In recent years, writers, film makers and record producers have discovered all manner of dusty corners of Indian popular music. Books like Taj Mahal Foxtrot (covering the entangled dual histories of Mumbai and jazz), India Psychedelic: The Story of a Rocking Generation (focused on India’s pop music scene of the '60s and '70s) and the films Finding Carlton (about an Indian bebop jazz guitarist) and Rudradeep Bhattarcharya’s documentary on the studio musicians who played behind the golden age of Bollywood hits (The Human Factor), have won awards, created new audiences and shone light on all but forgotten, but wonderfully rich and unique chapters of Indian popular culture.

Across the border in Pakistan, despite the ever more desperate straits the country is moving through, there has been a milder echo of this retro-renaissance. A lively underground music scene is responding to the urgent edginess of Karachi, one of the world’s great and most unstable metropolises. Niche record producers have issued several fantastic albums of Lollywood film music that provide evidence that there was no shortage of talent in the Land of the Pure – just poor marketing.

Alas, until now, no one has found time to tell the tale of the general history of Western-influenced popular music in Pakistan. Here too, small bands made up of Goan and Christian musicians played to dinner guests and (when they were still open) club goers. While India was stuck under the heavy hand of the Hindu rate of growth, red tape and restrictions several meters thick, Pakistan’s more open economy allowed the import of synthesisers and similar new fangled musical gadgets that sparked a creative burst in the studios of Lahore.  But for whatever reasons, this fervent (and always struggling) subculture, has never been embraced by music lovers.

Let's try to remedy that in a small way by touching on just a few milestones in the Pakistani pop music revolution.

 Ko Ko Karina
Ahmed Rushdi, Armaan, 1966


If not the first overtly rock-tinged popular song of Pakistan, certainly a stellar example of an early one. And one that deserves to be included in any All Time Greatest Hits of the Subcontinent collection. Ahmed Rushdi, a fan of Mohammad Rafi, and originally from Hyderabad (in the Deccan), was the playback singer for light Lollywood songs throughout the 1970s. This tune, replete with a wonderful Johnny Cash-esque chick-a-boom guitar intro, is thought to be an interpretation of a popular Goan song. It set the stage for what was to come.


The Khyber Twist

Sohail Rana, 1969


Sohail Rana, who now lives in Canada, is one of Pakistan’s outstanding composers. Like his Indian counterparts, he found most of his work coming from the film studios along Multan Road in Lahore. But like so many of those same peers, he had so much more to give and territory to explore, as this snappy rocker demonstrates. Khyber Mail was an ambitious project. It was not linked to a film and was envisioned by Rana as a musical journey through Pakistan (Karachi to Peshawar) by train. Mixing folk tunes from Sindh and what was then known simply as "the Frontier", it also sucked in tones and sensibilities from many other locations, including the urban youth landscapes.

Conceived to give him and Pakistan a wider global audience the album disappeared for years. In recent years it has become an essential of the in-crowd of musicwalas.

Albela Rahi
Alamgir, 1973

Alamgir, broke through to pop superstardom in 1973 with this hit. Albela Rahi, a blatant sampling of the old Latin tune Guantanamera, caught the minds and moved the feet of young Pakistanis from Abbotabad to Mirpurkhas. Alamgir’s hero was Ahmed Rushdi but soon chela had superceded guru. Though Bengali, Alamgir sang beautifully in Urdu and continued to perform and retain an audience in Pakistan after 1971.

Ho Jayegi Badnaami
Salma and Sabina Agha, 1981

Ahh, Salma! The Pathaniya actress with those sharp features and piercing blue eyes was actually born in London but had avid fan bases in both Pakistan and India. She had leading lady roles in Bollywood (Nikaah, Tawaif) while also developing a pop career as well. In 1981, she and sister Sabina produced an album called AGHA-ABBA, in which the duo retreaded the greatest hits of the Swedish sensations, in Urdu. Another rediscovered, and still hard to find, cult record, this version of Money, Money, Money is spot on.

Dil Dil Pakistan
Vital Signs, 1987

There seemed to be a lull on the musical scene through most of the 1980s. There was that damn American-Soviet proxy war on the borders, a general who wanted to tell everyone how to be good Muslims (as if they didn’t already know!) and a general glumness across the land. Noor Jehan and Nahid Akhtar and Musarrat Nazir were drifting into the back burners of the cultural stove. Suddenly, this brash group of rockers da Rawalpindi woke everyone up with this alternative national anthem. Cricket matches were never the same and soon the musical dam had burst.

Dam Mast Qalandar

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan with Massive Attack, 1991


Another little cassette circulated in the shops in 1990-’91. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was already the Ustad. But this cassette was different. Here for the first time was the blended sophisticated sounds of qawwali and cutting-edge club music from the UK. To Pakistani (and ears worldwide) the transition and connection between the two seemed absolutely seamless. And so obvious.

Listen to these songs as a single playlist on our YouTube channel.