My story called "Rembo" appears in this week's edition of www.bewilderingstories.com. It's another short short that I wrote in Filipino a few years ago for an anthology. It got accepted but the anthology didn't push through. Enjoy, or rather, Beware!

Here are songs that first became popular (at least in the Philippines) performed by different artists. I thought they were good songs but since these songs were filed under Pop and I was typecast as a Rocker, you wouldn't have caught me humming these songs then. It was a relief actually to find out that they were originally written by musicians I respect for their songwriting skills.

Here's a sampler. I guess it's just coincidence that these songs were covered by women, (except for the last one which is a duet). I'll post more  and make these sidebars to my 100songs project.

1.  I first heard How Can I Tell You sung by Lani Hall. I liked the melody of the song immediately but it was always used as background music in soap operas then. Here's the original by Cat Stevens.


2. I didn't even know the title of this song, not even the artist (Nicolette Larson)but I thought it was catchy.  However, the song was ruined for me when I heard a disco remix.Years later, I would be pleasantly surprised to hear Noel Cabangon perform Lotta Love in one of his earlier gigs as a solo artist in the 90s. I knew Noel because he had been helping my band land gigs (70s Bistro, Mayrics).  When I was able to watch him (if we didn't have a gig) I always ask him to sing After the Gold Rush. That night, he said he wanted to sing this song instead since it was also written by Neil Young.



3. When I first heard this, the DJ was kind enough to mention that this was written by Bruce Springsteen.  Because I was a Springsteen fan, I looked for the original.  I  also thought Babyface and Des'ree did a swell job with the song. I searched every Springsteen album I could get my hands but I couldn't find Fire. Turns out, The Boss never released a studio version. Instead, it came out in the five-LP box set , Live 1975/85 which, IMHO, remains as  the best version there is. Click here for more facts about the song.

I didn't know what or who Busby Berkeley was when I first heard this song by The Magnetic Fields. All I knew was that this song is lovely in a heartbreaking way. It combines the stark honesty of an acoustic piano accompanying a faltering baritone made even poignant by soothing drones of a cello and a viola in the right places. If you take a closer listen, you might be prompted to expect to hear ambient noises from a guy's bedroom recently deserted by a girl.

The first time I heard The Magnetic Fields they (?) had recently released the album Get Lost. I searched for this album because I read somewhere that it sounded as if produced in the early days of the synthesizers in the 70s and 80s.  The review was right and there wasn't even any attempt at authenticity with the drum machines. Although the sound was dated, Merritt was able to muster enough fresh twists in this album that it stands out in songs like Why I Cry, You and Me and the Moon, and All the Umbrellas in London.

The Magnetic Fields is just one of indefatigable singer-songwriter Stephin Merritt's alter-egos. Merritt is also the nucleus behind the alternative music duets project The 6ths, Future Bible Heroes and dark bubblegum group The Gothic Archies whose latest project is The Tragic Treasury: Music for [the movie] "A Series of Unfortunate Events."

It would be difficult to map out Stephin Merritt's musical breadth. He's simply prolific that it was not a surprise anymore when he as the Magnetic Fields released a triple album aptly called 69 Love Songs - that's 23 songs per CD, all about L-O-V-E.

Although the songs talk about a single topic, Merritt was wise enough experiment and jump from one musical genre to another. Of course, Merritt also made sure that not all of the songs are rose-tinted. He deliberately twists the  narratives to bizarre conclusions in some. Notably, the are short, reminiscent of 80s punk band The Minutemen's songs. But don't get fooled by the running time because the tracks are packed like haikus. Sometimes, they sound like sketches for even longer works.

So who is Busby Berkeley? Click here to find out or watch the spec video:

It was a good thing the local boys, too, were aspiring rock stars. Edison had ditched the idea of packing a couple of drums for the mini tour. In fact, he decided not to bring even just his snare drum so he wouldn't have to think about being charged for excess baggage or worse, having his instrument damaged in transit.

I was getting worried that Edison would not be able to find any percussion instrument come performance time. Then the boys arrived as we began our pick-up rehearsals on the morning of our first performance. We were right smack at the Ibajay town plaza when the the kids brought a makeshift drum kit to Edison like an offering to the local patron saint.

The first thing that came to mind was to ask them if they were serious. We almost laughed at the sight of this contraption. The hi-hat was a ring of flattened bottlecaps. The snare drum was a square motor oil container (1 gallon). The bass drum was a large square water container and there were more bottle caps in place of cymbals. The kids also made an improvised kick pedal out of thick rubber bands used for slingshots and a few slivers of bamboo.

Out of courtesy, I asked the other members to jam with us but they were just happy to listen to their 'container' drums being played by who they thought were professionals.

Our performance was a variation of Lipunan ng Karahasan - a multi-media rock opera that I wrote about how kids are exposed to violence in all its states - physical, emotional, moral, etc. It's not an opera in the strict sense but more of a musical review that features my band's original songs, some poems I wrote, a few covers (Juan dela Cruz's Titsers Enemy Number One, The Smiths' Barbarism Begins at Home and Asin's Itanong Mo sa Mga Bata) while the actors dance and do other artsy stuff.

The kids stared at us like they'd forgotten why they were there in the first place. Their eyes became glassy as we performed my original songs that practically no one had heard before save for the band, the theater group and the few people who were unfortunate enough to have been to our gigs. I didn't see their apathy in the first few songs because I was distracted. I was actually pleased with our sound that had become full and tight when Edison started banging on the 'container" drums.

When I began strumming the first few bars of Itanong Mo Sa Mga Bata, there was still no reaction. It was only when I started singing the verses that they finally recognized a song from our 'set list'. I suddenly got goosebumps as they started to applaud and we weren't even in the second stanza yet.

