MANILA, Philippines - In a recent global singing contest, I found myself as one of its judges alongside prominent leaders in the arts industry with theater stalwart Audie Gemora seated beside me.
He then began asking how the acoustic scene was doing, and I told him that it is pulsating on a steady, consistent beat and I don’t imagine it disappearing from the Filipino’s way of life anytime soon — bars continue to hire smaller, more affordable acoustic groups versus full bands.
Acoustic artists like myself and friends like Paolo Santos are still on the shortlist of grand corporate events, family celebrations and the humble barangay fiestas that occur more regularly than people think.
He then popped a question if could I teach an acoustic performance course in his summer workshop called My Talent. The thought of sharing my music and style of performance to youngsters and aspiring musicians was an exciting proposition.
I then confessed a secret to Audie that I am secretly somewhat of a nerd.
In my spare time, I write books and plays which in all probability may never even reach a publisher’s table. Currently, I am, in fact, in the middle of writing a How To Be An Acoustic Artist In Manila, an autobiography cleverly disguised as an instructional book. It talks about singing and guitar techniques, equipment guides, how to get along with producers, how to deal with criticism, how to continue learning, how not to learn passing fads, among others.
Acoustic music is laid-back and has quiet energy. It holds a little Bohemian influence, a dash of hippie freedom and the rough and tumble portability of rock ’n roll. There is a strike-anywhere attitude in an acoustic musician, but conversely, the reserved energy of a lounge singer, carefully avoiding excessively high screeching and violent guitar strumming.
When you begin to feel the summer breeze and see moonlit beaches, that’s acoustic music. When you have converted a disco song, stripped it into its bare essentials and have found the beautiful poetry hidden under its subsonic beat, that’s acoustic music. When you find the courage to string together a few lines about your pains and passions, and find yourself singing an original song to a crowd of strangers, who in one night, have become momentary friends through your lyrics, that’s acoustic music, perhaps at its finest.
We all have our reasons for picking up an instrument, singing, or writing a song. Sometimes the reasons are unclear but the call to make music is undeniably there.
At the end of the day, I believe that music like all human endeavor will call you — through an article or a friend’s referral that may lead you to a workshop, or a band, or a radio station, or a recording studio, or any environment among people like you who are simply searching for a way, a place and a method, to pour out this indescribable need to sing, play and write about a world so wonderfully musical and magical.
Back to Audie’s query whether I would teach acoustic performing in his workshop,
I immediately said, “Yes!”
This summer, I am dedicating two days of each week to passing on the little things that can make big changes in a kid’s life. Some professional acoustic bands have expressed their interest in enrolling, too, just to learn more about the craft, and perhaps to exchange knowledge. Some young urban professionals with secret musical dreams are planning in joining as well, to try their hand once again at that guitar they used to strum daily in school, but have left to rust and gather dust in the attic.
(My Talent workshop will be held at the third floor of 500 Shaw Blvd., Mandaluyong City. For details, call 654-7452, 384-5578, 0922-5916060 or 0915-7460756.)