A capacity crowd soon formed at the venue, as the organizers had managed to grab hold of not only the hottest names in music today, but the ever elusive Junoon, who were regrouping for a renewed assault on the local market after all the nasty rumours of breakups and other intrigues. This was their first live performance in the city after a gap of several months.

EP, fronted by the charismatic Ahmad Ali Butt of Jutt and Bond fame, who also happens to be the scion of Zille Huma, opened the proceedings just an hour behind schedule with their Nu-metal meets Vital Signs mix of distorted riffs and barked raps. The first thing that hit the listener was the sheer size of the band. At last head count, there were eight members in the group, give or take a drummer.

Butt saab was greeted with chants of aloo by feisty concertgoers, but he took most of it in stride offering choice Punjabi jabs in return. They opened with a remix of Tu hai kahan, the all-star cola anthem, which was flavoured with a volley of Butt's Limp Bizkit/Linkin Park inspired raps. Musically, the rhythm section of the band - the bassist and drummer - were phenomenal, with intricate patterns and dexterous rolls.

EP's set was heavily interspersed with covers, possibly because of the dearth of original material in their repertoire. The lead vocalist was weak throughout, and at times barely audible, and it was Butt's raps and the band's instrumental dexterity that kept them afloat. Some claimed he had a throat infection of sorts, and that was why he was not up to par. One certainly hopes so, because it would be a shame if this was what all their live performances sounded like. Prog-metal outfit Tool was saluted with Stinkfist, as the singer bravely tried to match the unmatchable vocal skills of Maynard James Keenan.

EP dedicated Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the name of, to the victims of the 'recent tension' as a veiled reference to the Neo-imperialist aggression in Iraq. It was veiled for two reasons, the first, as Butt himself admitted, was that this was a charity show and the second being that artists and entertainers in our country are supposed to look pretty and jump up and down to please the crowd. If they, God forbid, make any provocative socio-political statements, what would all the nice multinational sponsors think? Everybody loves an agreeable, clean-cut complacent pop star. The song itself was done well, even though it is near impossible to cover Tom Morello. The wailing solo was predictably murdered, but it was a nice try. The band has potential, but they just need to fine tune their live act, as their set at Jammin Karachi seemed more like an elaborate Rockfest set.

Noori, the newest blue-eyed boys of Pak pop, received a thunderous reception from the crowd. Their reputation precedes them, it seems. Having heard them mostly in low-fi, unplugged mode, it was a delight to hear the band plugged in. One great thing about the show was that the waiting time between artists was minimal, as the bands took the stage barely five to ten minutes after the previous act had closed its set.

Ali Noor and Co. opened with the jangly Tum hans diye, and the crowd erupted into a sing-along. Though the songs were the same, it was as if they were given a new lease on life thanks to the ample assistance of amps and distortion pedals. On Doobara phir say, a spirited full on electric three-chord Punjabi punk blast of energy, ace drummer Gumby provided the necessary thunder. Alert jawans of the Pakistan Air Force made sure the crowd enjoyed themselves but didn't get too wild. You didn't want to mess with these guys.

The ballad Bol was dedicated by Noor to 'all the nice girls' (his core audience presumably). On Dil ki qasam, Gumby facilitated with a monstrous drum intro that gave way to the jagged-edged guitar. Though Manwa re was an expected crowd pleaser, the guitar solo seemed a little lifeless. Some were of the opinion that the spirited Turkish drum and mellowed out guitar that features on the studio version of the track just can't be reproduced live by the band. Top marks to Noori for a solid performance that didn't use the crutch of covers to help them hobble along, proving that they could swing with the big boys, Ali Noor's prancing around stage like a hyper schoolboy et all.

Fuzon, the 'next big thing,' took the stage just before the headliners. Along with the permanent trio were session players Farjad (who incidentally was Noori's drummer before Gumby took the reins) and Sameer Ahmad, Karavan's bass whiz. Deewane was their set opener, and Shallum's guitar, one of the principle attractions of the band's sound, was almost drowned out and barely audible. Things got in synch with Piyar na raha¸ where the guitarist seemed to come out of way left field, peppering the tune with oddball special effects, as well as good keyboard work. The vocals of this band obviously need no kudos, as it goes without saying. On Sagar, Shallum went nova with a wicked solo, which was anchored by solid bass work by Sameer. For Akhiyan, the lead singer prompted the crowd onto their feet, saying he would only perform if they got off their derrieres. The musty smell of youth - teen spirit as it were - mixed with the pop rock riffs was a molotov cocktail of energy waiting to explode in a charged youthquake. Security men were seen calming many excited youths in a not-so-subtle fashion.

The acts had gotten progressively better; the juvenile yet charged EP paving the way for the pop-crunch of Noori, who in turn abdicated in favour of the polished vocals and elastic riffs of Fuzon. But now the moment of truth had arrived. The band that had started it all way back was due. Expectations were high for Junoon. The crowd, on their feet, waited with bated breath for their cola-chugging heroes. Alas, when the band took the stage, all lofty expectations came crashing down.

Yes, they brought the house down with Mera mahi, but was the crowd getting high off nostalgia or a scorching performance? Compared to their younger, greener peers, Junoon sounded awfully flat. Faithful defenders countered that the band was a little rusty because of their absence from the scene for so long but come now, they must have been playing live somewhere in their time off. To add to the fracas, the crowd turned nasty as zealous security men wrestled hyper youths to the ground as the area in front of the stage had degenerated into a raging bhangra pit. Ali Azmat wrapped the PAF on its knuckles in a set of sarcastic jibes aimed at the 'VIP culture.' He had a point, as the entire front row was cordoned off initially for the men in jackboots and their families. Azmat rightfully claimed that it was for the people in the back, the real fans, for whom they were performing.

Salman Ahmad's guitar came out as very muted and a little lacklustre. The only thing that carried the band through was the rhythm section of Brian O'Connel and the spot-on drumming of a hired gun - Alan Smith. At the conclusion, Junoon invited members of Fuzon for a lovey-dovey version of Jazba-i-Junoon, which was supposed to be some oblique condemnation of war.

Overall, a sensory overload of music that was threatened to be pre-empted by the iron fist of the authorities, the hooliganism by certain sections of the crowd and the smell of liquor in the air, Jammin Karachi was in reality a microcosm of new age anarchy with a kickin' soundtrack in the middle of next to nowhere.