Thump-thump-thump-thump comes the insistent beat of a drum through the heat register upstairs where I'm working.
The music is pounding from the office below, where our exchange daughter also is working -- to the tune of the Pakistani pop singer I'm trying to tune out. It's not that I don't like Atif Aslam; rather, I find myself oddly distracted by the 25-year-old cricket player-turned-rock-and-Bollywood star whose culture and lyrics I barely understand.
Back when I was our exchange daughter's age, I was embarrassed by my best friend's crushes on David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman and Davy Jones of 1970s teen idol fame. She gazed at their photos in Tiger Beat, taped posters of them to the wall above her matching white vanity and bed. Their music played entirely too often on the school bus radio.
So I can't explain the belated appeal of Aslam, a teen heartthrob if ever there was one.
It's not just his good looks, though his smoky eyes and flared nostrils remind me of a young Elvis Presley, my only star crush as a girl.
And it can't be his soaring vocals with their exotic Indian ornamentation. So far, the only words I know in his native language are "Salam," the traditional greeting of peace among Muslims, and "beti," the Hindi and Urdu word for daughter.
Still, I find myself searching the Internet curiously for bio tidbits and singing along to "Doorie," the catchy title track of his second album, thanks to our exchange daughter's slightly impatient coaching.
Above the lyrics she copied out are my phonetic spellings, though my pronunciation is guaranteed to make her laugh.
Lately I reordered the selections in my mother's Netflix queue when I learned three of Aslam's songs -- and the singer himself, in a cameo role -- appear in the 2005 art film, "Man Push Cart." It seems Iranian American director Ramin Bahrani also became a fan after hearing Aslam's music. He used it in his haunting drama about a former Pakistani rock star selling coffee from a push cart on the streets of Manhattan.
The movie, which screened at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival, won several honors including three Independent Spirit Awards.
Now at my age, I'm hardly in danger of becoming a groupie. Besides, that would require a move to India, where Aslam works and shoots his videos these days.
But I'm starting to think that the thump-thump-thump-thump I hear whenever his music plays could be the beat of my heart.
Reach staff writer Marta Hepler Drahos at mdrahos@record-eagle.com.
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