"Ustad-ji chalo!"  

The new ustads of Pakistani music

Dr. Lowell Lybarger

 

Pakistani musical traditions have undergone a sea change in the past ten years.  With the advent of new media such as satellite and cable television and the replacement of the VCR with the VCD-DVD player, the music video has taken centre stage in the visual and sonic world of many Pakistani music consumers.  Undoubtedly, this is a cultural consequence of technological change in a globalized economy and media-scape. 

On the one hand, most Pakistani and Indian music videos can be readily identified as blatant copies of North American music videos as found on MTV and Much Music (the Canadian version of the former).  Yet, these music videos have some links to the rich tradition of Urdu-Hindi film song.  One feature, however, remains uncontested:  the music video is a work resulting from very elaborate studio production, especially since the advent of digital audio and video technologies.  This begs the questions:  How much of the final artistic product is a result of studio production?  Can pop musicians perform their music live without the crutch of pre-recorded soundtracks?  How much musical knowledge and ability do modern pop musicians actually possess? And given the demise of the classical music traditions of Pakistan, who are the modern-day ustads of Pakistan?  

In 2004, I taught musicology classes at the National College of Arts in Lahore and in the evenings, I immersed myself in the music video world of Pakistani cable television.  One program of particular interest was broadcasted by UNI-PLUS, entitled "Tribute to Ustad Ghulam Ali" in honour of Ghulam Ali, undoubtedly one of the greatest exponents of ghazal gayaki.  Among the many performers of the event, only one classically trained performer appeared, Hamid Ali Khan, wherein he sang approximately forty seconds of a light-classical-pop song. And with the exception of the famous vocalist Najam Shiraz, all other performances involved playback singing and playback instrumental accompaniment.  In other words, the vocalists lip-synched to pre-recorded songs and the keyboard player, guitarist and drummer were like the cordless microphone of the singers: to be seen but not heard.  Even more shocking was the case of Salma Agha, who lip-synched to her own song that she had recorded earlier in the studio. 

Najam Sheraz

 

Has embodied, unplugged musical performance become a crime in the early twenty-first century?

At stake is the level of sophistication that Pakistani society is willing to accept to consider an art form "great".  This is readily seen in the today's wanton usage of the term ustad.  Just fifty years earlier, the title of ustad was reserved for those (male) vocalists who commanded the highest level of ability and knowledge in singing either the khayal or dhrupad genres of classical music.  Thus, the title of ustad was not given to singers who sang only light-classical genres such as thumri, kafi and ghazal.  Unquestionably, recent performers such as Ghulam Ali, Mehdi Hasan and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan have produced incomparable art within their respective genres and largely due to their training in classical music.  However, they did not suffer the ill economic and social consequences of the vocalists who specialized in the more sophisticated khayal and dhrupad genres.  Ghulam Ali, of all people, knows this social code of honour among classical musicians, yet, sadly, he was all too willing to let an unsophisticated pop music audience grant him the title of ustad.

Today's music videos demonstrate another striking change in Pakistani music culture:  the majority of pop musicians have little or no interest in classical music as source material for their music because they simply have not learned the basics.  With only a few lessons in western tonal harmony and rhythm, the vast majority of pop musicians rely heavily on the latest technologies of electronic musical instruments and digital audio editing.  These musicians would be hard-pressed to match the musical abilities of a cackling crow during periods of load-shedding.

With the cleansing of classical music and musical training by today's rising Pakistani pop stars, it is reasonable to assume that the title ustad has been dealt a deathblow.  But this is not the case.  There is an area of highly specialized musical knowledge that has gone unrecognized by the vast majority of music consumers: digital audio-video editing.  The level of skill required to operate digital music editing programs such as Cubase, Cakewalk, Premiere and Sound Forge has lessened in the past few years due to increasingly user-friendly interfaces.  However, the current level of music video production is still far beyond the reach of the non-specialist computer user.  Furthermore, these software engineers often possess a background in graphic design, filmmaking and/or music performance and composition.  Yet, for all their highly specialized skill and experience, these ghostwriters remain largely unrecognized.  They do not receive honours at pop music award ceremonies and certainly do not command the fame of their pop musician clients.  In short, they merely provide a service, much like the chauffer or rickshaw driver who takes their client from one place to the next.  "Ustad-ji chalo!" utters today's pop musician.

 

 

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