Before flying here, we were worried that the people of Aklan wouldn't appreciate our performance. After all, we were all from Manila, alumni and alumnae of that Jesuit university along Katipunan Avenue. I guess the reception at the rehearsals was indication enough of how the rest of our tour would go.

However, I was still giddy.  I hadn't memorized the lyrics to Itanong Mo sa Mga Bata. Also, I couldn't  decide if I would use my baritone or sing it like Lolit Carbon. Worse, I still hadn't figured out the song's structure. I had already written the lyrics on my left forearm so I could just peek in case I forget.

To relieve some of the stress, we decided to troop to the nearest sari-sari store after the rehearsals and grab some beer. We were disappointed when the vendor told us they don't have San Miguel Pale Pilsen. No beer except Gold Eagle Beer which had the reputation of being more water than an alcoholic beverage. The sari-sari store also didn't own a refrigerator nor a cooler. Our only consolation was that the beer was very cheap.

Edison began praising the 'container' drum which I immediately seconded. Then Paul started telling jokes which we'd all heard before but still laughed at because we were beginning to get bored. One running joke of that trip involved the band Asin. I think it was a scene from a movie where a group of high school students were accosted by military personnel. When the soldiers checked out their bags and saw cassette tapes of Asin, they were immediately arrested and went missing indefinitely.

It was not really a joke. We were laughing because we saw Asin as musicians first. Not to trivialize the politics of Asin's music but there were some other groups/artists who were really anti-government and radical in their views. To us, Asin were  innovators in Pinoy music. They introduced using ethnic instruments. The scene from the movie was, to us, plain irony. Getting arrested for having in your bag a cassette tape with a song about the environment (Masdan Mo Ang Kapaligiran), longing for one's love (Himig ng Pag-ibig) or the diaspora (Ang Pagbabalik).

We also laughed at it because that scene from the movie could very well happen to us. Right there in Ibajay where skirmishes between the New People's Army and the military had been intermittent. Our laughter was a preparation that in case it happened to us, who not only owned Asin cassette tapes but even sang their songs, we could laugh at their ignorance - mistaking singing songs in Tagalog as an indication of being anti-government.

Itanong mo sa mga bata tells us that we can learn a lot from children. We learned so many things during that mini tour. One is to improvise like what the kids did with the container drums. Another one is never to drink beer in the morning. And if you can't really help it, stick to your brand or at least chill the bottles/cans first.

Here's the lyrics and streaming music.

Tell me if it is just poverty that drives people to do this and I will try to understand.

I came across this story and thought it speaks volumes about us as a nation.

______________________________
Tribal farmer surrenders, admits killing Philippine eagle
By Joselle Badilla
Mindanao Bureau
First Posted 18:19:00 07/18/2008

DAVAO CITY, Philippines—A 22-year-old tribal farmer has surrendered to police and admitted to killing an endangered Philippine eagle, conservation officials said.

Brian Balaon yielded to a lumad datu (tribal chief) Friday, two days after a P10,000 cash reward was offered for information leading to the arrest of the killer of the three-year-old bird, Dennis Salvador, director of the Philippine Eagle Foundation, said.

"He felt the heat because the volunteers and association of porters were also mobilized to track him down," Salvador said.

Balaon was brought to the PEF office in Bukidnon, he said. The foundation runs programs to protect the national bird by breeding it in captivity and tracking its survival in the wild.

Conservation workers on Sunday found the dismembered remains of the male eagle nicknamed Kagsabua in Mount Kitanglad Natural Park on southern Mindanao island, four months after it was released back into the wild following treatment for a gunshot wound.

Balaon, a lumad farmer from the village of La Fortuna, Impasug-ong, surrendered Friday afternoon, said Felix Mirasol, Protected Area Superintendent in Bukidnon.

Under Philippine law, those found guilty of killing endangered species can face up to 12 years in prison.

About 800 of the giant birds, designated as the national bird of the Philippines, are believed to remain in the country, where deforestation and poaching threaten their survival.

Balaon admitted he shot and killed the juvenile eagle with an air gun on July 10—not July 12 as suspected—while the bird was perched on a tree near his farm, Mirasol said.

"He claimed that he thought Kagsagbua was an ordinary bird," Mirasol said, adding Balaon also admitted to have feasted on the bird's meat with his friends.

Kagsabua is a tribal term which means “unity”.

The foundation treated the eagle after it was found shot in the forest in 2006 and released it in the park in March, said spokeswoman Irene Melissa Macahis.

She said the eagle had been tracked via radio transmitters attached to it, which on Sunday indicated the bird was no longer moving.

After trekking for hours, workers found the transmitters buried in a steep ravine. A few yards away, they saw the bird's nape feathers, a long rope, and the eagle's feet, leading them to suspect it had been killed, Macahis said.

"Kagsabua was hit in the heart and slowly fell down the tree," Mirasol said, quoting the suspect.

"The crime against Kagsabua is a crime done to the Filipino people," the foundation's president, William Hotchkiss, said in a statement. "The Philippine eagle is a national pride."

Mirasol said in their effort to locate Kagsabua's killer, they talked to the datus in the area.

"We told the datus and the volunteers in the area that the bird is their responsibility. Kagsabua is their responsibility and finding the perpetrator is also their responsibility," Mirasol said.

He said the datus, who were also mad at the incident, performed rituals in an effort to find the suspect.

Salvador said conservation officials were overjoyed at the developments and will pursue a case against Balaon.

The Philippine eagle (Pithecophaga jefferyi) is considered an endangered species because of its rapidly declining population.

At least 400 pairs remain in the wild according to estimates from both the government and private conservation groups.

