Progeny & all that jazz

We’re going to miss her by next year, alas, maybe for a couple. Mishka Adams, jazz singer-composer whose star for 2005 blitzed Pinoy songstress consciousness beyond what is usually reserved for the likes of Kitchie Nadal, had a recent farewell concert at the Music Museum, leaving behind good memories of what she can do to raise our musical ken even higher.

Not only did she showcase her distinctive voice and style, and those looks that have been likened to Natalie Portman’s, heh-heh; Queen Amishka also woman-ifested her clout on the local scene, or was it her loving camaraderie among fellow musicians?

My, but that was some one-night-stand ensemble, or rather, a mighty gathering of fusion eagles that seemed to comprise a veritable Jedi council, starting with her band Blue Echoes: Edgar "Koyang" Avenir on guitar, Louie Talan on bass, Koko Bermejo on drums, Ria Villena-Osorio on keyboard, and Arnold "Budeths" Casino on percussion.

Saxophone wizards Tots Tolentino and Michael "Pikong" Guevarra led the sterling guest parade, which also counted on poet’s daughter and ethno-sorceress Cynthia Alexander, the fine singer Mon David, guitar master Sammy Asuncion and guitar wiz Noli Aurillo, keyboardist Ehlmir Saison, and vocalist Nyko Maka, who sang in Portuguese as a pair of male capoeiristas displayed the slow Angolan style right onstage, despite being hemmed in by microphones, wires and cables.

Mike Guevarra also joined Saxoforo (now, this sax quartet is something else; we hope to catch them on regular gigs at some cloistered haunt, or in some forest), together with Paul Tadeo, Ronald Tomas (formerly of Wdouji), and Jess Villaflores. Then there was the UP String Quartet, with Isi Miranda on first violin, Toinet Guevarra on second violin, Genesis Marquez on viola and Jeff Raymundo on cello.

Finally, ultimately, there were mom Agnes Arellano (formerly of the ’60s-to-’70s Twin Echoes of Tuberias, San Juan and UP Diliman) and uncle Deo Arellano, flautist-vocalist, usually San Francisco-based, now with the JazzPhil ensemble.

It was like watching and listening to the decades striking right back at the empire of memory (yup, Eric Gamalinda’s novel). Roaming the aisles was Billy Bonnevie, maybe feeling a little antsy since he wasn’t involved much in the production this time out. Still, the images projected on the screens turned out just as well, courtesy of Mish’s cousin Datu Arellano. For his part, on the balcony, masterminding all that technical orchestration, was sound engineer Aris Guinto, Mishka’s Significant Other. And somewhere out there in the audience was Michael Adams, proud father in mild tenterhooks in the land of the spoonclunkers (yup, his novel), the longtime padrino of the soon-to-be-revived Caracoa poetry journal.

Flash-forward: it was good to see Michael at concert’s end, looking fit for ultimate fighting, and sporting a calm demeanor besides. But we couldn’t speak and catch up much on one another’s fresh muses, so we’ll have to do that some other time when not too many other raving fans are around.

Back to darling Mishka, weren’t we the first to tout her promise and prowess, after an early, feeling-out gig at Penguin a couple or so years ago, when she was but 18? Now she’s 21, and the world beyond Greenhills is at her feet. Her "God Bless the Child" album via Candid Records has led to London re-intro gigs. Now she leaves her guitar, sax and music courses at UP Diliman for further studies and a recap of the Brit scene with her old buddies, while hoping to do the Euro continent as well.

We wish her the best, this centered girl whom we’ve seen grow up without losing her humility. That’s why she’s well-loved by all her music mentors and coevals. We know she’ll do well, as she doesn’t only have the gift for distinctive vocal styling, but is an excellent songwriter, too. In that bye-for-now concert, she performed two of her album highlights that she herself wrote: Mama’s Garden and Marrakech, giving indication that she can hold her own anywhere in the world.

