The Burden of the Muslim Rocker

In a defining scene from the documentary, the green bus with the punk rockers drive into the annual convention of the straight laced Islamic Society of North America and set up a stall under the name of Taqwa Audio-Visual Corporation. The organisers didn’t know what they were getting into when they let the motley group of punk rockers onto stage during an open mike session. As Secret Trial Five take centre stage, Hussain breaks the ice with her defiant lyric, “Middle eastern zombies are the worst kind/presidential flesh is what is on their mind.” While Hussain’s performance is treated as an act of transgression by the organisers of the convention, it’s not as much for the minor punk riot that is set astir as it is the fact that a ”˜female’ musician/performer led the pack. Hussain did not respond to my interview request, which might have had something to do with the given context of ”˜taqwacore.’

Of late Hussain seems to have consciously distanced herself from any association with the Taqwacores. Her band’s MySpace page curtly states “the band has been identified as being part of a genre called ”˜taqwacore,’ but they now actively reject that association, as it not only limits them, but also, taqwacore has caused a racist, islamophobic and sensationalist media frenzy.” While none of the other artists have taken such a drastic step, they also seem to have been affected by the general sense of ignorance, misunderstanding and convenient pigeonholing on the part of the media. “It is like tokenising the exotic. They have this colonial way of talking about us, it’s like the language of empire. I just don’t want us to be projected like clowns, I want to be treated in a legitimate way. The whole aspect of identity is already built into the music, I want it to be the starting point of the conversation not the end point,” says Kamel, who has been quite vocal about his general dissatisfaction with the media’s treatment of the subject. On some level, these artists like any other, want to be recognised for their music’s sake over being identified as mere offshoots of this ideological whole.

In the month of June, The Kominas and Al-Thawra played at the Meltdown Festival, performing for the first time in the UK. Even while these artists will always retain the essence of Taqwacore, they seek new horizons and a more exclusive space. Both bands recently came out with their second albums. Listening to their new material one traces the adventure on sound and a subtle striving to establish themselves as artists independent from the scene. “People are starting to see us for more than just a Taqwacore band, they are seeing us more for the music that we’re making. We’re not moving out of it, we’re getting a bit more complicated by not simplifying ourselves to one particular message,” says Malik. On the Kominas’ new album, Escape to Black Out Beach, rough hewn punk gives way to melodic textures and experimentation. On ”˜Kuj’ ”“ an adaptation of Munir Mayazi’s poem ”˜Honi de Heelay’ ”“ old school Lahori influences like Baluchi beats are crisply translated to punk rock. Though straying from outrageous”“anti-establishment-blaspheming this rebellious beast acquires a touch of sophistication, the bite is just as caustic to the keen listener. A subdued militant strain runs through the album, from the sensitive issue taken up on ”˜Blackout Beach’ – an attack on the controversial practice of waterboarding – to the Punjabi verse on ”˜Tunnnnnn’ – “Hum siraf wahi piyaan ge jo Iraq mein pi rehe hai/hum siraf wahi piyaan ge jo Karballah mein pitay the.” The band has also rehashed a track (”˜Maanj Vich Daang’) by mujra singer Naseebo Lal whose music has been banned in Pakistan for vulgarity. According to vocalist/bassist Basim Usmani, artists like Lal “are the real punk rockers.” Recently, The Kominas also lent music to the soundtrack of Slackistan (2010,) an independent film sneaking a peek at the urbane youth of Pakistan. Directed by Hammad Khan, the film blurs the backdrop of a country writhing in political turmoil and focuses on the more personal dilemmas and pursuits of the youth, as one would expect to find in any part of the world. In some way, Slackistan softens the terror tinged image of Pakistan for an outsider – as its tag line suggests, ”˜If you think you know Pakistan/think again.’

Kamel identifies himself as an Arab-American (his father being Syrian-Algerian and his mother white) and Al-Thawra’s unique brand of punk draws its ethnic influences from the Middle East and Algeria. Raicore – the portmanteau of Rai (Arabic music originating in Algeria) and hardcore (punk) ”“ is a prominent element of their music. The band’s new album, Beneath the Edifice harbours a funereal intensity ”“ tenuous phrases of haunting Arabic strings set against a raucous backdrop of punk. On the title track Kamel versifies images of war strewn desert landscapes ”“ “but those minarets are filled/with snipers who study the maqamat of rifle-round ricochets and the iqaa of shells smashing into flesh far below/just to divide/a struggle globalised/masses of people/with futures locked outside.” Kamel writes these angst-ridden lyrics sitting in Chicago, his reality far removed from the real scene of action in the Middle East.

The Kominas on the other hand have had the opportunity to immerse themselves in their cultural heritage, as the band members keep revisiting their roots in Pakistan. Working in Pakistan for awhile, Usman and Malik even initiated a short-lived punk stint as the Dead Bhuttos – a relevant twist on the popular American punk band Dead Kennedys. The Kominas played their first gig in Islamabad as part of the Taqwacore tour in the year 2007. Kamel last visited Syria as a teenager, as much as he hopes to revisit he fears being conscripted as he “is over eighteen and still a Syrian citizen to the Syrian government.” While he feels like an outsider he follows and keeps in touch with artists ”“ like Algerian punk band Demokhratia (democracy and shit) ”“ building similar countercultures outside of the western purview.

