Manila has long been a destination for international musicians, from current chart-toppers to near-forgotten one-hit wonders. Once in a blue moon, however, we are lucky enough to be graced by true talent, the kind that does not rely on arena pageantry or blings-and-babes gimmickry. Such is the case with Death Cab for Cutie, those kings of pain from Bellingham, Washington, who once lorded over indie and is now slowly taking over the world (if they haven’t already).

The band—known for their self-aware, straight-faced confessionals, such as “The Sound of Settling” (from 2004’s Transatlanticism), “I Will Follow You into the Dark” (from 2005’s Plans) and “I Will Possess Your Heart” (from 2008’s Narrow Stairs)—is slated to perform for their Filipino fans this March. Perhaps Rolling Stone magazine said it best when it described the band’s last independent outing as having “melodic, melancholy songs about feeling both smart and confused, hopelessly romantic but wary of love.” The group’s underground successes soon made way to mainstream nods. TV shows (The O.C., Six Feet Under, Californication) and movies (Wedding Crashers, Twilight: New Moon) started carrying their material. In some odd way, singer-songwriter Ben Gibbard, bassist Nick Harmer, guitarist Chris Walla, and drummer Jason McGerr are lending their credibility to these ventures, rather than openly milking whatever exposure they could get from them. Their newest release, 2011’s Codes and Keys, was written during a time of radical changes in Gibbard’s personal life. But, contrary to their previous material, fans can openly embrace this new record without shedding buckets of tears. “I feel like if there is a theme of home throughout [Codes and Keys], it has as much to do because of the changes that have happened in my life,” the songwriter said some time ago in a press statement. “I’ve rediscovered what the definition of home is,” the low-key musician further shared.

Death Cab for Cutie plays at The NBC Tent in Taguig on March 5, 2012 at 8 PM. VIP tickets are at P3,800, while Gold tickets are at P2,500. Discounted “early bird” tickets ran out fast, so it would be wise not to dilly-dally any longer. Visit TicketNet outlets to purchase. DCFC’s music is distributed locally by Warner Music Philippines. (Warner Music Philippines)

On Wilderness’ “El Toro El Matador”

Prior to the video for “El Toro El Matador,” Wilderness had done one or two videos themselves, which I loved. Those videos had a real DIY feel, but were also aggressive and captured what I thought was the personality of the band. For “El Toro [...],” I wanted to keep that vibe and capture some great performance footage. I shot the band playing at the skate shop Whiskey Hill in Makati. The space is probably too small to fit a whole band, but I crammed Wilderness in there and then turned them loose. The result is a very kinetic, high-energy performance. The band brought the same intensity to the video that they do to their live shows. I then went and culled a barrage of “stolen” imagery to edit together with the performance footage. The band told me they wanted that footage to be “crazy, weird, aggressive, unpredictable.” I won’t try to define it, but there is a feeling that I get when I hear Wilderness. Images come to my mind. I think that’s why people love the band so much. I was trying to capture that feeling in those “stolen” images. For me, the video for “El Toro El Matador” is an absolute portrait of Wilderness.

On The Strangeness’ “Cain Was Furious and He Was Downcast”

I had the concept for The Strangeness video before I met or discussed doing a video with the band. For a while I had wanted to do a music video that looked like a photo shoot, which isn’t particularly unique, but my idea was to pay homage to one of my favorite photographers, Terry Richardson. If you know Terry’s photography, then you’ll know exactly what I mean. When I finally did meet The Strangeness I was happy to find out that they knew Terry Richardson’s work and were game for my idea. I asked my friend, Brian Sergio, who is a bad-ass photographer, to help me find some girls who might like to do something like this. Brian came through with three amazing girls, Bianca, Kaki, and Rachelle. The shoot itself was insane. I ran two camera setups and I had the girls running from setup to setup stripping their clothes off, posing with the band, using props, groping at instruments, and creating as much chaos as possible. All the credit goes to the band: it’s not easy to work under those circumstances! The shoot was an open set. The band had about 15 friends there hanging out, watching. Amidst all the chaos of half-naked girls, brownies, Star Wars masks and guitar amps, I overheard one guy who was watching turn to his girlfriend and say, “I think they’re trying to make the coolest music video ever.” He was right. That’s exactly what we were trying to do. (Robert Lyren)

Images provided by the author. Add Bob on Facebook for updates. Be at the joint video launch of these two new exciting acts on February 3 (this Friday), at Café saGuijo. Tune in to “Lost in Translation with Bob and Jesse” Saturdays, 9 to 11PM, on Jam 88.3.

If you don’t know it yet, word is that the Foo Fighters are playing The Padang in Singapore on March 2, and Radiohead will swing by Taipei on July 25. Got an initial lead that tickets for Yorke and co.’s gig have already sold out, but the band’s site says they’ll only start selling on January 15. [Update: Okay, now they're really gone.] Tickets to the Foos’ show, meanwhile, are on sale here. In any case, we wish you the best of luck. Just be advised that the “big boys” usually sell out tens of thousands of seats in a matter of hours. Just send us a postcard or something.

Over here in the RP, meanwhile, we’re happy to announce that the hints we dropped regarding The Pains of Being Pure at Heart coming over are finally confirmed, and they’re playing Hard Rock in Makati on February 29. Lastly, producers (recently identified as Intastella Burst HK, Terno Recordings, White Noise Records, and Macha Piccha) have finally revealed details for the Toe show: 1) it’s happening on March 20 (a day earlier than previously reported); 2) early bird ticket rate will be P1,500 until February 15, then it reverts to the regular price, P1,800, beyond that date (you may e-mail info@ternorecordings.com to reserve, too); 3) venue will be at The Tents at Alphaland Southgate (gates open at 8PM); and, God bless them, 4) Encounters with a Yeti and Sleepwalk Circus are opening! Bottomline: if you’re for creativity of any sort, you owe it to yourself to catch the Japanese instrumental band. Arigato, indie-heads. (Pulse.ph)

Image of Toe from the “Toe in Manila 2012” Facebook-survey page. Check out the updated gig poster (where we got all this info) via Ternoman Toti Dalmacion. Check out our previous post for upcoming gigs both local and regional.

I don’t want people going broke this early in the New Year, but your money’s your money and you can do whatever the hell you want with it. I’m going to be especially encouraging too if you’re thinking of burning your dough on rock shows here and in neighboring SEA countries. First off is Laneway Festival, which is happening at Fort Canning in Singapore on February 12. People (okay, people I know) are extra-excited about the respective inclusions of Feist and Yuck, the latter being the buzz band of the past year with their unassuming, anachronistic approximation of ‘90s-style indie. I personally would want to see Girls live, because I’m a sucker for melodies like theirs. M83, The Drums, and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, among other “now” bands (all fourteen of them!), are also in the bill. Can’t really complain. Book flights and file for leaves now.

Oh, Chazwik Bundick a.k.a. Toro Y Moi is in that bill, too, by the way, but in case it’s just him you’re after, better wait it out for three days. Yes, he’s playing Manila on February 15, through Kindassault and Raven 7 Multimedia. (Update: Kindassault’s Joff Cruz says his group is “close to locking down” a The Pains of Being Pure at Heart show as well, set tentatively for the 29th of the same month. That’s another reason to skip Laneway, by the way, especially if you’re flying just for the New York-based indie heroes. Cruz also says his group is most likely to give discounts on said show for those who’ll be purchasing tickets for the Toro Y Moi gig, too. Great deal, eh? Let yourselves be heard on this new survey.)

The people of Pulp, meanwhile, continue to bring the heavy into the Metro with the back-to-back Lamb of God/Black Dahlia Murder show on February 18 at World Trade Center.

A lead from singer-songwriter Rico Blanco says Death Cab for Cutie will play at the NBC Tent on March 5, but no ticketing details just yet, and it’s causing sleepless nights across Metro Manila. (Update: The band has finally added the show on their tour sked. Update: Blanco posted ticketing details via his Facebook, advertising an Early Bird promo period between January 6 to 15, where VIP tickets regularly priced at P3,800 will go for only P3,420, and Gold tickets regularly priced at P2,500 for P2,250. Call Ticketnet at 911-5555 or go to their site.)

On March 8, The Used, Dashboard Confessional, Cobra Starship, and The Cab will play in a shindig called Smash Project. Local acts Chicosci and Typecast are also reportedly slated to rock the same stage.

Meanwhile, the annual Mosaic Music Festival in Singapore, this year happening from March 9 to 18 at the Esplanade, boasts of yet another multi-genre lineup, headlined by Mercury Music Prize-winning band Elbow, Japanese instrumental band Toe (or toe, if you don’t mind the lower-case proper noun), ex-Battles honcho Tyondai Braxton, and, if you care, Aussie indie-poppers Architecture in Helsinki, among others.

But, but! If you only want to catch Toe, a reliable source told me they’re slated to play Manila on March 21. Let’s seal the deal on that and show the band (and the producers!) some love by being a fan of this page.

On the not-so-contemporary scheme of things, meanwhile, you may want to catch Cindy Lauper on March 17, as well as the Neil Young-less triumvirate of Crosby, Stills, and Nash on April 13, both at the Araneta (though I’ve yet to confirm the lead I got from Monet Pura on CSN). Spend wisely, folks, but don’t hesitate to work that concert mosh-floor. (Aldus Santos)

Toro Y Moi image by SCIENCE_JERK. Some rights reserved. Esplanade image by digitalpimp. Some rights reserved. Both via Flickr Creative Commons.

Ten years since Vin Dancel (Twisted Halo), Ene Lagunzad (manager for the erstwhile Dicta License), and their mighty-fine posse of then-marginalized music outlaws decided to take matters into their own hands and book a hugely unpopular hump night at Freedom Bar in 2001 for themselves. There was no murder involved (I guess “taking matters into their own hands” was a bit of a hyperbole) and they—Halo, Dicta, and the femme fatales of Fatal Posporos—didn’t necessarily make a killing at the gate, but they killed onstage, and that at-first-odd gesture of self-preservation is legitimized through the overwhelming love and support showed by people other than the core group and their familiars over the succeeding years. That initial Wednesday nightcap wasn’t so bad an idea, obviously, and Admit One became the grand-daddy of all “production” gigs, no easy feat when it merely tailed at the heels of older series shows such as Sunday Grabe Sunday. It was, in a nutshell, a showcase of the core bands (apart from the ones already mentioned, Sugarfree, Happy Meals, Cambio, etc.) and the friends they met along the way. It also became a matter of live curatorship, if you may, whenever the mercenaries of Admit One would stumble upon a young unsigned band elsewhere and bring them to the stage they have decorated with fine, emerging music. These acts went from well-kept secrets to embraced-by-a-sizable-few to huge-in-their-own-way, and I guess that barometer is still being continuously re-calibrated as we speak. A decade after, these series shows have become the norm somehow; anyone with an Internet connection can make new musical “discoveries” as frequently as they go to the loo; and the need for curators and elder indie statesmen and such is perhaps a thing of yesterday. Some of the indies got signed and no longer need help booking shows; some started mounting shows of their own; kids on the lookout for newer stuff looked elsewhere. They might not know what Admit One is, was, or what it meant, but after the show (dubbed as Admit Once and For All) regaled saGuijo and Freedom Bar audiences for the last two times, they might hear the faint echoes of their ates and kuyas moping and moaning about how there’ll never be another like it. (Aldus Santos)

Image by Adrian Arcega. Meanwhile, for yet another installment of “Pulse + Impulse,” Vin Dancel and Jason Caballa both look back on a decade of Admit One. Music excerpts used with artist permission. “Breakable” and “Miron” by Twisted Halo Philippine Copyright 2003 Guilty Pleasure Records.

