Image Courtesy of Rohail Hyatt

Vital Signs: A Personal History

By Nadeem F. Paracha

The author befriended the Vital Signs during the recording of their second album in
1990. Incidentally, the review of this album (for weekly MAG in 1991), was also his
first ever as a music critic. This feature was pieced together from the experiences and
conversations the author had with Rohail Hayatt, Junaid Jamshed, Nusrat Hussain,
Salman Ahmed, Aamir Zaki, Ali Azmat, Brain O'Connal and Ameed Riaz (CEO,
EMI-Pakistan), between 1991 and 1999.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day ...
Maybe apart from Nazia Hassan, the only other Pakistani pop act that has retained
such intense interest and popularity after its demise has been the Vital Signs. But
whereas Nazia's classic status and popularity were duly propelled by her working
relationship with famous British disco producer, Biddu, the Signs had more of a
struggle to face, trying to play and sell the kind of pop that, was still a risky anomaly
in the Pakistan of the mid and late '80s.
Today, almost twenty years after their formation in 1986 and eleven years after their
last album, even the vaguest rumor about a possible Signs reformation generates
widespread interest. Even among a whole new generation of local pop fans most of
who were only toddlers when the Signs were first formed.
Remember when you were young ...

The Vital Signs were launched in early 1986 in Rawalpindi by two teens, Rohail
Hayatt (keyboards, synthesizers), and Shahzad Hassan (bass). They were soon joined
by Nusrat Hussain (guitar, keyboards). Interestingly they were not yet called the Vital
Signs. Not even when lead singer Juniad Jamshed, a young engineering student from
Lahore, joined. This was a time when the wily General Zia-ul-Haq was reigning
supreme as dictator masquerading as a "democratically elected" President with a
puppet parliament sanctioning his every move reeking of a Machiavellian brand of
so-called "Islamization."
Even though the country at the time was covered by a thick, smoggy faade of strict
conservatism and awkward moralistic pretense, its urban underbelly was clogged with
raising ethnic tensions, mafia violence, corruption and state-sponsored terror partaken
by Zia's various intelligence agencies to suppress dissent against the dictatorship.
Ironically, it was these political and economic tensions and pretensions, power-plays
and freak economic prosperity that also propelled the gradual expansion of the
country's urban middle and lower-middle-classes. And it is the youth cultures that
emerged from these classes that launched the first shots of the kind of pop culture,
scene and music we now call modern Pakistani pop.
Change was in the air. The tensions were running high and something had to give.
This was the underlining feeling among the time's youth. They could not pin-point
exactly what or how this change would happen, but the moment Benazir Bhutto
returned from exile in mid-'86 and led a mammoth rally in Lahore, the country's major
urban centers saw a quiet but certain outpouring of brand new pop bands who wanted
to sound somewhat different than the time's top pop scions.
Most of the new acts played at private parties and weddings and at college functions,
and the Signs by early 1987 were firm favorites in the period's college function
circuit.
But unlike their other young contemporaries, the Signs performance also included
ambitious and bold covers of vintage Pink Floyd, Rush and Aa-Ha songs, apart from
the usual popular Pakistani filmi-pop and Indian film tunes of the time.
The band never took itself seriously, though. Music was just a hobby. All that changed
however when they were discovered by ace PTV producer and director, Shoaib
Mansoor, a shy, introverted bohemian and a keen music lover.
Come in here dear boy, have a cigar ...
Wanting to cash-in on the charisma he found in the way the band looked and sounded,
Shoaib asked them to record a national song he had written and wanted to air (as a
video) on PTV. The song, of course, was "Dil, Dil Pakistan."
By now the band had started to call themselves the Vital Signs, inspired by the title of
a song on the 1981 Rush album, Moving Pictures. It was Nusrat Hussain who took the
initial shot at composing the song. Shoaib hated the first draft. He wanted it to be a lot
catchier. Nusrat had another go and came up with an intro that was appreciated by the
other members. Encouraged by it, the others (especially Juniad), lend in their own
in-puts and ideas until the tune was completed, approved by Shoaib and recorded.
It was released in the summer of 1987 as a video (directed by Shoaib), in which the
Signs are shown singing the song over what looked like the lush hills of Murree. It

