This certainty was in part based on my
previous experience in working within those very same walls with Rafiki Jazz,
but my immersion in (and understanding of) the Declaration Kriol project made it very clear to me.
This song was authentic, robust and its tone delivered the core message of the project - which is anchored in the 1948 Declaration of the Human Rights - in an uncompromisingly poignant fashion.
But what I also felt was 'in trouble'. Regardless of my ample experience, the way I had managed to cover the process felt insufficient, imperfect and lacking in precision. Although I knew this was mostly due to certain idiosyncrasies of how the song was composed, rehearsed and recorded (with a limited amount of 'full-length' takes), I also knew that I had to take responsibility. After all, the film wouldn't be judged by how the recording session had been structured...
So my mind started working immediately. The artistic suggestion of making the film monochrome had already been made and green-lit by Tony Bowring (director of the Kriol project), but that was just the first creative step. Upon hearing my discomfort, Tony also reminded me that we had footage from the other sessions that we could (and probably should) include in the film. That wasn't enough still. Quantity may bring practical options in the editing stage, but was very far from the level of coherence and leap in quality that I wanted to bring to it.
This song was authentic, robust and its tone delivered the core message of the project - which is anchored in the 1948 Declaration of the Human Rights - in an uncompromisingly poignant fashion.
But what I also felt was 'in trouble'. Regardless of my ample experience, the way I had managed to cover the process felt insufficient, imperfect and lacking in precision. Although I knew this was mostly due to certain idiosyncrasies of how the song was composed, rehearsed and recorded (with a limited amount of 'full-length' takes), I also knew that I had to take responsibility. After all, the film wouldn't be judged by how the recording session had been structured...
So my mind started working immediately. The artistic suggestion of making the film monochrome had already been made and green-lit by Tony Bowring (director of the Kriol project), but that was just the first creative step. Upon hearing my discomfort, Tony also reminded me that we had footage from the other sessions that we could (and probably should) include in the film. That wasn't enough still. Quantity may bring practical options in the editing stage, but was very far from the level of coherence and leap in quality that I wanted to bring to it.
Very quickly it dawned on me that the
additional footage was going to have to come from elsewhere...
As a track, Insaaniyat is a juggernaut of
rhythm and melody, interweaving soulful vocals with sharp, hard-hitting rapping
- and establishing a dialogue between these and the other instruments.
It's a mighty full sound created by players who were few in numbers, but in complete control of their 'weapons'. To put it in simpler terms: it's an onslaught.
As a film, Insaaniyat set out to respect all this and honour the values expressed in the Declaration of Human Rights; but also to surpass previous music video work we had done with this kind of documentary-style approach. To cope with the above-mentioned insufficiency of material, I set out to source for (and incorporate) documentary archive footage that would evoke everything the project stands for; and that would bring a sense of historical perspective to the film.
Hours were spent looking at royalty-free videos online, until a mixed bag of old colonial films and contemporary news reels was created and imported into the editing software. This would generate a wide range of technical incompatibilities at a later stage, but with those as a 'safety net', I could finally face the outcome of that session.
Together with the above-mentioned interweaving of vocals and sound, the breathless pace the track gradually evolves into invited me to employ certain cinematic techniques, such as dissolves and double (or triple) exposures. These also helped to emphasise the sense of communion one experiences in such sessions - and came to highlight the Jazz in Rafiki, with further stylisation.
It's a mighty full sound created by players who were few in numbers, but in complete control of their 'weapons'. To put it in simpler terms: it's an onslaught.
As a film, Insaaniyat set out to respect all this and honour the values expressed in the Declaration of Human Rights; but also to surpass previous music video work we had done with this kind of documentary-style approach. To cope with the above-mentioned insufficiency of material, I set out to source for (and incorporate) documentary archive footage that would evoke everything the project stands for; and that would bring a sense of historical perspective to the film.
Hours were spent looking at royalty-free videos online, until a mixed bag of old colonial films and contemporary news reels was created and imported into the editing software. This would generate a wide range of technical incompatibilities at a later stage, but with those as a 'safety net', I could finally face the outcome of that session.
Together with the above-mentioned interweaving of vocals and sound, the breathless pace the track gradually evolves into invited me to employ certain cinematic techniques, such as dissolves and double (or triple) exposures. These also helped to emphasise the sense of communion one experiences in such sessions - and came to highlight the Jazz in Rafiki, with further stylisation.
The result is a very dynamic cadence of
studio imagery, with an aesthetical brevity that reminds us of how ephemeral
life is.
The archive footage, which I circumscribed to specific geographic sources, plays a part in this too. I felt a great sense of compassion for those faces captured so long ago on celluloid; the way they remain eternally exposed in their aspirations - and desperation.
Executive decisions were made every step of the way with this additional material.
How much roughness to maintain. How much to stylise and manipulate...
The archive footage, which I circumscribed to specific geographic sources, plays a part in this too. I felt a great sense of compassion for those faces captured so long ago on celluloid; the way they remain eternally exposed in their aspirations - and desperation.
Executive decisions were made every step of the way with this additional material.
How much roughness to maintain. How much to stylise and manipulate...
If the old footage was somewhat made even
older, the war content was to embrace ‘pixelation’ full on. After all, that has
become the language of worldwide conflict made viral across social media.
The fact that I was completing the final
sections of the film (which involve this kind of content) at the same time as
Britain was gearing up (with all its imperialistic delusion) to take military
action on Syria, made me realise that Insaaniyat works on a more subtle level
than planned or envisaged. It's a metaphor for what we've been progressively
turning our backs to. For what we once were...
The process of putting this film together was long, detailed and fastidious, but extremely rewarding too.
To call it a labour of love would be a cliché and inaccurate. It was more like a passionate affair. Because that's the only way I can conceive to work: with passion." - Extracted from Reaching The Junction, the Transmitting Musical Heritage report by ;
You can watch Insaaniyat here.