The first eagle hatched in captivity by artificial insemination and released in 2004 was electrocuted a year later when it perched on an electrical post. Eighteen other birds have been bred by the foundation, but have not been released into the wilderness.

Salvador said while pursuing charges against Balaon can help make people become aware of the need to protect the eagles, information and education campaign should also be strengthened.

"It's always like this, people killing birds," he said. With The Associated Press
________________________

(Here's what Manong Joey Ayala wrote about the Haring Ibon more than two decades ago.)

Having fronted a punk rock band, it was hard for me to believe Dante that Malcolm McLaren was even worth a listen.

Though I was more a fan of The Clash than the Sex Pistols, I was aware how thoroughly vilified McLaren was (still is) in rock music.  I'd read about his ugly divorce from the most notorious band in history -  a band he helped (and exploited, some say) become famous.

Of course, the credit for inventing punk, that musical revolution which also became a subculture and philosophy, is debatable. It depends more on which side of the Atlantic one is. No one can deny,  though, that it was Mclaren's who gathered (rounded up?)  teenagers Johnny Lydon,  John Simon Ritchie, Paul Cook, and Steve Jones and made them poster boys for his fashion boutique called Sex if not members of a rock band.

As we worked on direct marketing campaign materials, Dante played electronica and all its various ephemeral incarnations like drum and bass, jungle, house, rave, big beat, trip hop, trance . Although I was opinionated about my music then  I didn't mind. To me, it was music that was not demanding. It was perfect background music as I wrote copy for a Unicef or a Citibank mailer. Dante was also the head of Creative Department so no one dared replace the Orbital cassette with Rage Against the Machine's debut.

Despite his penchant for electronica, Dante looked more of a rocker than a raver. It was easy to mistake him as a fan of The Ramones than  McLaren. After (almost) nightly binges with the guys from the Creative Department, it became clear to me that Dante was not particularly a fan of what I called then as artificial music. In fact, he dug rock music, too. I leaned later on that he listened to jazz, classical and world music. He was  open-minded about music that it suddenly struck me as something both profound and liberating.

So there I was, limiting my choice of music to rock when an entire spectrum of music had been there all along. This was a turning point in my listening life. I guess it also helped that there was indeed a blurring of the genres during this time. The Chemical Brothers and The Prodigy proved that the perfect marriage of electronica, sampled beats and rock was possible. Soon, other genre-bending acts appeared like acne of many a teenager's face. DJs began ruling the music scene. That was 1997. A year ago, Trainspotting had already immortalized this era with a cool soundtrack to boot.

Eventually, Dante loaned me his Paris CD. He told me that he didn't want me to listen to McLaren's earlier album called Fans because it was more dance music. Together with this, he also let me borrow Dead Can Dance's Toward the Within, Beastie Boys' The In Sound From Way Out, and Massive Attack's Protection.

I was resisted at first. I was skeptical about the use of French. I was also wary of the Dada sensibilities in some tracks and the attempt at poetry reading in Miles and Miles of Miles Davis. McLaren is one to name-drop every chance he gets  (Josephine Baker, Eric Satie, Mile Davis, Catherine Deneuve).  There was also some echoes of Enigma in  Paris, Paris and the Serge Gainsbourg cover of Je T'aime Mon Nom Plus where the moaning in the end sounds not only real but also excitingly near.

At best, Paris was so fluid in its genre adventurism it rinsed my rock-weary ears. I still listen to this album because it tells me to be keep an open mind in music. And it worked. Even though I couldn't understand 80% of Paris, Paris  because it is in French, I thought  there was something in it that I thought I might like, say, a feeling or a perspective. Ultimately, it is Ms. Denueve's lilting French that saved it all. In fact, she didn't even need to sing to make this track celestial.

Here's the lyrics and the video that shows one aspect of the album I deliberately didn't discuss because talking about Paris as oozing with sex is just like saying a sugar is sweet.

Jonel looked more like the Math major that he was than a music geek. So when he told me he was selling his entire The Cure cassette collection, I became a bit suspicious. I thought that the collection was not his but some hot item. He just didn't look like a druggie who would steal for a quick fix.

It was the beginning of the semester and he was the only person in that French class, a foreign language elective, who would talk to me. He told me he was friends with some friends whom I'd jam with and I believed him. I needed his company also because I was the only freshman in that sophomores-populated class.

Later on, I learned that he was, indeed, a certified music geek. In between French grammar quizes, we would talk about the whole range of music genres from bands like The The to Guns 'n' Roses to Megadeth to Aztec Camera.

I didn't dare ask him if as to the why and 'where from' of his offer. I figured he needed the cash for rent. Students from the countryside, like him, who go to the city to study usually fell short on their budget.

For less than P300, I got the entire The Cure discography from Three Imaginary Boys (which IMHO is their best album cover) to Disintegration. That was thirteen albums including two double albums. I already owned some of the albums like Standing on the Beach: The Singles, but since I was not a true-blue The Cure fan, I didn't dig deep into their catalog. I was, however, intrigued by the things I had read about them. And what better way to get to know the band was to listen.

Because The Cure has a tendency to be achingly saccharine (Robert Smith can't help it with a voice like his, can he?), I gave more time listening to the dark (Goth, to some) albums which included Faith, Pornography and Seventeen Seconds. For those who fell in love with The Cure just because of In Between Days, they would definitely get a shock listening to these albums. Most of the songs are gloomy and repetitive like being lost in a dull dream. There is seldom a hint of the sun-shiny pop Robert Smith has been known for except maybe for the track Play for Today but that's not even a happy song.

I also listened extensively to Staring at the Sea : The B-Sides*. It was a mish-mash of genre from Goth to New Wave to Pop and the the classically-arranged A Few Hours After This.

