For Music, With Love

"If you want a better idea of this intersection between music, poetry, revolution and spirituality — listen to artists like Fareed Ayaz and Molvi Haider Hassan"

For Music, With Love

Since childhood, music has struck me with a lot of emotions, and invoked feelings on-demand. If I wanted to give myself goosebumps, I could listen to a song like Rangeelo Maro Dholna, and I would instantly develop goosebumps on-demand.

Hindus relate music to God because you cannot see God, nor can you see the surs. MTV, Aag Channel, Indus Music, Channel V and Sachal FM105 were the main sources I discovered music from. My mother always had the FM on before I woke up, which created a ritual out of music-listening in the early mornings, and for most of my adolescence and teenage years—my alarm was Alan Faqeer’s songs with the usual naats.

Alan Faqeer sang with the most beautiful of voices, the surs were perfect, and he would be talking about and referring to God. I would often find myself asking: why is this amazing, incredible thing that invokes so much feeling in me, considered haram? I cannot tell if the people who say music is haram are the followers of Islam or the faces of shaytaan, and how can they not like Alan Faqeer? There must be something wrong, on the land where Bhittai had walked and talked about rebelling as a way of life, where Shaikh Ayaaz had thought about Algeria’s struggle, and even where all the poets (now considered mostly as Sufi mystics) invented their own unique style of instruments.

Then I realised that they are making this interpretation through a Hadith in the wrong way. The idea of using music in flagrant social gatherings where people of the opposite sex interact, openly dance to music and drink alcohol is what is considered immoral. Essentially, religion is disapproving of our clubbing, or rather: bro, what are you doing with that freakin’ house music, bro. It has nothing with the traditional murli, rubab, and tabla.

Today's bourgeois music seems like the mode in which our neoliberal and capitalist overlords want us to be in, remaining jittery and anxious

I’m not saying clubbing is wrong or dancing at a rave is some moral tragedy, I had done both throughout my 20s. However, the idea of rowdy people in a small area listening to music at a hundred and forty beats-per-second has an impact on people's heart rates—in a negative way. I remember going to these places with some guys who would only go there for ‘grinding’ girls after they were drunk, while listening to Drake’s infamous track, Hotline Bling.

Poetry requires music to bring it to life for people, for the words to sit upon a melody. Dastoor put in a melody is way better than just Dastoor said out loud, although poets are also considered as heretics and majnoon. I believe Rumi's description of God through poetry was the only right choice there could have been, because poetry is what lives in between the liminal space(s) - and music is the perfect thing to surround it with.

The music I am referring to is the folk music, the ragas, and the instruments which have been around for thousands of years. The ‘house’ music of today cannot even compare itself to the spiritual and poetic music I refer to. This category of bourgeois music seems like the mode in which our neoliberal and capitalist overlords want us to be in, remaining jittery and anxious and our contemporary globalised society and current world order. The ‘psychopolitics’ of capitalism also applies to music and performance.

I believe most artists and journalists were setting out to sell the idea of the ‘American Dream’ and sustain the US empire and its agenda of imperialism. My people like to admire Elvis Presley and The Beatles (who could not have been what they were without American producers). I do not talk about great works like Archangel by Burial, but this run-down, repetitive music is what is called House music. I myself listened to House music in the past, but at one point I realised how shallow it is. There is no craft to it, rather it is mostly just people referring to them as DJs and producers who are regurgitating songs of the past—songs that would be better off remaining untouched.

The only genre I can compare to songs of substance, or art, is political music. I think musicians like Shabjdeed, the song Jawab De by Faris Shafi (my opinions of Shafi in the current era are—unfortunately—very different) has important truths to say, and art that emerges from the margins and the oppressed is what now should be at the forefront.

Bob Marley is another example of this. His One Love Peace Concert was a chance for Marley to bring peace to Jamaica, which was experiencing political violence and civil war between the People's National Party and the Jamaica Labour Party. Marley's performance was a highlight of the concert, and included a moment of unity when he joined hands with political rivals Michael Manley and Edward Seaga during the song Jamming.

If you want a better idea of this intersection between music, poetry, revolution, and spirituality that I speak of—listen to artists like Fareed Ayaz and Molvi Haider Hassan of the musical ensemble Dream Journey. Words such as, “dekhle shakal meri, kiska aaina hoon main,” which in my understanding translates to: “see my existence, who’s reflection do you see?” and presents what Bedam Waris Shah had to say to the world.

How this one line just entails the definition of life; to look into someone else’s eyes and see yourself in it. Whether it be the darkest of eyes, or those of a saint.

Music is not someone’s ‘wealth’, nor it does not have owners or protectors or haters. And music cannot be solely for monetisation or profit. Music, that is to say true music which can be compared to poetry, comes from within. It comes from the heart, from a place of deep sincerity, appreciation, and the desire to preserve generational culture. Music is wealth. I believe it is the medium through which God attempts to speak with us, a medium which only exists in waves, and an energy which has surpassed through our ancestors and flows through our time and space.

Let our creative inspirations be Bulleh Shah, Kabir, and Waris Shah. I imagine one day that folk artists will be at the forefront, and I imagine and dream of a world where Pakistanis will be able to take their people, culture, and music more seriously than the globalised and hegemonic love of European and American artists.

The author is a banker, born in Hyderabad, Sindh, and currently based in Canada. He is interested in philosophy, politics and music.