Lucknow Music Diaries: Sticking to the setlist
Looking back at the ups and downs, and dangers and desperation, of the Lucknow rock scene
There is a joke in most cities in India’s ‘Bollywood-belt’ (read as: all regions except for the very East and South of the country):
At any party with a DJ
Before drinking: “Bro, I only listen to rock and metal, but my fave is jazz.”
After 5 drinks: “‘Saat samundar paar’ bajaa BC!!”
I’m from Lucknow, and the musical tastes of most people my hometown can be summed up with that joke, similar to the preferences of people in many other North Indian regions. To be a rock band in a place such as this can be a creative challenge - or a financial opportunity, if your art has a price.
Lucknow has a long history of producing exceptional musicians, of men and women who have dedicated their lives in order to achieve perfection on their chosen instrument. Many of us have heard myths of artists who would tie their hair to the ceiling fan with a taut string while practicing, so that in case they nod off, the string would (painfully) bring them back to their senses.
But no, this article is not about them. It’s about students who wanted to make it as a rock band when they were in college in the early to mid 2000s. Or at least, when they should have been studying in college. This is an account of what I experienced when I was in such a band in Lucknow.
Being in a band scene in Lucknow was like being in the underworld: You didn’t see it on the surface of daily life; however once you were in it, it suddenly became your entire existence.
Metal was the dominant genre in the independent music scene at the turn of the millennium. Bands like Joint Family, Bhayanak Maut, Devoid, Vishnu, Prestorika and many others were making fast, heavy and complex music. Most of their setlists comprised of covers, but they did have a few originals that were aimed toward the desi headbanger.
Lucknow’s musical landscape was slightly different. Being in a band scene in Lucknow was like being in the underworld: You didn’t see it on the surface of daily life; however once you were in it, it suddenly became your entire existence. Our friends and acquaintances were from the same circle of musicians. The guys in this circle were friends with (and chased after) the same girls. We would go to each other’s gigs, not so much for support but to laugh about how badly they screwed up a song (or sometimes the whole show).
The biggest problem for us was getting a decent venue to play. There was a serious dearth of venues for live music. The best options would usually come from getting hired by a company or a sponsor for a performance at a mall, or for the launch of some product. There were a couple of music stores (you know, the ones that stocked actual physical CDs and cassette tapes) who would let bands play from time to time. If you were lucky, you would be able to play a gig at a corporate retreat.
Participating in competitions was fun, but they were few and far in-between. The ultimate aim, though, was to play college and school festivals, which were not that common in Lucknow, We would usually be relegated to being the openers before a bigger act.
These opportunities to play hardly yielded any sort of financial return, so most of us were doing it for:
The love of music.
Attracting the opposite sex.
Showing each other (other bands) up.
And not necessarily in that order.
Almost every band in Lucknow considered themselves to be the best musicians in town. They wore Cradle of Filth t-shirts and cargo pants. They would listen to Linkin Park, Metallica and System of a Down, though the conversations were always in expletive-drenched Hindustani. I think most of us also considered ourselves to be tough guys who never really had a chance to put our bravado to the test. The names of the bands, too, suggested that there was a lot of heavy metal being played in Lucknow during that time: Heretics, Basically Dead, DNT, K Hole, Diabolical Damage.
A typical setlist of any of the bands would reveal that despite having these dangerous and aggressive names, popularity always meant more. Below is a list that I know 90% of all bands in Lucknow played in this era:
“In the End” - Linkin Park
“Sweet Child O’ Mine” - Guns N’ Roses
“Humdum” - Saathiya OST
An intro to an Iron Maiden/Joe Satriani/Metallica song by guitarist (which would end prematurely because of a few messed up notes, and because no one else in the band knew/wanted to play it in the first place, and the next section was way too difficult. This would repeat with the same intro played again, messed up in the same place, and then, perhaps, the guitarist would finally stop)
“Sayonee” - Junoon
“Anjaane” - Strings
A terrible Rage Against The Machine cover
“Summer Of ‘69” - Bryan Adams (the ultimate crowd-pleaser)
“We Will Rock You” - Queen
“Maeri” - Euphoria
And the one song that everyone and their chacha played, “Aadat” - Jal
For those of you not familiar with the mid 2000s in India, Jal was a Pakistani band that became a household name after the aforementioned “Aadat” (Habit) became a hit. Everyone who picked up a guitar during that time played it. It was played in clubs and auto rickshaws alike. Bands especially loved it as it was easy to play, had simple chords, and the vocals were not demanding of range or talent.
One of the bands I mentioned earlier, K-Hole, had named themselves after the experience of taking the drug ketamine. These guys were long-haired and boasted that they only played death metal. They had a small show at a local music store, and we showed up expecting some metal mayhem. We were instead treated to inaudible vocals and guitars downtuned to the point where they sounded like floppy rubber bands. Sensing they were losing their audience after a couple of songs, the badasses of K-Hole launched into the ever-dependable habit, “Aadat”.
