04.02.2007
DEFINING HILERA
DRAWING FROM INFLUENCES LIKE OLD-SCHOOL PUNK AND ROCKABILLY, THIS YOUNG BAND MELDS MELODY AND AGGRESSION AND SERVES UP SHORT SHARP SUPERB SONGS
I have a handful of friends whose musical instincts I trust. Not that the rest of my friends are tone-deaf idiots; it’s just that this particular subset of four or five people can be relied upon to detect whether an act is worthwhile, usually before anyone else. In the words of Ernest Hemingway, they each have a “built-in, shockproof shit detector.” (Yes, Hemingway really said that. He was talking about a writer’s necessary radar, but it applies to music appreciation too.) So last year, when two of these friends of mine brought up Hilera on separate occasions before the band’s self-titled debut album was even launched, I knew that this was a group that deserved attention. “They’ve got something,” my friend W. said. That may not even sound much like praise, but if you’re familiar with W.’s standards and her low tolerance for sloppy musicality, it’s practically a Nobel Prize nomination.
That special something is on full display in the one-two-three punch of the band’s best songs so far: “Define,” “Rhyme Without Reason” and “The Pot of Gold.” Alongside Ivan Garcia on bass, brothers Chris and Bobby Padilla—on vocals/guitars and drums, respectively—channel the energy and immediacy of the best sort of punk music, but make sure to avoid the punk tag themselves. “Para sa amin, ‘rock’ na lang,” they assert, when asked to define themselves. They follow up with a reference to the “punk police” and the many requirements it takes to avoid the ire of purists. Still, the fact that they quote The Ramones on their MySpace page (“Gabba gabba hey!”) and placed a Clash poster in the background of one of their videos means they don’t mind comparisons all that much, either.
As a matter of fact, if asked, they freely own up to their inspirations. “Actually, sobrang The Clash yung influence,” Chris says, talking about how their recent listening fare affected the songwriting for the album. “Tapos mga Stray Cats, mga medyo rockabilly pa. Medyo nasa punk area o genre na. Tapos, mga ganoon, Green Day, Bad Religion. Kasi ang ganda ng aggressive tapos may catchy melody. Malalim naman ‘yung emosyon, malalim naman kahit papaano ‘yung mga ibang lyrics nila.”
It’s that simple, familiar, yet elusive combination—aggression plus melody—that serves this young band well. With Bobby still in his late teens and Ivan and Chris barely in their twenties, their musical tastes can be said to still be in their formative stages; bands like The Clash represent that sweet midpoint that balances those two ingredients perfectly. Chris, it seems, was always looking for that element of aggression, of confrontation—“Naghahanap ako ng matapang na music,” he says of his earlier listening material. He used to look for it in rap, but even Tupac fell short: “Medyo kulang pa, eh… Gusto ko medyo sunod-sunod. Kaya naadik ako sa Metallica.”
Ivan, meanwhile, confesses to an early love of distortion and death metal. “Naaliw kasi ako sa tunog,” he grins. It may not be easy to discern the influence of such skull-crushing acts in their current output, but their band name, at least, owes a partial debt to heavy acts with names that end in “a”: Metallica, Sepultura, Pantera. They also like the fact that “to relate the band’s name to the music, it’s like a command.”
Lest you assume that these guys overdosed on the aggression, though, it’s worthwhile to note that Chris admits without shame to listening to The Moffats when he was younger. It’s that kind of tossed-off confession, as well as their polite-yet-unrepentant attitude, that marks the band’s refreshing lack of pretension. They’re not acting as if they’re something they’re not, not trying to present themselves as cooler or uncooler than they are. They’re not even going to be hypocritical about piracy—when asked how they would react if people sold pirated copies of their album, Chris shrugs and says it would probably just be karma, seeing as how they’ve bought pirated CDs themselves in the past.
And speaking of the past, the band traces its beginning back to December 2004. It was then that Chris and Ivan, who had been playing in different groups, decided to get serious about their music and form a band together. Their original drummer proved to be less serious about the band than they were, though, so Chris’ younger brother Bobby—he was 17 at the time—stepped up to the plate. I ask him if he learned drums specifically to be in his Kuya’s band, and he laughs. No, he says, “Matagal ko na ring gustong pumalo, eh.”
