My caption/posts for The Revolver Club, a Mumbai-based record store. I wrote captions for these posts during my stint as a Freelance Social Media writer. The captions, design and graphics (which are a work of the Design team - I have just given the captions) are copyright, The Revolver Club.
The Partition laid the foundation of an epoch of pathos in both India and Pakistan. The premature and hasty decision to dissect a country had the same ripple effects as that of tearing apart a home, a family, or more romantically, separating two passionate lovers, leaving a void of longing. This longing after separation is called 'viraha' in Hindi literature. Many poets across the Indo-Pak border have applied this pathos of separation in the poetry, but few can match the consummate pen of Shiv Kumar Batalvi.
Known for "Ikk kudi, jida naa mohabbat, gum hai" (A girl whose name's love, is lost) which featured in Udta Punjab, Batalvi's poetry were marked by the melancholia of love and the inevitable sadness of life. This is evident in his poem "Ghamman di raat lammi ae, ja mere geet lam'me ne, na pahli raat mukdi ae, na mere geet mukde ne" (The night of sorrows is as long as my melancholic songs, neither the night passes, nor do my songs) and "Rog ban ke reh gaya hai, pyar tere sheher da" (The love of your city has become a disease).
“It is not that poetry originates only by failed romances or worldly frustrations, my poetry has it all, it comes from within", said Batalvi in his famous interview with the BBC. Expressing gratitude for his fame in Punjab and across the world, Batalvi also sang a few of his ghazals there. In fact, it was his rendition of self-composed ghazals which gave him further prominence in Punjabi literature.
Batalvi had his fair share of the poet’s melancholia, albeit his intellectual disposition at interviews would say otherwise. His love life was already news, his binge drinking another. And both contributed to his early death at 36, in 1973.
Born in Sialkot and brought up at Batala (whence his surname comes from), Batalvi became the youngest recipient of the Sahitya Akademi Award (Punjabi), in 1967, for his romantic verse-play 'Loona'.
This was Batalvi, the 'Birha da Sultan' (King of Viraha), a title given to him by Amrita Pritam. An eponymous ghazal album was released by Jagjit-Chitra Singh in 1978; another feather in the cap of Batalvi, who is covered by aspiring singers and bands till date.
Known for "Ikk kudi, jida naa mohabbat, gum hai" (A girl whose name's love, is lost) which featured in Udta Punjab, Batalvi's poetry were marked by the melancholia of love and the inevitable sadness of life. This is evident in his poem "Ghamman di raat lammi ae, ja mere geet lam'me ne, na pahli raat mukdi ae, na mere geet mukde ne" (The night of sorrows is as long as my melancholic songs, neither the night passes, nor do my songs) and "Rog ban ke reh gaya hai, pyar tere sheher da" (The love of your city has become a disease).
“It is not that poetry originates only by failed romances or worldly frustrations, my poetry has it all, it comes from within", said Batalvi in his famous interview with the BBC. Expressing gratitude for his fame in Punjab and across the world, Batalvi also sang a few of his ghazals there. In fact, it was his rendition of self-composed ghazals which gave him further prominence in Punjabi literature.
Batalvi had his fair share of the poet’s melancholia, albeit his intellectual disposition at interviews would say otherwise. His love life was already news, his binge drinking another. And both contributed to his early death at 36, in 1973.
Born in Sialkot and brought up at Batala (whence his surname comes from), Batalvi became the youngest recipient of the Sahitya Akademi Award (Punjabi), in 1967, for his romantic verse-play 'Loona'.
This was Batalvi, the 'Birha da Sultan' (King of Viraha), a title given to him by Amrita Pritam. An eponymous ghazal album was released by Jagjit-Chitra Singh in 1978; another feather in the cap of Batalvi, who is covered by aspiring singers and bands till date.
Shravan Rathod (of Nadeem-Shravan), passed away on Thursday due to COVID-19. Apparently, he had attended the Kumbh mela and contracted the virus there. While fans around the world stand in mourning, let’s rewind the tape and rediscover the decade defining duo of Nadeem-Shravan and their archetypical music.
“Love makes life live”. This Mahesh Bhatt moniker was emboldened by the bestselling superhit soundtrack of his 1990 romantic film: Aashiqui.
