[By Remo Fernandes. For Jitesh Pillai, Times of India, Mumbai. 21st July 2004.]
So you wanna be a pop star and make a hit record. Nothing to it. Gone are the dark ages when stars were required to have talent, put in hours of practice at their craft, think up original lyrics and music, travel by train and carry their luggage to concerts in remote parts of the country to make their songs heard by the people …
This is the age of electronica, baby. You sing in Mumbai, your song is heard in Kahinbhipuri. And everywhere in between. Twelve times an hour, until people are so sick of it they’ll go out and buy the damn album just to stop the VJs from torturing them further.
Yeah, so you wanna be a pop star. Here’s a simple set of Fourteen Golden Rules. Follow them, and you can start investing in a cool colorful set of pens [preferably Parker, the kind AB advertises] to sign all those autographs with.
# 1: Join a gym. [Yes, you heard right, not music classes, a gym]. Work on those biceps and six-packs if you’re a guy, and on those tits and ass if you’re a gal.
# 2: Get yourself a good designer. [Yes, you heard right again, not a singing teacher, a designer]. Make sure those biceps and six-packs and tits and ass show through every outfit you wear.
# 3: Whatever your name, prefix ‘DJ’ to it. Well, not quite to any name; whoever heard of a DJ Ramakrishnamurthydharan making it to the Top Ten?
# 4: Delete the word ‘originality’ from your vocabulary. If you think today’s record companies exist to promote originality, think again, man. They didn’t delete the word from their vocabulary simply cause it was never there.
# 5: And if you think today’s record companies exist to promote good music, you’re too dumb to even be a pop star – just join your local political party and live happily ever after. Record companies are here to make money [and remixes], dumbo. That’s it.
# 6: So butter up your Grandma and get her to loan you her prized 78 r.p.m. collection of old film songs. Choose eight which no one’s murdered yet. You know, eight created by those artists who were required to have talent, put in hours of practice, blah blah blah… remember them?
# 7: Find a cheap music producer with a PC based recording system in his bathroom. One who will know how to copy arrangements from Britney Spears and put techno drum loops under those eight.
# 8: Once he’s done, record your voice on top. Never mind if you sing like Scoobie Doo. The producer’s got PC based voice harmonizers and quantizers in his comp which will put every wrong note of yours in tune and every wrong beat of yours in time. What will you do on stage, you ask? Why, haven’t you heard of lip-sync, you pathetic wannabe? Oh god… if you haven’t, run to that local political party now.
# 9: Send Italian wine, Swiss chocolates and Bandra flowers to all record company executives on their happy birthdays. Guys, find female executives and flex your muscles. Gals, find male executives and wiggle your tits. It would do well to practice this art form in front of a mirror for at least 15 minutes during three days before each meeting. Yes, yes, present day artists have to do their riaaz too.
# 10: Record contract in hand, here comes your first music video. Ah, now you know why those gym fees were worth every rupee!
# 11: And then the first Music TV interview. Make sure you practice your “Yo Man” and “Hi, my name is DJ Ramakrishnamurthydharan, and you’re watching me on Empty V”. And, even though you’ve used the same music director and video director and choreographer that twenty two other pop stars before you have used, learn to say with conviction: “My music is very different.” It might also be a good idea to assume an air of mystery, raise one eyebrow and add “And my next album is going to so different, I have no clue what its about.”
# 12: You’ve done all of the above because you were just dying, vying, craving, raving, screaming, scheming, egging, begging to be famous. Now that you are, wear dark glasses to show you don’t want people to recognize you.
# 13: After you make sure they do and ask for your autograph, sigh and show how you suffer for fame and celebrity. Of course you know you can’t stop signing, specially when you carry a Parker pen the kind AB advertises, but control yourself and loudly proclaim ‘Sorry, just one last signature now!’ when you sign each of the remaining two hundred and fifty seven. Don’t let the crowd see you’re disappointed there isn’t a two hundred and fifty eighth waiting.
# 14: Well, baby, that about wraps it up. Ah yes… make sure you attend Page 3 parties, invited or not; buy yourself front page headlines and photos on Sunday supplements; wine and dine critics and reporters; and, most importantly, don’t forget to call up concert promoters and offer them a hefty percentage on all the gigs they secure for you – or else how are you going to keep ahead of the hordes who keep joining that gym? No pain, no gain.