More than punk it is heavy metal that is the voice of counterculture among the young in the Middle East these days, from Morocco to Saudi Arabia and Egypt to Iran. Iraqi metal band Acrassicauda ”“ the subject of the critically acclaimed documentary Heavy Metal in Baghdad (2008) ”“ now living in America as refugees, released their debut album, Only the Dead See the End of War, in March this year. Gone are the days when they had to pen songs like ”˜The Youth of Iraq’ for Saddam Hussain’s Ministry of Culture & Media, which went like this: `Living in the dark/ shining like a spark/ living with pride/ so we decide to fight the evil forces/Yeah, we won’t accept it, we’re never gonna lose/Following our leader, Saddam Hussein/We’ll make them fall, we’ll drive them insane.’

In neighbouring Saudi Arabia few months ago MTV’s reality show True Life aired a controversial episode Resist the Power ”“ Saudi Arabia, which explored the travails of young Muslims in the regressive setting of the city of Jeddah. It follows stories of a metal band’s struggle to successfully organise a show in a society where most assume metal to be a form of satanic worship; a student of political science fighting for women’s rights in the chamber of commerce; a young woman looking to initiate basic change by introducing colourful abayas over the standard black which is considered ”˜proper’ for women, and a young man trying to pursue his love interest in a society where unmarried men and women are not allowed to be seen together in public. The country’s religious police expectedly did not take a liking to the show and was planning on taking court action against the young men and women featured in the show.

Beirut’s Hamra Street punk band Detox though had it easier considering the relatively liberal mores of the Lebanese society. They still shifted base to Copenhagen recently but plan to move back to Lebanon soon. “Being here did show us that we in the ”˜third world’ shouldn’t always be dreaming about moving to the west for better opportunities or even just to see more bands perform. It’s bullshit, because no place will ever be like your home country. Instead of complaining about it we should just do everything we can to create what we need in a region,” says lead vocalist Aida, who also founded the region’s first punk band, Benzene, in Beirut in 2005. Benzene which was “a picture of Lebanese sectarianism, — a Sunni, a Shiaa, a Druze, and a Maronite,” never got to record because Israel attacked Lebanon in 2006. Although her father is Muslim, Aida doesn’t identify with the religion. “There is also no punk scene in Beirut yet,” she says, “but that never bothered us. People in Lebanon will see the need for it, to let out their anger. And I think that the chaos of Beirut is a punk’s utopia.”

Author of Heavy Metal Islam (2008), Mark LeVine is currently documenting the scene he wrote about in his book, with director/documentarian Jed Rothstein. The documentary – backed by the Oscar winning producers of March of the Penguins and the Emmy winning producers of The Ghosts of Abu Ghraib ”“ follows the stories of Middle Eastern metal bands like Beyond East and Mascara. He is also working on an Indian edition of his book which he hopes will be out by the next year. Revisiting the scene, he says, “it has developed in very unexpected and paradoxical ways. In some places like Egypt, it’s much freer than it was from the perspective of government crackdowns or harassment. In other places like Iran the government is even more antagonistic and many artists have been forced to leave the country. While in countries like Morocco the scene is developing steadily in relative freedom and becoming even more connected to the international metal scenes.” As for the musicians, LeVine says, “They don’t think what they’re doing is wrong, or feel guilty about it. Many of the artists and fans are clearly religious–you even see a lot of hijab wearing young women at a metal show. I think playing heavy metal or even just being a fan is a form of both protest and resistance against the forces who want them to conform to what they think Islam or a proper Muslim life-style should be.”

Egyptian band Mascara (aka Massive Scar Era) started off as an all-girl metal band in 2005, adding a male drummer to the line-up last year. Its debut album Unfamiliar Territory was released in July. Influenced by the likes of the Canadian all girl metal band Kittie and Otep Shamaya the female vocalist of the American metal band Otep, frontwoman Sherine Amr’s vocals cajole with lush melodies just as swiftly as they spurn with brutal growls. On first impression, Mascara seems a strong pitch for a feminist revolution within Islam. But it is a notion she disagrees with. “People are quick to presume that I made this all girl band because I am a feminist, when that is not the case at all, I just had to do this because my parents weren’t alright with me being in a band with a bunch of guys or any guys at all,” Amr says. She in fact excuses herself during the interview with me to participate in a traditional family dinner as she is observing Ramadan (Islamic month of fasting from dawn until sunset). As she discusses her beliefs with me, it becomes clear that this is not a case of outright rebellion or her trying to redefine her faith by her standards.

Amr’s family was initially suspicious when they saw metal posters adorning the walls of her room. “They had their doubts. They asked me if I was into the devil or black magic and stuff,” she says. Her aunt would fear stepping into the room believing it was sacrilegious ”“ “anti-God” and “cursed”. “But they eventually saw that I pray, fast, I don’t drink alcohol and I hate drugs,” she says, “Music is music, it’s played and heard for enjoyment, it cannot take more space than it’s supposed to take. It has its limits, it won’t affect my beliefs. I certainly don’t listen to or support any kind of music that is related to Satanism or that curses any prophet or God.” The band was invited to the Sweden Rock Festival in 2009 and more recently, in July, they played at the Cornerstone Festival in Illinois, USA. What’s interesting is that the Cornerstone Festival, organised by Jesus People USA, is a Christian music festival and Mascara was the only Muslim band on the bill. “They were so open minded and invited us as we are all believers. We all believe in God and are anti-alcohol and drugs. It was an overwhelming and inspiring experience for me. If the world would have watched this they would’ve realised we had so much in common, and it is just the governments and political propagandists that put up so many barriers between the people. At the end of the day we all want the same things, we want to live peacefully and keep away from trouble.”