By Gen Z, for Gen Z: Unraveling the Abdullah Siddiqui aesthetic

Singer, producer talks garnering mainstream fame in a country all too acquainted with guitars and Sufi kalams.

KARACHI:

Abdullah Siddiqui has become a mainstay in the Pakistani music scene at an age most musicians struggle to be recognised. Ditching his six-string after 11 surprisingly served him well in a country all too acquainted with traditional forms of music-making and listening. It is amazing to see him flourish without having to constantly abandon the language he is most comfortable expressing himself in. And his colours, taste, subtle but worrisome rage and style of creating hasn’t been compromised either, despite his recurrent affiliation with brands and consequent transition into the mainstream.

But how did Siddiqui become a sensation doing electronic music for a country that frankly, does not believe in partying and subsequently, consumes mostly folk, traditionally inspired music, Bollywood ballads and Sufi kalams? “My work has always been rather dark without ever having much to shake a leg to. But the first mainstream recognition I got was through Nescafe Basement, which was also a Xulfi project. And the way he turned Resistance into an audio-visual experience that could be enjoyed by everyone, is what I feel sold it. Even then, he recognised the market for the genre and presented the electronic elements of my song in a stunning visual treat,” Siddiqui told The Express Tribune, fresh out of the Coke Studio fever.

Moving from Basement to making anthems for PSL to associate producing Coke Studio while churning out a handful of successful collaborations and an album, the producer and singer has no recipe to making it big. The Go hitmaker, who often associates his music with futurism, albeit, is afraid of peaking too soon. But he takes comfort in the fact that while “all electronic music may not be futuristic; all futuristic music is electronic.”  

He shared, “People will always pick up motifs and ideas from the past. But they will build upon the sonic vocabulary of that time with a touch of modernism. And I’m glad I came at a time when many in Pakistan were willing to accept this… shift.” Siddiqui credits his consistent outpouring of creativity to the audience he clicks with. “I think by now, I’ve made every kind of song, which is why brands approach me. Though, they expect anything I make to be electronic and have that sense of modernity in it. I think Gen Z is to credit for creating this pressure. We have a much more global audience now, a generation of people that has access to media like never before. Hence, their modality of listening is very specific and global. Indian music has been using electronic elements since the 90s. And I feel our audiences are beginning to be better exposed to that sound now too. They are more anxious for variety.”

But clicking with the masses, or even a generation, shouldn’t be the driving force for any creative, given one has to also maintain their artistic integrity. "Brands trust me, probably because they don’t have a reference, a catalogue of local electronic music they can compare my sound to. What I do is so specific that they wouldn’t want to restrain me in any way. But I feel being aware of your audience is also important. For the PSL Anthem, I knew I had to cater to a specific audience so I would call what I created a product. However, with Coke Studio, all my work is uncompromising in terms of its artistry,” Siddiqui assured.

The lack of catalogue to compare one's music to, also has its pitfalls. And the Magenta Cyan crooner agrees that we’re a bit too late to the electropop party, because of which, he is left to create a “prototypical” version of what Pakistani electronic music would have sounded like, had it evolved organically. 

“We lost a linear development of what Pakistani electronic music could have been. We’ve had a stunted growth of musicality. We resorted to using global templates of music in the mid-2010s when electronic music started permeating the Pakistani scene. Keeping that in mind, I refrain from using synthesisers and focus, instead, on manipulating local music to make it sound otherworldly. The most notable example of this is Kanna Yaari. If you listen closely, you’ll hear splashes of different local instruments that are contributing to creating that desi pan we haven’t heard before. The goal is always to bridge that gap,” Siddiqui reflected.

But provided Aamir Zaki once said about fusion music, that it is not an amalgamation of genres, rather, detached from any and all types of music, asked if we’re finally, successfully making fusion music or whether we’re still experimenting, Siddiqui maintained, “I think it’s important to experiment. It’s something I’ve always wanted to see Pakistanis do. I hope this season of Coke Studio has encouraged them to mix, match and experiment in different, more organised ways. We had a creative stagnation when Youtube was banned and concerts weren’t happening. But now, particularly because of Covid, we have this newfound crop of artists who are trying new things. Artists of my age group have been imperative in transforming music and audiences. I’m not a live performer but these guys are also revitalizing concerts. Stylistically, they’re all bringing something new to the table. They also have images, narratives, and visuals. That’s very important to the experience of consuming music.”

As for feeling disconnected from the masses still, with a language barrier that comes with writing songs in English, Siddiqui shared, “I have predominantly worked as a producer so that disconnect doesn’t affect me. But the dissonance exists, because of this, I was told not to write in English. And I have just begun to be fascinated by all kinds of South Asian music in the process of CS and making my upcoming album. So, I am also beginning to step out of my comfort zone.”

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