Cincinatti-born and Brooklyn-based band The National played to a packed audience at the Esplanade in Singapore. The band did not scrimp on the performance; the audience more than willingly embraced the music. It had, after all, been an eight-month wait, after the schedule set for March fell through when the band put off their Asian tour in light of the calamities that struck Japan. When the November date was finally announced late July, blazing the grapevine that was Twitter, fans of the band excitedly held off for the ticket sale. The show, also the band’s first in Asia, was fully sold out weeks before the event took place. And they didn’t really have to—we understood anyway—but when Matt Berninger apologized for coming way later than initially scheduled, it was really sweet.

The audience makeup was testament to the global hub that is Singapore, a broad spectrum of sandy-haired expats, multi-racial working class backpackers, flashpackers, hipsters, run-of-the-mill adults, or any combination of these, started to fill up the venue about thirty minutes before the scheduled start. The atmosphere inside the Theater Hall was more similar to a closed-door gig than a huge-rockstar concert.  The feel was intimate, and, no matter your section, projected a clear view of the stage and promised good acoustics. Seats all taken up by 8PM, air dense with anticipation, the band walked onstage, picked up their instruments, and began playing the first song, “Runaway”: “We don’t bleed when we don’t fight. Go ahead, go ahead, throw your arms in the air tonight. I won’t be no runaway, ‘cause I won’t run,” sang Matt, getting everyone inside that ring where we confront our “un-magnificent adult selves.”

After a brief spiel about finally arriving and the band’s collective jetlag and lack of sleep, they play “Anyone’s Ghost” and “Mistaken for Strangers,” and those on the rows within the same perimeter as the stage were on their feet, already dancing. On the upper rows, some people simply swayed in their chairs. Then, as the band segued to asking who among the audience were from other places, “Bloodbuzz Ohio” followed.

Leaving home, the burden of insignificance, that scary shitty thing called love, those sorry jobs we take: these were all present in the nineteen-song setlist taken from High Violet (the album that dominated the night), Boxer, Alligator, and Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers. That the National could magnify frights (“But I don’t have the drugs to sort, I don’t have the drugs to sort it out,” from “Afraid of Everyone”), regrets (“Why did you dress me down, and liquor me up?” from “Available”), and heartbreaks (“How can anybody know how they got to be this way? You must have known I’d do this someday,” from “Daughters of the Soho Riots”), and do it so melodiously makes their shift from being a niche indie band to a massively popular one hardly surprising.

It was unnerving whenever Berninger’s baritone nearly broke each time he tried to reach the high notes, just apt for when he’s singing “I won’t fuck us over, Mr. November, won’t fuck us over.” Twins Aaron and Bryce Dessner were a sight playing their guitars intensely, showing off against and with each other, appearing as a pair on a different level of synch-hood. Scott Devendorf was in his corner, lost in his world, dancing to a rhythm characteristic of bassists, while Bryan Devendorf pounced along or reached for a tambourine, dictating the tempo. This was a band that had it together, that played searingly honest and beautiful music, and derived pleasure from doing so. There was a lot of dancing, clapping, and singing along from the audience. Everyone responded enthusiastically to Matt’s charming quips about singing sober (or, okay, with red wine), American politics (“A funny thing happened last week…”), and unicorn tears. When they first left the stage with “Fake Empire,” the clamor for them to come back and play more songs was loud and insistent.

The encore was a four-song set, starting with “Mr. November,” followed by “Lucky.” “Terrible Love” marked the start of the end, and what an ending: with Matt taking a “walk” in the lower rows, sitting among the audience, having some pictures taken, even taking a few pictures, all while singing “Terrible Love.” He collected hugs, handshakes, and high fives. Those on the upper rows were on their feet, looking on, cheering, and feeling a little envious. The whole house sang along. As soon as he was back onstage, the band started an acoustic version of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,” with everyone understanding that, for now, this may be goodbye. The entire house continued to join the band in singing the closing song, each individual letting his solitude, his loneliness, go into that ocean, and out of that, a little bit of hope rose for everyone, and this was how the night ended, wonderfully. (Maniel O’Yek)

Photos by and courtesy of Jam Jacob.

Dear reader, yes, we know we’ve been away, but we’ve been away for a good reason. We’ve been cooking up a little something, and now it’s out of the oven: you may now download the beta version of the Pulse.ph Google Chrome app. It will be a much, shall we say, compact version of this humble site’s content, and should be a viable alternative for those on the go. To start with, we’ve collated (and abridged) around forty past features—some with streaming-audio content—for your enjoyment. To avail of this new offering, you need to be using Google Chrome (but of course). Click here to add or install the Pulse.ph app. Voila, you’ve got yourself a spiffy new music magazine on your browser. This site stays as it is (and will resume uploading regular content very soon), but now it’s got a mini-me of sorts that’s not so mini. You get the idea. (Pulse.ph)

Among the many shots in the arm local indie needed, really, was the emergence of the production gig (or the “prod,” in scene parlance). Punk guys did it in the ‘80s, when, for instance, the guys from Estrada-Singalong mounted their first street shows dubbed as Punks for Peace in 1983, where Twisted Red Cross/Tommy Tanchanco reportedly first stumbled on Bobby Balingit, Alfred Guevarra, and Aji Adriano of The Wuds. We didn’t see this with our own eyes, yes, but we saw, in the first breaths of the new millennium, the burgeoning of a different discipline of gig-mounting, a discipline that didn’t involve showbiz strong-arming, big brown bags of cold cash, or secret handshakes. We saw legends in the making: Sunday Grabe Sunday, Admit One, Last Full Show, Play4Serve, Revolver, and a host of others. More recently, a silent giant who rose from nowhere (and is yet to be unseated), has emerged, and it’s called Meiday! Meiday!, which had (and still has) one great thing going for it: its mastermind Mei Bastes. If the dictionary entry for “hands on” had accompanying art, it would probably be Mei’s face. Bastes takes pride in the “parties” she throws: they’re interesting, they’re multi-faceted, they’re artful. In short, they rock, and, yes, they’re free. They’re not like student productions, though; Bastes happens to have some pretty interesting musician friends who are willing to play to party, and an eager-as-fuck audience who, in a way, trusts her instincts and does not care much about who’s on the bill.

Ang Bandang Shirley’s Kathy Gener shares, “Mei as a person is not afraid to show emotion, down to earth, and generous. Meiday as a show imbibes those characteristics, it being a concert that is for free, where anyone can dance or sing along to the bands they like and not be ashamed by doing so because they love music.” Tonight, though, Meiday is happening for a reason. Bastes is ill and has to undergo surgery, and, for once, Meiday! Meiday! is carrying its homonym as a banner: Mayday! Mayday!, a plea to friends from a generous person who’s only given and has not asked for much in return. Elder sibling Admit One helped put it together. Vin Dancel says, “Gusto lang namin umambag. We had to do something; comrade-in-arms ‘yan, eh. And Mei and I have been talking about a joint Meiday-Admit One gig for the longest time. ‘Eto, sumuwak.” Dig Radio is also on board. For the complete artist listing, go here. Show starts 6PM sharp, and missing it would be more than silly. (Aldus Santos)

Images (this and this) by Peter Tom Tolibas, via Flickr Creative Commons. All rights reserved. Used with permission from the photographer.

Perhaps one of the more low-key (yet always-engaging) productions around is the Kathy Gener-Anj Pessumal baby Attraction! Reaction!, whose monthly shows at Route 196 in Katipunan, though they may appear like soirees for friends and acquaintances, are really good previews of what’s up-and-coming in Manila indie. From Ciudad to Ang Bandang Shirley to The Strangeness to the more novel sounds of the Number Line artists, A!R! never fails to be an oasis for those thirsty for true musical alternatives. Tonight, however, the party aims to come to a friend’s mother’s aid. From A!R!’s Facebook event posting:

“Maeyet Lapena, who teaches Psychology at DLSU, is confined at the Philippine General Hospital for a mysterious mass in her brain which tests show might be a tumor, but acts like an infection. She was in a coma, now awake, but still very sick. She loves to help people, but this time it’s our turn to help her with her hospitalization and treatment so she can get better.”

Apart from gate revenue, the producers also wish to raise funds through sales from event posters. Prints of famed comic-strip artist Manix Abrera’s design from last month, as well as this month’s collab between Abrera and Apol Sta. Maria, will be sold at the venue. It will be smart to make reservations, though, as these really handsome-looking things sell fast. Contact Attraction! Reaction! (or Kathy Gener, or Anj Pessumal) for more info. Enjoy performances from 9:30PM onwards by Modulogeek, Ciudad, Outerhope, Ang Bandang Shirley, Gorgoro, Once More with Feeling, and Matilda, for a mere PhP150, and that comes with a drink. (Pulse.ph)

“Attraction! Reaction!: Hope Floats” poster image by Manix Abrera and Apol Sta. Maria; Kathy-and-Anj cartoon profile by Amadeus Cobangbang, both from A!R!’s Facebook page.

Yes, this isn’t one of them gig-guide sites, but once in a while, when we think something’s extra-cool, do expect us to do our bit of gimik-calendar shtick. Here are a couple of rock shows to usher in September with. On the first day of the new month, Sound Rights is happening over at the Eastwood City in Libis. Mounted by The Asia Foundation (TAF), the multi-artist show promises to be “a great venue for human rights defenders and sympathetic citizens to gather and be one for the cause,” the Human Rights Online Philippines site says. It kicks off at 6PM at the Eastwood Central Plaza, and will feature performances from Urbandub, Typecast, Hilera, Malay, Salamin, Noel Cabangon, OBS, Gloc-9, December Avenue, Julianne, and Radioactive Sago Project.

On Saturday, September 3, meanwhile, the second leg of the .MOV film-music-lit festival—the music leg—happens at the Greenbelt 3 Park, in front of Havana Piazza Musica at The Podium in Ortigas. Apart from being the second in the Alexis and Nika tribute series (named after its dedicatees, the late film critics Alexis Tioseco and Nika Bohinc), the folkie shindig will also serve as the launch of the live album Songs from the End of the World, featuring, naturally, the Folk U artists curated by festival director Khavn de la Cruz and his team. Watch out for bare-bones sets from Kat Lopez, Roberto Nicolas, Hannah+Gabi, Tao Aves, Enrique de Dios (Brigada), Aldus Santos (The Purplechickens), Fando & Lis, Ace Cada (Bagetsafonik), Dan Gil (Chillitees), Toi, Vin Dancel (Peryodiko), Ely Buendia (Pupil), and Jesse Grinter (Gaijin). Show happens from 6 to 11PM. (Pulse.ph)

Visit this site and this site for more details. Poster from the Human Rights Online Philippines site; Fando & Lis photo from their Facebook page.