I instantly liked this song because it stood out from all the other The Cure songs I'd heard before. To me, this song is easily on top of the most heartbreaking of all of Robert Smith's songs. It features a wailing Smith backed by an orchestra replete with a timpani thrown in for extra measure.

Jonel never asked me about 'the discography.'  Together with aforementioned friends, we would eventually hang out, jam in the football field after ROTC, and talk about music and literature (he was a fan of Franz Kafka). We talked about girls, sure. But, because we were geeks, we only talked about them.

I don't  recall  last time I saw Jonel or the other guys. Last I heard, Jonel took up law and was practicing in his hometown in Mindoro. Before moving here, I often thought about those times whenever I saw my The Cure cassette discography. Now that I've left all my cassette tapes in Manila, it remains to be seen how I will manage remembering.








(* When the catalog was released on CD, Staring at the Sea was adapted as the title of the best of which included some tracks that weren't in the original cassette and LP release)

A day after we picked up Tatay at the Manila International Airport, we went to Cherry Foodarama on Shaw Boulevard.

I remember listening to Freddie Aguilar's Anak in the cab on the way home and staring at Tatay's hair that was long by Martial Law's standard. Because of his job as a seaman, my sister and I practically grew up without a father. He'd be with us only from two to three months after his ten to twelve months of working  overseas.

Of course, we were excited to see Tatay. We missed him every time he went away. But we were also excited about his pasalubong - a Sony 3-in-1 Stereo System (an FM/AM tuner, cassette and record player). We were quite sure it was something that the other households didn't have. Our neighbors had the huge, cabinet type record player that was the in thing then (to compliment the Hitachi or Radiowealth cabinet-type TV). What our Tatay brought home was the compact record player (this in the  days when stereo component systems were still an idea).

I don't recall what other grocery items we got from Cherry Foodarama but we sure did spend an extra time at the record bar. Surely, we got Ka Freddie's debut album. We also got Sampaguita's eponymous self-titled debut album.

I'd heard Sampaguita on the radio then although I was not conscious about the singers or the artists. My excuse probably would be my age - I was not yet in Kindergarten.

Like all our other records from our measly collection, we played Sampaguita (the album) to death that we had memorized not only the lyrics but also the nuances of the songs like the exact length of the silences between particular tracks, the various colors of legendary drummer Edmond 'Bosyo' Fortuno's syncopation.

During this time, Bonggahan and Tao (a track that I will forever associate with the highway going to Abra) had also been enjoying heavy rotation in major radio stations. I also loved (still do) Sayawan, Kumadre, Easy Pare and the poignant blues instrumental - Sampaguita Theme. If you have the chance, listen to that track for it is guitarist Gary Perez' masterpiece. It has to be, at least to me, one of the greatest Pinoy Rock songs.

The other one is Sa Diyos Lamang, an almost 8-minute epic  where Sampaguita sings her soul about a heartbreak and then a devotion to a god that turns out not to be the god that we Roman Catholics grow up believing. In this track Perez' melodic solos compliment Sampaguita's husky supplication that fades out with a choir chanting praises to Krishna and Rama.

Here's the lyrics and the streaming music:

During my senior year in high school a couple of friends asked me if I wanted to form a band for the upcoming foundation day. I've had a little experience playing in a band, so I accepted the offer. I told them, however,  that I had one problem - I didn't own an electric guitar. Terence, who was to be the keyboard player, assured me that it was alright and that he would ask his guitarist friend to loan me his axe.

Next thing I knew, Terence was handing me a well-worn white Philippine-made Fender Strat. He told me it was from a guy who was with the local born-again Christian church.

I later became friends with the guitarist. I wanted to know him because of his generosity. How could a someone entrust his main musical weapon to a stranger?  I was also intrigued if he was really a speaking-in-tongues-type like what Terence painted him to be.

The mystery was shattered when I returned his guitar to his place. We went straight to his bedroom/studio and I saw LPs of Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Savoy Brown on the floor. He was playing an extended blues jam by Johnny Winter on his dilapidated turntable. Some loose pages of music magazine were also strewn about the floor.

When he saw me ogling his record collection, he told me I could go check them out.  I was overwhelmed since I had more fingers that LP records. There was ELO's Discovery, several albums of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and a couple of Pinoy Rock legends Juan de la Cruz's LPs too.

What got my attention was this album by Grand Funk Railroad (Survival). I've heard Grand Funk before. Their song We're an American Band was a overplayed in recklessly driven passenger jeepneys. When the guitarist saw me insert my hand inside the empty LP, he scratched his head and told me that he lost the LP a long time ago. He added that if I wanted to listen to GFR, I could just borrow the Grand Funk Live Album instead. What really struck me was that he offered it to me even without me asking for it.

He put the LP on before we left, after teaching me the main riff for Inside Looking Out. After that short guitar lesson, I felt that  GFR was better bluesier and raw. The band also made me realize that the concept of a power trio is possible and highly capable of kicking ass.

Later on, I would be best friends with this guitarist. I'd learn that despite his spirituality, he didn't believe in God. At least not in the Judeo-Christian concept of Deity. (It was GFR's guitarist and singer who would become a born-again Christian).

My friend would play one of the meanest guitar solos in one of my future band's rare studio recording. Eventually, this best friend would be the best man at my wedding.

Here's a 1969 performance of Inside Looking Out by Grand Funk Railroad and lyrics:

I'm sitting here lonely like a broken man.
I serve my time doin the best I can.
Walls and bars they surround me.
But, I don't want no sympathy.

No baby, no baby,
All I need is some tender lovin.
To keep me sane in this burning oven.
And, when my time is up, you'll be my reefer.