was an instant hit. The new generation loved it, as it was the first time ever since the
fall of Z A. Bhutto's populist-liberal government in 1977, that young men in denims,
leather jackets and guitars were seen (and allowed) on PTV. Shoaib had certainly
pulled off a smart coup.
But the song's success was not seen by the Signs as something that would turn them
into professional musicians. At least this is what Nusrat Hussain and Juniad Jamshed
thought.
Nusrat, training to become an airline pilot, flew out to Karachi and Junaid who wanted
to become a professional engineer, didn't want to have anything to do with music
other than just treating it as a hobby.
However, the allure of instant success and the amount of interest Shoaib was ready to
invest in the band kept Rohail and Shahzad going. They managed to convince Junaid
to hang around for at least the recording of their first album. But as far as Nusrat was
concerned, there was no coming back. The band was now without their main
composer and guitar player.
Rohail purposed looking around for a "proper guitarist." And ironically it was Nusrat
who suggested Salman Ahmed (a medical student living in Karachi).
Shoaib's clout had already gotten EMI (Pakistan) interested in helping the band record
their debut album. This saw Rohail, Junaid and Shahzad traveling to Karachi. The
album was recorded at EMI's studio, but almost all of it was written and composed at
Salman Ahmed's residence in Defence, Karachi where the band had been lodged.
Shoaib did all the lyrics while Junaid and Rohail shared bulk of the composing duties.
And even though Salman wanted more guitars on it, he agreed to keep the instrument
in the background when EMI's Arshad Mhamood and Shoaib insisted that they should
play it safe and straight on the first album. However, he was allowed to have a go on
the rocking "Doh Pal Ka Jeewan" and played rather beautifully on the moody "Yeh
Shaam."
The sound and words of the album are also (though indirectly), influenced by an
important turning point in the history of the troubled nation. On August 17, 1988, the
country's ubiquitous military dictator, General Zia-ul-Haq, was assassinated when a
bomb went off on the C-130 plane he was flying in.
Party-based elections were announced for November and by October thousands of
young Pakistanis thronged the streets with huge, spontaneous car rallies, dancing and
waving flags, (national, PPP, MQM), and with "Dil, Dil Pakistan" in heavy rotation,
blaring out from car stereos and music stores.
It was a euphoric time, of great hope and anticipation.
VS:1 was a massive success, selling in millions. It was a happy album. It reflected
well the mood of the time. It was all about hope and the safeguarding of the ideology
of national pride coupled by the new generation's respect and liking for individuality,
independence and free will.
However, the album's last two songs were rather enigmatic. The melancholic
"Musafir" and "Yeh Shaam," opted for a more reflective outlook, pleading moments
of introversion to come to terms with the other side of the euphoria. In fact these two
compositions can be seen having the seeds of the deep blue sound and mood the Signs

