HOW PAKISTAN’S NUSRAT FATEH ALI KHAN WON THE WEST AND THE WORLD

“I dreamed that he came to me and asked me to sing. I said I could not, but he told me to try. He touched my throat, I started to sing, and then I woke up singing. I had dreamed that my first live performance would be at my father’s chilla [funeral ceremony], where we would all sit together again and read prayers from the Koran and so on. On the fortieth day after his death, we held the ceremony, and I performed for the very first time.”- Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as told to Jeff Buckley, Interview Magazine, January 1996

FAISALABAD. 1964.

If dreams contain destinies, then perhaps there was none greater in music than Pakistan’s Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Upon his father’s death in 1964, it was unclear who would take over the family’s 600-year-old-Qawwali legacy of devotional Sufi music.

From an early age, Nusrat’s father Fateh Ali Khan, a master vocalist in his own right, discouraged his pudgy, sensitive son from music, and instead, he directed him toward a safer career in medicine and a path to higher social status. Nusrat obeyed his formidable father’s advice, but when he was away performing, he would secretly practice the harmonium and the tabla (​the ​principal percussion instrument in Hindustani classical music) on his own at home.

One day, a renowned classical singer from Calcutta named Pandit Dina Nath visited Nusrat’s father. Pandit was in despair. He told Fateh Ali Khan that there was no tabla player in Pakistan who was worthy to accompany his singing. Fateh Ali Khan was wounded by Pandit’s remarks, and, by this time, he was also aware of his son’s furtive musical ambitions. He asked Nusrat if he would play with Pandit. Nusrat said yes, with your permission. A session was arranged, and Pandit asked who would accompany him on tabla. Fateh pointed toward his young son:

“This fat boy, Nusrat?” Pandit exclaimed.

“Of course, he is fat in body, but his brain is sharp,” Fateh replied.

As Pandit began to sing, he realized the young acolyte was more than up to his challenge. As Aqeel Ahmed Ruby relates in his biography Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan: A Living Legend, it was now or never for Nusrat to prove himself in his father’s eyes. As the session wound down, Pandit exclaimed, “I am defeated Fateh Ali Khan. Your son is talented.”

Victory in hand, Nusrat entered a brief period of training with his father in the art of classical Hindustani vocal music before his sudden death from cancer. Upon his father’s passing, Nusrat was still not the clear choice of successor for the family. His demure manner and weight problems left many around him unconvinced. Nusrat’s uncle, Mubarak, continued his training, but he also passed away abruptly, and the family’s reputation and birthright, unbroken for generations, hung in the balance. As the family soldiered on in performances without Fateh or Mubarak, Nusrat was relegated to the opening act, or worse, told to sleep in the van as the rest of the family sang.

In 1965, 16-year-old Nusrat’s big opportunity finally arrived. Radio Pakistan hosted the yearly Jashn-e-Baharn Spring Festival, which was attended by the best musicians and groups in the region. During rehearsal, Shakoor Baidil, the festival director, heard Nusrat sing and suggested he lead the family’s group in their performance. Nusrat seized the moment, and his voice carried over the crackly airwaves straight into the hearts of his fellow compatriots. But it wouldn’t stop there. A masterful performer and diligent musician, Nusrat would go on to touch, heal and uplift millions around the world, including Jeff Buckley, who when he finally met his idol and “my Elvis” confessed to Nusrat that his devotional music saved his life.

RAJASTHAN. 12th CENTURY.

“Music is no longer an aim, but a vehicle. Song is no longer an end, but a transportation, a path to the divine.”- Rumi

Qawwali (or utterance) hits the listener in rising, hypnotic waves punctuated by ecstatic vocal cries, transporting one beyond earthly separation, lifting one up toward the divine until consciousness dissolves with God. Its roots extend far back into the 12th century when Sufi missionaries led by the ascetic Khwaja Mohinudden Chisti known as the “Protector of the Poor”, traveled to the Indian subcontinent to convert people to Islam. The Chisti Brotherhood’s message of oneness, compassion, renunciation of material goods, and respect for other religions resonated in the region. Most especially, the performance of music and poetry in the context of a mystical concert or sama to arrive at spiritual knowledge. “Sufis used qawwali to spread their message of peace and equality among the lower castes including the ‘untouchables’ and Dalits,” according to musicologist Ally Adnan.