In case you want to water down all the rock, indie, and coffeeshop-variety bossa in your system, maybe enrich yourselves musically over the long weekend, it’s not too late to catch up on CCP’s The Story of Jazz: 1^st CCP International Jazz Festival, which debuted yesterday (August 23) and will  last until Sunday (August 28). “More than 150 jazz musicians from different jazz groups will converge at the CCP to jive and jam in various venues of the CCP, [which] will be transformed into one big jazz club with intimate music lounges,” the release posted on the CCP website promises, “Jazz players and singers from the Philippines and abroad will tell the story of jazz through talk and music. Lectures on and performances of jazz in all its variety of styles—bebop, blues, ragtime, modal, experimental, big band and fusion—will be held.” Highlights for the remaining days include lectures and performances by Royal Hartigan + Blood Drum Spirit, the UP Jazz Ensemble, as well as Cooky Chua + Bluesviminda, among others. (Pulse.ph)

Check the schedule, artist roster, and ticket prices (whenever applicable) here.

It was Northern Ireland band Two Door Cinema Club’s first time in Singapore, and they certainly didn’t disappoint. Guitarist Sam Halliday, vocalist-guitarist Alex Trimble, and bassist Kevin Baird (alongside tour drummer Ben Thompson) sure gave an A+ performance at their sold-out show at the concert hall of The Esplanade. TDCC, which was formed in 2007, released their debut album Tourist History last year under French record label Kitsuné Music, which also puts out music from Phoenix, Foals, Crystal Castles, and The Whitest Boy Alive (who incidentally just visited Manila this year).

This wasn’t the first time the band has set foot in Southeast Asia, though; a year ago, they opened for electro-indie outfit Delphic in Hong Kong, then, early this year, they were in Indonesia for Love Garage, which I was luckily able to attend as well. (I was able to meet the entire band there, and, cliché as it may sound, they’re really nice guys.) In a matter of months after their Indonesia show, Singapore-based Greenhorn productions announced that TDCC will be at The Esplanade for a one-night-only show slated for August 11^th.

Needless to say, I met up with the band again, and surprisingly enough, they remembered me from our last meeting. The people from their management team (Prolifica) were kind enough to grant me a backstage pass to say hello to the boys. After a few photos were taken, a Bugis-purchased watch signed, and Sam and I totally geeked out about Donald Glover from Community, I had to say goodbye and leave the boys to get ready to play their highly anticipated hour-long set. Local band Cheating Sons opened for them and did a pretty good job. Then TDCC took the stage and opened with “Cigarettes in the Theatre.” Everyone at the concert stood, screamed, and did different sorts of movements, from pogoing (or, simply, bobbing up and down, which was what I did for almost the entire duration of the show), to doing the fist-pump, or a combo of both. (In every TDCC concert, a cardio workout is guaranteed; trust me!) They played all the songs in their album, some new tunes, and some that were part of their previous EPs. Then Alex announced that they will be “disappearing for a while,” causing my heart to drop, but he quickly explained that it’s only because they’ll be working on their second album. It was an awesome show even though the tickets were a bit on the expensive side; it was worth the sweat, the travel, and the perennial battle to dodge people who forgot to put on some deodorant. I’m still hoping for that day when TDCC will make their way to Manila. We’ll throw them a welcome party they’ll never forget. (Denise J. Mallabo)

Photos by the author.

“In 1969, John and I were so naïve to think that doing the Bed-In would help change the world. Well, it might have. But at the time, we didn’t know,” Yoko Ono writes on Imagine Peace. “It was good that we filmed it, though,” the late ex-Beatle’s widow continued. The “Bed-In” was what the Lennons called their non-violent protest against, well, a host of matters. (And, really, how non-violent can you get than to be tucked under your sheets in your jammies?) The honeymooners’ Amsterdam and Montreal hotel bedrooms were lasting images, a far cry from others depicting the couple at street rallies, or in left-field protest concerts singing inside a bag, and so on. Mrs. Lennon’s love of installation art perhaps informed the incidental set design and the ensuing “ad campaign for peace” in its wake, and of course her late husband’s spunky songwriting—“Give Peace a Chance,” mainly—provided a more-than-apt jingle for the cause being “sold” to the world at large. Yoko is, incidentally, addressing the rest of the world from rioting London. (Pulse.ph)

Watch “Bed Peace” on the Imagine Peace website or on YouTube for free up until midnight of August 14, 2011 (New York time). Image of the Imagine Memorial by V. Manninen, from Flickr Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.

If you’re still stumped about where you’ll spend the weekend, or how you’ll effectively kill off all the bad vibes you amassed during the entire week—and in case you’re living in Salinger-like, self-imposed seclusion—consider this a public service announcement. Tonight (July 22, 2011) at Fully Booked High Street, Pupil will be launching their video for “20/20,” that catchy little number off of Limiters of the Infinity Pool that’s “fueled by your faith in miracles” and features guest appearances from Francis “Brew” Reyes on guitar and erstwhile Electrico bombshell Amanda Ling on synths. The video is helmed by Jason Tan, who also directed the video for the Ely-Francis M. collab “Wasak Waltz,” among countless other things. The video appears to have been quite the traffic-stopper as the teaser released a week ago hints, and I’m sure you’d want to see the rest.

Grab early dinner, buy a goddamn book (for once), and go up to Top Shelf, the top-floor events venue of Fully Booked. Outerhope and Mayo Baluyut with Revenge Avenger perform, as well as Pupil, naturally.

Tomorrow (July 23, 2011), meanwhile, a trip to the CCP is in order as Quark Henares’ Rakenrol, his swan song of sorts (and hopefully it’s not, really), screens on Cinemalaya’s closing day.

Reports say tickets to the 9PM screening at the Main Theater have already sold out, but you can always inquire yourselves by calling (02)-832-3704. The cool thing, though—this being a movie depicting Henares’ other true love apart from cinema, Pinoy rock (Sandwich’s Diego Castillo co-writes, by the way)—is that you can catch a parallel show for free at the Harbour Square open area (where the restos and cafes are), starting 9:30PM. The roster includes Pupil, Itchyworms, Pedicab, Ciudad, Taken by Cars, Kate Torralba, Arigato, Hato!, Ang Bandang Shirley, Halik ni Gringo, Outerhope, Techy Romantics, and Wild Mood Swings. (Pulse.ph)

It may be hot and humid in Hong Kong this time of the year, but for music fans in the region, it’s definitely the place to visit this summer! Asia’s World City is alive and kicking with upcoming concerts from international big-name acts such as Elbow (July 22^nd), Thirty Seconds to Mars (July 26^th), The Red Hot Chili Peppers with The Mars Volta (August 9^th), Suede (August 11^th), and Friendly Fires (August 16^th), just to name a few. Most of the aforementioned groups need not require any introduction but there are three lesser-known, more obscure indie bands performing live in HK this month you should know about and hopefully come see.

Dean & Britta

Best known as the lead singer and guitarist of short-lived yet very influential late ‘80s indie dream-pop band Galaxie 500; Dean Wareham met multi-instrumentalist/singer Britta Philips back in 2000 when she joined Wareham’s other band, Luna, as replacement bassist. After releasing seven studio albums from 1992 to 2004, Luna shared the same fate as Galaxie 500 and called it quits after Wareham left the band to focus on his solo career. Solo, however, quickly morphed into duo after Wareham and Philips became romantically involved and eventually got married. Knowing each other like the back of their own hands, the husband-and-wife twosome keep things simple, usually stripped down to a basic setup of acoustic guitar, bass, and vocals, proving to the rest of the world that less is indeed more, and that they only need good songs and each other. Dean & Britta Play Galaxie 500 live at The Hang Out in Sai Wan Ho on July 3^rd.

Vivian Girls

Bursting into the Brooklyn indie-rock scene in 2007 with five original songs, just a couple of chords, and a whole lot of attitude, Vivian Girls grabbed public attention and quickly gained a strong cult following with their too-cool-to-care-and-too-bored-to-be-bothered minimalist approach, turning into instant NYC indie darlings with the release of their riot grrrl/punk/lo-fi self-titled debut in 2008.

Like listening to a rough demo tape of your high-school sweetheart’s garage band, although somewhat lacking in technical skills, there is something charming and strangely nostalgic about their sound even if you’ve never heard of them before. With lead singer Cassie Ramone’s almost monotone-deadpan vocal delivery, Vivian Girls effortlessly sound like The Slits fronted by Nico in an alternate reality where the German femme fatale never hooked up with The Velvet Underground. On tour to promote their third album, Share the Joy, released last April, the girls will be breaking hearts and taking names on July 9^th at Grappa’s Cellar, Jardine House in Central. Songs for Children Presents The Vivian Girls.

Lymbyc Systym

Growing up in the dense inner suburbs of Tempe, Arizona with only music as a form of escape, the band of brothers composed of Jared and Michael Bell create cinematic sonic soundscapes as Lymbyc Systym. Imagine an orchestra composed of members of Tortoise and Sigur Rós with Four Tet as the conductor, it’s hard to believe that in reality, only two people are responsible for this magnificent hybrid of lush chamber-pop melodies, intricate electronic elements, and soaring instrumental post-rock. Their most recent record, 2009’s Shutter Release, conveys a closeness that translates to tightness in their compositions and live performances, a deep sense of synchronicity that can only be achieved with years of playing music together (in their case, a lifetime). White Noise Records Presents Lymbyc Systym live at Hidden Agenda in Kwun Tong on July 21^st. (Chi Brotonel)

“Vivian Girls (43)” by Yenna, via Flickr Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.

She’s been sanctified and glorified

Blessed by the hand of God, she’s found love

She’s on the road tonight on her stellar way

She’s coming back now, she’s coming back to stay

At the cathedral of space

Wolfgang, “Cathedral of Space”

Great art defies boundaries. It has the ability to cross time and space and be as relevant as the day it was created. One such relic is The Metropolitan Theater, which has survived a World War, outlasted President Marcos and his successors, and, thanks to the spectacle that was Wolfgang at The Met, now looms as large today as it once did almost exactly eighty years ago.

One of Wolfgang’s most poignant songs is entitled “Cathedral of Space,” written nearly twenty years ago by Basti Artadi. In it, the singer-poet explores the metaphor of space for the various frailties of the human condition, such as the wayward ills of indecision.

Wolfgang, like all architects worth their salt, have built their career—block by block, inch by inch since they sprang onto the rock stage several years ago—on originality. Though the band is steadfast about reinvention, one thing has been constant: their double-edged poetry, set on a jagged bed of rock. And fickleness you could hardly accuse them of: after a six-year hiatus, they are now back with a vengeance.