Era defining, as the songs of the film were, the duo behind it knew little that this was just the tip of the iceberg. Nadeem-Shravan had miles to go with their dholak pop and ghazal-esque songs. Not to forget the trendsetting Jhankaar Beats the duo brought into focus: a cookie cut octapad treatment to songs of all genres. This zany phenomenon of N-S brought them into the vogue and distinguished them from other music duos of the 90s like Jatin-Lalit and Anand-Milind.
Opening the 90s with a Filmfare hattrick (for the soundtracks of Aashiqui, Saajan and Deewana), N-S are largely credited for the career fillip of Kumar Sanu, the Arijit of the 90s. They regularly teamed up with Sanu (who they lovingly called "Tiger") and the lyricist Sameer, creating a formidable team churning out hits by the day.
Controversy befell the group post T-Series founder Gulshan Kumar’s murder and Nadeem, a key suspect went abroad. Nevertheless, the group continued churning out hits till well into the 2000s [their last album together was Dosti (2005) followed by David Dhawan's Do Knot Disturb (2009)].
And like all memorable duos, N-S parted ways to make way for individual careers. Nadeem went abroad to pursue a perfume and bag business and Shravan took the backseat, focussing on the music career of his sons Sanjeev-Darshan [most notable for scoring the Aamir Khan starrer Mann (1999)].
Shravan was also brother to another 90s singing sensation Vinod Rathod and the ghazal singer Roopkumar Rathod.
With Shravan's death, coronavirus has plundered the second Bollywood music duo. Not even a year ago Wajid Khan (of Sajid-Wajid) had passed away due to coronavirus complications.
“Love makes life live”. This Mahesh Bhatt moniker was emboldened by the bestselling superhit soundtrack of his 1990 romantic film: Aashiqui.
Era defining, as the songs of the film were, the duo behind it knew little that this was just the tip of the iceberg. Nadeem-Shravan had miles to go with their dholak pop and ghazal-esque songs. Not to forget the trendsetting Jhankaar Beats the duo brought into focus: a cookie cut octapad treatment to songs of all genres. This zany phenomenon of N-S brought them into the vogue and distinguished them from other music duos of the 90s like Jatin-Lalit and Anand-Milind.
Opening the 90s with a Filmfare hattrick (for the soundtracks of Aashiqui, Saajan and Deewana), N-S are largely credited for the career fillip of Kumar Sanu, the Arijit of the 90s. They regularly teamed up with Sanu (who they lovingly called "Tiger") and the lyricist Sameer, creating a formidable team churning out hits by the day.
Controversy befell the group post T-Series founder Gulshan Kumar’s murder and Nadeem, a key suspect went abroad. Nevertheless, the group continued churning out hits till well into the 2000s [their last album together was Dosti (2005) followed by David Dhawan's Do Knot Disturb (2009)].
And like all memorable duos, N-S parted ways to make way for individual careers. Nadeem went abroad to pursue a perfume and bag business and Shravan took the backseat, focussing on the music career of his sons Sanjeev-Darshan [most notable for scoring the Aamir Khan starrer Mann (1999)].
Shravan was also brother to another 90s singing sensation Vinod Rathod and the ghazal singer Roopkumar Rathod.
With Shravan's death, coronavirus has plundered the second Bollywood music duo. Not even a year ago Wajid Khan (of Sajid-Wajid) had passed away due to coronavirus complications.
The century old journey of Bollywood is inseparable from its music.
Bollywood soundtracks are special. Like any other genre of music, filmi music can be heard in isolation, but watching the film beforehand can make a perceptible difference. This act increments the position of a Bollywood song from being a film-promoter to being an aural bioscope. It either speaks for the film by providing cadence to the camera and gravitas to the plot or provides an escapist outlet to intense cinema.
Presenting a listening guide for the Top 12 Bollywood (vinyl) albums.
Bollywood soundtracks are special. Like any other genre of music, filmi music can be heard in isolation, but watching the film beforehand can make a perceptible difference. This act increments the position of a Bollywood song from being a film-promoter to being an aural bioscope. It either speaks for the film by providing cadence to the camera and gravitas to the plot or provides an escapist outlet to intense cinema.
Presenting a listening guide for the Top 12 Bollywood (vinyl) albums.
