While listening to the sound of tortured souls (ok, Hanson— but that’s because Arafat was in love with the lead singer at the time, not knowing that she’s a he) they told Gibran about a band called The Watson Brothers. They talked about an undiscovered genius in the early 20th century, stuck in his family estate in an obscure county near Crowborough in Great Britain, researching spiritualism and converting the medieval sacred of music of Josquin Des Prez (and the polyphonic motets of Orlando Lhassus) into complex melodies that were the crude and faltering beginnings of what we now know as Rock and Roll. His name was Ormond Sacker Watson, and he was helped by his brothers Willbraham Wilberforce Watson (who liked to knit and later invented the World Wide Web, which to this day bears his initials), John-James Watson (whose first name we still don’t know for sure), and Mycroft ffynch-ffarrowmere Watson, (whose middle name was spelled without capital letters).

Ormond Sacker had been laughed at by his contemporaries— including such august writers as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the young P G Wodehouse— for his short stature. Some critics have conjectured that Jonathan Small, the villain of Doyle’s novel The Sign of Four, was a slight towards Mr. Watson’s slightness. (Ormond Sacker Watson was three feet three inches in height.) And one needs not look beyond the absent-minded pig-fancier Lord Emsworth to read in Wodehouse a bitter satire against a close friend. All this was because Ormond Sacker Watson had said to both of them once, in an absinthe-minded stupor, that Edgar Allan Poe had ushered in a new age of writing which they were busy cashing off of. Ah, the black hearts of men!

This really was truly a wondrous tale that they told—and Gibran bhai felt like a watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken— or like stout Balboa looking at the Pacific. In his excitement he admitted that he had heard an old wax recording of Ormond Sacker Watson’s third album, by far acclaimed as his boldest, freshest work. Most copies of it had been burned as Zionist during the Second World War, since his fan base (like all British metal bands) was mostly German. (Some people even claim that Klaus Meine of The Scorpions is the love child of Ormond Sacker and a Bohemian princess.)

The only problem was, of course, that Ormond Sacker Watson had never existed— he was a figment of the girlfriend-less imaginations of Imran Anowar Aziz and Khaled Arafat Kazi. Gibran bhai, that monster of metal, was caught in a lie. (His cousin, Wassama, however, claims that Gibran was talking about the Watsons Brother, i.e. without an “s” at the end of the name. He also claims to have the third album that Gibran bhai was talking about. However, our researches have failed to produce either the album or the existence of such a band.)

And so Imran and Arafat approached their good friend Shakib bhai and asked him if he was interested in forming a band with them. Imran and Arafat had been playing in a band called The Attempted Band, which pioneered the “Underground Movement.” Before The Attempted Band came along, there was two or three heavy metal concerts every year, but that was it. By playing at places like the Alliance Francais at Tk.30 per show etc, they made it possible for bands that played simple rock to play in concerts without having to hire an auditorium etc, which, back in those days—5 years ago— was virtually impossible. The Attempted Band consisted of Imran at the guitars, Daniel (now in Fulbanu's Revenge) at the bass, Jisha singing, and Arafat playing drums.

Shakib bhai had been helping out with The Attempted Band, singing songs that needed a male singer and lending them money for dinner and cigarettes. Imran and Arafat at this point were close friends with Shakib bhai— so close in fact that Shakib bhai, to avoid confusion, called them Toady No. 1 (Arafat) and Toady No. 2 (Imran). However, when Shakib bhai heard mention of a new band, he baulked. First of all, he said, what would happen to Cryptic Fate? And secondly, and this perhaps might be more important, Imran and Arafat didn’t have any talent whatsoever.

His own words were recorded on that fateful night, when he was drunk on doodh cha and high on mughlai parata:

“Listen, losers, I don’t need you. You need me. I have many women, and every day I go to Viquarunnessa to get more. I am a metal monster. My friends call me Dhatob Danob, and when I go to Europe I become the Dhatob Danube. If I am to sing for you, you have to call me bhaiya every day and say that I am a party-hearty evil death machine whose voice is the air raid siren of Bruce Dickinson and the murderous melody of Rob Halford mixed together with the essential evil ‘yeah’ of Axl Rose. I will also wear tight jeans and a red shirt.”

“But bhaiya, we do that anyway!” chorused the toady Shakib bhai’s two toadies.

“And Cryptic Fate will remain as a band, and I will consider it to be more important than The Watson Brothers.” So spake the Jehovah of True Metal, nursing a whale in his belly. (Unlike the Jonah of True Metal, who was nursed in the belly of a whale.) This wasn’t much of a problem at the time though, since The Watson Brothers were formed primarily as an excuse for Imran and Arafat to be allowed on stage and for Shakib bhai to sing songs not about Death and Hell and Evil Satan Kings wallowing in misery and not feel ashamed. To seal the deal, they drank the blood of virgins. Shakib bhai was quite pale after giving blood, and was sick for a day.

