A Tribute

[Vedprakash Sharma]

Tribute - Nusrat's legacy
PADMAJA CHALLAKERE
Did Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan take too many liberties with the qawwali in
order to popularise it?

Given how awash we are with copies of Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's
music, given that Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, his nephew, has bagged so many
popular music awards, it seems fitting to examine the legacy of Ustad
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (October 13, 1948 – August 16, 1997) who made
the traditional Sufi qawwali yield stunningly new melodies. I wish I
could do with words what those sketches of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan by
Japanese artists have done with just one or two precise broad strokes:
Reveal the exceptional qualities gathered in him, the kindness of his
face, his powerfully intelligent mind, and his vocal prowess.

Nusrat Sahib is known mainly for his jaunty fusion music, fast-paced
sargam improvisations and disco-beat songs that Peter Gabriel
introduced to the Western world through “Shahbaaz Qalandar” (1990).
But to know Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan only through the Peter Gabriel
collaborations or the Bally Sagoo remixes is to know only a comic
strip travesty of a tremendous singer. Listen to his classical Sufi
qawwalis — especially Hazrat Khwaja Sang Kheliye Damaar, “Shamso Doha
Badaroo Kuja”, “Allah Hoo”, “Data Tera Darbar hai”, “Aaj Rang Harima”,
“Mera Piya Ghar Aaya”, “Ya Haiyo Ya Quayuum” — to reach the true
musical magic of his expressiveness. His voice marshalled levels and
kinds of piety, beauty, energy, and musical ingenuity that went beyond
anything I had heard before. The music was majestic, demanding,
exciting, and deeply joyful, and it threw classical music into totally
unexpected corners.

I felt the need for a book which explained the structure of the
classical qawwali — jikr (verbal invocation) and zarb (stroke of the
drum or clap) and this I found distilled in Regula Burckhardt
Qureshi's book entitled Sufi Music of India and Pakistan: Sound,
Context and Meaning in Qawwali. But mainly I was curious about his
subjectivity and I wanted to read a biography of Nusrat Fateh Ali
Khan, one that linked the musician to the man, and this I found in the
1992 biography of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, written by Ahmed Aqeel Ruby,
translated by Sajjad Haider Malik, published in Pakistan.

Scarcity of material

What is odd is that there is no other biography or book devoted to
this extraordinary musician. The Aqeel Ruby biography tells us that
Nusrat Sahib absented himself from “the business” of music. He let
people trouble him and use him. He opened himself up to commotion.
Biographical evidence shows Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan to be a singularly
kind man, one completely uninhibited about his kindness. We are told
he was a Sufi at heart, a non-conformist in what we call “pragmatic
matters”; that he divided his income into 21 equal parts and each
member of his group got paid the same amount that he took himself, and
the same amount was set aside for charity and for family. It is my
belief that this Sufi self-unconcern is what kept Nusrat's traditional
qawwali innocent of corruption and obsoleteness although he opened
himself up the musical corruptions of pop and improvisations like no
other classical artist.

Improvisation in classical music is not about the artist spinning out
of traditional legacies with the goal of outstripping his/her
forerunners but rather about imagining a different sort of affinity
with tradition and with teachers of the past. There is no feverish
competition with the forerunners; the improvisation is the surprise of
something gathered in response to the moment.

Improvisation is more than newness and ingenuity; it is the process by
which the truth of tradition becomes an active principle in the mind.
But these days, improvisation bows to commercial pressures, and the
commercial, in all times, has always destroyed art and communities.
Maybe it is fitting to recall that the two fundamental conceptual
poles of qawaali are: sama (to listen) and jikr (to mention), and
listening here goes beyond consumption or enjoyment. Listening here
signifies listening in order to empathise with others and to merge
with the sacred in order to relinquish the ego.

There is no doubt that Nusrat gave a significant place to fusion
perhaps out of a sense of responsibility to popularise qawwali among
the youth. But it seems to me that the innovator Nusrat and the
traditionalist Nusrat cannot be divided. He was tremendously good in
both these irreconcilable realms but he did not try to have it both
ways. I see Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as a traditionalist who saw
tradition in terms of an active struggle; in other words, as making
room for improvisation.

Remembering the Ustad in the month of his birth anniversary.
source:
http://www.thehindu.com/arts/music/article2573512.ece