Wolfgang is deliberate if nothing else. This very quality dictates the choices they make, such as their decision to hold a show at the legendary theater designed by the genius Juan Arellano as a paean to the Philippines’s then-supremacy in the Pacific-Rim art world. The choice of The Met as the backdrop for Wolfgang’s latest live foray is intended, from the band’s point of view, to be a statement of hope of what things can be, combined with a hearty dose of anger directed at the way things are. It also sent a strong and clear message that the band is serious in their current pursuits. A seventh album is in the works, and the first single, appropriately called “Sandata,” was unveiled at this unique show to howls and cheers.

For the one-night-only concert, Wolfgang management and production team turned back the hands of time to take The Met back to its former glory. State-of-the-art sounds (provided by Exile systems), were fixed on steel trusses, since the theater’s original railings and battens could no longer hold the weight of millennial technology. There was a glorious haute Deco backdrop handpainted by designer Denis Lagdameo, and a spectacular light show by Shakira Villa-Symes. Kudos goes of course to Tanduay Rhum and No Fear apparel for helping make the event possible.

And of course, there was the epic setlist. While other bands may sugarcoat their music with optimism or playful humor, Wolfgang’s stock-in-trade has always been their sense of aggression. And from the look of it, it’s quite clear that they’ll never go down without a fight. A string of their most heroic-sounding Filipino songs was one of the highlights of the evening, as was an acoustic instrumental interlude that featured the firepower of Legarda, blazing even on acoustic guitar. (How many bands can get an audience up on their feet and roaring with an acoustic instrumental?)

As the clock comes full circle, the time has come for not just The Met but world-class Filipino music to reign once more. Wolfgang proved its point well: tearing through a 25-song, three-hour spectacle all on its own, for an audience that once again filled The Met with music and life, and made it a truly proud cathedral of space. (Sookie Penry-Jones)

Photography by D’ye Sison.

Since Falcon (the tropical storm) is being such a killjoy, organizers of this year’s Fete had to reassign stage locations. There was some talk yesterday of having the festival transferred somewhere else entirely, but don’t fret, the proceedings will still transpire at The Fort in Taguig. Below is an updated map to the eight genre-stages, taken from the Facebook page of our friend Johnny Alegre (click here for a much larger view). Wouldn’t hurt to also check on the weather today by going to PAGASA’s round-the-clock online forecast. (Pulse.ph)

Edit: map credit goes to Valerie Tilos, the original source of this image.

Surprise, surprise! They’re at it again! Just four months after the arrival of The King of Limbs, two months after the release of “The Butcher/Supercollider” on Record Store Day, and only weeks after announcing a series of limited edition TKOL 12” remixes by the likes of Caribou and Flying Lotus, Radiohead have just unveiled a new song!

While filming live sessions with record producer/engineer Nigel Godrich and Meeting People is Easy director Grant Gee for the upcoming BBC TV special, The King of Limbs: Live from the Basement*, Thom Yorke and the lads decided to throw in a new track called “Staircase” as a treat for rabid Radiohead fans all over the world.

Taken from the same recording sessions that gave birth to TKOL, the unreleased song features a repetitive kraut-funk groove covered by a dark cloud of ambient synths pushed forward by polyrhythmic Four Tet-vs.-Flying Lotus drumbeats.

Speaking of drumbeats, for this special live performance of “Staircase,” Radiohead had to enlist additional limbs to join Phil Selway in the form of doppelgänger Clive Deamer, seasoned sticksman for Portishead, Roni Size & Reprazent, and Led Zep frontman Robert Plant’s backing band, the Strange Sensation. Like telepathic twin shaman brothers double-drumming voodoo rhythms, their clockwork precision is enthralling.

From the Basement was originally a podcast created by longtime Radiohead producer/Atoms for Peace guitarist/keyboardist Godrich back in 2006. After the critically acclaimed pilot episode, it eventually turned into a full-blown television show filmed without a host and an audience in BBC’s Maida Vale Studios, home of the BBC Symphony Orchestra since 1934 and the legendary Peel Sessions from 1967 up to John Peel’s sudden death in 2004. As an homage to the late great DJ, Godrich invited Peel’s favorite post-punk godfather and Maida Vale veteran, the unstoppable Mark E. Smith and the latest incarnation of The Fall. With his wife, keyboardist Elena Poulou, and the rest of the new recruits, Smith takes four blistering cuts from his band’s 27^th album (2008’s Imperial Wax Solvent) and unleashes pure verbal vitriol and psycho-punk mayhem upon the unsuspecting masses.

Along with Radiohead and The Fall, the show has also featured intimate live performances from other iconic bands/musicians (Beck, Iggy and The Stooges, PJ Harvey, Sonic Youth, The White Stripes), and also helped promote younger, less popular indie newcomers such as Brazilian electro-rock pranksters CSS, Texan alt-country folk-rockers Band of Horses, and LA-based avant-garde noisemakers Autolux, all of whom deserve to be pulled out from the basement of obscurity and thrust into the spotlight. (Chi Brotonel)

* Radiohead’s The King of Limbs: Live from the Basement TV special will be broadcast internationally on July 1^st by BBC Worldwide. Concert photo by Wes Bryant, via Flickr Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.

Wolfgang announced its first major Manila concert for the year at the historic Metropolitan Theater on Saturday, June 18, at 8 p.m. The show is sponsored in part by No Fear apparel with media partners Jam 88.3 and At the Womb.com.

Simply entitled Wolfgang at The Met, the show promises to unleash the band’s no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners brand of rock. (Ticket inquiries can be made at TicketWorld, tel. no. 891-9999, or the Wolfgang Hotlines, tel. nos. 0915-6212189, 0949-7917228.)

Wolfgang recently signed on for the prestigious Tanduay Rhum First Five, which takes the country’s top bands on tour to thirty cities across the country. Despite the return of Wolfgang frontman Basti Artadi to the country for good, the band had until now not announced any shows for the Philippine capital for 2011.

The pressure from Wolfgang’s Manila fanbase had become so intense that the band decided to create a special show to respond to the insistent demands on their official Facebook page.

That unique element was provided by the Metropolitan Theater, now near-forgotten but still the grande dame of the city’s structures. “We didn’t want to do just another show in the usual place. We’ve never been about doing the usual,” said Artadi. At the same time, the band wanted to call attention to Manila’s many landmarks which have dropped out of the public’s consciousness. Designed by Filipino architect Juan Arellano in the 1930s, the Met is an iconic structure expressing Philippine elements in a visual language that remains appealing to this day. Decorated with Italian sculptures, mosaics, and stained glass in the haute Deco mode, it is a glorious backdrop for any artistic event.

Because of its conservationist purpose, Wolfgang at The Met is also on the official roster of events to mark the 440^th year of the “Araw ng Maynila.”

Artadi explained, “Ever since my college days, I’ve always admired the building. Anyone who looks at it can tell that there was a lot of thought and love that went into designing it. It was created at a time when beauty and art were the first considerations, unlike today, when things are designed on the basis of function and economics.”

That said, The Met has a world-class stage with acoustics that can match any international venue. All the theater seats have been reupholstered and provide excellent views of the stage from every angle, because of the gentle elevation of the audience area.

The biggest obstacle to making The Met a going concern is the lack of electricity for the theater. For the occasion, the grand structure will be lit and airconditioned with portable equipment. A crack team was assembled to make the concert a visual experience. Lighting will be designed by Shakira Villa-Symes, and the sets by Denis Lagdameo. “We hope that by doing this concert, other artists will be attracted to do the same and bring back life not just to the theater, but also the surrounding area of Manila,” said guitarist Manuel Legarda.

Artadi continued, “My wife used to work at the Global Heritage Fund and she would show me all these historical sites that were being demolished because of religion or to make way for progress and I was just flabbergasted that these incredible works of art and pieces of the past were being taken for granted and disposed of like yesterday’s news, so that kind of got me thinking.  I also started looking up pictures of old Manila and seeing what we used to have and how amazing everything looked back then.  Right now, we have a few buildings left. It would be a shame to see those go to make way for another condominium or parking lot.”

What can fans expect from the concert? “Well, we haven’t put on a show here in a while so everyone’s very excited. It will be an all-around incredible night for one and all,” Artadi said. (Pulse.ph)

Live Wolfgang photo by Marco Cabazal. Image of The Met from the official Wolfgang: Philippines Facebook page.

Before the throbbing opening bars of “Domestic Scene” kicked in at the Hard Rock Café in Makati, before the roomful of adoring fans swung and swayed to the band’s dream-inducing beats and swells and willowy croons, before the trio paraded their sonic wares onstage not so much to be heard but experienced and felt on the skin, The Radio Dept.—singer-guitarist Johan Duncanson, guitarist-bassist Martin Carlberg, and keyboards-and-samples guy Daniel Tjäder—sat at a long table in a Palanca Street bar with some music journos, finally lending names and faces to these sad-yet-strangely-danceable tunes. There is so much pigeonholing going on in the press about bands such as theirs—bands that really have many faces (from noise to twee and beyond) but seem to trumpet just one (whatever it is)—it’s tragic. Though the Swedish act still trudges on monotonous territory at times, one only needs to trace the arc they have traversed, from the relative straightforwardness of numbers such as “Keen on Boys” and “Where Damage Isn’t Already Done,” to the gear-shifting of pretty much all of Clinging to a Scheme. Their new, two-disc compilation, Passive Aggressive, apparently self-curated, is as good a sampler as any of how the band wishes to be represented, that is, midway between radio-friendly and left-of-field, “indie-as-fuck” artistic. The threesome, garbed in everyman wear—buttoned shirts, jeans, and the three-day stubble—got fielded questions about peripherals (e.g., their contributions to Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette), but, also, things that really matter (e.g., how they choose to still record using “regular PCs” at home, sans engineer, roadie, and intervening producer).

The ice was broken early on when Duncanson shared a bit of trivia about the Coppola film, saying, “We hesitated for a little bit, because we thought we’d be [quite] associated with her, and not, you know, who we were as a band. So, we said, ‘If you can tell us what Bill Murray [told] Scarlett Johansson at the end of Lost in Translation, you’ll get two songs instead of one.’” This author tried to ask what it was, naturally in vain. On the matter of their oft-debated affiliation with shoegaze (or, blech, dream-pop), meanwhile, Carlberg protested with a resounding “No!,” expounding, “Shoegaze is definitely something else to me. [Our music is] not what I think of when I think of shoegaze.” Duncanson chimed in, “I always say that we’re a pop group. Most bands will say this, I guess: you don’t want to label yourself too much, or narrow it down to a genre, because then you get trapped, and it gets boring. So we’re trying to bring in new influences all the time. Of course, there is a dreaminess to some of our songs; it’s just that I think ‘dream-pop’ sounds so, hmm, corny.”

It gets more interesting, of course, during several junctures. Martin would say he thinks the new record by a band he adores is “kind of lame,” and Johan would paint a not-so-flattering, almost-vitriolic portrait of their mother indie label. But, hey, we’re not a showbiz rag. The series of exchanges below transpired between myself and the band (different writers took turns talking, see).

