculously thin sleeve and my mind immediately flashed back to 2004, when I purchased the tape in a nondescript corner of Brigade Road for 65 bucks. Being an EMI release, this was marketed in India by Virgin Records, a fucked-up company I have a major grudge against. Ever since they took over music licenses from their dependable predecessors HMV and Milestone, they have successfully marginalised listeners of audio cassettes (to the point of flogging tapes to a quick death in the market), by overpricing, compromising on their quality, leaving out lyrics booklets and sleeves, and also by simply refusing to release albums in the format. I've been hard hit ever since. Despite there still being a sizable number of cassette buyers in India (admittedly mostly for Hindi film music), it enraged me that the industry was trying to drive our kind to extinction. Anyway, enough ranting. Back to the album sleeve, lyrics to some songs were considerately included, with their English translations an added bonus. There's only so much Urdu I can fully comprehend.

The cuts on this compilation, in keeping with Junoon's reputation for creating images of beauty and despair with their strife-torn homeland as a backdrop, are sheer diamonds in the rough. Somehow the combination of Urdu verse, Sufi sensibilities, tablas and tastefully injected guitar riffs adds up to a sort of street-level authenticity which Indian counterparts rarely accomplish. 'Garaj Baras', contributed by Ali Azmat to the soundtrack of Pooja Bhatt's Paap, has an a Rolling Stones-like intensity to it. 'Meri Awaz Suno', probably the best known song off Azadi after Sayonee, is the typical cry-for-help that characterises Junoon's more resigned songs, as they lament the situation back home. 'Kyon Pareshan hai tu' is brilliantly resonant. 'Pappu yaar', one of two Punjabi songs on the album, opens up the formula a bit by adding elements of funk.

'Best of' albums are usually far from the finished article. I straightaway wondered about the exclusion of three tracks which would have made the set feel more complete. The Punjabi ode 'Bulleya', which pre-dates Rabbi Shergill, 'Jazba e Junoon', their anthem for the 1996 World Cup (and an abject lesson to Indian songwriters on how to get behind your team), and the Political satire 'Ehtesaab'. The last one was the song that got Junoon banned in Pakistan for the video, and I remember being fascinated upon reading about in 2000, when my rebel phase had well and truly kicked in. While the song is simplistic, the video is pretty clever and biting.

(After looking up the album online, I discovered that the actual compilation, presumably on CD, does have Bulleya and a few more songs on it, seemingly confirming my suspicions about the music industry's blatant attitude towards the cassette. Ah, life's a Virgin. Fuck it.)

Repeated listens bring nostalgia attacks with them. 1998 was the year Sayonee was in heavy rotation on MTV and Channel V, and Junoon were suddenly established as superstars, and the toast of various music award ceremonies. The song itself is a masterpiece, and for me invokes a sort of optimism-pessimism feel (even though the song and the video are both pretty despairing); a feel achieved and bettered only by Sultans of Swing. The influx of Pakistani singers and Sufi rhythms into Bollywood music can be traced back to these foundations in 1998, and while Indian-artists-versus-their-Pakistani-counterparts is the next logical talking point, it'll have to be left for later discussion.

The compilation may not be perfect, but it served its purpose. Which was to cry out to me "If you think this is good, HOW DO YOU THINK THE MAIN ALBUMS SOUND?". I'll definitely get around to acquiring most of Junoon's output. I'm also looking forward to hearing Ali Azmat's solo stuff, and will be glad if someone would be willing to share the same.

Rediff on Bahadur's funeral

Rediff in many ways is a sign of the decade. They started out as an excellent Indian portal, full of high quality writing and a solid webmail service. These days they seem to put out mostly sensationalist tripe, but occasionally there is some good stuff to be read on the site. This article makes a good point.

I didn't know of the Field Marshal's death, or the fact that he had been based in Wellington until I chanced upon the article a couple of days ago. It's nice to learn of the public reaction and I hope the media acted suitably as well. Apart from that, the article says it all and there's not much to add. But a glance at the comments section was quite telling. It features the inevitable crass mudslinging between two camps that seems to characterise any feedback on articles related to politics, cricket, films or the weather. In this case, the bone seems to be between supporters of the Congress and the BJP (read:'secular' and 'communal'), and they use the article to try to highlight the apathy of the opposition while absolving their leaders of any blame. Reading the comments proves to be disappointing not only because the readers appear to ignore the point of the article, but also as it shows the privileged class in poor light. We urbanites (and I use the term in the assumption that all of the estimated 60 million Indian Internet users are English-knowing city dwellers)seem unable to evolve beyond name-calling and a clannish us vs them mentality. But then, as a 52 percent voter turnout in Bangalore showed, we are probably indifferent to the real cause, and more concerned with satisfying our own pet propaganda.

Picture Imperfect

I've made a few seemingly inconsequential vows in my lifetime, with or without reason. Never to own an I-Pod, which still stands. Never to set foot in Bangalore Central, which I broke during my last visit to the city. And never to put up any images on this blog, for what I never knew. The last one is about to be broken, because this comic is right on the button:



I guess this puts my ranting about the insomnia problem in perspective, which is not a bad thing at all.