In December of 1980, a friend from Rawalpindi excitedly relayed
to me extremely important news: “A foreigner is selling a Gibson Les Paul Custom
In those days no worth mentioning music equipment store existed
in this ‘Land of the Pure’. One could not walk into the kinds of stores they
had in New York or London that sold shiny guitars and powerful amplifiers of
all shapes and sizes. All we had here were dilapidated family workshops that
manufactured eastern instruments. Hence, young musicians took very seriously all fair-skinned diplomats and sun-tanned hippies who even
hinted they were selling their instruments to deprived brown buyers.
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| Guild D-40 |
“How much is he asking for the Les Paul?” I enquired.
“Six thousand Rupees,
but nobody is willing to pay that
much!” he stressed.
Master of the universe
By then I was young and permanently employed, and whatever
energy I was left with after work went straight into music. I had by then my
first electric guitar, a German Höfner 173ii purchased from John and David
Lewis of a band called ‘Just Purple’ who played at the Inter-continental Hotel
Lahore in the middle 1970s.
A tall Yamaha TA-90 guitar amplifier graced the
corner of my one-room residence in the twin cities of Rawalpindi-Islamabad. I
purchased this great piece-of-history from Subuk Majeed of a Karachi-based band
named ‘21st Century’. I then bought an American acoustic guitar,
Guild D-40, in 1980 from Manny’s Music on W48th Street.
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| 21st Century (keyboardist Subak Majeed & Yamaha TA-90) |
On almost daily basis I penned English lyrics and produced even
more English-sounding melodies on the guitar. Writing was like combing my hair; it came
naturally and totally lice-free. Only the closest friends got to hear my pop-rock
‘stuff’. I imagined my songs would one day reach the coveted number one spot
on the pop charts.
Martial days, civil nights
Those were the unhappy Martial Law years of MIL-DIC
(military dictator) General Zeeah Owl-Hawk.
He applied no eye makeup, was unfamiliar with how to trim moustaches and had
dropped onto the political scene to make an elected Prime Minister drop dead.
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| Reagan with the 'Mujahideen' (Oval Office 1983) |
War was in the air, peace had taken a backseat, Art was being
looked down upon, and the Reagan-sponsored militant mullahs
were flying high. Citizens who ‘did not listen’ were being publically flogged by the
government. Artists contemplated committing mass suicide at the pearly gates of
the PTV (Pakistan Television) and Radio Pakistan. I preferred being wild in
private than ending up being officially sanitised for being un-Islamic or
something close to my true nature. Discotheques had already closed down and the
dancers were mere scattered moths. After Prime Minister Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was hanged in 1979, I felt it was silly to dance to martial music played during Pakistan Day and Defence Day parades.
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| We'll give you democracy. Here! |
After work when I returned home, two guitars and an
amplifier waited to be played and loved, much like two dotting children and a
good wife. They did not beg, “Daddy take me to the playground” or “Honey, take
me out for shopping”. They just wished to be played, and play I did for hours.
Being pure man-kind, I was only beginning to discover woman-kind
without understanding what the fairy-tale benefits of having a regular wife
really were. Looking at men and their wives scared me; they neither seemed to
be on speaking terms nor held each other’s hands in public. Because life was
good to me, the thought of marrying had not yet gnawed at my brain despite
mother’s persistent efforts. Looking at my father, I knew I could be a stronger freedom-fighter than him after marrying. Owning a house was still a few
years away but thanks to a disciplinarian and supportive father, I became a
proud owner of Pakistan’s favourite car: Toyota Corolla.
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| The neck designed to turn heads |
Spell of the Black
Beauty
Back to the story now: the news of ‘a foreigner selling a Gibson
guitar’ took me to the bank the very next morning where I asked beautiful Miss
Yasmin, “What’s my balance like?” She could not help but smile at the double
entendre. I could not be distracted by fair damsels who were not in distress. It
was decided that one more guitar, especially a Gibson Les Paul Custom, would
not bring financial ruin but rather great joy to this account-holder.
Using a real pen and paper I sought details about the guitar from the seller, Charles David Welch,
a Political Officer at the U.S Embassy.
“It’s a Gibson Les Paul from the mid-1970s, black in colour,
comes with a hard case and will cost Rupees 6,000”, he replied.
A bit windy in Pindi
The job entitlement entitled me to a free return air-ticket within Pakistan. I called David from the airport. The
house-keeper revealed, “Sahib has
just left for the airport for a flight to Karachi”. Unbelievable bad luck, I
thought.
Since time was of the essence, the airlines counter-staff
very kindly obliged me by making an announcement, “Mr. David, please contact
the staff”.