Life gets worse on gods green earth.
Be my reefer, got to keep smokin that thing.
No, no, no, no, no, no.

Ice cold water is runnin through my veins.
They try and drag me back to work again.
Pain and blisters on my mind and hands.
I work all day making up NICKEL (burlap) bags.

The oats they're feeding me are driving me wild.
I feel unhappy like a new born child.
Now, when my time is up, you wait and see.
These walls and bars wont keep that stuff from me.

No, no, baby,
Wont keep that stuff from me.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

It was our ever-reliable, finger-picking guitarist, Tom Halim, who finally figured out the chords to this song. For our last gig, we wanted to play this song partly  because I've never seen any Pinoy band cover this song, at least in the music scene I was part of in the late 90s. Of course, we loved The Doors but we didn't want to cover  Break on Through or Light My Fire.

Last Band. After deciding to quit playing after I disbanded Flowers for Zoe in 96, I found myself aching to play again four years later. When we had rehearsed a few songs to last us at least a set, we decided to perform again. Good thing, my friend Khavn (who was stil Khan then) had a bar called Oracafe along Kamias Road. It was there where my band, re-christened Milk Bar (after a Anthony Burgess' Clockwork Orange) performed covers of Radiohead, Belle and Sebastian, Tommy James and the Shondels, Velvet Underground and a few of our original songs from Flowers for Zoe.

Eventually, our song Wasakin ang Pader would end up in the Khavn's DIY production of Indie Yo!, a compilation of new alternative music mashed up with some found sounds. The song is different from my previous ones in the sense that I used my baritone here and not the high-pitched punk voice.

Tell Me When. When I first heard Touch Me, I thought it was the best song the Doors ever wrote. It was different from their hits and more something like Engelbert Humperdinck would  perform. I thought it was more along the leagues of Cuando, Cuando than Roadhouse Blues. And because of this 'abomination,' I found it quite brave, avant-garde if you will, for them to sing this. Hello, I Love You is another different one as well as most songs in The Soft Parade album, but Touch Me makes macho rockers a bit uncomfortable.

I like how the brass section breathes in a fresh and ecstatic feel about the band which I usually associate with goth -  dark as [ their song] The End-dark. With Touch Me, it was a different Jim Morrison with sideburns, pompadour and a flowery shirt barely buttoned.

Til Stars Fall From the Sky. So Tom taught us the chords and the random number of times the last bar would be repeated. Instead of the brass section, we had guitars. We surely did have the energy and the balls to perform it live but we never did. We weren't able to perform in our supposed last gig for some reason or other. Our second to the last gig, a forgettable one at that, became the final performance of Milk Bar.

Before you click on the video, check out this interesting wikipedia entry about it:

One of the most famous television appearances of the Doors is of the group performing Touch Me on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour along with the single's B-side, Wild Child. During the performance, Jim Morrison missed his cue for the lines "C'mon, c'mon" and Robby Krieger could be seen with a black eye—the result of a bar fight the night before. (click here for the complete article)

If you grew up in the Philippines in the 80s, the first thing that will come to mind when you hear this song is the weekly TV show Pinoy Thriller. Automatically, you will start recalling the verse that comes after "Ano, ang nasa dako pa roon, bunga ng malikot na pag-iisip".

SSOSFAGTIACAGWAP is one of the avant-garde songs (if you could call this one) in Pink Floyd's Ummagumma, a double album consisting of a disc of live recordings and another of each member doing a suite of solo tracks. I discovered the song when I bought Pink Floyd's The Works years after it was released. (I remember the plastic cover of the LP was already crumply and full of soot when I ripped it.)

This track stands out because it's the only one with no music in it. Instead, it's a cacophony of mimicked animal sounds and an archaic poem being read by a Pict (a member of an ancient people inhabiting northern Scotland in Roman times, fr. Oxford American Dictionary). Chief Pink Floyd songwriter, Roger Waters, penned this song and made all the sounds that you can hear. He also was the driving force behind the rock opera The Wall.

Here's the rest of the poem and the spec video:

For the longest time, I thought this song was done by Til Tuesday. I don't recall anymore why I associated this song with Aimee Mann's former band whose song Voices Carry  lingers in my head intermittently after a recent re-listen.

Words was included in a mixed tape I got from my House of Beth band mates in the 80s. This track came before our band's home recording of "Assault and Battery," a song that despite the title was as chong as chong could get (new wave, that is).  Needless to say, I played the tape to death until it was way beyond worn.

Since I didn't know who performed it, I couldn't search for the lyrics in Jingle Magazine. I didn't even know the title and I thought the singer sang "When the world's whore..."

There's an acquired taste quality in the voice of singer, like Cyndi Lauper's. Dale Bozio's one of the more recognizable voices of that era together with Lauper, Mann, and Martha Davis of The Motels. Although I really hated the use of synthesizers, I really think it was well-employed here. It could also be because of the AI (artificial intelligent, ahem) timber of Dale's singing and robotic swaying. A perfect complement to the pneumatic beat of the Dale's then-husband Terry's drum track.

It was only recently that I rediscovered Missing Persons when I searched for this song on YouTube. The first thing I noticed was the singer's outfit - the above-average exposure of skin apart from, what the hell is she wearing for a skirt? Only then did it dawn on me that I must have seen Dale Bozio in one of those issues of Jingle Magazine and the accompanying article talking about her adult magazine moonlighting.

But more on that later. Don't make the mistake of lumping the Missing Persons with other one-hit-wonders of the era. They were (still are) talented musicians with the legendary Frank Zappa employing some members as session players pre-Missing Persons. Terry Bozio even played drums for, tada - Korn.

Now that I know the real lyrics I was able to appreciate the song better. The refrain, alas, actually goes like this:  "What are words for when no one listens anymore?"  