A century later, Hazar Ameer Khusro, a gifted Sufi poet, combined the various Arabic, Turkish Persian, and Hindustani influences and traditions into what we recognize today as modern Qawwali. Poetic verses about beauty and love are sung and interpreted by a group of seated musicians known as a Party accompanied by instruments (originally sarangi, sitar, now the harmonium), hand drums, and hand-clapping in a propulsive, communal invitation to experience religious ecstasy.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s own lineage follows a similar trajectory as documented in Pierre-Alain Baud’s excellent biography, Nusrat: The Voice of Faith. His ancestors from modern-day Afghanistan followed Sufi ascetic Hazrat Sheikh to the Indian sub-continent in the 12th century. Nusrat himself said that his family hailed from the same town as Sufi poet, Rumi, and he loved to sing his poems. His family line also connects to the Qawwali children’s school, founded in the 13th century by Nizamuddin Auliya, a famous Sufi saint in Delhi. With his origins forged in the past and deeply intertwined with the history of Qawwali, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Party would modernize its transcendent beauty at breathtaking speed.

BIRMINGHAM. 1980.

“I remember I came to see him. There were no taxis, all the taxi drivers were coming to listen to Nusrat.” — Navid Akhar, BBC Radio 4 program

Following World War II, there was a new wave of South Asian immigration into Britain. Men from Pakistan and India came in search of employment in the factory towns in the West Midlands and North of England. Mohammad Ayub’s father served in the British Army, was wounded, and lost his eyesight, making it difficult to provide for his family. In 1961, a friend invited Ayub to Birmingham to pursue his studies and seek work. But like many of his peers, he was unable to find employment in the factories. Instead, he found solace in the cinema where they would occasionally play Bollywood and Pakistani films. He also saw an opportunity: “I realized there is a need for this, to promote our music and promote our culture,” he told Asian Youth Culture. In 1970, he set up a record shop and label in Balsall Heath called Oriental Star Agencies to promote and produce music from the Indian subcontinent.

Back in Pakistan, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan & Party continued to gain attention for their live performances at private gatherings and urs — the celebrations of Sufi saints. Anthropologist Adamy Nayyar first saw him in 1972 and was “amazed by the virtuosity of this round, young man. The energy, the passion, pushing the music to its limits with his eyes squeezed shut, everything the world would one day know him by, was already there.”

By the mid-70s, cassette tapes distributed and sold in the bazaars all over Pakistan were accelerating the spread of musical acts. Sadly, Nusrat’s father never had the opportunity to record during his own life, so Nusrat’s first decision was to recreate his father’s songs, including, “Haq Ali Maula” at the famous Rehat Gramophone House (then operated by EMI Pakistan). Nusrat’s fame was soaring, and he received his first invitation to perform outside Pakistan at a wedding ceremony for the son of Indian film star Raj Kapoor in 1979. The legendary performance lasted for over nine hours.

The invitations continued to pour in throughout the South Asian diaspora including Birmingham. In 1980, Mohammad Ayub saw Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan & Party perform. “I can clearly remember the day when I heard his music. It struck a chord in my heart. I thought, what a voice!”

Yet, to his dismay, the performance was poorly attended. Ayub convinced Khan & Party that he would organize a concert the following week and tapped his promotional gifts and deep networks in Birmingham’s South Asian community. As promised, the concert was a smash success, and it began a life-long friendship. Nusrat went on to record over 160 albums, CD, DVDs, cassettes and videos with Ayub’s Oriental Star Agencies, but he was far from done.

MERSEA ISLAND. 1985.