Few Bollywood films open with a golden record disc. Shalimar does, and deservedly so. 'Shalimar' follows the quest of four criminals, each undertaking a heist of the eponymous diamond, to assume the heirship of mafia master Sir John. The premise, inspired by the novel The Vulture is a Patient Bird by J.H. Chase, developed into the Indo-American production called Shalimar. Some panned the film, some considered it futuristic, but the music hardly went unnoticed, getting Filmfare nominees and ranking at 346 in the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die.
Gunshots cue in the title music. Flanging guitars, pacy percussions and jazzy trumpets roll the opening credits of the film. Typical Pancham, putting rhythm to primacy but never at the expense of melody, which exudes in Anand Bakshi’s romantic ballad “Hum Bewafa”. Considered the signature song of the film, it is seminal for another reason; the recurring motif of “jingalala hoo”.
Tribal music is a recurring motif in the film, as tribals are key characters of the film; the minions of Sir John, continuously en garde to guard the Shalimar from theft. Hence, the soundtrack is abound with cymbals, bongo-conga riffs and native calls. One quirky song, “Naag Devta”, featuring Rafi, showcases the tribe embalming and deifying a dead man.
Jazz politicises the soundtrack. While tribals are given high pitched alarming cues, the high society thrives are given soft and seductive ones. “Countess’ Caper” and “Baby Let’s Dance” can duly attest. Not to forget the “Romantic Theme” which ably segues from sounding Western to waltz.
What's your favorite song from Mera Pyar Shalimar?
Gunshots cue in the title music. Flanging guitars, pacy percussions and jazzy trumpets roll the opening credits of the film. Typical Pancham, putting rhythm to primacy but never at the expense of melody, which exudes in Anand Bakshi’s romantic ballad “Hum Bewafa”. Considered the signature song of the film, it is seminal for another reason; the recurring motif of “jingalala hoo”.
Tribal music is a recurring motif in the film, as tribals are key characters of the film; the minions of Sir John, continuously en garde to guard the Shalimar from theft. Hence, the soundtrack is abound with cymbals, bongo-conga riffs and native calls. One quirky song, “Naag Devta”, featuring Rafi, showcases the tribe embalming and deifying a dead man.
Jazz politicises the soundtrack. While tribals are given high pitched alarming cues, the high society thrives are given soft and seductive ones. “Countess’ Caper” and “Baby Let’s Dance” can duly attest. Not to forget the “Romantic Theme” which ably segues from sounding Western to waltz.
What's your favorite song from Mera Pyar Shalimar?
Two things make Yaadon Ki Baaraat the cult it is: masala and music.
This was the first Bollywood masala film, which set the stage for Amar Akbar Anthony's lost and found bro-trio premise.
Written by headstrong writer strugglers Salim-Javed, the film set the foundation of what the duo was best known for.
Slow-cooked, fleshed out melodrama, with a dash of memorable crackling dialogues, garnished with tonal and dialogue economy.
Note who co-wrote and directed the film: Nasir Hussain.
With his eye for gorgeous song picturization and a knack for making youth-appealing cinema, Hussain employed every element, from romance to action to futuristic bad guy tech to the bro code, to connect with the masses.
And who better to complement Hussain's youthful cinema than staples Majrooh and RD Burman.
Yaadon Ki Baaraat is a musical first, then a masala film.
In fact, it is the title song (with two versions) that binds them together over ages of oblivion.
The song is so impactful that you'd forget that the album also lists chartbusters like "O Meri Soni (I Love You)" and the Neetu Singh cameo song "Lekar Hum Deewana Dil".
Ha! How can anyone forget the spoon and the glass, and Zeenat Aman! "If It's Tuesday This Must Be Belgium" was so dextrously copied by Pancham in "Chura Liya Hai" that the song name has become an ironic coincidence.
Nevertheless, great artists are those who make that of each their own.
What happens to the brothers? Do they meet? What happens to the bad guy? All this is predictable.
Just watch the film for its pioneering masala built and its hit, superhit soundtrack.
This was the first Bollywood masala film, which set the stage for Amar Akbar Anthony's lost and found bro-trio premise.
Written by headstrong writer strugglers Salim-Javed, the film set the foundation of what the duo was best known for.
Slow-cooked, fleshed out melodrama, with a dash of memorable crackling dialogues, garnished with tonal and dialogue economy.
