Laro: Child's Play at the CCP

MANILA, Philippines - Some years ago poet and radio show host Mike Coroza made me listen to what Philippine music historians call a novelty song. It was Sylvia La Torre singing No Money, No Honey: “If you have much money/Hindi mabilang ang nagmamahal sa dami/Subalit kung maghirap ka, diyan ka na, dito kami/No money, no honey.” She had a silvery voice and a way of phrasing passages that brought out the humor of the song.

It was a vinyl recording I heard, made probably when La Torre was the singing voice of such stars as Nida Blanca and Gloria Romero or when she was doing voices on the radio. She had done stage, appearing regularly in shows at the Life Theater during the Japanese occupation (when she was only nine) and later, after finishing a degree in music at the UST Conservatory of Music, starring as Mikaela in Carmen, staged in Tagalog, in 1958 at the FEU auditorium. People of a certain generation probably remember her as a comedian on TV and as the endorser of ready-to-cook chicken: a chicken dressed obviated squeezing, pinching, or sniffing.

Given how illustrious her career has been, it was something of an event that she was going to sing at Laro, a concert by and for the Philippine Youth Symphonic Band at the Cultural Center of the Philippines last Saturday. She was not the only one in the bill, however. There were Sarah Geronimo, baritone Andrew Fernando, and, of course, the band itself under the baton of Romeo San Jose. Cherie Gil, fresh from her success in Master Class and still looking like a svelte Maria Callas, was the emcee.

The concept behind the program was the creativity of play and the playfulness of creativity. The concert was subtitled Child’s Play at the CCP, and everywhere evident was the virtuosity of the musicians that made what must be hard work look like child’s play, indeed. The 62 musicians, from age seven to 22, played — and played beautifully — now almost forgotten tunes that had been the stuff of Filipino childhoods past: Itik-itik, Leron Leron, Sinta, and Bahay Kubo, among others. Jazzed up, revved up, given the full symphonic treatment, these songs sounded both fresh and familiar.

The young musicians proved their mettle and playfulness, too, in one instance, turning Sarangola ni Pepe into a duet for band and bottles. But the vocalists were up to par. Singing a medley of Sitsiritsit and Leron Leron, Sinta, Sarah was breezy, jazzy, and brassy, and she apparently had a squadron of cheerers up in the balcony. Andrew, the baritone of the hour, was at turns cheery (Tong, tong, pakitong-kitong) and poignant (Dandansoy) but always spot on.

And what of La Torre? Virtually unwrinkled at 77 and after 56 years of marriage (to the same man, Celso Perez de Tagle), she did not disappoint. Naturally, the voice was not as steady as it had been on vinyl, but all the panache and comic timing were there. La Torre sang only three songs: Sa Kabukiran, Waray Waray and Kalesa.

Sixty years of daily vocalization and abstaining from cold drinks and ice cream obviously paid off in her case. The cadenzas in Sa Kabukiran were delivered trippingly, as child’s play. Perhaps the only disappointment is that, La Torre being the “Reyna ng Kundiman,” she did not sing any kundiman.

But it was after all the YMDO’s show. Credit and kudos must be given to the young musicians and the people who have supported them. Talent takes some money to nurture, and these talents proved that they are worth nurturing.

Laro was partly meant to connect with the very young. That was why the show started at six instead of the customary eight. Children, some looking as little as six or seven, were in the audience. How many of them who grew up watching a purple dinosaur appreciated what they were hearing is open to debate. (There were some bored faces where I sat.) But surely, Laro was not their play time alone but their parents’ and grandparents’, those who were children once and who probably know what it means to go without either money or honey. And what play time that was.