Aap jaisa koi .
Mo
excerpt Chandan Mitra dailypioneer.com
But the manner in which we shrugged off 36-year-old Nazia's sad demise
was even more puzzling. No, I don't intend to pen an obituary here for
the second week in succession. But it might not be out of place to
reflect upon the revolutionary changes heralded into the world of
popular music with Nazia's arrival on the scene.
It was a scorching Sunday afternoon in May 1980 when I first heard the
strains of aap jaisa koyi meri zindagi mein aaye to baat ban jaye.
Television was virtually non-existent then and radio was the principal
means of home entertainment, the now-ubiquitous two-in-one having
barely made its appearance. Forthcoming films were promoted through
sponsored programmes on Vividh Bharati and I was listening to the
promo of Qurbani when this unusually peppy, foot-tapping number wafted
through my barsati at Tagore Park. I told a few friends who were over
for lunch that day, this number would be a superhit. One of them
responded in the negative, saying the voice was too immature and the
beat too western to appeal to the tastes of Hindi music lovers.
We did not know anything about the singer for weeks thereafter, till
the song started to feature on listeners' request programmes. Within a
month of being released, Qurbani's music busted the charts, propelled
by aap jaisa. Film magazines splashed the background: Music director
Kalyanji-Anandji's long-haired, drummer brother Biddu had heard Nazia
croon at a London pub and promptly signed her for a number to be
composed by him. Feroze Khan, Qurbani's producer-director-hero, was
also in London then and, equally impressed with the teenager's
crooning ability, instantly wanted her to sing for his film. Biddu
composed a fast-paced number and using the latest four-track
technology, recorded it at a state-of-the-art London recording studio.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Just two years later, riding on the high, Nazia and her brother Zoheb
cut their own album Disco Deewane. That gave us the first real disco
music in Hindi. Almost each song in the collection was a hit. Disco
music had arrived. Hindi music lovers had been irretrievably hooked to
western dance. The other day, I heard a remix album featuring Boom
Boom from the brother-sister pair's failed foray into films, Star. The
movie, sort of autobiographical, didn't fire the audience's
imagination but the music was as grabbing as their past efforts.
Slowly, but irreversibly, rhythm had begun to upstage tune in Hindi
film compositions. A bit of an irony that it began under the baton of
Kalyanji-Anandji whose repertoire consisted largely of soulful Mukesh
and Lata numbers, their classic being Saraswatichandra.
With the success of Qurbani and then a non-film album, disco music got
firmly implanted. In fact, looking back, I would say Disco Deewane was
the first album in the Indipop genre, a category that is a
multi-billion rupee industry today. Public memory is so short that we
have quite forgotten the pioneer of this trend, the woman who sparked
the revolution. Of course, dum maro dum in Dev Anand's Hare Rama Hare
Krishna (1972) had blazed a trail in westernised Hindi music, but it
wasn't exactly disco stuff. R D Burman continued to compose some
fairly avant-garde numbers through the 1970s, but he never quite broke
the mould of Hindi film music. Dance numbers were one thing; disco
music something else. For instance, in 1980 itself, the year of
Qurbani's release, Laxmikant-Pyarelal composed some rivetting stuff
for Subhash Ghai's Karz (Om Shanti Om, Paisa ye paisa, etc.) but
electronic synthesis of film music was still not mainstream. That is
the area in which Nazia Hasan broke the mould. Sadly, her first
composer Biddu lost out in the race and never quite emerged as a music
director in his own right.
What Nazia's runaway, even if short-lived, success proved was that
Middle India was just waiting to dance. In the 1980s, partying was
still not a widespread social activity even in the metros, leave alone
small towns. Women were far less emancipated and significantly less
outgoing than they have since become. Gender segregation was the norm
at social gatherings. The sari, rather than the salwar-suit was the
most acceptable apparel for women, western attire had begun to make
only furtive forays. Jeans-clad women were stigmatised as `fast',
chaalu etc. The late 80s altered all that. Not only have social mores
undergone phenomenal change, but the accompanying cultural
transformation has been immense. Drinking, for instance, is now an
integral part of social gatherings. Parents nowadays accept that their
teenage daughters will be out partying till late, dancing wildly and,
probably, even drinking as much as their sons do. And what do they
dance to? Remixes of gyrating numbers that have flooded the music
market; songs in which words don t matter tunes are secondary, but
rhythm and beat are king.
The choreographer has become a star in Hindi films. Shyamak Davar and
Farah Khan command astronomical prices. Dil To Pagal Hai is all about
dancing and ends up as a superhit, clicking even with small town
audiences despite its overtly metropolitan theme. In the process, of
course, dance and disco music has got Indianised. Daler Mehndi and his
successors have integrated the bhangra with pop; Stereo Nation's I've
been waiting can successfully fuse reggae with Punjabi folk.
Culturally, India's entertainment industry has come a long way in a
very short span. It's something to be proud of, for a culture than can
adapt and integrate the best of others not only survives but even
enhances its own vigour.
Let us celebrate the coming of age of India's entertainment industry
and raise a toast to the prospect of Bollywood outstripping its more
famous conterpart half-way across the globe. But even as we do that,
perhaps we should spare a thought by way of tribute to the harbingers
of the revolution that catapulted us to this position. Interestingly,
it was a Pakistan-born, Britain-bred girl who triggered it 20 years
ago. Her mother country is certain to disown her, denounce her as a
classic example of decadence. But Bollywood should raise a memorial to
her. Nazia Hasan stands testimony to the triumph of India's
assimilative skills.
ket...@att.net
Hey Ashok, here is a new breed--Ignorant Bengali Journalists..
>With the success of Qurbani and then a non-film album, disco music got
>firmly implanted. In fact, looking back, I would say Disco Deewane was
>the first album in the Indipop genre, a category that is a
>multi-billion rupee industry today. Public memory is so short that we
>have quite forgotten the pioneer of this trend, the woman who sparked
>the revolution. Of course, dum maro dum in Dev Anand's Hare Rama Hare
>Krishna (1972) had blazed a trail in westernised Hindi music, but it
>wasn't exactly disco stuff. R D Burman continued to compose some
Could this be because disco as an art/music form was practically non-existent in
1972? Even in the West, it took a Saturday Night Fever to make it really popular
and that was only in '77-'78. And it wasn't really 1972 when RD blazed a trail
with westernized music. He first made people gasp with "maar daalega
dard-e-jigar' from Pati Patni(?) or something in '64-65 and followed it up with
Teesri Manzil.
<Stuff related to women's morals, dress codes, partying, dancing, drinking etc I
will leave to the feminists on here>.
>ago. Her mother country is certain to disown her, denounce her as a
>classic example of decadence. But Bollywood should raise a memorial to
>her. Nazia Hasan stands testimony to the triumph of India's
>assimilative skills.
On the contrary, her mother country has poured out rich tributes to her. Even
Noorjehan has expressed grief at her passing away and called her a very talented
singer whose songs/singing she loved. Compare that with the
head-stuck-in-the-sand like behaviour of Ms. Mangeshkar(the eldest) who thinks
all pop-music is trash. But then she never had the courage and probably
talent/ability to do what Nazia did or what someone else in her own family has.
Ketan
Ravi Krishna
>head-stuck-in-the-sand like behaviour of Ms. Mangeshkar(the eldest) who thinks
>all pop-music is trash. But then she never had the courage and probably
>talent/ability to do what Nazia did or what someone else in her own family has.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Ketan,
You owe an explanation for this needless bashing of LataM :-)
RK- [ trying to imagine Nazia Hassan singing "kesaria baalma" from Lekin ]