FEBRUARY 10 — It was as if Hael Husaini has managed to crack the secret to winning this year’s 33rd Anugerah Juara Lagu (AJL) music awards, straight after doing it with his debut single last year.
Take two former winners — himself, and 31st edition’s Dayang Nurfaizah — and mesh them together in a ballad that is the genre du jour here composed by the increasingly “lethal” songwriting duo of Hael and Ezra Kong... and voila, you have Haram.
And don’t forget, that the duo had three songs as finalist. One of them was another of Hael’s single Hajat, and Nisan Cinta, another duet by two vocal powerhouses Siti Nordiana and Jaclyn Victor written with Mike Chan.
If Hael were to rest on his laurels, he could just simply craft another duet with this year’s Best Vocals winner Misha Omar and he would probably sweep the awards for three years straight. I may not be the only one raring to hear what Hael comes up with next.
There are many things that make Haram so irresistible, but chief among them was how fresh it sounded compared to most of not only the finalists, but also the 30-odd songs that were long-listed.
Composer and head jury Azmeer seemed to agree, saying the jury were looking for musical innovation, and Haram ticked all the boxes when it comes to composition, arrangement and production.
“I admit, many songs now are recycled music from the 90s,” he was reported saying by the media.
And yet, out of the 12 songs shortlisted, perhaps only a quarter sounded like it would not sound out of place when put alongside modern pop songs by international artists.
Last year, I already wrote about how Hael’s debut single Jampi holds more than how it sounds. I am not disappointed with how Haram too presented layers I could attempt to peel, a rarity with Malay modern pop.
Besides its sonic appeal, it can be argued that Haram caught so many listeners with its title — which means “prohibited” or “forbidden” in Malay, and when viewing through a religious lens something that is sinful and invites divine punishment.
Its subject matter was no less taboo. On the surface, it tells of a forbidden love, one that must not be spoken aloud.
“Oh let this feeling / Stored only for me / Only you know / Oh let this feeling / Just enough that you know / I’m around when you need me,” said the infectious chorus, with the final line springing a surprise by expressing assurance towards the partner.
Many listeners, yours truly included, posited that the song tells of an affair — as forbidden as love can go.
But in an interview with Malay portal mStar in June last year, Hael “revealed” his interpretation of the song.
“Haram is a symbol of their love, where they ‘forbid’ for their hearts to fall in love with others,” Hael said. And yet, he did not discount other interpretations, admitting that his songs “are full of implicit messages”.
Many elements in the song has led me to believe that Hael had only revealed just part of the message. That the song is indeed not simply about an affair, but rather unfulfilled love — lovers who ended up with someone else, yet are not able to extinguish their feelings and vowed to each other to never open up their hearts to others, only to carry their secret love to the death.
In the lyrics, Hael sang of making the wrong decision into a relationship devoid of feeling, followed by Dayang accepting the reality of their feelings. All the while haunting background voices mutter the word “biar” taken from the chorus — either symbolising her persistence against the crowd, or her inner feelings telling her to “let it be”.
And the most catchy part of the song, a vocal chop pitched up heard post-chorus — which many listeners likened to a cock crowing — could it be that it is the sound of a feeling buried deep inside, yearning to be let out no matter how “haram” it is?
There may be a reason why the single was released closely with Hajat, which I think should more aptly be called Halal — “permitted” or “lawful”.
After all, Hajat tells of a marriage, which in Malay-Muslim culture renders a couple “halal”. Its flipside is of course the relationship described in Haram.
Perhaps Hael was playing coy over the song’s meaning considering how taboo the topic is among the Malay community.
Loveless marriage happens all the time, especially as marriage is increasingly seen as merely to sanctify a relationship, even a stopgap to ensure youths are not having sex outside marriage. Some marry young only to realise that their hearts are not in it.
Some parents choose to marry their daughter off to their rapists as a cover up, to wash their hands of the matter. Don’t forget that child marriage can still happen with permission.
And then, there are those who are forced to marry the opposite sex only to end up living a denial. Only because same-sex unions can cost them everything, even their lives.
Ultimately, the song speaks to so many people. Hael and Kong’s boldness in tackling this difficult topic deserves recognition on its own.
Talking about marriage, my personal favourite Sufian Suhaimi stole the show with his heart-rending performance of Di Matamu which tells of a man rejected, made poignant by his broken engagement with actress Elfira Loy last year. Elfira herself got married last month.
And after an emotional delivery of just Suffian standing, he dropped the bombshell near the end of the song which left the crowd roaring.
His stage backdrop revealed the prop that proved to be the piece de resistance: A full wedding dais that was the spitting image of Elfira’s.
Suffice to say, Suffian won the Best Performance.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