[World music] had this museum-like veneer in our part of the world. It was an academic pursuit rather than a vibrant, sexy or spiritual thing.” — Peter Gabriel

After the murder of anti-apartheid activist at Steve Biko in 1977, outcry against the South African’s vicious segregationist regime was at a fever pitch in the West. Genesis hitmaker Peter Gabriel was moved to write about the Black Consciousness Movement leader in 1980, one of the first songs about apartheid by a Western artist. At the same time, he had also developed a newfound love of African music after encountering it on a Dutch radio station. That year, he began to dream about a music festival that showcased artists rarely seen or heard by Western audiences and bring about cultural and creative exchange. From that dream, WOMAD (World of Music, Arts and Dance) was born.

The first WOMAD in 1982 was a nightmare by all accounts. The festival struggled to sell tickets, and the debt was soaring. Gabriel received nasty phone calls and death threats. Gabriel’s old bandmates in Genesis graciously came to the rescue for a reunion concert that bailed out the festival.

With WOMAD back on its feet, Gabriel was in search of new artists to celebrate. Peter Townshend of The Who had introduced Gabriel to qawwali, which soon lead to Mohammed Ayub and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

At the 1985 WOMAD on Mersea Island, still mostly unknown to Western audiences, Nusrat & Party took the stage just before midnight. They were scheduled to perform for thirty minutes. What happened next is the thing of music legend.

Mohammad Ayub was there, and he recalled the atmosphere in a 2015 interview:

“The stage was on a seaside, and a cold wind was coming from underneath. And his [Nusrat’s] legs were frozen. He said he cannot sit, and he cannot perform. So they gathered around a few blankets and pillow and wraps around his legs and then put some heaters around. Then he started performing, and what a wonderful performance. I cannot describe that.”

“It was cold, it was raining, but all the White people — entranced — wanted him to go on,” Dildar Hussain his tabla player recalled.

And on Nusrat & Party went. Until somewhere between four and five in the morning as the next day broke…

Amanda Jones, the manager of Peter Gabriel’s Real World Records music labels, captured the significance of the event: “This really was a defining moment, both for the audience, and to be honest, I think also for Nusrat, because he began to understand the impact and the power of his music to an audience who essentially couldn’t understand the lyrics and couldn’t understand the content, but were transformed, entranced by his expression and the beauty of his singing.”

Nusrat followed up WOMAD with a dazzling showcase of concerts at the Theatre de la Ville in Paris, and as the decade closed, performances throughout Europe and beyond.

The world had opened up to Nusrat, and in turn, Nusrat was opening the world to the spiritual ecstasy of qawwali.

BATH, ENGLAND. 1990.

Toronto born guitarist and producer Michael Brook had been aware of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s music since the 1980s via Gabriel’s Real World Records when the call came.

“Peter Gabriel who was in charge of Real World Records, had heard my solo album that had some Asian influences in it, but was still kind of a modern, studio-type recording. So he thought I might be an appropriate producer and collaborator for Nusrat, and he asked me to get involved and we recorded it in his studio in Bath, England.”

By this time, Nusrat was everywhere, including on the soundtrack for Martin Scorsese’s controversial, The Last Temptation of Christ, which presented Jesus as a flesh and blood man besieged by earthly temptations. Gabriel’s deeply spiritual score, forgoing typical music cues, was a mix of Middle Eastern drones and North African instruments with atmospheric synthesized soundscapes, and he tapped Nusrat’s voice for the centerpiece track of the film, “Passion.” Gabriel explained: “Nusrat is one of the greatest singers of our time. When his singing takes off, his voice embodies soulfulness and spirituality like no other.’” The album would go on to win a Grammy in 1990 for Best New Age Album.

While he lent the vocals to The Last Temptation soundtrack, Nusrat had never recorded a full album with Western musicians before. Still, Nusrat was willing to push his vocal stylings and experimentation in this singular collaboration. “I made my own style,” said Nusrat, “We update Qawwali with the times.”

Gabriel and Brook brought in an eclectic range of musicians for the magical Real World Records session as he recounted to the CBC in 2021. Besides Nusrat, Farrukh and Dildar from the Party, there was Robert Ahwai from a West Indian background, Darryl Johnson from New Orleans, and James Pinker from New Zealand. Real World Records gives a beautiful account of the making of the album.

Mustt Mustt, was a smash success, reaching #14 on Billboard’s World Music charts. Massive Attack’s remix of the the title track became a club anthem, and it was the first song in Urdu to reach the British charts.