Speaking of being conscious of this “smallness”—being a “small band”—didn’t you guys just come from Coachella over the weekend?

Martin Carlberg (chuckles): Yeah.

How do you feel about being booked in such huge festivals? And, also, the Arcade Fire just won a Grammy. How do you feel that matters in the scheme of things that are indie, as such?

Johan Duncanson: Well, to me, indie has always been about integrity. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if we sold a little bit more records. It’s hard to make a living as a band, but we just never want to compromise what we do in any way to “get there,” you know what I mean? So, yeah, I guess that’s why we want to keep things small: we want to be able to control every aspect of the band in the same way that it’s always been from the start. We still record everything on a regular PC at home. We don’t want to compromise anything [and have a] label, or a producer, even a manager or anything. Keep it small.

Don’t you think though that after the success of Lesser Matters you guys have gained traction, some sort of power I guess, such that you can dictate your creative output without being interfered on?

JD: Yeah, I guess so. I mean, to be honest, everything takes time; the band is getting slightly bigger all the time, and there are more and more things to do. Even now, it’s hard for us to find time to record new songs. I mean, we want to. For instance, one of the best things about being in a band is being able to come to a city like this to play. We really want to do that, but at the same time, it takes time from recording. We have to try to balance it. No one’s trying to tell us—well, a lot of people are telling us what to do. It hasn’t affected us yet, I think. We’re always afraid that it will. That’s a concern.

I’ve been looking up your gear—your live and your studio rig, basically—and I’ve encountered (accounts) of you not wanting to use certain things. It’s a curious thing, because Martin was (talking about recording), saying sometimes it’s about knowing what you don’t want to sound like, rather than knowing what you do want. Like, I read you’d rather not mix using Pro Tools and all those things. I guess you’re “anti-sheen” that way.

MC: They’re just tools, basically. I don’t mind Pro Tools or Cubase or whatever. They’re kind of complex now; takes a while to learn, and we haven’t gotten around to doing that. That’s basically it.

And you’re still against the idea of an outside producer?

JD: We like producing ourselves. [Doing that] would be like bringing in, like, a songwriter or a lyricist; it would be as weird as that.

Throughout the years, I noticed, Johan, that though the production and the mix of the rest of the instruments vary from era to era, if you can call it that, your voice is pretty much mixed and recorded the same way: with a lot of disembodiment and detachment, and with a lot of echo. Why is it that way? Is it just a sound you like? Does this stand for something? Like alienation?

MC: I never thought of that. But maybe (chuckles). Maybe you’re right!

JD: No, yeah, I mean, there’s some, like “Domestic Scene” for instance, [that’s] really dry; no effects or anything. It’s just the EQ that’s kind of weird to some people, maybe.

MC: The vocals are really hard, because that’s the instrument that you cannot change too much. I guess, when you record, you find a sound that you’re not annoyed hearing, and then you want to stay there for a while. [To JD:] You tend to do it that way, I think.

JD: Yeah. Every time we’re about to release something, I [feel like] I don’t like my voice very much. Martin always has to convince me, “It’s okay; it’s good.”

MC: It’s getting harder (chuckles). (Aldus Santos)

Many thanks to Stef Cabal for being so gracious as to lend me her recording of the press meet. See, someone’s file got corrupted. (Noo-nee-noo.) The Radio Dept. played at the Hard Rock in Makati on April 20, through the hard work of Kindassault, et al.

NAIA Terminal 3, April 11^th, 1501H. Killing time before boarding the plane to Hong Kong, listening to “Cold Irons Bound,” a track I haven’t heard before. A doom-laden quality that creeps up the skin. A voice now unfamiliar despite its former notoriety. Perhaps no other voice in popular music has simultaneously incited as much adoration and ridicule. There is, of course, the reality of a Dylan that’s down-and-out, a suggestion not propagated by anyone, really, but made readily apparent by the gravelly-voiced sixty-something one hears on Time Out of Mind onwards. When considered with much frankness, though, further worry ensues, because, see, 2006—the last time Dylan put out a record, in this case Modern Times—was half a decade ago. A nineteen-year-old, after all, only takes a year to become twenty, his voice ceasing to break, becoming deeper, more statesmanlike, each day a tentative stride to the grave. Collegiate rebellion giving way to adulthood, fatherhood, employment, taxes, time passing, mortality. Moreover, there is nothing in these newer recordings that will remind anyone of Dylan’s Café Wha? days, nothing in them that will conjure up the ragged-youth charm of the “Song to Woody” era. Though the last few days have been dead busy, I manage to make a compilation of Robert Allen Zimmerman’s recorded material from 1962 to the present, to sort of jog my memory and, in the case of the ‘90s and the ‘00s, school me on songs I’m totally clueless about. I also partly fashioned my mix on the last few shows he played—Beijing, Shanghai, Ho Chi Minh City—where the discrepancy in song choices is comparable to “a big fat moon shining like a spoon” (as he sings on “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight”). Despite my rabid fandom, I’m man enough to admit that I need all the review work I can get, in between visits to friends and some seriously aimless Hong Kong Central-area shopping. I’m making light of things, of course, mentioning a living poet laureate in the same breath as my consumerist tendencies, but, really, my heart is pounding like the worst DnB music in sheer excitement. Hell, it’s been pounding like so for a good month or so. As a matter of fact, five weeks prior, I was onstage doing Dylan covers with a fellow fan who, for a night, co-fronted my band (incidentally a fellow fan I happen to also be a big fan of):

Mui Wo, Lantau Island, April 12^th, 0200H. It only takes twenty minutes from the relative sheen of Tung Chung (where Modulogeek served me and some friends drinks in his pad) to get to the laidback Mui Wo home of the Peleños, where I’ll be sleeping over for the night. The plan for the next day is to basically walk around Central and Causeway Bay, just breathe everything in, these various faces of Hong Kong, crammed into a friendly tourist repackaging. I have given up “reviewing” for a major show where the stakes are almost entirely indecipherable, with over 400 to 500 songs to choose from (and we’re only talking recorded material here), spread across thirty-four studio albums, fifty-eight singles, thirteen live albums, and fourteen compilations. With these numbers in mind, and with the idea that Zimmerman is “a poet first and a musician second” (one of his most quoted quotes, along with the “song and dance man” statement), I turn to his books instead to lull me to sleep. I’ve got tons of books on Dylan, but I treasure the two titles authored by him the most: Tarantula (I’ve got a genuine second-printing from 1972) and Chronicles: Volume One. The former, for lack of a better description, is an exercise on free association fashioned after Dylan’s Beat Generation friends (mainly Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti), while the latter, a more structured, more eruditely-put life account: the closest he’ll ever come to an autobiography. These are great pieces of writing that rival the best of the canon, from F. Scott Fitzgerald to Greil Marcus, but, man, they’re hardly the most ideal bedtime reading.

Tom Lee Music Store, Percival corner Hennessy Roads, April 12^th, 1430H. Tom Lee is like musician church. When a serious musician drops HK a visit, it’s pretty much unthinkable to skip that requisite Tom Lee visit. This particular branch, unfortunately, is terribly limited in stocks. The only Gibsons I see are Flying-V’s, and the only Fenders, the usual Strats and Teles. I’m with my man-date for the day, one of my three Hong Kong hosts, Chi Brotonel: drummer, music collector, self-designed rock archivist. “No posters at all promoting the show, did you notice?” I ask him, and he nods his agreement. The news of the day, apparently, is that Dylan’s China setlists (two shows, Beijing and Shanghai, a week prior to HK) had to be pre-approved by authorities. Online, the piece that perhaps made the most noise, albeit received differently, is one called “Blowin’ in the Idiot Wind,” written by the New York Times critic Maureen Dowd, who made the jaw-dropping, almost-scandalous suggestion that Dylan not doing his protest material in China is “a whole new kind of sellout.” With all due respect to Ms. Dowd, I think her opinions are a whole new kind of unreasonable. Dylan, as early as in the ‘60s, steered clear of any hard-line political alignment, despite the largely propagated belief that he is a “protest singer.” Jon Wiener of The Nation says so, too, and much more eloquently, in his piece “Bob Dylan in Beijing: No Sellout.” An even more intricate annotation of Ms. Dowd’s critique, meanwhile, is a piece by Seamus O’ Riley called “Bob Dylan, China, and Political Deception.” Oh my, oh my. Shouldn’t have gone online. I don’t know. Six hours or so to showtime. Brotonel and I start craving for IKEA Swedish meatballs. Walking out of Tom Lee, we see a portent in a modest display case: a Hohner Bob Dylan Signature-Series harmonica.

Star Hall, Kowloon, April 12^th, 2016H. It doesn’t say so in our ticket, but tonight is still part of the decades-old Never-Ending Tour, a name that conjures up a promise, if not chin-high claims to immortality. When you think about it, Dylan’s songs are immortal anyway; they’ll be covered to death (though not always as effectively as Magnet did “Lay, Lady, Lay,” unfortunately), and they’ll be alluded to nonstop (though not as subtly as Duritz and company did in Counting Crows’ “Mr. Jones,” which is an allusion to “Ballad of a Thin Man”). We’re expecting a 9PM performance for a show advertised for an 8PM start, since we’re Pinoy (ha-ha). The band kicks off at a quarter past eight, Dylan in a Panama hat he likes sporting these days, slumped stage-right on keyboard detail, giving a barking rendition of “Gonna Change My Way of Thinking” from Slow Train Coming (1979), which, critics be damned, is much more incendiary than “Blowin’ in the Wind,” with incitements to rebellion such as “Gonna change my way of thinking/Make myself a different set of rules/Gonna put my good foot forward/And stop being influenced by fools.” Lights out, then back in, and Bob’s on guitar detail this time for what’s perhaps the most surprising number of the night, “Señor (Tales of Yankee Power)” from Street Legal (1978). With such odd openers, one could readily conclude it wasn’t going to be a strict “best of” set but an idealized, self-curated one. What follows is a smattering of the quite-familiar—“Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues,” “Tangled Up in Blue,” “Honest with Me,” “Simple Twist of Fate”—but done in the most unfamiliar manner possible. With melodies as gorgeous as those on the Blood on the Tracks (1975) songs, the most minor diversions from the originals elicit a raised eyebrow or two, at the very least. There lay, on warring ends, the rub: Dylan as tired, can’t-sing-for-shit old man, Dylan as devil-may-care, unpredictable artiste, Dylan as poet-shaman-reverend. Most of the time, they say it’s like a scene off Name That Tune, but other times, you just don’t care, especially when he whips out the harmonica to solo intensely for a couple of bars, or to simply add color on-the-fly. Dylan’s voice is closer to a bark now than his ‘60s wheeze, and, though this should come as no surprise, it does pose a great challenge to even the most hardcore fan, who, if he’d listened only casually, wouldn’t recognize the next couple of songs—“Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum,” “Blind Willie McTell,” and “Jolene”—at all. But that band: man, they kill. Dylan, to begin with, is no slouch on his three musician posts for the night (guitar, piano, harmonica). You’d think that, at 69, he’d just go through the motions and simply be a breathing monument on tour, but the bard from Hibbing is not slowing down. It doesn’t hurt that his backing group, most notably guitarist Charlie Sexton, are like vaudevillians-on-speed, ripping through the best sung-poems of this century or the last, “Desolation Row,” “Highway 61 Revisited,” and “Ballad of a Thin Man.” When they waltz back onstage for an encore, the room erupts in excitement. The snare-hit before “Like a Rolling Stone” immediately sends chills to my spine, the verses and choruses cause me to levitate, and I find myself not just singing along, but attempting to locate Dylan’s breath in the impalpable columns of air, barking when he barks, growling when he growls, not thinking of the past nor the familiar, but walking the dark with this strange, strange man, anticipating his next steps, whatever the fuck random melody he wants to croak out. When “Forever Young” rings to a halt, everyone is given a chance to recover and muse about the towering display they just saw, a display as powerful as a strong idea, such as that of time travel, of a sudden fold in the continuum, a fold where you are watching Zimmerman, who in turn is watching himself back, suspicious, for how quickly he shifts in shape and form. How quickly. (Aldus Santos)

Photographs by the author. Performance video and Dylan illustration by Adrian Arcega.

