Now, This is Revival.

So late in the bandwagon am I, missing Ambulette on my radar. Maura Davis' project after Denali purrs and haunts in a delicate pop package. Released in 2006 and just heard 2 days ago, I knew I had to bully the search engine for that delicious version of the 1959 Jacques Brel song, "Ne Me Quitte Pas" on radio. 

This pleading, tormented,  yet airy take perfectly serves the lyrics. We are deluged, buried underneath a flood of so called "revivals" of songs. I am supposed to be working now, but I guess this is worth sharing - if i may. I consider revivals/ readings of songs as tricky acts, where interpreters bear in mind the intent of the writer while allowing space for the infusion of fresh blood,  and stamp one's own creativity. 

Current bands should learn a thing or two from this track. Whatever the style, it pays to do one's homework - getting chords and harmonies correct and really learning the song. Most think they can get away with jangling out of tune guitars in the almighty name of rock and ram the airwaves with a mangled and forced version of beautifully written tunes. 

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the clip above, and do not earn money with the video. The clip belongs to the rightful owners, and is shared for enjoyment purposes only. All rights are owned by the publishers of the music. Video clip courtesy of Youtube.  

I See Where We Are Headed

In circles, that's where.

The micro is the small form of the macro. If keen with it, one may see what I see in one of the smallest forms of our community . It is an everyday experience, that which mirrors who we are as individuals and as a nation.

I have commuted for almost all of my life, with the jeepney (an improvised version of the Jeep) as my main form of transport.  It is an everyday ritual, until recently.

It is not simply a mode of transportation. It is the Philippines and the Filipinos at the same time. Its the country's culture in four wheels. A persona that is so alike, it should be our national logo. 

There are laws and ordinances posted in stickers against smoking, yet remains as stickers as the same are not really implemented. Even when implemented, these are not heeded, anyway.  Seatbelts are worn like beauty queen sashes and are not securely fastened. These are not for safety, but are simply to avoid apprehension and fee. The manner of driving likewise is a good demo on the book  "Violation of prescribed Traffic Regulations to earn your P 8.00, 1st Edition"

Don't national laws sound good on letter  too ,minus the intent?

The average jeepney is a travelling altar with the strangest of doctrines. There is a crucifix (that the driver touches every time a church is passed by) side by side with a money frog, below a hanging bible verse. Differing pseudo spiritual elements protect the journey for the day - which would mean no accidents, no apprehensions, good income (or "boundary"). God can mean anything: a lucky streak, a talisman, a retreat, a fairy tale godmother.

It is a lot like our national spiritual psyche, collectively. 

The lucky passengers are the ones who happen to ride first, they get the rear end of the seat. This means one doesn't get to be annoyed by the fares passed (most of the time, without the rudimentary 'please') by those seated at the farthest end. No one will want to sit on the space left behind the driver. More so, there are different seating manners fit for every one:

The pre pubescent kids who barely grew facial hair sit like dons with legs spread apart, cigarette at hand, baseball cap at the edge of their foreheads.

The lovers who have to be seated at a 45 degree angle for a public hug, and who knows what else.

Those with short term memories, as they insist for a wider sitting angle so they can watch everything passed by, lest they forget where there are.

Best of luck to passengers with three shopping bags or more, as those seated first will rarely move a nanometer to give way for convenience's sake. 

In this country,  who cares if others stumble and fumble as long as we get our comforts - our fancy coffee over fancy bossa nova while we chat the calamity stricken nights away, anyway? At  the point even when murder is inevitable, we will commit - as long as we get what we want.

The average jeepney travels quite a distance for a day, starts at point A, and consequently ends at point A, too.  Despite the fuel and effort spent, it is not expected to categorically arrive at a certain destination . Now we lift that template and impose it to this nation's pursuit,  we are almost at a similar state. We spend and spend and exert endless hours of policy making, only to fall wayside in the implementation stage and we go back to where we began.  More tired,  fully exhausted, and  seeking the balm of the television and virtual realities.

Some drivers end the day's work with a bottle or two. Some of us do likewise. Then we all fall asleep, and wake up with throbbing brains and the same route as yesterday. And the previous week. And the previous month. And the previous year. 

Some never wake up at all. Eventually, the circle closes and we are back from where we began.

Oh well,  here's Andy Timmons for that rainy-day rant with HEADED FOR THE DITCH, Live  from the Resolution DVD. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the clip above, and do not earn money with the video. The clip belongs to the rightful owners, and is shared for enjoyment purposes only. All rights are owned by the publishers of the music. Video clip courtesy of Youtube. 

Why Sir Yoyoy Rocks and Bops Harder than any Metal Jazz Wannabe

Everytime I listen to the late Yoyoy Villame's Magellan  and Philippine Geography, I always manage a good laugh with honest appreciation and awe.

Well thought of, solid writing and melody (Yes, he may have adapted some lines form popular songs of yore, George Harrison did the same anyway)are undeniable in these gems. Who would have thought of writing something that dares cover the Philippine Archipelago in one pop format? This is pre-Pinoy Henyo era (for the uninitiated, this category is a must  for aspirants of the rounds), where kids simply run through the whole Philippine regions in the name of trivia. Yoyoy ingeniously rhymes the nation in one Bahay Kubo fashion. Yi Yi Yi indeed.

Magellan paints the encounter of Señor Ferdinand with the rather unwelcome courtesy of Lapu Lapu and the gang. "Bolos and spears versus guns and cannons"  rides in an arrowhead and claims the battle. What is interesting is how Yoyoy (somebody correct me if he had an arranger) segues the battlefield to retreat in the innocent world of nursery rhymes: Doctor shall I die, tell my mama do not cry. Really clever.

This also leaves us asking the doctor, will good Filipino music die too? Need novelty be always about sexual innuendos to reign the videoke joints? Do bands have to always have to write about hangovers, decadence and getting wasted to qualify as the anthem of the youth? Do we have to sing in the highest of keys to effectively communicate?  Is cramming all the Berklee approved licks in a three minute pop ditty the new standard? 

If so,  please tell my mama do not cry.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the clip above, and do not earn money with the video. The clip belongs to the rightful owners, and is shared for enjoyment purposes only. All rights are owned by the publishers of the music. Video clip courtesy of Youtube.