And as she sang the oldie but goldie, Today ("… while the blossoms still cling to the vine…"), with Agnes and Deo, what else could we do but wipe a tear, even as we flashed through the roster of the next generation that has done their parents proud.

How many of them have pledged themselves to the art of song?

Our very own 32-year-old, "the best guitarist of his generation and perhaps beyond…," recently launched his first CD album titled "Aya Yuson: Solo," jazzing up old standards like My Romance and Stella By Starlight, songs we hummed or crooned well before his time. A guerrilla product, the CD’s available at Mag:net branches, and at that we’ll cut our Stage-Dad plug; it’s going fast anyway and may soon run out, so that we hope our boy does his follow-up "Anthems" as we’ve agreed upon.

Aya used to be with the acclaimed, award-winning jazz group, Wdouji, and now plays mostly with the JazzPhil Ensemble led by jazz historian and drummer Richie Quirino. But on the night of the 28th he gigs with his other special group, the jazz trio H3O, at MagNet on Katipunan Ave. There you can marvel at his slick-fingered communion with upright bassist Dave Harder and drummer Mikah Azurin. Together they’ve played at Fete de la Musique. Now that’s a plug for the gig, not the CD. (Ows?)

There’s Diego Abad, bass guitarist of the rock band Too Late The Hero, also pressing their own first CD album titled "Human Tragedy," with outstanding cuts that are preciously titled, like Daggers Shaped Like Stars, Prophet in Black and Embrace the Storm. Together with band mates Joe on vocals, Peter on guitar and Miggy on drums (all sans surnames, even Diego, except that we know his old man and mom; heh-heh), Diego rocks away somewhere between acid and gothic. And surely he does his family proud: Ate Cyan the prizewinning fiction writer, Chicago-based physician Cybele, twin bro David, mom Mercy and dad Jimmy Abad, the supreme poet/critic/mentor.

There’s Abba Dalena the musician/sculptor, middle child of our darling friend "Danny Boy" Dalena the Paete cum Kamuning artist. Abba’s graciously enhanced our poetry readings with her own songs and guitar playing. Her Ate Sari, digital filmmaker, is back from New York, and we can only apologize to her for missing out on the screenings of her film Rigodon (co-directed with hubby Keith Sicat) despite repeated invites, so pressed have we been for time. Their youngest sister Kiri is herself an outstanding filmmaker and sculptor, taking after mom Julie Lluch.

Ah, these kids. Why should they have chosen the not-so-Zen path of the initially struggling artist? It’s as if they’ve forgotten what their parents had to go through. Kris Lacaba the poet and Lothario has taken up from where parents Pete and Marra PL Lanot haven’t exactly left off. And we speak not of the serial romancing, heh-heh.

Kidlat, Kawayan and Kabunian de Guia, progeny of pioneering indie filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik aka Eric de Guia, have all taken a page from Dad, and then some, as they also win prizes for their visual art.

Another exemplary boy of the millennium is celebrity rocker Diego Castillo, vocalist and chick magnet of the band Sandwich, who goes home to Mama Nitz who provides us wondrous vines and shrubs from her garden, and Renaissance Dad Erwin Castillo (poet, pugilist, painter, singer, novelist, marksman, raconteur, Rizalist…).

Of course there’s Banawe Miclat, thespian nonpareil, younger sister of the brilliant Maningning, which means she’s another prodigious daughter of writers Alma and Mario, they who also tend their own, and contribute regularly to our, garden.

Can’t list them all here; they come out of the woodwork at every decade, these "Indigo kids" of artist-friends. But I’ll make one last mention – of a precocious grandkid, Solana, 11-year-old child of archaeologist Padmapani Perez, who in turn owes her highlander genes to writer/chef mom Laida Lim and direk Butch Perez, who it was recounted recently how he was stunned at a Baguio poetry reading when Solana blew everyone off the mike. With poems written on the spot, as she had left her written works at home. Amazing.

