Amit Saigal had a knack for snazzy. One of the most memorable gigs that I’ve ever attended was on a small dinghy that took sail at the Gateway of India. This was back in 2004 when Amit decided that the Great Indian Rock qualifiers deserved a shot of fun at sea, and organised the ride. Zero was among the bands that performed and wowed the small crowd of journalists and enthusiastic rock fans with their originals and a boisterous cover of La Bamba. This was the first time that I also watched bassist Shri from UK build up a frenzy with a lone, self-made bass guitar. We got on the boat in the afternoon and by the time the bands were done in the evening, we had all been lulled into a stupor by the waves that gently rocked the boat. Amit also made sure we had enough booze or Breezers, if you preferred, to help us remain in the state of inertia. When I reminded him about the gig four years later, he broke into one of his full-bellied laughs and nodded in pride.
By 2008, GIR, that Amit kickstarted, was in its 11th year. Amit had also kicked off the Pub Rock Fest across the country. It was around this time that Amit wanted to revamp Rock Street Journal, the music magazine that he founded and went onto to gain cult status. “I’m looking for writers,” said Amit when I met him next at the c/o pop electronica festival in Cologne. You’d think Amit would turn up his nose at electronica considering that half the world and its prudes were quick to dismiss it as soulless music. Watching the man let his hair down to German electronica acts such as Supermayer made you want to jump in and join the party too. His enthusiasm was infectious.
I remember the stand that Amit took concerning a particularly gregarious artist, who was also part of the group that travelled to Germany for the c/o pop festival. Almost everyone was ready to gag him the next time he bragged about his musical skills or decided to do an impromptu jam mutilating a perfectly harmonious performance with his appalling string-playing abilities. Amit was the only one to speak up in his defense: “Hey you got to give it to the guy for being enthusiastic.” It was refreshing to meet an older journalist who wasn’t cynical, and this instantly made him more inspiring.
Something else that Amit said during the festival stayed with me. At a gay club named Gloria, DAF, who were considered to be the heroes of German punk, were putting up what seemed like a great show. All their songs were in German, and we only understood snatches of their biggest hit titled “Der Mussolini”. Amit wasn’t too impressed. He went onto to tell me that punk relied on the power of the word and the point was lost because he didn’t understand the lyrics. But he didn’t walk out. It would take (or this is what I believe) a completely dismal performance for the man to walk out on a show.
When Amit was asked to be a part of the panel at c/o pop, which involved him introducing the music scene in India, he made us all proud. Of course, there was no chest beating and waxing about his contribution to the music industry. He was too cool for that. Amit’s role in the Indian indie industry and Indian music journalism was no small one. It was thrilling to get my hands on RSJ when I was in school. Award winning gonzo journalism it was not, but it had enough kick to get me excited about music even before I knew I’d be writing about it. The Saigal House in Allahabad, where Amit is from and where he kicked off RSJ, is part of rocklore now. “It was always an open house,” said Amit.
Thank you Amit for leading the way.
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