They say that everything that happens in this world is as a result to an external stimulus. The stimulus could be anything. It could be rain, snow, sunshine, winter, summer, or someone who pisses you off. Of course reactions to these external stimuli vary according to said situation at hand. And since I happen to be, yes I admit, yes… A MUSICIAN (of sorts i.e) the stimulus I will talk about is the industry we operate in. That is if we operate at all in the first place (mere sounds of cringe and bee distorted guitars seriously DO NOT count).
At first glance you will see how “prosperous” and “emerging” our local music industry is. Blooming flowers emerge day in day out from nowhere and take the “one giant step for mankind, one sorry step for the music” leap of faith and provided they have cans of beer, lots of pretty attractive ladies on their sides and a considerably good car (with woofers) under their belt (not the leather one though) they will do the industry wonders and make their name in the Pakistan music hall of fame ( if there is such a thing I bet Saleem Javed chairs the thing. The jugni has infact done him favours).
In theory, what looks good on paper has to look good in real life otherwise either the paper was purchased from a cheap shop in Aabpara or the pen used just wasn’t Mont Blanc material. The lives of the masters, the lames, and the silly little minions glaring at the meims. It’s outrageous. But our industry as attractive and promising as it looks on paper, in real life is just a huge facade of disappointing tales of amazing talent gone to waste because the big fish just don’t like dining with the comparitively small fish.
Ego’s, tell-tales, dramas, money, fame, groupies, hot groupies, hotter groupies, groupies with red hair, groupies with white hair under the red hair which isn’t infact hair but a haystack of hair that was black in the first place…. so on.. so forth.. blah… dee. BLAH.
You just don’t want to be here if you don’t have the basic tenet that is tolerance to deal with these lunatics. The sad part is, the big fish have a huge tadpole following which makes it harder for the smaller fish to wade their way to the shore to think of a master plan to play in front of the big fish someday. Either that, or the smaller fish under go massive body training, make a few dozen six packs and wage war against the corporate sellouts who call themselves musicians (or artists, they prefer that term, it’s sophisticated, charming and YAAR IT’S SO COOL)…
Cheers to the smaller fish. Bubble gum to the larger fish, and a message to all the tadpoles. Every frog isn’t a prince, and the kiss you MIGHT get, may also be another frog. Close your eyes people..
Play the it, slay the twit and sway to DA SHIT YO!!!