music
I have always been a firm believer in the fact that art has the power to move hearts and it is the strongest medium to spark revolution. No art, no matter how insignificant it may seem, is useless. It has moved people, stirred emotions and inspired change whether one chooses to acknowledge it or not.
Gen Z is often dismissed as having little to no understanding of art. However, from time to time, this generation proves that assumption wrong, especially today’s artists, who seem to take it personally. Not only are they reviving old music, but they are also creating a style uniquely their own. Take Abdul Rehman Sajid, known as HAVI, for example: not only is he a great singer, but he also embodies the ‘classic sad boy with depth’ image that Gen Z admires.
I first discovered him through my Instagram reels. The doomscrolling led me to one of his famous viral dialogues, Aik masla hai (there’s a problem), after which he begins singing a Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan classic: Wo bhi apne na hue, dil bhi gaya hathon se (I couldn’t make them mine, nor could I save my heart). The depth in his voice made me curious enough to explore more of his work. Safe to say, I was not disappointed.
My first question to him was whether his art is inspired by what has come before and how he keeps his originality intact. He smirked and replied, “There’s nothing new, nothing that hasn’t been done before.”
“Yeah, it hasn’t been making rounds in the current pop scene. But since my music is an amalgam of all the inspiration I carry, I draw from everything and anything, including the atmosphere I exist in,” he added.
For Sajid, music is an ‘accurate’ tool for self-analysis. “My love for silence is reflected in my music. As a person, I’m a loner, I prefer to sit alone. In fact, a good day for me is one I spend entirely by myself, because that’s when I process the noise in my head, which helps me create the contrast in my music,” he told this scribe.
To understand his creative process, I asked how he knows what his listeners want and whether he expects them to grasp the depth of his music. He smirked again before replying, “My intention is simply to create music and share it with my listeners. As an artist, I feel a responsibility to cater to them. These days, we tend to burden art with the notion of relevance and when artists can’t reach that standard, they often blame listeners for lacking depth or failing to understand. To me, that isn’t fair to the audience.”
“I believe that everyone has a purpose and my music carries a purpose too. My listeners will understand it one day, if they want to. Otherwise, I have no issue with how they choose to perceive it,” he elaborated.
When asked about his current projects, he said he is working on 8–9 tracks, each representing a different genre. “I combine stories, moods, and spaces because, to me, art is dimensional. One track I’m working on has the lyrics, Aap se pehle, aap ke baad, kaun pehne gehney, kaun rangay haath (Before you, after you, who will wear the bangles, who will colour their palms). This song embodies the idea of living for someone else, dependency. I’ve explored questions in it, which is my usual way of developing music,” he elucidated.
“Also, one thing about me; nothing is ever ‘finished’ for me. I always revisit and learn something new, which proves my earlier point about how I use music as a tool for self-reflection,” he continued.
To conclude the interview with this young, charming yet thoughtful musician, I asked him what his music would look like in a visual landscape. He paused for a moment, then painted a picture of a rocky, foamy beach with ‘black sand’ and ‘broken settlements’. His answer left me curious, so I asked him to explain what he meant.
“If you look at a beach, it has a limitless horizon and everything appears beautiful. But black sand disrupts the scenery; it reflects the struggle of the artist who created it - someone trying to get through even the most basic tasks of the day,” he explained.
His response only deepened my curiosity, so I asked him where he thought his music would be played the most. He replied simply, “At a place of conflict.”
“My music is for everyone who feels they don’t belong. That’s why it would be played in places where people feel out of place,” he concluded.
A. Fatima is a journalist based in Karachi.