“’Yung mga time na ‘yun, mga three or four months pa lang ata siya nag-dru-drums,” recalls Chris. “Sabi ko, sige, hintayin na lang natin. Ano na lang, bahala na! [laughter] Tugtog na lang tayo ng originals, kahit ano. Ang White Stripes nga, ganun-ganon lang [demonstrates caveman drumming]—sige, ganoon na lang muna rin tayo. [laughter] Tapos, ‘yon, awa ng Diyos, medyo nag-practice ng matindi. Okay na.” Bobby’s remarkable learning curve on the drums, not to mention Chris’s talents and inclinations, might very well be chalked up to genetics—they affectionately describe their father as a “frustrated combo member” who used to play rhythm guitar for a Baguio-based band called The Octaves.
Chris, Ivan and Bobby forged themselves into a tight three-piece act, and not too long after, Hilera emerged as the champion of the Nescafé Soundskool intercollegiate band competition in 2005. The three of them had mixed feelings about the win, however, largely because they felt their performance that night was not up to their standards. “Kasi ‘yung gabi ng finals, siyempre medyo kabado pa rin, nung set na namin, ‘yung gitara ko nawala sa tono,” Chris recounts. If you were to watch footage of the event, he says, you would see him trying to tune his guitar while singing. “So medyo nagkaroon ng konting confusion rin pagdating sa areglo dahil nagkakagulo, medyo ‘yung isip ko nandoon sa tono tapos kumakanta pa naman ako, eh tatlo lang din kami, so hindi ako pwedeng tumigil mag-play habang nagtotono. Kaya nung pagkatapos ng set namin, nakakafrustrate. Talagang frustrated kami, kasi alam namin, ‘Wala na, talo na. Talo na ito. ‘Yun yung iniisip ko, wala na, talo na.’”
The fact that they were chosen as the winners anyway attests to sharp judgment on the part of the Soundskool panel, who must have seen past the band’s confusion and frustration and assessed their skill and promise. The announcement resulted in a rather apologetic acceptance speech. “Ang nasa isip ko lang noon ano eh, nung gabi na ‘yon, hindi kami nakatugtog ng maayos, kaya di dapat niyo ibigay sa amin ‘yan,” Chris says. No false humility here: happy as they were to win—money and iPods were among the prizes, after all—one gets the sense that their performance that day still bugs them, and that they would do it all over again if they could.
It’s that sincere striving to do something better that marks their songwriting, as well. “Ang gusto lang naman namin kasi, gumawa ng magagandang kanta eh,” Chris says. “Ayaw naman namin ‘yung [lowers voice to satanic growl] kami, ganito kami. Sige, suggest lang, okay lang. Paano, ano pa ‘yung maganda?”
I ask if any of the tracks on their debut can be said to sum up the band’s sound: “Actually, ‘yung ‘Rhyme Without Reason,’ isa sa mga pinakauna naming nasulat na tunes nung pagkatapos ng Soundskool, pero hindi namin alam na ‘yun ‘yung parang magiging medyo sound, parang distinct sound ng banda,” Chris explains. “Nung eventually, medyo ‘yung mga huling nasulat namin, yung ‘Pot of Gold’ ata, doon na ata na-define siguro yung ‘ito yung tunog.’ Tsaka kumpurtableng-kumpurtable, masaya kami. Kung baga, ‘pag tinutugtog namin ‘yung mga kanta na ‘yon, para kaming nagco-cover.”
Chris explains further: “Parang feeling namin, di ba, pag tumutugtog ka ng paboritong kanta mo…” Ivan continues the thought: “…ng kanta ng Green Day or ng Beatles or ano…” “Sarap eh,” Chris concludes. “Halimbawa sa jamming niyo—“ At this point, Chris sings and air-guitars a snatch of “She Loves You”— “Sarap eh, di ba? Parang ganoon ‘yung feeling, masarap. Kung baga, sarili naming gawa pero parang tumutugtog kami ng cover, na parang, wow, pare! Kasi ‘yun talaga ‘yung gusto namin, ‘yung goal din namin, actually, ‘yung makagawa rin kami ng mga kanta na talagang mamahalin namin.”
In the end, Chris says, “Gusto lang namin actually, good songs, ‘yun lang, good songs.” It’s a sentiment that has been expressed by many a band before, so overused it’s a cliché: It’s all about the music. The difference is, with Hilera, you believe it.
Photos provided by EMI. More info on Hilera here. The band's MySpace page is here.