I’m not much of a soul guy, but then again, one doesn’t have to be to enjoy it. Soul is one of those things that doesn’t dwell much on personage or rep; it’s all in the music. (Actually, it’s all in its ability to conjure sex, too, if you ask me.) The inevitable head-bob along to the beat of the kick-drum; the inexplicable urge to snap your fingers in time (though, really, you don’t know how to); that burning feeling inside when a glorious falsetto almost cracks the glass—all of these, and much, much more—they hold you captive, and it doesn’t matter who’s at the mic or who’s blowing the horns. Soul’s got several permutations, and only a handful of acts has the skill, and I guess the resolve, to practice most of these. One such act is Juan Pablo Dream: very able musicians all, but also disciplined enough to hold back on the flash and zero in on the things that matter instead (i.e., the mojo, the ability to sensitize).

And, though neither personage nor rep hardly count in the soul scheme of things, losing a band as tight and fun live as JPD is still cause to bawl over. We already bade goodbye to Sugarfree and Bamboo earlier in the year, but this next hand-wave is perhaps more chilling, and I say this because of the band’s mostly independent existence (always not an easy one). “I really don’t know what happened,” frontman Bing Austria sadly recounts, adding, “But one [thing’s] for sure: I’m staying on the scene.” I first met Bing, guitarist Aue Castro, and bassist Alexander (the rest I think were from an earlier lineup) for a story that I was then doing for Pulp, a few months before they broke through with their debut Soul Up! via Terno Recordings. Onstage, they were party personified (they dressed smartly, too); offstage, they were hardly shut-eye-type people as well. Their signature numbers (“Nice Place,” “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,” and, more recently, “Tibok ng Puso”) are, really, three-minute propositions for the listener to jump around, gyrate, and be in a trance-like state. “Nalungkot din ako nu’ng nag-decide ang JPD [to disband]—parang bangungot,” Austria offers, and the word choices, you may notice, are not casual. Between black and white, they’re mostly black(-ish): sadness and, yes, a nightmare. Band-aid or not, though, fans of Mr. Austria’s onstage antics will perhaps rejoice at the promise of an early resurfacing: “Nagbubuo ako ngayon ng banda—soul pa din—with old mates from Put3ska and Tropical [Depression].”

In the meantime, let’s all say a proper farewell to these mod-fathers (Austria, Castro, Alexander, drummer Aldwin Fernando, sax player Kim Ventuza, trumpet player Bong Tremulo, along with backing singers Bianca Holganza and Lotte Villarosa) by trooping over to their farewell show on April 9 at B-Side. The Camerawalls and Popseeds are supporting. Who knows, if you cheer (or better yet, dance) hard enough, they just might reconsider. (Aldus Santos)

Images taken from the band’s Facebook page.

Don’t let your shredding chops rot in your bedrooms. And no, we don’t mean pork—though, yes, we do believe food shouldn’t be made to rot in any way, too—we mean explosive guitar work. Anyway, if you think you’ve got what it takes to shame other axemen to submission, and if you’re between 18 to 35 years of age, male or female, and unsigned, you may want to join Colt 45 Shred to Slam.

Quite simple, really: pre-register at colt45shredtoslam@yahoo.com, and then head over to the “shred-offs” that will be conducted in your region (all shred-offs happen between 4PM to 8PM). Applicants also need to bring 11 Colt 45 bottle caps and a biodata (with a picture) to any of these shredding showdowns:

Metro Manila: April 1, Capone’s, Makati City

Mindanao: April 2, Maxi’s Bar, Cagayan de Oro

Northern Luzon: April 8, Brad’s Bar, Olongapo

Visayas: April 9, Harrison Park, Cebu

Southern Luzon: April 15, Amnesia Bar, Laguna

Regional winners get PhP5,000, while PhP20,000 will be given away for the grand prize, along with a chance to play onstage at Summer Slam on April 30. (Pulse.ph)

“Flying Fingers” by Specialist Photography, via Flickr Creative Commons. Some rights reserved. Poster and contest information courtesy of Lizza Nakpil.

In the enormous and posh Republiq—a hipster haven packed this night with an interesting mix of indie kids, clubbers, models, socialites, and celebrities—singer-guitarist Erlend Øye, in many ways a doppelgänger for Napoleon Dynamite, sticks out like a sore thumb. However, as he and the rest of The Whitest Boy Alive go through the infectious bassline and house beats of “Timebomb” like clockwork, they prove why this hall is packed. This show, one can readily tell, is going to be an explosive evening of awkward dance moves, amusing stage antics, and, more importantly, some of the tightest and catchiest live dance music this city will ever see and hear.

“Yes, of course I miss you, and I miss you bad,” Øye gently croons during “Golden Cage,” while the audience, many of whom obviously missed him since his visit last year as half of the acoustic duo Kings Of Convenience, sing along to every word, some of them even humming the song’s lead guitar parts, to the delight of the bespectacled Norwegian. Like a DJ seamlessly mixing tracks, Øye leads his German bandmates into an improvised instrumental jam, with bassist Marcin Oz and drummer Sebastian Maschat pushing the rhythm forward while keyboardist Daniel Nentwig’s Midas touch stitches together the previous song with the next, “Fireworks,” both from their 2006 debut, Dreams.

This live-mixtape method will be on repeat for most of the duration of the Berlin-based band’s set, going through the organic pseudo-house yearning of “Island” segueing to the pop-jazz tropicalia of “Intentions,” from the streamlined funk of “High on the Heels” to the minimalist Balearic electronica of “Keep a Secret,” all taken from their excellent 2009 sophomore release Rules.

As unlikely a frontman as Øye is, the audience is completely under his spell, even as he explains something as esoteric as the origins of the Fender Rhodes from WWII. Most of the time, he is able to drive the crowd into a frenzy with his trademark Poindexter dance moves, a talent (if you can call it that) he first showcased in the music video of KoC’s “I’d Rather Dance with You.”

But somehow, in the middle of their set, the tables turn as Øye appear defenseless against the charms of actress Anne Curtis, “the pretty lady” who is holding up a handmade poster with “All Ears” written on it, successfully persuading the band to play her request: a slow, quiet lullaby the band has never played live before. And in this light, without house beats, funky basslines, and electro-synth stabs, Øye’s songs are exposed as melodic works of melancholy, fragile yet far from frail.

This rare moment of quiet calm was short-lived, though, as the band launches into two of their most popular songs, the anthemic disco-funk of “Courage” and the Daft Punk-inspired electro-boogie of “1517.” Towards the end of “1517,” the four-piece show off how tight they are as a band by suddenly freezing simultaneously like statues for almost one full minute, then conducting the audience through a sing-along/shout-along part in complete darkness after asking for all the lights in the venue to be turned off, before finally bursting into the song’s climactic ending. And just like that, they take a bow, wave at the audience, and walk off the stage.

“Hey you, we just got started, you can’t end this now.”

The crowd, after adamantly demanding an encore, goes completely insane when the band returns on stage for the laid-back grooves of “Above You.” They then start making rainforest sounds as Øye and Oz tell a story about 300 monkeys (that’s us, the audience, by the way) dancing to techno music in the jungle before building up into their superb cover version of the ‘90s dance hit “Show Me Love” by Robin S. I’ve always hated this song, but TWBA managed to turn it into something brilliant, sending shivers down my spine.

“Manila, if you want me, you’ve got to show me love,” demands Øye to the ecstatic crowd’s roaring applause. Right on cue, like a scene straight from Revenge of the Nerds, he removes his glasses then awkwardly yet triumphantly dives from the stage into the welcoming crowd and is embraced by everyone as one of their own. For the first time that night, he truly connects with the audience, giving him fuel to propel the rest of the band into a fiery performance of their up-tempo finale, “Burning,” and, in that moment, they are exactly where they belong. They own this place, this is their house, and they are home. (Chi Brotonel)

Color photography by Niña Sandejas, more of whose work you can enjoy here. Black and white photography by Carlo Reyes.

More than hit songs, an audience’s loyalty to an artist has to do, I think, with that artist’s mythology. What has transpired in the marginalia, so to speak, becomes as compelling a hook as any memorable verse or chorus. See: Kurt Cobain and his gun (despite his assertions that he doesn’t have one in “Come as You Are”); Ian Curtis and his noose; Mark David Chapman (John Lennon’s gunman) standing outside the Dakota with his yellowing copy of Catcher in the Rye, among other totems of musical culture. In the same fashion, Scott Weiland’s bouts with drug use have become an object of both ridicule and (unspoken) awe. (I mean, he’s still standing, isn’t he?) I remember the day I heard about the death of Alice in Chains singer Layne Staley of drug-related reasons (his corpse was found two weeks too late in his apartment). I was on my way home to my folks after another week of soiled laundry, and, more than sadness, I felt a renewed sense of alarm for people of Staley’s ilk. More specifically, I thought of Weiland, whose increasing physical frailty then (for an unspecified, protracted period of time) only served to fan the flames. More than the missed artistic opportunities, I was actually worried for this man, a total stranger on the other side of the equator. When At the Womb’s Miggy Matute reported that the singer missed his flight to Manila (slated for a Tuesday-night arrival), there was, no doubt, some head-scratching (“Jesus, he’s at it again”); when he did arrive the next morning on the day of the Araneta show, there was relief indeed that, yes, we may proceed in reliving our collective teenage lives in the ‘90s. STP’s seventeen-song set, suffice it to say, redefined their myth (challenged it, if you may). In the here-and-now, when it really matters, when personal mythologies melt in with created, idealized ones, those four-minute, riff-heavy songs that once lived over NU107, over LA105, and spooled in our cassette decks, were once again put to the test.