However, the great Evil Party Bhaiya had another ace up his sleeve— he wanted Farhan from Cryptic Fate to join the band as bassist. To this, Imran and Arafat had strenuous objections, saying “But he’s better than us!,” to which Shakib bhai said “Yes, he is” and also “But he hates us!,” to which Shakib bhai replied “Yes, he does, but so do I!” and then Gibran bhai suddenly chimed in, “And so do I!!!” and spontaneously wrote a metal song in a jazz/blues scale which went:

But anyway, The Watson Brothers had now effectively formed. All they needed to do now was to write some songs and play some concerts.

There was, however, a bit of a rocky start (even though they never covered Eye of the Tiger). The first concert, Shakib bhai was half an hour late, and Farhan forgot to show up. The second concert was at the Benson and Hedges Star Search, where, with the characteristic Watson talent and magic shining through, they didn’t win. They came in second, and, because Daiyan bhai and Shaju weren’t there at the time, Arafat got the “Best Drummer Award,” which to this day remains his main defense for when he screws up a song. They also recorded a small demo tape of four or five songs, but that didn’t really get them anywhere. This is probably because the demo tape sucked, and they didn’t play it to anybody. The demo contained the songs that would eventually become "Akash," "Chaya" and "Shanti." Incidentally, James, the famous band singer of Feelings, wants to cover "Shanti." He'll play it with his new band near Shakib bhai's new house-- it's called "Shanti Nagar Baul"

After the demo tape was done, Arafat had to go to America for college. Nothing really happened after that— there were a lot of better drummers around, but the Arafat magic mainly consisted in cajoling Shakib bhai to pay for dinner for the rest of the band and then say “Bhaiya, we need to do a concert!” and nobody could quite imitate the subtle percussionistic shamelessness of his whine. And Shakib bhai was also busy with Cryptic Fate, which was releasing a slew of songs like "Cholo Bangladesh" and "Shokal Choita" etc. Farhan was involved in writing a rock opera called “Jaata Sharadinta,” which would start with "Shokal Choita" and go on to "Shokal Shat-ta," "Shokal Noyta," "Dupur Barota," "Shondha Choita," etc, detailing the dystopian futility of the life of the 21st century common man. Inspired by Michael Kelly, he envisioned it as either a rock opera or an episode of Baywatch. It was never completed, and Farhan spent a year in rehab recovering from the resultant depression.

Pretty soon, Imran had to go to Canada for college as well, and The Watson Brothers it seemed was without a future.

However, the power of a good riff is always beyond the mercies of Fate, and, in the winter of 2001, Imran and Farhan got together and wrote a really nice one. That was the moment when they realized that a band that can write a good riff every two years has it made, just like AC/DC. And so they waited around until Arafat was back for the summer of 2002, and together begged Shakib bhai to record an album.

Shakib bhai said, “Jaata, na, I have many women around me and I dream of tortured souls in the darkness of Jahannam, and I am Shaitan incarnate! Bow before me you freaks!”

And they replied, “But bhaiya, we’re bowing before you anyway!,” to which Shakib bhai laughed most evilly, i.e. saying “BWAHAHAHAHA.”

And so The Watson Brothers started jamming again. Most of the time, Shakib bhai was busy with work, so Imran, Farhan, and Arafat would play. They needed to find a practice room, and there was one in Farhan’s dadi’r bari. Unfortunately, that was flooded. But Farhan, our erstwhile prodigal son who never showed up for concerts, suddenly had the Promethean fire in him (no connection to Biplob), and arranged for a practice room at no less than the greatest of all studios— Art of Noise. Farhan’s magic didn’t stop there, however. His other legendary feats include the main bass solo in “Jhor” and discovering the Tehari Ghor in Dhanmandi Road #8.

Anyway, after a month of writing songs and learning how to play them, The Watson Brothers were ready to roll. And roll they did, and by the end of Summer 2002 had a completed album, all done except for the vocals. Shakib bhai, however, was very busy, and the danob in him was taking control over the dhatob, and so nothing really happened before the beginning of 2003. Shakib bhai finally recorded the vocals to the album Ohom, and the album was released on 22 September, 2003.

The Watson Brothers hadn't really been present in the Bangla rock scene since early 2000. And even then, they'd only played two shows. A lot had happened in the period between mid-2000 and mid-2003. The "underground" music scene had really taken off. The pecking order was being re-invented. All the bands that they were friends with back in the day-- Cryptic Fate, Black, Artcell, Aurthohin, Bangla-- were famous. They all had their fan followings, while the poor Brothers only had a website with the American flag on it.