Note who co-wrote and directed the film: Nasir Hussain.
With his eye for gorgeous song picturization and a knack for making youth-appealing cinema, Hussain employed every element, from romance to action to futuristic bad guy tech to the bro code, to connect with the masses.
And who better to complement Hussain's youthful cinema than staples Majrooh and RD Burman.
Yaadon Ki Baaraat is a musical first, then a masala film.
In fact, it is the title song (with two versions) that binds them together over ages of oblivion.
The song is so impactful that you'd forget that the album also lists chartbusters like "O Meri Soni (I Love You)" and the Neetu Singh cameo song "Lekar Hum Deewana Dil".
Ha! How can anyone forget the spoon and the glass, and Zeenat Aman! "If It's Tuesday This Must Be Belgium" was so dextrously copied by Pancham in "Chura Liya Hai" that the song name has become an ironic coincidence.
Nevertheless, great artists are those who make that of each their own.
What happens to the brothers? Do they meet? What happens to the bad guy? All this is predictable.
Just watch the film for its pioneering masala built and its hit, superhit soundtrack.
In 1978, Bollywood believed in Bachchan supremacy.
The man who rose like a phoenix from the ashes of the waning stardom of Rajesh Khanna ruled the roost nine years into the industry.
Bachchan, the angry-young-man, was all over, from the masses to the classes.
His dissident persona was penned in 1973 by Salim-Javed and realised on-screen by Prakash Mehra, one of the founders of the masala genre.
The film? "Jab tak baithne ko na kaha jaye, sharafat se khade raho. Ye police station hai tumhare baap ka ghar nahi!"
You guessed it right, Zanjeer: the one where he played a police officer bound by principles and haunted by traumatic nightmares.
Zanjeer was a hit, and the Mehra-Bachchan hit it off with 3 other superhit films in the 70s: Hera Pheri, Khoon Pasina and Muqaddar Ka Sikandar.
Muqaddar Ka Sikandar was staple 70s masala fare.
It had a tragic hero to root for, unrequited romance to brood for, and a soundtrack to hoot.
From the optimistic title track to the iconic mujra "Salaam-e-Ishq", from the psychedelic "Pyar Zindagi Hai" composed by Babla (composers Kalyanji-Anandji's Disco Dandia bro) to the sentimental "O Saathi Re" and "Dil To Hai Dil", Muqaddar Ka Sikandar's soundtrack had an all-encompassing genre footing.
The 8-track soundtrack of this '78 classic spins at 33 1/3 rpm. That's three formats in a row!
Link in bio
Two romantics met, came, and conquered Bombay's silver screen: Yash Chopra and Sahir Ludhianvi. While Chopra weaved cinematic romance for generations to model, Ludhianvi wrote intellectual poetry balancing the euphoric highs of romance with the gloomy ebbs of life's realities.
Sahir wrote lyrics for all Yash Chopra films. Such a successful pair meets once a blue moon, or as Sahir's memorable ghazal goes: Kabhi Kabhi.
"Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein Khayal aata hai
Ki zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhanw mein
guzarne pati to shadab ho bhi sakti thi,
Ye tirgi jo meri zist ka muqaddar hai
Teri nazar ki shuaon mein kho bhi sakti thi"
"Sometimes, the heart whims
That life could have bloomed
Basking in the silken shade of your hair
And you would vanquish all the darkness and gloom
That life fates for me..."
Sahir wrote this ghazal in 1943 and compiled it in his first published work, Talkhiyan (Bitterness). Yash Chopra read it one day and decided to make the eponymous film featuring generational romance, with the ghazal as a central and recurring motif. And who could better recite it than Bachchan, the poet protagonist of the film.
There was a problem, though. The words were a bit complex for mainstream Bollywood. And thus, "ye tirgi jo meri zist ka muqaddar hai" became "ye ranj-o-gham ki siyahi jo dil pe chhayi hai" (These sorrows that blot my heart).
Some other stanzas also did not make it to the final soundtrack cut. But the title track, nevertheless, emerged widely popular in the Binaca Geetmala in 1976.
It became Mukesh's swan song (winning him a posthumous Filmfare), garnered Khayyam his first Filmfare for Best Music, gave listeners a memorable Mukesh-Lata duet, and served as another feather in the cap of Bachchan's baritone recitations.