would become known for. These songs are also the first by the Signs on the theme of
someone fearing the sudden loss of happiness; a theme they would eventually
continue to address on all their albums.
Look around, choose your own ground ...
The debut album's success saw the Signs rapidly rising towards stardom, leading a
wave of fresh new acts that came to the front at the expense of the old stars. Most of
the new guns were a prominent part of the many "youth festivals" that began to do the
rounds in Karachi and Lahore, especially after one such show was specially conducted
and televised by PTV in late 1989, (Music '89).
Directed by Shoaib Mansoor it went down in history as being Pakistan's first ever
modern pop program; an impressive one-off headlined by Nazia & Zoheb, but stolen
by a crackling performance by the Vital Signs.
The Signs greatly admired Nazia & Zoheb. Like all young Pakistanis who entered
their teens during the Zia regime, the Signs too looked at the dynamic brother and
sister duo whose music helped young men and women cope the frustrating moral and
reactionary idiosyncrasies of the Zia dictatorship.
The Signs looked forward to meeting the duo after their performance, only to be given
a cold shoulder by Zoheb. Junaid and Salman were greatly disappointed. They did not
realize that their band and the many acts that they were inspiring had already started to
be seen as threats by the old guard. This was true, because by the early nineties,
almost all top pop guns of the '80s had been overshadowed and siphoned out by the
new lot.
Festivals apart, the Signs soon went on a whirlwind tour of the country, playing
sell-out concerts in Karachi, Lahore, Islamabad and Peshawar. Some of these,
especially the two concerts held in Karachi in late '89, are still remembered as some of
the best by the band.
But during this tour cracks started to appear in the Signs otherwise shiny armor.
The Signs was made up of four very different personalities. Rohail, in spite of being
introverted and not at all interested in getting any attention or limelight, was treated as
the leader. And though his quiet disposition helped him cultivate a good balance
between artistic aspirations and sound business sense, he did carry a mighty hefty ego
and a pretty potent penchant for sly Machiavellian intrigue.
Salman on the other hand was an outright extrovert. And at times crude, even though
on most occasions he was only trying to speak his mind. He too carried a hefty ego
and an almost ruthless ambition to make it big. But he had shown no hesitation in
accepting Rohail as the band's leader. Things fell apart.
Junaid was tricky business. But not in a malicious way. Because even in those days,
Junaid was a volatile character, as emotionally impressionable, contradictory and
almost as schizophrenic as he is today as a tableeghi. He went about as a man
tormented by a sense of burdensome guilt; a guilt about something no-one, not even
himself was able to define. And even though all the Signs enjoyed numerous fleeting
affairs during their early hay days, it was Junaid who ended up stuck in an awkward,
tearful romance with a female journalist.
He was close to both Rohail and Salman, but could not defuse the tension between the

two. In the end when the Signs were approached by Pepsi (in late 1990), Junaid
decided to side with Roahil as he managed to completely isolate the capricious
guitarist.
The Pepsi contract was signed in December 1990, (ironically in the presence of
Salman), but by January 1991, Salman was gone.
Mother should I build the wall ...
Salman's idealistic nature bordered on being clumsy and nave. But it was his
passionate focus and ambition to become a big time rock star that first made him
launch Junoon with former Jupiters' vocalist Ali Azmat and ex-Signs man, Nusrat
Hussain. But to be a popular rock star, he was bold enough not to become yet another
Signs clone. His idea for long-term relevance lay in introducing socially conscious
rock music to the mainstream Pakistani scene.
Many believe that Rohail planed to give Salman the boot in mid-1990 when he (along
with Junaid and Shahzad), saw guitarist Rizwan-ul-Haq play with a local band at a
concert in Islamabad. On a number of occasions Rohail complained about Salman's
"interfering ways" and what Rohail called, "Salman's Imran Khan complex."
Pressured by Pepsi to come out with a brand new album, the Signs called in Rizwan
as Salman's replacement. Rizwan's more subdued personality and his talent to play a
lot more melodically compared to Salman's riff-friendly ways, was more to the liking
of Rohail's plan to construct the Signs' sound as a crisp cross between vintage late-80s
pop (ala Ah-Ha and Duran Duran), with the aura of '70s Progressive Rock (especially
Pink Floyd and Genesis).
Sohaib's lyrics remained to be reflective musings about lost chances and of urban
existential crisis being tackled by a highly romanticized version of the concept of
nostalgia. Junaid was a huge admirer of these lyrics, and sang them with great
commitment and meaning. It was as if he was tackling his own awkward emotional
crisis of the self with these songs.
And it was these very crisis that saw him suddenly announce his departure from the
Signs right in the middle of the recording process of the band's second album. He
huffed out of Rohail's studios in Rawalpindi, returning to study engineering in Lahore,
though the bulk of the vocals had already been recorded.
This is precisely why the Signs' second album, VS:2 is such a departure from the first
album's more upbeat ways. Rohail was left in a lurch in his studios as he sat down to
produce the final mix of the album, unsure of the band's existence.
The resulting sound emerging from such emotional turmoil and uncertainty was
heavily melancholic and introverted ("Rahi," "Yaad Ker Na"), suddenly jumping
towards thumping anger with the powerful, "Aisa Na Ho."
This is also perhaps the Signs' most political album as well, alluding to the loss of
innocence, hope and euphoria that bloomed in 1988. By 1991 these lay crushed under
the weight of a new round of ethnic and sectarian violence and political corruption.
The late '80s Street Dancing Revolution was over.
The Signs' rue this loss with a warning shot on "Aisa Na Ho" and masquerade their
taunting of America's deceptive ways with third world countries like Pakistan on