However, as Captain Courageous said before being brutally mauled by a rabid radioactive mouse, "Never fear." They were there yearly; they sometimes dressed queerly. And they were going to stay. The summer of 2003 saw many Watson concerts, around 12 in the space of a month. Good ol' Tanim had faith in them and even paid them money in the now historic London Fried Chicken show. The Watson Brothers' online presence and shameless self-promotion paid off. People who they hadn't bribed to clap clapped; people took pictures and cheered. They even got a panty thrown at them from the audience! (Well, it turned out to be Ziyan's, but so what.) Once they'd shown that they still had the evil Satanic skull-crushing corpse-grinding coprophiliac necromancy of the past, especially with their song "Rong" (which is about rainbows), they started getting all kinds of offers to play.

Memorable shows include the MAFC MetalFest where, bizarrely enough, they were one of the headliners, the Shishu Academy show where the audience politely waited until the middle of "Ohom" before they started calling out for Black and Artcell, the Thunderbolt concert where they played on the top floor of an 8-storey building with glass walls (and Arafat almost shat himself because he had his back to one of those glass walls and is seriously scared of heights), and many others. The Brothers were back and kicking ass. (Well except for the Uttara Club show, of which the less said about THE STUPID FUCKING DRUMMER the better.) Throughout all this, they were using Cryptic Fate's practice rooms and Farshed bhai's drums. And it should go on record here that even though Farshed bhai likes to make out with men and scarred his friends forever with that gold-and-white shirt from Kumudini that he wore on his birthday, he's a good man. Thanks, mamajan! (Or, if you prefer, "dude!")

The summer also saw a new member being initiated into the band--Handsome Jon from Black. He had already collaborated with the Brothers in "Shore Daraye, Shesh Barer Moto," i.e. the last song in "Ohom." He'd been friends with the Brothers for the longest time, i.e. from back when he and Arafat were college buddies in NSU and they used to make fun of him not for his ombrophobia or his masturbation habits but for his English Accent. At first, he was only helping them out by playing guitars live and singing with Shakib bhai. But the Brothers realized that having Jon on the team would yield certain advantages-- he was famous, so they'd be able to cash in on that; he was rich, so he'd pay for the tehari; he was handsome, so girls would notice the band; he was stupid, so they'd be able to take advantage of him.

So Jon officially joined the band. This is especially helpful because Shakib bhai called a whaaaambulance and will only be singing one song for the second album. Shakib bhai says: "Jaataa, they don't worship me properly!!! And now that Farshed's back, I have a love life." Jon says: "Dooost, ami to onek shundor." So, just in case you were wondering: yes, the rumors are true. Jon will be singing the second album.

But one can only have so much fun. (Or at least, one can only have so much fun without the help of Sweety and Lovely from Hotel Babur in Kakrail.) In the middle of August, Arafat had to leave for Boston. Imran had to leave at the end of August for Toronto. And so the concerts stopped again, to be resumed next summer, when the band would be together again.

All this time, aside from the shows, the Brothers had been busy designing their album sleeves (thanks Osman and Dipon bhai!!!) and waiting for the album to be finally released. They'd run into all sorts of problems. Their label, the excellent G-Series (led by the awesome Khaled bhai), was having financial problems because they were constructing new factories. The release date kept on getting pushed farther and farther back. At first it was June, but by the time Imran and Arafat left Dhaka, the projected release date was March.

This was very frustrating, especially since bainchud Farhan took it upon himself to perpetuate the mythos of the March release to Imran and Arafat, whose only contact with Dhaka was via email. They didn't know until the album actually came out--September 22-- that it wasn't March. But in spite of crazy circumstances and many drawbacks (not being an actually functioning band 10 months a year being among them), "Ohom" was extremely well-received. It's incredible that in a place like Bangladesh, with an extremely limited advertising budget and a botched poster campaign, they've still managed to get a lot of wonderful fans. People mostly hear about "Ohom" through word-of-mouth, and, because of their great fans and well-wishers, The Watson Brothers have a dedicated fan following.

Some people have said that it's the best rock album ever produced in Bangladesh. When asked about this, Shakib bhai said: "No, that's completely untrue. It's actually the greatest rock album in the world!!! Jaataa!!!" It's also the first album in Bangladesh to have full-color four-page cd sleeves. While the band would rather be proud of the music than the album art, it's all there.

Plans for the future: Summer 2004 will hopefully see a new Watson album being recorded. This will feature the vocals of Jon, with a guest appearance by Shakib bhai. There will also be a lot of concerts.

The third album, which up to now only Gibran bhai has heard, will see a return of Shakib bhai, alongwith Jon. There also fantasies about a collaboration with Imran bhai of Elephant Road and ex-Rockstrata, but for the moment, they're just fantasies and haven't been worked out yet. Since three of the bandmembers are from different bands, the Brothers are always open to working with new musicians and other bands.