The force that drives the green fuse

Seldom do we come across a band that sounds as good as the dish after which it is named, but that is exactly what Pinikpikan achieves in its latest release, Obra Encantada (Tao Music 2001), which is slated to be launched today at the RCBC Plaza in Makati.

Going by the slogan, "The members have never been the same ... yet the members always are ..." Pinikpikan has racked up some three independently produced albums: Metronomad of a few years back, when the band was still led by the veteran nomad Diokno Pasilan, and last year’s award-winning Atas, when all-around literati Boy "Boyu" Yuchenco pounded a percussion instrument. Of course, Obra Encantada is considered much like a sequel to Atas, and the ensemble approach is still very much evident, although Yuchenco has consigned himself to the background like a guardian angel along with the band’s manager, sculptress Agnes Arellano.

With all the droppable names at hand the band readily becomes a cultural phenomenon, the Pinoy’s own contribution to the world beat trade.

The present incarnation of Pinikpikan, named after the famed chicken dish in the Cordilleras, is led by Sammy Asuncion, who used to be frontman of the Pinoy reggae group Spy. Also a driving force of the band is vocalist and gypsy queen Carol Bello, who does things with her voice which you never quite heard before: she yodels, scats, and generally contorts her vocal chords like an acrobat on the musical registers. One may perhaps find the tricks a bit discomfiting, if not a bit amusing (like a mother hen calling her brood to roost?), but Bello very clearly lays down her own rules, driven along by the frenetic percussive force of the band. It’s virtually impossible to keep still while listening.

It wasn’t too long ago when Pinikpikan was a loose conglomeration of musicians and assorted hangers-on that performed lengthy impromptu gigs at places as diverse as Remedios Circle in Malate and Cafe by the Ruins in Baguio, or wherever bohemians or plain Caucasian artist types tend to flock. The jam sessions would nonchalantly get the members of the audience to drum on their tables, clink their silverware, and do improvised Igorot cañao dances in a kind of ripple effect that only served to emphasize music’s sense of community.

You’ll never feel alone as Pinikpikan plays and lays your distraught self to waste.

The spirit of communion continues in the band’s present configuration –who can deny the rhythm bequeathed by the mumbaki, the likes of the late Pepito Bosch who helped found the band by playing/not playing on the bongos, his hands barely touching the skin of the drums.

You can almost hear his ghost going: "Woowoowoowoo .... thing!"

Now it’s the Asuncion shaman at the helm. Time was when we chanced on his old band Spy at the defunct Dreams on Escoda, owned by the playwright Al Santos, with its gaggle of fortune tellers on the patio. Drummer was Fritz "Dr. Sticks" Barth, who will also play drums at the Obra Encantada launch, or so the press release says, while on bass was the Madagascar native Maurice.

Years of playing in various dives abroad honed Spy’s, and not the least Asuncion’s, musical skills, but all that may have been mere preparation for what he’s doing now with Pinikpikan.

Just about the time the Spy alumnus went on board the defeathered transcendental bird, I espied Boyu with a constantly in flux Pinikpikan at the Republic of Malate. They were to provide the nightcap to a performance by Bob Aves, who by the way was also very much involved with his wife Grace Nono in the crafting of Obra Encantada. Boyu was in his customary felt hat a la Stetson, looking ready to do Dylan one better.

The album’s first cut, Rugerra, just happens to take us immediately into the thick of things –in medias res as it were –and tells of the hazards and necessity of war in order to get the wheels of justice to grind exceedingly fine.

The interplay of Bello and Asuncion is the focus of most of the cuts, playing tag and hide-and-go-seek, and eventually rising above the brewing, percussive cauldron. Bello does most of the vocals, with Asuncion spelling her in Mahiwagang Tutubi and the instrumental cut that follows.

Influences from the four corners of the country are melded almost effortlessly, with emphasis on ethnic concerns –which is not to say that Western influences are ignored altogether, because there is a song in Chabacano, and Asuncion himself mines Arabic scales in Mindanao, from where he’s from.

A song like Maski Diin, as a primer to the album says, can be just as effective in Thai or Nepalese.

The title cut conveys the primal power of music, as if the proceedings herein have a genie waiting to be called forth. And set us free Obra Encantada does –in a twisting, dizzying, somersaulting sort of way.