Before you go googling <Dale Bozio Images>, here's the complete lyrics and video:

People, at least here in the US, will remember this song as that awesome soundtrack to this Alice in Wonderland-inspired TVC for Zune.



Sunshine and I have been noticing this TVC a while back before we saw the song performed solo by Zach Rogue as one of the featured artists in Songs of the City. The concert was top indie acts' ode to the City of Angels held at the Walt Disney Concert Hall last January. There were a dozen performers which included Zooey Deschanel (of She and Him and, yeah, that chick from M. Night Shyamalan's The Happening), Sondre Lerche (one of the better performers from Norway), Annie Stella (whose CD we bought at the lobby and still enjoy listening to), Bob Mould (who did not meet our expectations, but what the hell, it was the Bob Mould, right?), Biirdie (a folk group based in Glendale whose song, Life in a Box, about living in an apartment we can relate to), and one of the guys from Belle and Sebastian called Stevie Jackson.

Anyway, we only confirmed that it was indeed that song after the concert. This led me to learn more about the band (which you can find here) and search for their music online.

Lake Michigan is a song culled from Rogue Wave's  latest album, Asleep at Heaven's Gate, which as many critics have noted somehow betrayed Rogue's Lo-Fi past. I can see how they see this a departure from their debut (Out of the Shadow) which was more like the performance we saw at Disney Concert Hall, a minimalist performance. However, I disagree that their latest is worse by merely becoming more accessible.

Some fans also have debated about the meaning of the song. Some are saying it's an cry for help for the environment. Some rebut that their just reading too much.

For me, I like the song because of the anthemic melody and the familiar (in a Philippine folk dance way) rhythm. A few days ago, Sunshine and I were talking about deconstructing this song by having Filipino folk dancers, say the Obusan Folkloric Group, setting up bamboo poles as the males genuflect and clap while the women, in their colorful ternos, wave abanikos in a different performance of Tinikling.

Here's the lyrics and music video:

Almost twenty years ago, I bought this Philippines-only compilation called The Cutting Edge. The record, strangely, became warped in a few days. Luckily it was still playable until I sold it together with my entire record collection a few years before moving here.

Some of the songs in the compilation have since become New Wave cult classics: The Room’s New Dreams for Old, XTC’s Dear God, even actor Rupert Everett’s A Generation of Loneliness. I bought the LP because I’ve been listening to Billy Bragg’s Greetings to the New Brunette on NU 107 and was dying to transcribe the song’s lyrics if not the guitar chords.

In the days without google much less a reliable music information source, all I knew about it  was that it was a sweet song, probably about love, sang by this Mr. Bragg who didn’t give a damn if his Cockney crooning is getting in the way of comprehension, if not appreciation of his song.

It was much later on that I found out that the song was produced/co-performed by The Smiths’ guitar player, the other half of the band’s musical genius, Johnny Marr. I was particularly struck by GTTB’s musical arrangement. The elaborate guitar work was a dead giveaway. It sounded very much like the army of guitars that Johnny Marr often employed in many of The Smiths’ songs. Upon closer listen, I realized also that because of this multi-layering, there was no more need for a drum or percussion track

The song was my introduction to Billy Bragg’s music that’s been often labeled political. I got hooked on Billy Bragg because I sympathize with his politics. In one of the earlier press releases about him, he was quoted to have said that he quit his punk rock band Riff Raff because he felt that the noise was drowning out the message. With that, he launched a Folk music career that’s more reminiscent of Woody Guthrie than Bob Dylan.

Unlike the two Folk music greats, Bragg was armed with an electric guitar. In his early albums, his songs are comprised just his voice and his electric guitar. It served him well in terms of his touring (or singing at workers’ solidarity concerts) because it was easy to set up and there was no pressure at all to try to sound exactly the way the songs were recorded.

In later years, I would collect most of Bragg’s album. On top of my list would be Talking With the Taxman About Poetry with Don’t Try This at Home and William Bloke tied for a close second. I would later cover The Price I Pay and Tank Park Salute with my band in the 90s. Among my other favorite tracks are The Space Race is Over, Waiting for the Great Leaps Forward, Levi Stubb’s Tears, and Moving the Goalposts.

Of course, there’s the oft-covered song, his breakout single, A New England that takes off from Simon and Garfunkel’s Leaves That are Green. The charm of the song is right in its refrain. (I don’t want to change the world/I’m not looking for a new England/Just looking for another girl) It’s practically an assertion that for whatever political agenda he has, he is still human capable of human emotions like, say, love. Bragg has been performing this song with British sensation Kate Nash wherein Nash sings verses from her hit Foundations alternately with with Bragg’s A New England.

Like A New England, GTTNB employs that quirky romanticism to inject some socialist messages. Who else, but Billy Bragg can come up with this line: “We are joined in the ideological cuddle.”

Here’s the rest of the lyrics and the accompanying 1986 promotional video:

The song begins with guitar strumming reminiscent of Trini Lopez's If I Had a Hammer. The tempo even matches the live version some of us from Manila must have heard from one of those made in Indonesia cassette tapes when CDs were still a luxury in the late 80s.

It only becomes clear that this song is not a cover when the delay/rotating leslie guitar effect is heard in the background. In a few more bars, a David Byrne-sounding Alec Ounsworth begins singing:


Critics have been divided about CYHSY precisely because their sound is a liberal lift from the better qualities of the music of The Talking Heads, Joy Division, The Fall, New Order, even the Velvet Underground. If these critics brand CYHSY plagiarists, some see the attempt at paying tribute.

I tend to side with the latter. A flattering imitation, more like. Who can claim originality anyway these days? CSHSY merely capitalize on their music's familiarity. 