Second-generation artist Joey Ayala (whose poet-painter mom Tita and poet-painter dad Joe remain our dear friends) has come out of hibernation with a new album, titled "Mga Awit ng Magdaragat." It features not only his music-making genius but also the equally rarefied gifts of Noel Cabangon, sister Cynthia Alexander, and other contemporaries. Joey did all the lyrics, so we’re assured of the addition of haunting poetry to our musical and literary files.

He says that it’s "an ensemble performance, and (that) both form and content will encourage both dance and theater usage." Eight of the dozen songs were composed by Noel, Cynthia, Onie Badiang, Bayang Barrios and Mike Villegas, Chang Tengasantos, and Mlou Matute, while the vocalists also include Onie B., Chang T. (of Reggae Mistress), Kevin Roy, Jingle Buena, Dessa Ilagan, and Mac Vicente (of Womenspace).

Joey promises a great album, and we believe him. It’s already available at Mag:net branches, Conspiracy Garden Cafe at 59 Visayas Ave., Popular Bookstore, and at Maroon’s at the UP Diliman Shopping Center. Waiting for delivery, José.

As for the CDs we’ve actually received, four standouts lead the parade. Girl Valencia soft-launched "Driftwood Traveling" on Dec. 5 at the RCBC Tower, courtesy of music-loving taipan Ambassador Al Yuchengco. Its 12 tracks convince us that Girl’s writing talents aren’t confined to children’s stories (she won a National Book Award for The Christmas Fireflies last September). Nor are her musical gifts defined by her singing voice alone, which goes on display every Thursday night at Exchange Bar of Richmonde Hotel, where journalists Eggie Apostol, Letty J. Magsanoc, Belinda O. Cunanan, Lorna K. Tirol and Nelly Sindayen have of late been spotted, dancing to Girl’s numbers, too, with no less than baritone/barfly Charlson Ong.

We predict that Sunrise and Driftwood will soon become Girl’s signature songs and certified hit singles. Thing is, she still has to officially launch (that is, market) the album. So, for now you can try acquiring a copy from Billy Lacaba at Raya Media Services (631-9765 and 635-0247).

Another must-have CD album is Arthur Manuntag’s "The Art of Love," recently released, a copy of which we were handed by the singer’s own sponsor, man-about-town Eric Tagle. Arthur initially gained the billing of "Tony Bennett of the Philippines," but has since shown how his manly voice is distinctly his own, wowing crowds (squealing matrons et al.) at Makati Golf’s Seventh Note. Now you can catch him on Fridays at the lobby lounge of Century Plaza Sheraton.

Fourteen romantic ballads (Time After Time, My Foolish Heart, Moon River…) comprise the romantic CD that bears a blurb from no less than Jullie Yap Daza: "When it’s time to unwind, to the sound of ice cubes melting in a cocktail glass, it’s time to rewind… to the music of love and longing. And whom better to do it with? …Than Art, the voice of nostalgia. He brings it all back… the moods, the moments, the memories. Say no more, just exhale a sigh… let the songs speak the ‘Art of Love.’"

Finally, while tooling around with David Byrne (yes, of Talking Heads fame; and yes, he was in town last week, but that’s another story – Hint: relating to a musical on Imelda), we joined a street party at Joel Torre’s Manukan off Ortigas, cozying up with our fellow entertainers Jaime Fabregas, Ronnie Lazaro and Butch Perez. Who should sidle over to our Parisian café table but Richard Merck, who remembered our reading of a jazz poem at his bar (oh yes, he recalled Byrne’s Burning Down the House too, or was that Ronnie paying tribute via table-thumping?). And since it’s Christmas, the chip off the old block gifted us with his legendary mom’s CD, "Annie Brazil: Live at Merk’s." Thirteen tracks, starting with S’Wonderful and winding down, or is it up, with What’s New.

Hooray! What’s new is that we’re always brought back full circle. By precious progeny, and all that jazz!