Prestorika launched into metal classics like “Enter Sandman”, “Sweating Bullets” and a heavy original, “Not My Way”. But they were interrupted by an audience member who got on stage and sweetly threatened the lead singer, “Bhai, pyaar se bol rahaa hoon, Bryan Adams suna de... varna samajh le” (Bro, I’m telling you nicely, play some Bryan Adams... or else”).
The audience at any show expected songs from the above set-list by almost all the bands. This was not a diverse scene.
A ‘healthy’ competition was also part of being a member of this underground society. Bands would often sit in on each others rehearsals. It was a good way of spending 4-5 hours listening to the same songs that you played in your band, too. Invariably, a guest witnessing the rehearsal would give his counterpart free and usually unwelcome advice on how to play a certain section of a song. Attending these practice sessions was also a good way to find out if any new songs needed to be added to the shared playlist of amateur musicians of Lucknow.
The of the most common interchanges between members of different bands would be, “Kuch heavy utha rahe ho?”. (Are you practicing something heavy). Everybody wanted to show off how metal they were, yet every performance contained the same songs.
Most bands attempted songs that they hadn’t practiced enough. We were kids who were trying to emulate our heroes, but we couldn’t be bothered to put the time and effort required to master the music. Part of this indiscipline also arose from the fact that getting a cheer out of the audience didn’t require great musical technique - only the chords to “Aadat”.
From time to time, however, there used to be a few acts who came and raised the bar for all of us. There was a band by the name of Aaveg, who came and played full Metallica and Megadeth songs. This was something new in Lucknow, at least for that particular time. (We did have more skilled and technically superior outfits in the middle and late-90s). Aaveg’s appeal though, used to be limited to fellow musicians and a very small part of the listener demographic. They won a lot of competitions, and not as many wedding gigs.
The audience, as in most live music scenes, is the king. In Lucknow, this was dangerously true.
Feedback, the author’s band, perform in Lucknow circa 2007. Image Courtesy: Prateek Santram
At the time, one of the most talked-about bands on the national level was Prestorika from New Delhi. These guys were fast, heavy and talented. They would come prepared with a slew of covers from Metallica, Megadeth, Iron Maiden, Pantera, and more, and would throw in their originals as well. They came to play at a festival at a Lucknow college with a rather large student body. Our band was to open for them.
Prestorika launched into metal classics like “Enter Sandman”, “Sweating Bullets” and a heavy original, “Not My Way”. But they were interrupted by an audience member who got on stage and sweetly threatened the lead singer, “Bhai, pyaar se bol rahaa hoon, Bryan Adams suna de... varna samajh le” (Bro, I’m telling you nicely, play some Bryan Adams... or else”).
Prestorika got off the stage after one more song (not a Bryan Adams number) and left our band behind to play songs off the Lucknow playlist. Needless to say, Mr Adams’ work was featured.
We were just small-timers, doing what we had to without much financial reward. As I had mentioned earlier, there was no money in being in a band in Lucknow.
But in 2008, the film Rock On!! was released. The movie was about a band that reunites years after their fall-out, in order to live the fulfilling life that they were missing as a result of not playing music. Following Rock On!!, suddenly, everyone wanted ‘rock’ at their parties, weddings and birthdays. Finally, here was the chance that all of us were waiting for. We could do original music, or at least the music that we finally wanted to do, by means of having a more accepting and wider audience.
Alas, even though the number of listening ears had increased, what the new audience wanted was exactly the same thing, rehashed: ‘rocked-up’ versions of Bollywood songs, with very little room for anything else.
There remained some hope, however, that we would mature as an audience, or that bands would have the confidence to explore new musical avenues. As Lucknow transformed from a ‘small’ city (by Indian standards) to an important urban centre, listeners have also matured and diversified in their music choices.
Today, the Lucknow skyline has changed, and it has absorbed nearby towns to emerge as a city truly deserving of its status as the capital of Uttar Pradesh. Young people no longer head to the bigger cities to pursue their dreams. Rather, they stay in their hometown, and take advantage of the city as a growing hub for business opportunities.
Looking back at the past, however, it still amazes me that we did not have a larger variety of music coming out of Lucknow. Sure, you could listen to obscure artists in the privacy of your own home, but none of us even attempted to practice anything beyond the expected. We thought it would be a waste of time and effort. After all, we knew that after a few drinks at any party, it would be back to only song that mattered: Saat Samundar par main tere peeche peeche aa gayi!
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Prateek Santram is the Associate Editor of The Chakkar. Based in Landour, Mussoorie, he is a teacher, musician, and Lucknow kabab expert. Twitter: @prateek7285