Some of their songs (and more facts about the band) are available for download here.

This song (Upon a Tidal..) from their eponymous debut album seems to focus on teenage lifestyles with a hint of an affected concern towards the plight of Lindsays and Britneys as 'child stars' continue to make a joke of their young lives. This ode to youth goes perfectly with the upbeat tempo that's infectiously danceable (in a rock and roll way, that is).

Here's the rest of the lyrics and a spec video (for lack of a real music video) of the song:

The first time I heard The Mountain Goats, I was shuffling through Joms' iPod on our way to the San Diego Zoo last year. I think we were talking about the absurdity of the emergence of a Lo-Fi category in alternative music, where TMG falls under. I forget which track or album were we listening to then but I remember clearly how TMG's music, albeit crudely recorded (a main characteristic of Lo-Fi), served as the perfect soundtrack to the vast and never-ending San Diego Freeway.

I've since heard most of TMG's discography and I've included the group (it's actually the moniker of singer-songwriter John Darnielle)  as one of my all-time favorites.

I like the intimate feel of TMG's albums that always revolve around a central narrative - a series of lo-fi opera/concept albums.  I'm currently listening to The Sunset Tree (2005). So far, this one ranks among their best albums to me (the other one is 2006's Get Lonely).

Despite the brutal reality of The Sunset Tree (it's about a teenager growing up with an abusive stepfather), I still appreciate the glowing optimism in some of the tracks.  I am particularly moved by This Year with its resounding resolution/assertion "I am going to make it through this year if it kills me." 

I'm posting here the rest of the lyrics and the video for better appreciation.

Isa siya sa mga pinakamagaling na male vocalists sa ²Bayani. Siya rin ang nagdrowing ng mukha ni Andres Bonifacio sa poster ng ²Bayani.

Ang huli naming pagkikita naganap mahigit isang dekada na. Bago o katatapos lang ng initiation niya sa frat sa UP. Ilang linggo matapos ang performances ng rock opera kung saan alternate namin ang isa't isa sa papel na Pedro Giron, ang tinuturing na naghudas kay Bonifacio.

Nitong Sabado, nabalitaan ko na kasama siya sa mga mountaineers na tinangay ng malakas na alon sa isang ilog sa bundok sa Zambales. Pabalik na sila mula sa pamumundok noong nanalasa ang bagyong si 'Frank.'

He went missing for days only to be found washed ashore on a nearby island, lifeless on his 32nd birthday. I wrote a poem a long time ago about my fear of drowning. Di ko alam na isa sa mga kilala ko ang mamamatay sa tubig doon pa mismo sa araw ng kanyang pagsilang.

Paalam Thaddeus Reantaso (o Duff para sa amin sa TA)

__________________________
Pagbalik sa Tubig



Itong pagbalik. Itong pagsasariwa
sa pamilyar na pinagtahanan. Madilim.
Malalim. Walang makakapitan, kahit lumot
kahit kumot o labadang ikinula kamakalawa pa
sa lawak ng paglalawa sa palanggana. Pangaraping
kusot-kusotin ang bawat hibla, ang damit na hindi yari
sa tela. Ang suot sa ibabaw ng mismong balat
bago pa isilang sa unang umaga.

Huwag,
magkakawag. Hintaying magpahiwatig
ang pamimitig ng bisig, binti. Sa bagang
unti-unti nang humihiyaw huminga, lumunok.
Lumunok. Ang pamamantal sa talampakan matapos
ang hindi matapos-tapos na sandali ng pagbulusok.
Nang sinalubong o sumalubong sa tumilamsik na hamog.

Itong pagbabanlaw sa anumang natitirang tapang,
sa paglaktaw sa natitirang hangin, sa paninging
kinurtinahan ng maalong buhok. Suminghap-
singhap, ngayong tapos nang lumagpak. Tarantang paghablot
na lumulusot lang sa mga pagitan ng daliri.

Itong huling pagtangging
pumisan sa mga bato, suso, gurame, laksa-
laksang bula. Pumapanaw ang haraya ng mga kamay
ng kaibigan, kalanguyan. Pagpadyak ng mga paang
sumisipa sa dumi. Pumapalo sa mukha. Pumipiga,
pumipiga.

Itong pagbabalik. Itong pagbabagong-anyo, nilikhang
panlupa na nakayapos sa pagkapangkatubigan. Luray-
luray at kinupasan ng buhay. Ang pinagmulan bilang
katapusan, ipinaghehele ng malalambing na pagkibot.

Dalawang pusong
tumitibok-tibok. Minsan
magkasabay, minsan sinisinok.

____________________

When one says there's a happening in Filipino (eg. May happening sa bahay namin, punta ka.) it means something fun or exciting will transpire. On June 13, something exciting will happen. I doubt, though, if this will be your ordinary kind of fun.




I know the critics are already training their guns on M. Night Shyamalan, again. I pity them for their incapacity to dig this guy.  Kawawa talaga.

Noo'y Mayo, isang araw
sa daa'y inambon
tumungo sila sa bundok Buntis
Karatig ng Marigondon

Above is the first verse of the last song of ²Bayani, the rock opera that Khavn and I wrote in 1995.

²Bayani* dramatizes the last days of Andres Bonifacio, from the time he was captured by the Magdalo faction of the Katipunan (the very organization he founded to revolt against 370+ years of Spanish rule) until his execution in the hands of, yes, Filipinos.

It also deals with the factionalism of Filipinos at a time when unity was most needed. It also attempts to reveal the ugly truth that no true revolution has ever been carried out in our history. That this exalted  political and mass-based movements in Philippine history can be summarized into a story of  landlords wanting to get back the lands that the friars took from them.