Within a few minutes a lean and puzzled American emerged,
“Yes? Who's looking for me?”
When I introduced myself, he would not believe I had flown all
the way from Karachi just for the guitar. This actually went against me for he
knew I wanted the guitar at any cost.
“Tell you what; I’m going off for a day. We could meet tomorrow”,
said David.
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| Charles David Welch |
The next afternoon I called David sahib again. “Sure thing, come on over to my place”, he said giving
directions to School Road.
Waiting at the main door, I could hear the man-servant
inform sahib about my arrival. Stevie Wonder's song, He’s Misstra Know-It-All,
spun over a turntable connected to a powerful amplifier feeding a pair of tall hi-fi
speakers. Sipping a drink, I found David in the living room. He placed the
guitar case before me. With trembling hands I opened the lid to find over plush-lining,
a 1974 model Les Paul asleep like a true ‘Black Beauty’.
I touched her, she winked; I smiled and said in my heart, “Baby, you’re mine!”
In 1980, one American dollar was equivalent to ten Pakistani
Rupees, the F-ghan Jee-had was in full swing and the
Taliban were being fully funded by President Ronald Reagan’s administration. I suspected David
played Stevie’s song just to clarify that there would not be any Pakistani-style
discount and that ‘$600’ did not mean $599.95. He surely seemed like a ‘man with a plan’ who respected my teetotaller status when I politely refused a ‘drink’.
With six
years of guitar playing experience under the belt, I inspected the ‘axe’ like
an expert; there appeared to be no visible defect except the price. At precisely 6:45 p.m. on 2nd of March 1981, after parting
with money equivalent to two months’ salary, I shot out of the diplomat’s house
with Lady Gibson by my side.
Envious little boys
By mid-1981 I was federally entrenched as a capitalist in
Islamabad. Good guitarist friends thought my Les Paul Custom was a ‘big deal’
but then there were intensely jealous souls to contend with. When I jammed (played
guitar) with the latter, they showed envy by playing louder and faster than I
did.
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| God, give ME a Les Paul |
Then there was this skinny young man called Rohail Hyatt who came over just to look at my 'Black Beauty'; his band, Vital Signs would take five more years to form. The band, for reasons best known to them,
have never admitted that I gave a two-bar intro bass lick to bassist Shahzad
Hassan while Dil Dil Pakistan (at 00:29)
was being created at Rohail’s Lal Kurti residence in Rawalpindi.
1981 to Orwellian 1984
Living in Islamabad I initially formed a band. The drummer,
Naveed, for whom I brought a Tama Royal Star drum-kit all the way from Manny’s
of New York, had the dangerous habit of holding his breath while drumming until he turned red. A quick pat on his back usually released the tension. We played a few shows at Taxila.
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| 1974 Les Paul Custom Reissue |
Then I down-sized to an oddly named duo: ‘Terry Billy Hurt’. We performed at fine restaurants such as Heer Ranjha (Super Market), Black Beard’s (F-7 Market) and Mr Chips. Initially I had Ali, a Bengali guitarist, playing with me but later keyboardist Nusrat Hussein (later with Vital Signs) joined me. I played mostly rhythm guitar in order to sing easily as a frontman but occasionally switched to lead guitar.
By 31st December
1982, I was using Nady Pro-49 wireless guitar system that allowed me to wow the
audience. The lack of a long cable attached to an amplifier reminded them of
eastern movies whose non-guitarist heroes never physically plugged into
amplifiers.
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| 1974 Les Paul Custom Reissue (black & red) |
Money for something
and kicks for free
As my job made me move to other cities, the Les Paul moved with
me and starred on several studio recordings at my home-studio: Sound on Sound.
I actually had the best of both worlds: generous job promotions fattened my
bank account and bits of fame gladdened me.
Thanks to the internet, I rediscovered Charles David Welch recently. He finally
struck gold. From being Misstra
Know-It-All, David became Misstra Do-It-All. After reaching a high office in
the U.S State Department under Condoleezza Rice and enjoying postings at key capitals within the Middle East, he resigned his
post to work as President of Bechtel's
three divisions. In 2000, this company partially owned the water utility in
Bolivia. To watch the story of the combined greed of Bechtel and the World Bank, click HERE.
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| Les Paul playing with all fours |
Getting my baby fixed
In the next article I will tell you about the emotional
problems my Les Paul Custom guitar later had, how I got her treated by a psychiatrist under a couch, and reveal other confidential details. Until then, keep playing.
Related articles
Read part-II of this article: Re-Fretting Gibson Les Paul Custom
Read more music-related articles HERE
©Tahir Gul Hasan, 2017