20 years later, in 1996, record-producer Bally Sagoo revamped the song with Bachchan in his album Aby Baby. "Kabhi Kabhie" retained its popularity.
The song's legacy apart, did you know that Sahir Ludhianvi himself, outside of the film, recorded a version of him reciting the original verses of his ghazal?
Sahir wrote lyrics for all Yash Chopra films. Such a successful pair meets once a blue moon, or as Sahir's memorable ghazal goes: Kabhi Kabhi.
"Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein Khayal aata hai
Ki zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhanw mein
guzarne pati to shadab ho bhi sakti thi,
Ye tirgi jo meri zist ka muqaddar hai
Teri nazar ki shuaon mein kho bhi sakti thi"
"Sometimes, the heart whims
That life could have bloomed
Basking in the silken shade of your hair
And you would vanquish all the darkness and gloom
That life fates for me..."
Sahir wrote this ghazal in 1943 and compiled it in his first published work, Talkhiyan (Bitterness). Yash Chopra read it one day and decided to make the eponymous film featuring generational romance, with the ghazal as a central and recurring motif. And who could better recite it than Bachchan, the poet protagonist of the film.
There was a problem, though. The words were a bit complex for mainstream Bollywood. And thus, "ye tirgi jo meri zist ka muqaddar hai" became "ye ranj-o-gham ki siyahi jo dil pe chhayi hai" (These sorrows that blot my heart).
Some other stanzas also did not make it to the final soundtrack cut. But the title track, nevertheless, emerged widely popular in the Binaca Geetmala in 1976.
It became Mukesh's swan song (winning him a posthumous Filmfare), garnered Khayyam his first Filmfare for Best Music, gave listeners a memorable Mukesh-Lata duet, and served as another feather in the cap of Bachchan's baritone recitations.
20 years later, in 1996, record-producer Bally Sagoo revamped the song with Bachchan in his album Aby Baby. "Kabhi Kabhie" retained its popularity.
The song's legacy apart, did you know that Sahir Ludhianvi himself, outside of the film, recorded a version of him reciting the original verses of his ghazal?
Lal, or Jhulelal, as he is affectionately called, Hazrat Sayyid Usman Marwadi, a revered Sufi saint-poet, was born in Baghdad but settled in Sehwan, Sindh, where he propelled Sufism, mysticism, and miracles, winning the love and devotion of the Sindhi people. They called him Lal (for the ruby-like glow on his face) Shahbaz (with a King's spirit), Qalandar (a wandering saint).
Once, Shahbaz was promised the hand of a friend's daughter in marriage. But, later, when the friend died, his son opposed the marriage, leaving Shahbaz grief-stricken. Hence, the name Jhulelal (the red bridegroom).
Leading a life of mysticism and miracles, he died in 1274, buried at Sehwan, (in present-day Pakistan). And till date, his devotees, in an ecstatic dance (Dhamaal) at his tomb, sing:
"Lal meri pat, rakhiyo bhala Jhulelal
Sindhari da, Sehwan da
Sakhi Shahbaz Qalandar
Dama dam mast Qalandar"
(O Lal, of Sehwan, Sindh; keep my prestige. Thou bounteous Shahbaz Qalandar. Every breath is in the name of the merry, wandering Shahbaz).
"Dumadam mast qalandar", as the Pakistani newspaper Dawn says, can be safely regarded as the world's most famous qawwali. Sung to Bulleh Shah's adapted verses from a 13th-century Khusro Sufi poem, the verses are beloved both in India and Pakistan, and have been covered by various desi artists. But few know the man whose composition popularized it. Pakistani Master Ashiq Hussain, who, now possibly in his 90s, languishes in ignorance and songless-ness.
Hussain tuned the qawwali, for the 1956 Pakistani film Jabroo. His version was modified by Nazir Hussain, and sung by Noor Jehan, for the 1969 film Dilan De Soude.
Thence it has been covered by Sufi icons from Abida Parveen, Wadali Brothers, Reshma, Runa Laila (who, singing "Mast Qalandar", gave an iconic concert in India), to Rekha Bharadwaj, Nooran sisters, and a Mika Singh-Honey Singh collab.
The qawwali was, with a different melody, popularised by Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's "Dum Mast Qalandar" in the '90s.
