The trio was the heaviest thing that the Pakistani youth had ever come across. The hard, electric guitar riffs had sunk their talons in the minds of confused, angsty youth. Ali Azmat’s voice – oozing with power and machismo, but tinged with a haunting and yearning at the same time, crooned away songs of heartbreak, and belted out anthems of revolt against authority; Brian O Connell (a unique phenomenon of being a foreigner in a Pakistani band), plucked placidly at his bass strings, cool as a cucumber, but producing some of the most solid bass-lines, while Salman Ahmed, who had once upon a time played for the Vital Signs, fiercely churned his guitars, almost to ear deafening level. It was an impeccable combination of gritty Pakistani rock – actual rock.
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They wore their hair long and rebellious, their clothes, assembling Pakistani ethnic prints, colours, headdresses and accessories, while the style was a heavy inspiration of hippy culture.
They were Pakistani’s ‘hippies’, singing about something no one had ever given thought to until now.
Initially Junoon was based on songs written by Salman himself, to which Azmat devoted his vocals, leaving his stamp upon each song. Later though, in fact from their third album Azadi, Junoon began to recognize the fact that in order to propagate ideas of and from the East, the poetry of the East must be used.
Rock music is essentially aggressive. It gives a brash, anti-authority stance, invoking rebellion against ‘The Man’, also a typically rock term, and the power of the instruments used, whether it is guitar or drums must be intense, hard, something that can be swallowed and digested by young people, who were frenetic, emotional, spontaneous, volatile, and most importantly sensitive and hard done by.
In Pakistan, this applied too. But Junoon took another very original stance in their music. Their music was heavy, (for a Pakistani listener, not generally exposed to Western rock), but its lyrics subsequently became softer and gentler after mellowing from their preliminary ‘bad boy phase’.
In 1991, Junoon released its self-titled album through EMI Pakistan. The band was adventurous in its content and subject matter, sometimes even wicked and daring.
Fifi Haroon, who gave her guest vocals in Junoon’s ‘Jogia’ describes the song ‘Downtown Princess’ for instance to be “about an imaginary encounter in Lahore’s notorious Red Light Area” which “boasted racy lyrics that were probably overlooked by censors who didn’t pick up on the double entendres: “I made a little offer for a night time favor/She got a little restless, made me real breathless/Night was getting longer/she was getting stronger.”
Once the sleaze from Junoon’s rock n roll persona left, it was replaced by a more intellectual ‘literary and poetic’ attitude in its lyrics. Coupled with an eastern percussion instrument, the tabla, the music took a completely different mood swing, while its eastern flavour was further enriched when the band bravely attempted to make a rock rendition of the poetry of Iqbal, Bulleh Shah and others. Some even gave it the label of a newly founded term ‘sufi rock’.
These songs propagated the ideas of ‘questioning’, and ‘challenging’ rather than out and out rebellion. For a band that once said, ‘Zehni ghulami se, kaash hon hum azaad’ (From this mental prison, I wish we could break free), it was only right they in their fourth successful album Ishq, they sang ‘Khirad ko ghulami se azaad kar, jawanon ko peeron ka ustaad kar’ (Free your mind from slavery, let the youth lead the elders). Yes, Junoon had reached a conclusion and this was what the nation needed the most: questioning, and rethinking things.
The video of Talaash, one of the most forceful songs in rock music, is memorable even today. Shot in low lighting, it portrays its grim mood while at the same time gives its hard rock image; a crew cut sporting Ali Azmat is the mutinous, unruly college boy rebel, a Frank Zappa like Salman Ahmed grins as he wields his guitar and badass Brian with his long yellow hair and red bandanna rocks to his groovy bass rhythm.
Junoon may be one of the greatest bands in the history of Pakistani music like Vital Signs, but unlike the Signs, it created social ups and downs in the country. This does not mean that young people, brandished sticks and went in flocks to break down the nearest electric company office.
On the contrary Junoon attempted to spread a message of peace. Their songs on albums Parvaaz and Azadi show this. Perhaps by the time Parvaaz was released, their sound turned more definite. From their speedy, hard rock, they changed into the more intense, even sometimes psychedelic sound. In Mitti, the tabla begins with a dull bass emerging next. This haunting, trippy song is still remembered to this day by those who loved songs by Junoon which didn’t make it to the TV. Similarly Charkha, a folk standard was a mind bending, journey into a dark, abyss of the unknown. Junoon had even created its own version of Pakistani art rock if it is allowed to call it that.
In the summer of 1993, I went to a celebratory function in the Karachi based NED University. The craze of Junoon’s newly released ‘Inquilab’ could be felt, when university students played Mera Mahi and Saaein on repeat, dancing and singing along, and feeling the power of the music. Students like these had incorporated Junoon, became Junoonis, breathed their songs, gate crashed their concerts, and bought all the Junoon paraphernalia whenever they could. People aimed to buy all their discography, a concept not really popular in Pakistan as such, because there had not been many bands here. Most of all, Junoon’s lyrics were so in the face, so strong and potent, sung in Ali Azmat’s commanding voice, that when a Junoon song played, people listened. Even older people.
But great things do not always last, at least not in the same form. The spell was broken and the group went their own ways, and not amicably either. Whatever the reasons were, Junoon had still broken up after about a decade of producing some of the greatest hits. Even today, though the band is fondly remembered, as if we were all a part of it emotionally, mentally…even physically. There are Junoonis who like each song on every album the band has ever released. There are others who are disappointed that the band split up, leaving no other replacements came in place to quench their thirst for such music. Other exceptional bands were always there, such as Strings, Karavan, along with successful solo artists, but none like Junoon.
Now, after 20 years of this band’s inception, Salman has organized the release of a tribute album. This 20th anniversary Online Tribute Album is set to release on September 30, 2011, with a concert in New York City.
“Normally milestones are about the band,” says Salman Ahmed, who is now based in New York but answered some questions in Newsweek. “Junoon 20 is about the music. So I was looking for people who like our music to interpret our songs. I didn’t want just covers. I called Bilal Khan….Someone sent me this instrumental video of Usman Riaz’s “Firefly,” which I loved and he’s doing “Saeein” for us. Then there’s Outlandish, Shafqat Amanat Ali, Jal’s Farhan and Gohar, Samina and Momina, Aag, Laal and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. Of course, there will be several original Junoon songs there, too. And new ones like “Chand Sitara,” which is only the second anthem Shoaib Mansoor has ever written. All proceeds from the album will go toward charity work in Pakistan.”
But when Ali was contacted, he refused to say much. “I have no views about this album,” was his first response. “No comments.”
I wonder what this album will give. Most obviously it will not be the same thing, as maybe a Junoon reunion would have been.
Also, sadly, Junoon does not seem to see eye to eye on business and commercial matters, so Ali Azmat is not part of this project. Many do not feel too good about this, thinking that Salman has ‘taken over’ the band, and is dictating its actions. But in any case, the tribute album is an original idea, one of its own in the mainstream pop/rock music industry here, and fans of Junoon are waiting to see what they will hear.
Also, sadly, Junoon does not seem to see eye to eye on business and commercial matters, so Ali Azmat is not part of this project. Many do not feel too good about this, thinking that Salman has ‘taken over’ the band, and is dictating its actions. But in any case, the tribute album is an original idea, one of its own in the mainstream pop/rock music industry here, and fans of Junoon are waiting to see what they will hear.