Riding out the sophomore jinx

Just because it’s a sophomore effort doesn’t mean that the band has to watch out for the shadow of the jinx, which however sadly seems to be the case in the respective second albums of Bamboo and Imago. Both bands raised expectations with their first albums, though Imago and Bamboo come from backgrounds as diverse as they get. The band whose lead vocalist is its namesake (or is it the other way around) is a splinter group from Rivermaya but has since evolved to be its own monster; for Imago, the wait for Take 2! felt like ages, the debut CD coming out four years ago.

While Bamboo’s Light Peace Love didn’t take as long to see the light of day, we already know what we’ve come to expect of the band that has one of the most distinctive vocalists this country has heard in a while. You see the vocalist Bamboo’s visage advertising jeans on a great national highway, and the band’s latest hit Hallelujah can be heard everywhere, including a famous noontime show that even has a comedian mimicking him and going by the name of Wangboo, complete with sidekick Ira Ulo. The price of fame, indeed.

Aside from Hallelujah, which follows up Noypi as the band’s certified hit, the other songs in Light Peace Love are potential sleepers in both senses of the word, meaning they straddle the thin line of becoming bona fide hits themselves, or lull listeners to sleep as the band eases comfortably into the easy listening mode. There is no Mr. Clay or Masaya here, songs that made the debut CD As the Music Plays quite memorable, rather the closest the boys can come to something apart from contrived spaciness might be Peace, Man. And maybe the last hard rocking cut, too, Children of the Sun, that refuses to blend with the crowd.

One might say that Bamboo, both the man and the band, have settled into their niche market of ansty teenagers wanting to chill out with good old rock and roll, and happily serve their purpose as they grow into the familiarity of their instruments. While it is easy to harp about how much Bamboo needs a tunesmith in the caliber of a Rico Blanco just as Rivermaya needs a vocalist like Bamboo, it is useless to dwell on past partnerships however successful they proved to be. You can listen to greatest hits and best of collections only for so long. For what it’s worth, Bamboo as a second year band certainly don’t sound like sophomores.

A major change of personnel, on the other hand, marks Imago’s second CD since Probably not, but most definitely of June 2001. Take 2! has bassist Myrene Academia coming onboard on loan from Sandwich. The shift is crucial, especially if coupled with the fact that founding member, the violinist Michelle Pritchard, no longer plays session as she did in the first CD. The result is there are no more Scarlet Rivera undertones to give Imago a rounder, more agreeable sound, rather the band now has a fuller, fleshed out bass sound that gives them a harder rock edge. Which may be good or bad, depending on the image of Imago you prefer.

For starters the lineup gives a more balanced view especially when seen onstage, two women and two men kicking the jams out in the age of post-equality. Come to think of it, the last time I saw their original bassist Arvin Gatmaitan play, his foot was in a cast, a kind of foreshadowing of the perils in this break-a-leg business.

The hit from Take 2! is Akap, which made it to the soundtrack of Pinoy Blonde along with songs by mostly indie Pinoy bands. The other song given prominent airplay is Taning, which in the CD even has an extended remixed and dubbed version, as bonus cut or filler, whichever’s the case. A song like Reset, a clear throwaway, is nevertheless rare because it sounds better remixed in a cloud of dub and reverb.

So Akap and Taning already make strong statements for a band opting to play louder, yet retaining their penchant for the occasional melodic line thanks to vocalist-guitarist Aia de Leon’s fine songwriting sense and lead guitarist Tim Cacho’s exploratory lines.

There is however none of that compelling rainsongs and Bathala-like chanting in what could be improvised Esperanto that made Imago’s debut a delight to listen to, full of bright-eyed surprises what with Pritchard there with her gypsy soul.

Aia too has apparently made her hair grow out, no more is she the punk with cropped hair who waved the finger at crowds in irreverent glee, flashing her Resign button to the night owls on J. Nakpil street many years ago. Then again a Kulasa by any other name is still a Kulasa, however grown up, whether sophisticated or plainly sophist, and renders us singularly appreciative of her coming quietly of age.