Spirituality, iconicity, and anonymity surround this qawwali. What's your favourite version?
Once, Shahbaz was promised the hand of a friend's daughter in marriage. But, later, when the friend died, his son opposed the marriage, leaving Shahbaz grief-stricken. Hence, the name Jhulelal (the red bridegroom).
Leading a life of mysticism and miracles, he died in 1274, buried at Sehwan, (in present-day Pakistan). And till date, his devotees, in an ecstatic dance (Dhamaal) at his tomb, sing:
"Lal meri pat, rakhiyo bhala Jhulelal
Sindhari da, Sehwan da
Sakhi Shahbaz Qalandar
Dama dam mast Qalandar"
(O Lal, of Sehwan, Sindh; keep my prestige. Thou bounteous Shahbaz Qalandar. Every breath is in the name of the merry, wandering Shahbaz).
"Dumadam mast qalandar", as the Pakistani newspaper Dawn says, can be safely regarded as the world's most famous qawwali. Sung to Bulleh Shah's adapted verses from a 13th-century Khusro Sufi poem, the verses are beloved both in India and Pakistan, and have been covered by various desi artists. But few know the man whose composition popularized it. Pakistani Master Ashiq Hussain, who, now possibly in his 90s, languishes in ignorance and songless-ness.
Hussain tuned the qawwali, for the 1956 Pakistani film Jabroo. His version was modified by Nazir Hussain, and sung by Noor Jehan, for the 1969 film Dilan De Soude.
Thence it has been covered by Sufi icons from Abida Parveen, Wadali Brothers, Reshma, Runa Laila (who, singing "Mast Qalandar", gave an iconic concert in India), to Rekha Bharadwaj, Nooran sisters, and a Mika Singh-Honey Singh collab.
The qawwali was, with a different melody, popularised by Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's "Dum Mast Qalandar" in the '90s.
Spirituality, iconicity, and anonymity surround this qawwali. What's your favourite version?
When Vijay "Goldie" Anand got to direct Nasir Hussain's black-and-white Baharon Ke Sapne in 1965 with new boy Rajesh Khanna, misunderstandings abounded brother Dev Anand and Nasir Husain, costing Dev another Nasir Hussain colour film. But Goldie bagged its director's cap, and the Husain power couple, Shammi Kapoor (India's Elvis) and Asha Parekh, led the show. The film? Teesri Manzil.
A musical murder mystery ensues as a young woman, Rupa, besotted with drummer Rocky, falls to her death from the third floor of a hotel. Her sister Sunita (Asha Parekh), blames Rocky for Rupa's death and begins a journey of vengeance. Was it suicide? Was it murder? Who killed Rupa? The mystery unravels as love blossoms between Anil (Shammi Kapoor) and Sunita, donning the thriller, comic and musical relief.
The film had romance, rock and roll, revenge, and RD.
RD who? Shammi Kapoor had the same question until he heard the songs the man brought. "Aaja Aaja Main Hoon Pyaar Tera", sang the young music director. Kapoor began dancing. "Wah!" said lyricist Majrooh, who had introduced the musician to Hussain. "Baap Ka Beta!" (Like father, like son), said Husain.
RD-Majrooh-Hussain collaborated till Zabardast (1985), faring superhits like Caravan, Yaadon Ki Baarat, Hum Kisise Kum Nahin and Zamaane Ko Dikhana Hai through the 70s and early 80s.
Drums, bass and trumpets made for an ominous theme music. 80 musicians–40 violinists–played the drum and triangle-based "O Haseena Zulfon Wali" (a song iconising Helen till Mohabbatein and beyond).
An iconic guitar riff later, Rafi-Asha wheezed and breezed to "Aaja Aaja Main Hoon Pyar Tera". And again, to the fun hullabaloo duet "Main Inpe Marta Hoon". En fin, the unforgettable romantic ballads "Deewana Mujhsa Nahi" (the first song Burman made Hussain & co. hear), "Tumne Mujhe Dekha" (the song a gloomy Kapoor shot right after hearing the news his wife Geeta Bali had passed away) and "O Mere Sona".
Eight songs, four Rafi-Asha duets and countless tributes later, Teesri Manzil remains trendsetting, as Nasir Hussain foresaw.