LONDON. 1997.

“My music gives the message of peace and love. When I sing, I sing with the depth of my heart. And, because this is a pure form of music, it can be passed down to generations. The way it is performed, it breaks all barriers, and no one has difficulty understanding it.” — Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

Throughout the 90s, Khan performed and recorded tirelessly. Collaborations and recordings came thick and fast. Hollywood. Bollywood. A residency at the University of Seattle-Washington. Inspired Imran Khan and Pakistan’s cricket team to glory. Saved Jeff Buckley’s life. It was a time of glorious cross-pollination of musical styles even as the dark geo-political clouds of the coming century loomed.

Another soundtrack collaboration courted controversy and blasphemy when Khan’s voice was used in Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers during a rape scene, and some in Pakistan were becoming more critical of his frequent collaborations with the West. Khan learned his lesson, and he required scene approval for his appearance on 1997's Dead Man Walking. He was now duet-ing with one of rock music’s biggest stars of the 90s — Eddie Vedder. Khan was humble and nonplussed as ever in an LA Times interview, “When I was asked to sing in the film, I was requested to work together with Eddie. So we rehearsed together and it worked very well. Therefore, I decided to do a duet with him.”

Despite his string of successes, the non-stop lifestyle of an international music icon was catching up with Khan. During a check-up in the US in 1993, doctors discovered that Khan had suffered a series of heart attacks that had gone undetected. Kidney stones were also removed.

Khan was also suffering from diabetes and chronic obesity, but he refused to slow down, juggling domestic joy with his wife Naheed and young daughter Nida and the spiritual demands from his global legions of fans. There were rumors of potential collaborations with Bjork, Pavarotti, and other major artists. Khan meanwhile was privately suffering from diabetes. In his last few months, he was on dialysis.

On August 11, 1997 on a transatlantic flight from Pakistan to New York where Khan was to receive a kidney transplant, the plane made an emergency landing in London. A few days later on August 16, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was dead at age 48.

His nephew and qawwali successor, Ratah Fateh Ali Khan will never forget the day he heard the news: “I still remember when I got that call in the afternoon in Pakistan telling me that he had passed away. It was morning in London, when he had died there in the hospital. When I practice a raag he taught me and remember his phrases, I miss him and that’s the time I realize that he is physically no more with me. Right from my childhood, I would be glued to him and I don’t remember talking to him about anything else, but about music.”

The music. It was always about the music for Khan as a path to the divine. After a performance at the Gateway Theater in Chicago in 1993, he told Andy Carvin: “Many have said I have compromised my faith by coming to the West. But this is not so. To travel the world and open the hearts of those whose were previously closed is a joy worth the other sacrifices.”

In his last interview with Jameela Siddiqi in March 1997, Khan humbly reminded the journalist of what mattered most to him in life:

“Name. Fame. Wealth. Honor. All these things are a gift from Allah. Otherwise, we qawwals are basically the kind of people who belong with the fakirs [Sufi Muslim ascetics regarded as holy men]. This is where we really belong. It is only by the grace of Allah that I’m given this honor of being well-known, wealthy, honored and respected. But you don’t need any of those things to be a good human being…The most important thing is to never hurt anyone’s feelings, because if you heart someone’s heart, you hurt God, because God resides in all human hearts.”

One of the great discoveries in researching this article was learning how Khan divided performance royalties with his Party.

Khan’s enormous talent, spiritual wisdom and bottomless generosity allowed him to do the seemingly superhuman — connect East and West and bring us all closer to our divine natures. We must hold tight to his timeless legacy in these dark times.

p.s. It’s so hard to choose a favorite song or performance of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Album-wise, I love the gentle longing of his Grammy-nominated collaboration with Michael Brook, Night Song. I find myself listening a lot to the vocal gymnastics and propulsive beauty of “Tumhein Dillagi Bhool Jaani Padegi” which encourages us to seek the path of true love.

Recommended reading:

Aqeel Ahmed Ruby;s Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan: A Living Legend
Pierre-Alain Baud’s Nusrat: The Voice of Faith
Real World Records