"Mera Dil Nahi Available." Hardly anyone knew that the song's narrator was a
cynical, stereotypical American politician and not a hearty teenage flirt! Cheeky stuff,
but pulled off with an ironic sense of humor.
Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away ...
With VS:2 the Signs' music had shown strong signs of maturity and versatility. And
even though the album was a commercial success, some fans were not happy with the
album's downbeat sound. However, it was this album that was able to draw the
attention of many "serious minded" listeners.
The success prompted Pepsi to revive its sponsorship deal with the band, raising the
stakes enough for the band to, (for the first time), seriously start treating making
music as a career.
Junaid made the final break with his ambition of becoming an engineer as the band
prepared to go on another grueling tour of the country. But more importantly, they
were now set to become the first modern Pakistani pop act to go on a tour abroad. The
United States was the destination.
The tour also changed the way the band looked. No more were they clean-cut Ah-Ha
clones, as they let their hair grow, slipped into heavy cowboy boots, rugged Levis
501's, leather jackets and chunky metal jewelry.
The early '90s that saw the emergence of grunge and a revival of interest in '70s music
and fashion were the instigators. The change also saw Rohail, Shahzad and Juniad
moving to Karachi (Rizwan decided to stay back in Islamabad), as Rohail started
constructing a brand new studios in his lush Karachi apartment.
They entered the studios in early 1993 almost the same time as Junoon did the EMI
(Studios) to record their second album, Talaash (the first album, though promising,
had bombed in the market).
Pepsi had also raised the stakes for it to meddle in the ways the new Signs album
should sound. They had not enjoyed VS:2's "depressing tone" and pressurized the
band to make the new album sound a lot like the first one. And this time there were
not to be any songs alluding to politics whatsoever.
However, the general theme of the new songs remained the same. Shoaib again
penned songs ruing about lost opportunities and the need to look towards an idealized
version of a nostalgic past to counter modern urban existential pangs.
One such song also became the title of the new album: Aitebaar. Built around some
marvelous piano playing by Rizwan-ul-Haq, Junaid gave voice to what would become
one of the local scene's finest ballads. And this was also the highlight of the album
which was otherwise studded with tunes that were nothing more than a cosmetic
exercise in making easy to swallow pop music.
Aitebaar remains to be the Signs' weakest album. Highly predictable, it did have its
moments, though. But these were too far and in-between.
A lot more was changing. A wave of brand new acts had come tumbling in, mostly via
Ghazanfar Ali's weekly pop show, Music Channel Charts (Yatagaan, Awaz, Collage,
Fringe Benefits, Sequencers, Jazba, Nadeem Jaffery, along with, of course, a rapidly