Available now at The Revolver Club. Link in bio
It all began at Tiffany's nightclub in London. Nasir Hussain watched in awe as youngsters danced in the disco, cheered as the DJ changed the song, and then resumed dancing.
Hussain sought a similar medley, a similar momentum of music in his next film. Nervous, he asked his music man, R. D. Burman, whether such a medley would be possible in a soundtrack. The maverick Burman reassured Hussain of his vision, saying, "If a director of your stature doesn't take this risk, who will?"
And Hussain green-lit the iconic "Competition" sequence of the film. Rishi Kapoor and Tariq Khan awaited an on-screen filmi face-off.
Thrilling trumpets sounded. A drum, shaker and percussion groove followed. Together, they gave way to "Wakao!" Rafi took over. "Chand Mera Dil", sang a heartbroken Tariq. Kapoor ignored the saccharine. In went Kishore's "Ah Dil Kya Mehfil". "Tum Kya Jaano", Tariq retorted in the boisterous key of Pancham. No game for Kapoor, who contentedly followed with India's "Mamma Mia": "Mil Gaya Humko Saathi".
The audience got sold. Hum Kisise Kum Naheen was here to stay, just for the music. People came in, watched the songs, the "Competition" sequence and the titular qawwali––and went out.
The film's soundtrack, a product of India's rising disco wave, proved super-duper; or shall we say, "super trouper"? R. D. Burman sampled ABBA twice. First, in the soundtrack, with "Mil Gaya!" lifting "Mamma Mia!" and second, in the film, with "Honey Honey" playing in the hotel right before "Kya Hua Tera Waada" - Rafi's Filmfare and National Award-winning song.
And who can forget the ever-remade "Bachna Ae Haseeno" with Kishore and Kapoor's youthful energy? The experimental oscillator opening of "Ye Ladka Haye Allah"; or the mariachi breaks of "Humko To Yara Teri Yaari"?
As for the film, it meanders amidst music, diamonds, childhood love and deceit. Nasir Hussain presents Rishi Kapoor playing a millionaire musician, Tariq "relaunched" as the sacrificial supporter, Kajal Kiran as a pretty one-hit-wonder, Amjad Khan doing what he does best, and Zeenat Aman, in her first pairing with Kapoor.
Available now at The Revolver Club. Link in bio
Hussain sought a similar medley, a similar momentum of music in his next film. Nervous, he asked his music man, R. D. Burman, whether such a medley would be possible in a soundtrack. The maverick Burman reassured Hussain of his vision, saying, "If a director of your stature doesn't take this risk, who will?"
And Hussain green-lit the iconic "Competition" sequence of the film. Rishi Kapoor and Tariq Khan awaited an on-screen filmi face-off.
Thrilling trumpets sounded. A drum, shaker and percussion groove followed. Together, they gave way to "Wakao!" Rafi took over. "Chand Mera Dil", sang a heartbroken Tariq. Kapoor ignored the saccharine. In went Kishore's "Ah Dil Kya Mehfil". "Tum Kya Jaano", Tariq retorted in the boisterous key of Pancham. No game for Kapoor, who contentedly followed with India's "Mamma Mia": "Mil Gaya Humko Saathi".
The audience got sold. Hum Kisise Kum Naheen was here to stay, just for the music. People came in, watched the songs, the "Competition" sequence and the titular qawwali––and went out.
The film's soundtrack, a product of India's rising disco wave, proved super-duper; or shall we say, "super trouper"? R. D. Burman sampled ABBA twice. First, in the soundtrack, with "Mil Gaya!" lifting "Mamma Mia!" and second, in the film, with "Honey Honey" playing in the hotel right before "Kya Hua Tera Waada" - Rafi's Filmfare and National Award-winning song.
And who can forget the ever-remade "Bachna Ae Haseeno" with Kishore and Kapoor's youthful energy? The experimental oscillator opening of "Ye Ladka Haye Allah"; or the mariachi breaks of "Humko To Yara Teri Yaari"?
As for the film, it meanders amidst music, diamonds, childhood love and deceit. Nasir Hussain presents Rishi Kapoor playing a millionaire musician, Tariq "relaunched" as the sacrificial supporter, Kajal Kiran as a pretty one-hit-wonder, Amjad Khan doing what he does best, and Zeenat Aman, in her first pairing with Kapoor.
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