And then the San Diego, Californians responsible for these musings walked in. No fanfare, no fancy lightshow—they just, you know, walked in. Weiland: decked in a suit, a scarf, and shades; the De Leos (Robert and Dean): both looking like they haven’t aged at all (especially Robert, who looks classy-thuggish, like he can be a gangster in something like Boardwalk Empire); Eric Kretz: still sort of sporting a 1994 hairdo. A couple of tracks off of Core—“Crackerman” and “Wicked Garden”—served as apt starters: like collateral, like a money-down guarantee that suggests, no, we won’t get cheated, and, yes, we will be treated to a memory-lane stroll with these songs that are as broken and sublime as the best Beat poems. Fuck, I can imagine how puzzling these numbers may sound to the Linkin Park generation, but they are our soundtrack (cliché as saying that has become). After the opening salvo, Weiland engaged the Araneta crowd in some banter, sharing that the band arrived “fairly recently” (no mention of him being a day late), and that he couldn’t tell whether it’s day or night. He paused for effect, silently surveying the sea of black-shirt-clad non-kids, and posed a challenge: “So, it’s up to you now to show the spirit of the night.”

And, like I said, it was a night of rethinking old perspectives. “Vasoline,” for one, proved to be more than a mere two-note riffer; it is now (to my ears) an exercise in compactness, slips in the performance notwithstanding. And then there’s the fairly new material—“Heaven & Hot Rods” from No. 4; “Between the Lines” and “Hickory Dichotomy” from Stone Temple Pilots (a curious move nomenclature-wise, by the way; does this suggest self-acceptance, but only this late in the game?)—songs that tell us that, after the requisite dicking-around with neo-psychedelics and mock-Iggy Pop punk, a hard rock band will always show its true skin in the end: as a Les Paul-loving, megaphone-wielding pack of arena animals. However, it was personally the Purple part of the gig that got my motor running: “Still Remains” and “Silvergun Superman” were especially surprising, mainly because they showcased Weiland’s character crooning, instead of his lethal husky-screamy attack. Meanwhile, the lone cover of the night (their version of Zep’s “Dancing Days,” off of Encomium), was several notches up its recorded counterpart. At some point, Weiland muttered into the mic and addressed their sound tech to “Turn up the volume a bit on this one,” and you just sort of figure it out for yourself: you were going to hear the cream of the STP discography: “Big Empty,” “Interstate Love Song,” and the ridiculously popular “Plush” (their “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” if you want). Also, the more agro stuff (“Huckleberry Crumble,” “Down”) thrown in for good measure, along with set-closer “Sex Type Thing” (which the band began with some jazz- and fusion-tinged noodling, and with Scott singing some lines from The Doors’ “Break on Through the Other Side”). Naturally, the real show-enders—“Dead and Bloated” and “Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart”—were no lightweights either.

I’m not going to kid you; it wasn’t perfect at all. Weiland’s voice breaks from time to time; Kretz slows down on a few songs (the big screw-up for both was during “Big Empty”). There is nothing to fault the De Leos with, though, really, especially Dean, who shows us how Les Pauls should really be played (check out his ‘90s rig here, a rig he probably still uses). Mere mortals, yes, but I’m still voiceless from all the screaming. (Aldus Santos)

Stock photographs (1) and (2) both from the band’s Facebook page.

“It’s Saturday night here in Manila. You know what that means. It’s time to party,” Chino Moreno, the Deftones’ momentarily-mortal frontman, reminded the crowd what time it was before transforming into the living embodiment of Saturday Night for every song. And as Saturday Night he reminded you of every crashed party, every joyride, your first act of vandalism, every encounter with drunk love and sober lust.

I remember the day when I heard news of Deftones performing in Manila broke out: November 18, 2010. The news basically sucked out the enthusiasm I had for what I have planned after work that day: the Gin Blossoms concert at the Araneta Coliseum. Although I enjoyed that night’s show, I watched it like post-coital porn. I was already looking forward to February by the time I bought my ticket and as soon as I could afford it, but I never expected it to be a Valentines date. And I’m one of those Valentine’s Day-is-a-capitalist-tactic type of guy.

I came early.  It is the polite way to start a date but a rude habit to end one. I wanted an enviable position, found myself three persons away from the front barricade in front of the drumkit. Opening acts Slapshock and Urbandub warmed up the crowd as fans were steadily pouring in to fill up the World Trade Center. After every song, you could almost tell from the band and, more obviously, from the crowd, that they wanted the Deftones already. Now and fast, hard and smooth, live and raw.

When they finally got on stage it was like finding out your high school crush is your blind date for the night.  All eyes were on vocalist Chino Moreno, who entered the stage, stood and surveyed the crowd switching stances between a gallant knight in one moment, and then a predator the next. Even before the opening bars of “Birthmark,” he was already doing what my friends called the “Chino shuffle/bounce,” a hip-hop move every guy should learn with a caveat of an underwear ad because we might not look as sexy with it. It was both a mating dance and, also, cheironomy. That alone set the crowd ablaze astronomically better than the front acts’ best sets ever, considering I am an Urbandub fan. Moreno was making his moves. He is the party. He’s letting us in.

From the time Moreno spat on stage on the first song, him being apparently comfortable on the get go, an epiphany: the band is going to have sex with the crowd. If the whole event was a movie it would be a light drama with lots of raunchy sex. Multiple rounds of it.

The set started with a simple narrative. They started with two songs from the first album (“Birthmark” and “Engine No.9”) and the blasted off with Around the Fur favorites: “Be Quiet and Drive,” “My Own Summer,” and the title track. By the time “Digital Bath” eased in (I loved that particular Abe Cunningham drum intro-riff), the band already got the crowd in the mood. Yes, that kind of mood. I actually saw a couple making out on cue right after Moreno sang “Now kiss me” during “Knife Party.” A girl beside me screamed periodic OMGs when she wasn’t singing along, while her girl friend just giggled and made me imagine her in a school dress. Grown men were grunting, squealing like pigs, sometimes even swooning. Sweaty bodies were slamming against one another. Pota, I even think I was dry humped by a boyfriend-wielding girl behind me because she is either a) bunny-hopping inch by inch to get closer to the stage or b) settling for the nearest male in front of her as Moreno’s simulacra—in front of his boyfriend because he likes to watch. Just look at the crowd and the moshpit, then back at the stage, and you’ll find love in both. The crowd also gave the same love to Chi Cheng with chants of his name, as the original Deftones’ bassist is still recovering from serious injuries from a car accident late 2008.

Chino Moreno was a paramour, a darling.  As a vocalist he wailed, screamed, rapped, and serenaded. As a frontman he was all over the place, even making his way to his adoring crowd at the back of the venue. He heartily laughed at Cheng’s reliever Sergio Vega for a reason only the two of them know. He drank San Miguel Light onstage. He gave high-fives and held hands with fans. After blowing a kiss, he pointed to his target to make sure his love found its way. His every “Thank you” was boyishly humble. He mumbled a story of the band’s first time in Manila, of how they got here before, mumbled something into a whisper, and let the eerie intro of “Change (In the House of Flies)” emerge from both Frank Delgado and Stephen Carpenter’s capable fingers. I clearly heard people exclaiming how relentlessly Moreno exuded a steady stream of energy and charisma throughout the set. His rests came with the songs where he played the guitar—something he noticeably picked up since White Pony—effectively for down-tempo singalongs such as “Minerva” and “Sextape.”

I was quite content in that little spot near the front when it happened. Saturday Night was suddenly at arms’ length singing “You’ve Seen the Butcher.” With a push from behind by understandably frantic fans, I was able to touch Chino Moreno. Touch. Chino. Moreno. Afterwards, I was for a few seconds chanting along with OMG girl who was at that moment a willing receptacle of Mr. Moreno’s dripping sweat. The last time I relented to wash someone’s bodily fluids from my person was when I gave a high school crush my handkerchief to cry on because of some other guy, thereby securing my place in her “friend zone.” After those few seconds of frenzy I found myself eight feet from my original position, now surrounded by burly men who also went after Moreno like Black Nazarene devotees. They will later supply the moshpit (the one I reluctantly figured into) with sinewy fandom. Thank you, gym membership.

Towards the end of the night, especially the encore, it was all about fandom, of how Filipino fans waited for a band like Deftones to finally perform in the country, unlike the flavor-of-the-month foreign pop stars Kuh Ledesma is rallying against. When the band returned on stage to perform “Root” from their first album Adrenaline, everything about the event turned nostalgic. The guitar riff—along with Korn’s “Blind”—is iconic for the nu-metal epidemic that dominated the rock scene in the late ‘90s. It was modified, mutated, and appropriated by arguably every band the Deftones spawned. It was also no surprise that I saw members of bands like Slapshock, Franco, Urbandub, Kamikazee, and the defunct Queso in and with the crowd; they were paying tribute, I guess, to their spiritual parents. They owe this band years and tomes of inspiration for their own material and sound. And these spiritual parents are now literally in their faces, their mere presence asking them an empathic “Who’s your daddy?”

The final song “7 Words” was nothing but orgasmic, a fitting coup de grace. It served two purposes for nostalgia: its summoning and birth. That was when my reluctance to join the moshpit dissipated. I wanted to leave the place sweaty, spent, and satisfied. My co-moshers and I retrieved whatever testosterone was left in us through the ritual, sensing perhaps that Moreno’s monopoly of it was ending.  I got out alive, unscathed and triumphant, then proceeded to calm myself down for the rest of the night. It was a challenge.

Later at three in the morning Kate Torralba tweeted: “Omg #Deftones at @republiq! Chino Moreno on the dance floor!” It made sense: Saturday Night wasn’t over yet. (Peter Tom Tolibas)

Photo by Lianne Tauli, taken at the actual Manila show on February 12, 2011.

You know what’s scary? Rowdy uncles at a rock show. Forget your Summer Slam. Never mind your Rock Awards (RIP, NU). When fiftysomethings (or so) go on a rare and much-fought-for night-out at the Araneta to catch their teen idols (like the ones responsible for “Balong Malalim,” for instance), it spells mayhem as sinister as a dimly lit Cubao sidestreet. Delay a show advertised for 7PM to 9PM (a disappointing two hours, but yeah, I know you can do math, too), make beer freely available at the venue, and you’ve got a situation that’s only comparable to a catastrophic family reunion, with the slurring uncle letting out a smartass diatribe unparalleled in the history of smartass diatribes. This night, December the 3^rd, Viva Entertainment had the foresight (and business know-how) to cram several folk-rock legends into a single room: Heber Bartolome (Banyuhay), Florante, Sampaguita, Lolita Carbon (Asin), Wally Gonzales, Mike Hanopol, and Joey “Pepe” Smith, along with legends-in-the-making Gary Granada and Noel Cabangon. “Alas nuwebe na!” the rowdy tito two or three rows in front of me and my wife reiterated with a growl, not so much as a protest but a way to amuse his fellow titos. The lights have been dimmed for around ten to fifteen minutes, and the non-immediate appearance of the stars of the night sort of blunted the excitement blade.