galloping Junoon).
Though still the land's top pop act, the Signs now had some serious competition. On
the surface they seemed not to be so perturbed. In fact Rohail produced the first Awaz
album, a band that was being tipped by Pepsi to be the next Signs. It's another matter
that though a commercial success, the album was nothing more than a predictable
exercise in one-dimensional boy-pop.
The Signs then toured the country to record the Shoaib Mansoor directed Geetar '93, a
compilation of videos of the Signs' biggest hits thus far, shot across the four provinces
and financed by Pepsi. Made for PTV (and now available on DVD), Geetar '93 was an
entertaining document of the Signs' progress as a solid pop act. However, the only
thing in those videos that stuck out like a sore thumb was the not-so-aesthetically and
strategically placed Pepsi bottles in the videos. They seemed surrealistically ridiculous
placed there in songs about broken hearts, emotional isolation and existential angst!
1993 was also the year in which the Signs played the most number of concerts. The
biggest taking place at the KDA Stadium in Karachi, a mega-concert headlined by the
Signs and also consisting performances from the Milestones, Awaz and the newly
formed Arsh.
Another note of interest at the concert was the presence of Salman Ahmed in the
audience and the fact that it was after this concert Rohail first started to show signs of
agitation regarding his growing dissatisfaction with Rizwan-ul-Haq's playing.
Run rabbit run, dig that hole forget the sun...
Rohail wasn't counting his blessings as far as Rizwan was concerned. He was a pretty
competent player. Not flashy but highly melodic and understated. His playing was
near perfect for the Signs' sound. However, the prospect of getting guitar whiz Aamir
Zaki became too good an opportunity to let go. Rizwan was quietly siphoned out (he
joined Awaz), and in came the moody and temperamental Zaki.
Pepsi were breathing down the band's necks to come out with a new album. To
compensate, the band released a hurriedly compiled "Best of ..." package. Rohail did
not want another Aetibaar, deciding to construct a sound that was similar to the one
discovered on VS:2 but a lot meatier. Rohail and Zaki wanted it to be like a cross
between Floyd, Eagles and Fleetwood Mac.
Much talk took place but little work as Rohail also ventured out to try publishing the
country's first music magazine and a possibility of recording actress Atiqa Odho's
debut album. Rohail seemed to be spending more time planning Ms. Odho's album
than he was the Signs.
Already signs of tension and fiction between Zaki and Rohail started to emerge. And
then came the announcement that the Signs would be touring the States. Rohail flatly
refused saying that he has a magazine to publish and albums to produce.
Rohail's refusal did not go down well with Juniad who sided with Zaki's suggestion of
making the tour without Rohail. And which they did. Ticked off, Rohail announced
his departure from the band.
On returning, Juniad reproached Rohail and along-with Shahzad coaxed Rohail to
rejoin. The meeting did not have Zaki, and when the Signs were interviewed in a TV

show in mid-'94, here too Zaki was missing from the line-up.
But Zaki was still there with the band when they finally started work on the new
album. The process was broken when the Signs flew to Dubai for a couple of
concerts. They were seen embracing one another after the concerts in a show of
reviving their trust and mending fences.
They returned to Pakistan but the recording was interrupted again when they went to
England with Awaz.
In between the shows, Rohail took the band (along-with Awaz's Asad Ahmed and
Junoon's Ali Azmat), to see his favorite band Pink Floyd live in London. Rohail had
always wanted a guitarist who could sound and play like Floyd's Dave Gilmore. Now
more than ever. But he was shocked when Zaki came out of the concert severely
criticizing Gilmour's playing. This was the final straw that broke the camel's back.
After a heated argument, Zaki was asked to leave. He was replaced by Asad Ahmed to
help the band complete their new album. It was no secret that Asad always wanted to
jump Awaz and join the Signs, but Rohail wouldn't accept him as anything more than
a hired hand.
In early 1995 the Signs finally completed and released their fourth album, Hum Tum.
This was to be the last time the Vital Signs could be seen with their cool, long locks,
tight cowboy boots and denims. Hum Tum also sees Rohail injecting the Floydian
ambience and the moodiness of VS:2 by further expanding it, enough to come out
clean as one of the local pop scene`s finest producers.
And even though Junaid Jamshed and Shoaib Mansoor again did well to compliment
the album`s Floyd-meets-Eagles aura and VS:2-type moodiness, Hum Tum is really
Rohail`s baby.
The aesthetic and commercial success of the album wasn't enough to roll back another
happening: Rohail and Shahzad were ideologically and aesthetically drifting away
from Juniad Jamshed and Shoaib Mansoor. Nothing much seemed a lot in common
anymore between the two camps.
Junaid had already started his gradual slip (flip?) towards a state of mind which would
eventually land him as the tableeghi jamaat's poster boy, while Rohail and Shahzad
decided to shift their energies into producing new acts and advertising jingles.
And though the Signs' demise was never officially announced, by 1998 when the band
were offered a deal by Pepsi for another album, Rohail declined, signaling the folding
of what still remains to be one of most important and volatile chapters in the history of
Pakistani pop music.
Note: This article has been pubished with the kind permission of Nadeem F. Paracha.

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