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Songs of the Nepali heart
After 30 years on stage, 1974 AD has reached a point of arrival and departure at once.
Dinesh Kafle
On Saturday evening, as around 10,000 fans roared "Yo man ta mero Nepali ho (This heart of mine is Nepali) at the Hyatt grounds in Chuchchepati, it was as if 1974 AD was announcing its arrival and departure simultaneously. The event marked the 30th year celebration of the band, and it was aptly named "Rock Yatra-2", harping on its first major arrival on the Nepali music scene in 2002. In a country where surviving for 30 years as a musical band is a rare feat, the band has continued to thrive, which was evident in how on Saturday, several generations of Nepali fans lip-synced to most of the songs throughout the three-hour show. But, after 30 years of winning the hearts of Nepali music lovers, have they reached a point of departure?
Music, memory and the nation
I can’t quite tell when 1974 AD came into my life, but I distinctly remember descending into nostalgia as I listened to a local band perform “Sambodhan timilai” at a mofussil university. Somebody told me it was written in memory of the slain King Birendra, but it was a personal song of heartbreak, and I played it on repeat for months on an Aiwa Walkman. It would be years before fans, including myself, would learn that the song was in fact written and sung by Adrian Pradhan for his teacher. More than the origin stories, it is the individual memories songs create that are of greater significance. And so, with each successive album, 1974 AD kept carving a space in the hearts of its fans even as audio technology transitioned from cassettes to CDs and then to cloud memories.
The Rock Yatra held at the Dasarath Stadium at the beginning of the new millennium was the band’s biggest show ever. But it was a messy affair, as thousands of fans locked outside of the jam-packed stadium stormed in. In the police lathicharge that ensued, dozens of fans were left wounded. The mess that afternoon further cemented the band’s image as Nepal’s most popular musical band. In attendance during the Saturday rendezvous at Hyatt were many fans who had run for their lives 23 years earlier. Now in their forties and fifties, they had come to the show with their teenage children, who were just as thrilled to see 1974 AD perform.
What keeps the band so popular today is perhaps this story of bildungsroman—of growing together through the thicks and thins of our personal and national lives. As the country descended into conflict and then into chaos in the 1990s and the 2000s, the band continued to articulate feelings of love, loss and patriotism with “Yo mann ta mero Nepali ho (This heart of mine is Nepali)”. The twin Indian-born vocalists who escaped their homelands in Darjeeling and Kalimpong in search of peace and livelihood would find themselves healing the souls of the Nepalis devastated by the Maoist insurgency. In a country full of anti-Indian jingoism, it was these two young men who gave Nepalis the anthem of patriotism. In fact, the writer of “Nepali ho”, Mapan Bhusal, is also of Indian origin. Nationality, citizenship or borders did not stop the Nepalis from realising their patriotism through the power of music.
But these identity markers mattered to the powers-that-be that were Nepali bureaucrats and leaders. Making a country sing patriotic songs in unison didn't count as the two singers' love for this nation. So obsessed is this country with the sanctity of citizenship. Ultimately, after years of futile attempts at acquiring the Nepali citizenship, both the vocalists headed to the United States, which assured them of a permanent home and livelihood. They made a generation of Nepalis feel what it means to be a Nepali, even as they struggled to become one.
At a crossroads
Even as they helped heal the hearts of a fractured nation, the band members themselves, however, couldn’t resist the temptation of diverging to different paths. After over a decade of success, the band started to disintegrate in the late 2000s, with founding member, Phiroj Shyangden leaving the band to settle in the US. Around the mid-2010s, Adrian Pradhan left the band over disagreements with fellow members. With two vocalists gone, the band tried to continue sailing with new vocalists. But these were different times; after years of conflict, stage performances were struggling to make a comeback and the digital turn had robbed musicians of the known sources of income. Time healed the old wounds of disagreement, the revival of the band culture seemed viable and the members came back together in 2019 with a plan to do a world tour. The pandemic put to rest the tour plan, but they remained together.
Today, the band is a powerhouse with two vocalists with formidable identities of their own. But what is significant about the band is that each of the members is unique and popular on his own, apart from the lead vocalist duo. Nirakar Yakthumba is an accomplished bass guitarist, Manoj KC, a gifted lead guitarist, Sanjay Shrestha a masterly percussionist and Manose Newa, a globally renowned flutist and the first Nepali musician to be nominated for a Grammy award. However, despite their individual accomplishments, they once again seem unable to commit themselves to the idea of a band working together. In intimate conversations, the band members have expressed the difficulty of sustaining a band with members divided in equal halves across two continents. Doing small gigs does not sustain the band, and big events like Rock Yatra are increasingly becoming financially unviable in Nepal as returns are low. After 30 years in the industry, 1974 AD seems to be bogged down by its own weight.
This must be why the band almost bade some kind of a farewell to the audience on Saturday, adding an ominous-sounding afterthought to their show: "Antim Yatra". But with the voices of the two lead singers showing no sign of cracking, they are expected to continue doing stage performances abroad, where it is more financially viable. But with the sudden, rather unnerving announcement of an antim yatra, it is as if the band is bringing to life its own song, “Hidda hiddai, dobato ma, timi ta kahan harai gayeu (As we walked together, you vanished somewhere along the way).