But what a way to shush an uneasy crowd than to have Lolita Carbon’s affecting vocal stylings finally fill the room, rendering Asin’s “Bayan Ko” with the urgency of a first recital. Wife cries instantaneously. Carbon’s throaty voice is very human, very, shall we say, broken, and, also, very beautiful for that very brokenness. For now, though, she’ll sing a piece of this-and-that, as this is the intro medley that serves as memory-jogger for which songs are attributed to whom. There is, of course, Florante’s “Pinay,” openly patriarchal yet somehow still adorable (“Magaganda ang mga Pinay/Sa bahay man, sila’y mahuhusay”); Hanopol’s equally macho “No Touch”; Granada’s dead-on paean to a favorite Filipino pastime, “‘Pag Nananalo ang Ginebra”; Sampaguita’s touristy rocker “Laguna”; and, of course, that chest-up worker ditty “Beep Beep,” courtesy of the Juan de la Cruz Band (Pepe, Mike, and Wally, but you know that already). The Big Dome isn’t filled to capacity, but the sizable attendance will compete with those of foreign shows: a small triumph for OPM (both the org and the concept), but this concern is second-fiddle, I would like to believe, to the grander aim of paying tribute to ‘70s music gold.

A show like Ugat demands requisite attendance for serious music lovers. Sure, ‘70s-era Heber may be superior to new-millennial Heber (who at times may fumble rhythmically), but we’re not in the ‘70s, and missing any set by Mr. Bartolome, Araneta or obscure café, can easily be classified as a crime. Also, if you think about it: musically speaking, though Pepe does have command of the stage and can easily excite a crowd on equal footing with any former Eraserhead, his pipes have not been able to weather substance abuse (no secret) and old age that successfully. That being said, though, when he belts “Ang Himig Natin” (specifically his more challenging paraphrase of it), you know you’re watching and experiencing royalty in the flesh. The highlight for me, personally, though, would have to be the anachronistic revelation that is Mike Hanopol, who treats his axe-work simultaneously as art and science. Who knows “Buhay Amerika,” despite its laundry-list narration, may have possibly preceded stoner metal. Or, if you’re at all not yet convinced, “Tulungan Natin,” performed in this instance with double-pedal drums and chugging-guitar brilliance, may have been made of high-minded, Pink Floyd-grade stuff rather than dark, ominous Sabbath inspiration.

I could go on and on about the technical virtuosity of Gary Granada, who makes finger-style picking look as easy as nose-picking; the charisma of Sampaguita, whose voice remains as thunderous as the “Nosi Ba Lasi?” performances of yore; or the narrative elegance of Heber and Florante, who will shame lyrical dimwits of this day and age into submission, but, you know, I only have these words, and those records are still out in record-store shelves everywhere. Hint hint nudge nudge. (Aldus Santos)

Photographs courtesy of Ian Roxas.

The universe couldn’t have chosen a more perfect gift: Ely Buendia is celebrating his birthday with a by-invitation-only gig called XL: Xtra Live at 40 on the eve of my birthday, and we were getting invites!

When Aldus Santos, editor-in-chief of Pulse.ph, told my boyfriend about the birthday concert, I had already decided we were going. Never mind that Pasay country presents a challenge when you are a commuter from the North, that the bf has “a vitriolic disdain for casinos” (his words), and that we both generally feel awkward in ritzy clubs. However, Jesus (Ventura) has decided to celebrate Christmas this year and, because he decided to throw the music party somewhere in the far south, we followed, like loyal devotees who have been summoned. So last November 27, we suited up, dragged our pedestrian feet to Pasay, dealt with the shady taxi barkers of Taft, and braved the holiday traffic to get to Republiq at Resorts World Manila.

“Take a slide in the slope;/take a look in the kaleidoscope/

Spinnin’ round, make it twirl/in this kaleidoscope world”

There’s no excuse, really, but we got to the venue a bit late (something to do with the barkers mentioned above). The first set was nearly done: Ely was onstage wearing a dapper white suit performing with Dope Militia, who backs him these days on non-Pupil “solo” shows. We caught the last few chords of “Kaleidoscope World” before it segued to “Ang Huling El Bimbo.” People felt the presence of the much-missed Francis M., sang along to songs that have gone on to assume their own meanings in each of our individual lives, and a collective protest arose when the singer-songwriter said “This is the end…” A big wave of relief cheered on as the words “…of the first set” followed. We were not too late; in fact, we were early for the second set, hurrah!

What we missed: Raimund Marasigan performing “Saturn Return” with Ely Buendia, then taking over one of the drum kits in the latter part of the song; also, numbers from In Love and War like “Bum Ticker” with Hilera and Brigada, and that duet he did with the late great Master Rapper, “Higante”; and, yes, Eraserheads songs such as “Magasin” and “Sembreak,” among others. For these, we will just tune in to the nationwide airing of Ely Buendia XL on GMA7’s Sunday Night Box Office (SNBO) on December 12, 10:30 in the evening. By the way, GMA7 has started producing concerts and XL is their first venture. The boyfriend and I have disagreed on a lot of things, but we both agree that GMA7 could not have picked a better choice.

“Kailangan ko s’ya/Walang magagawa/

Kung kasalanan ito,/ayoko nang maging santo”

In the second set, Ely performed songs from Wanted Bedspacer: the title track, “Wanted Bedspacer,” and “Santo.” With him were Francis Reyes (formerly of The Dawn) on guitar, Diego Mapa (Pedicab, Eggboy, Tarsius) at the turntable, and Rommel de la Cruz on bass. Hilera went up on stage again and played a couple of songs with the man of the night, including a favorite of many people who grew up to the early Eraserheads albums, “Poor Man’s Grave.”

At this point, I had already zoned out and was at least fifteen years younger with a schoolgirl crush. In the presence of Ely Buendia, I am constantly reduced to a mix of amazement and disbelief: I am just standing there watching him play. Yet, his legend was not lost on me; years down the line, this moment would be a great thing to relate to future kids, nephews, and nieces who will no doubt be going through adolescence and will stumble upon a song or two written by Ely. I snapped out of this zone for a moment, looked around, and knew I was not the only person feeling this way.

“It’s just a matter of time/Till we’re living in different worlds,/over and under again”

To call your concert XL: Xtra Live at 40 is to say a lot. He may have been hinting at the XL-ness of his persona, which has gotten to the point where even he cannot deny it, but more literal than the self-reflexive stab at his own myth is the gratitude that comes with living to celebrate his 40^th birthday. He is a legend, yes, but he is also still a man with a family to live for and music he continues to want to make. Thus, the rock god that has often been called an “enigma” (positive) and a “snob” (negative) to his face and behind his back, came out with something for himself and for the fans—a night to celebrate his body of work with samplers from the different phases in his life as an artist, in collaboration with some of the musicians who have helped make his vision possible at one time or the other. I could only guess that the party is as much for himself as it is for us.

The boys from Pupil came last and the band played several fun songs which people danced to. There were fun ‘80s covers, and of course some originals like “Nasa’n Ka?” and “Different Worlds.” “Alapaap” ended the concert and Republiq went back to its regular programming.

That night, the bar was peopled by artists, celebrities, musicians, and regular people; all of us just fans of the man, happily basking in the set list that he prepared and must have spent hours rehearsing for.  There was love all around: love for the music, love for the man who has turned a lot of us into lifelong fans of Pinoy rock, and love from the man who was just thankful to be present at 40, still writing and still performing. May the universe give him more years, songs, and collaborators. When it’s my time to turn 40, I think it will be fun to still harbor a crush on a 52-year-old singer-songwriter who has continued to churn out some of the best songs we Filipinos have known. (Maniel O’yek)

Live photography by the incomparable Mari Arquiza, more of whose work you can access in her site, ArQuiza.com.

Heidi Pascual: Embody

Embody is an intimate photography exhibition that explores the written word, underlying definitions, remembrance, and the desire for permanency.

Heidi Pascual presents eight large-scale black-and-white photographs which examine how literature and tattoos, when combined, becomes a compelling, tangible expression of the challenging circumstances and vulnerabilities of individual [human] lives.

In this collection, the needle works of poetic text and images have been stimulated by words from Rilke to Gaiman, from Slaughterhouse Five to the Bible.

Tattoo art by Arvin de la Cruz, Dyun Depasupil, Jobi Guanzon, Epoy Silvosa, and Ricky Sta. Ana [are featured].

About the photographer

Born in Manila, Heidi Pascual received her first camera in 2000 (a Canon AE-1) from her father, and immediately began taking portraits of friends and daily life scenes.

She graduated from De La Salle University with degrees in BS Advertising Management and BA Psychology.

Seeking to make a living through photography, she established a career as an editorial and commercial photographer in 2006. Her works have been published in Cosmopolitan, FHM, Chalk, Philippine Daily Inquirer, Philippine Star, Women’s Health, Total Girl, and Men’s Health, among others. She currently keeps a studio situated at Maginhawa Street in Quezon City.

Her paintings have been included in several group exhibits organized by the Kapisanan ng mga Pintor sa Pilipinas, founded by Maestro Rogelio Orobia.

This exhibition will mark her first photography and solo show.

Exhibit run: November 27 – December 4, 2010

Venue: Nineteen Zero One, Cubao Expo, Quezon City

Exhibition opening date: November 27, 2010, 7:00 PM

Jeebus: Jeebus [EP]

Fans of heavy music (with or without the gnarly vocals) can now enjoy the self-titled maiden release of Jeebus, one of the most interesting metal acts to come out of the woodwork as of late, instrumental or otherwise. The cool thing is, the band (guitarists Gino Garcia and Dylan Pizarro, bassist Mikey Abola, and drummer Plep Junginger) is letting you download their EP for free. However, the band says, “we’re not shutting off the possibility of your kindness compelling you to add some money to your mouse clicks—because it would be awesome if you do donate.” They add, “All that we ask is that you share this music with as many people as you can. Frankly, we can’t do the sharing alone. Rest assured, the universe will repay you handsomely.” Jeebus is also willing to make its fans physical copies of the three-track record. Feel free to drop them a line at their Facebook page. Or, to make matters simpler, download the EP here.

Hannah+Gabi: Haha Yes

We here at Pulse.ph let you in on the best upcoming releases, just as we have with Hannah+Gabi some time ago. Incidentally, we now live in a world that has Haha Yes—haha, yes, Mikey Amistoso’s debut solo is now out, and you can keep tab on retail outlets by visiting Hannah+Gabi’s Tumblr, or by directly messaging the talented Mr. Amistoso himself here. (Pulse.ph)

We’ve been playing around with some stuff these past few weeks, and we’re happy to let you know that the PulsePH iPhone app is now finally available in your favorite Apple App Store!

In this modest new attempt of ours, readers get to access the latest stuff Fresh Off the Press and see nearby Metro Manila gig spots (which of course will be updated as we go along).

We hope you enjoy this new feature just as we enjoyed making it! Do let us know your thoughts on our new app by sending us mail at apps@pulse.ph. You can also follow us on Twitter and add us on Facebook! Cheers! (Marco Cabazal)

Note (as per Apple App Store): Compatible with iPhone, iPod touch, and iPad. Requires iOS 3.0 or later.