It's never about the people, this, our local brand of revolution.

The song ends like this:

Si Andres Bonifacio'y
Pumanaw kahapon
Uparang marating natin
Ang kinaroroonan ngayon

      At siya'y naririto
Ngayon.

I often wondered why Rizal Day commemorates Rizal's execution while Bonifacio Day refers to Bonifacio's birthday. Siguro gusto ng mga nagtakda nito na mas maalala ang pagkamatay ni Rizal dahil mga Kastila (well, debatable ito) ang bumaril sa kanya. Naisip siguro nila na mas mabuti nang kalimutan na kapwa Filipino ang pumatay kay Bonifacio. Na isang kasapi sa kilusang siya mismo ang nagtatag.

Mas gugustuhin kong alalahanin ang isang madaling araw ng Mayo noong 1897 sa Bundok Buntis (debatable ulit ang lugar, walang puntod sa pinagtabunan sa bangkay ni Bonifacio at ng kapatid niyang si Procopio).

Dapat itakda na Mayo ang buwan ni Bonifacio para man lang ipamukha sa bawat Filipino ang kahiya-hiyang bahagi na ito ng ating kasaysayan. Para pagkuhaan ng aral. Para di na maulit pa sa hinaharap.

*I was supposed to write a bit about this just in time for November 30 last year (Bonifacio's birthday) but some military faction called, well, Magdalo, staged a mutiny a day early. More about ²Bayani, soon.

I have a story, epistolary in form, about Bonifacio's executioner. It's part of my story cycle on the Philippine Revolution called Sanlaksang Sima ng Ulan. (One of the stories in this cycle is another epistolary called Taggutom which appeared as Hunger in www.42opus.com.)

The original title of this executioner's story was Taglagas. I've since adapted the salutation of the letter as the title:


_______________________________

Mahal kong Selya,

Naaalala mo pa ba nang iniwan ninyo ako sa ilalim ng akasya noong magdarapit-hapon na at ako ang taya sa larong takipsilim. Hinanap ko kayong lahat noon. Kahit pa sinabing may kapre daw sa punong 'yon. Sabi pa nga ng Inay, mas madalas magpakita ang kapre dahil nangalaglag na ang mga dahon. Hinanap ko kayo hanggang matagpuan ako ni Tiyo Andres. Hindi ko mapigilang umiyak. Hindi ko matanggap na dinaya n'yo ‘ko.

Kinabukasan, tinukso n'yo pa 'ko. Uhugin. Duwag at kung ano-ano pang mga salitang walang kawawaan sa akin.


Katatapos lang naming makipagsagupa sa mga Kastila. Nangalahati kami. Inubos naman namin sila. Siniguro naming patay lahat at sinigaan ang mga bangkay. Ayaw mang tanggapin ng damdamin, naglaway ako nang makaamoy ng natutustang tao.


Nagutom kami. Kinatay namin ang alagang kambing ni Tata Miong. Hindi namin kinain ang ulo dahil doon nakakabit ang sungay.

Hindi kumain ang dalawang bihag. Hindi na para sa kanila ang pagkain.


Saan ka nga ba talaga nagpunta noong gabi ng Agosto? Sabi ng Itay mo, nagtanan ka raw. Sumama sa isang prayle, nagtungong Camarines. Hindi ako naniniwala. Naalala ko lang bago ka nawala, ang pagkalunod ng mga mata mo sa maputik na luha. Kagagaling n'yo lang ni Salome noon sa sapa para maglaba. Ayaw mong masalita noon. Hindi ko na tinanong kung bakit bali ang palo-palong bitbit mo. Hindi na lang ako umimik dahil alam kong alam mo na.


Nilalapa kami ng lamok dito. Sinlaki ng paruparo ang mga lamok dito sa Bundok Buntis. Ewan ko ba kung bakit sa lugar na ito, napakadaling dumapo ng pahinga?


Pasensya ka na at kung saan-saan napupunta  ang sinusulat ko. Nagpapahinga nga kami pero hindi ito ang hinahanap ng katawan namin. Iniisip ko na lang na hinihintay mo ako sa Camarines. Malapit na naman raw matapos ang himagsikan at gagawin ko ang papel ko mula pa noong bata tayo. Pero, saan kita hahagilapin? Mababasa mo kaya ang sulat kong ito?


Kaninang umaga, pinatawan namin ng parusang kamatayan ang dalawang bihag. Hindi ko sila kilala. Basta mga taga-Tundo raw. Taksil daw sa himagsikan.

Nang barilin ko na ang huli, tumitig siya sa akin. Naunawaan ko ang lungkot niya. Natiyak ko ring hindi na tayo magkikita.

Kung lumaki ka sa Batibot o nahilig sa mga kuwentong pambata o isang masugid na tagasubaybay ng dulaang Pilipino, huwag kang malungkot sa pagpanaw ni Rene. Sa halip, manghinayang sa isang dambuhalang kawalan di lamang para sa panitikan kundi para sa kamalayang Pilipino.


When people ask me who's the first Filipino to deserve a Nobel Prize, I always say it should be Edgardo M. Reyes (Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag, Laro sa Baga, Mga Uod at Rosas). I never asked myself who's next. It was only recently that I realized, after a short stint at the the UP Writers Workshop in Baguio (2006) that Rene should have been my close second.


Wala siyang kapaguran magsulat; parang isinumpa siyang magsulat. Walang katapusan din ang papuri at pagkilala sa kanya. Sa mga nakilala siya nang personal, di namin malilimutan ang mga one-liners niya.

In one of the discussions in the workshop, tempers were already rising when the panelists and the fellows were debating about poetry. To ease the tension, rene grabbed the mic, and said, "basta naaamoy, poetic!"