Ah, but made good music, and is back to making good music – the way homegrown heroes revert us to halcyon years and puts a warm glow in our breasts, a smile to our lips when these aren’t parted wide to take a bite of all that nostalgia.
"Pit pit pit pit...," he sings onstage. And we warble along with him, chanting a weird set of lyrics that will only start to make sense to an alien of a listener once he figures out that it’s all about another oh-so-Pinoy feature in our rambunctious landscape: the jeepney.
He launches into another retro number, posing a rhetorical question the way a streetwise poet or philosopher dips into a well of metaphors: "Gusto mong mag-swimming/sa balong malalim...?" And we sway on our chairs, reliving the ’70s when we were joyous in Tagaytay or Baguio or the Amoranto Stadium in Quezon City, tribal as totems, as shimmying livewires of the... uhhm, counterculture. Or just good ol’ adherents of the one true thing – what Pepe Smith declares out loud to the universe to punctuate an opening spiel – "Rock ‘n roll!"
"The return of the comeback," we used to say, initiating a tradition of shared doggerel, gobbledygook and malapropisms whenever they rhymed or seemed to flaunt a hilariously stiff finger at reason, e.g., "Wow, Cubao." Or: "Sure, manure." Or: "Bukas na lang nating gawin, critical ang biodata ko today." That last is copyrighted by Santi Bose, another (bio)rhythmic shaman.
Or earlier, even much earlier, with apocryphal dialogue repeated to commemorate the vibrant memory of a boogie night: "May I dance over you?" "Centerly."
It would seem now that Pepe Smith was as "orig" as Ogden Nash in handing down similar nonsense quips. Once, flagged down by a motorcycle cop on Roxas Boulevard. where he was cruising with then Hyatt GM Bubot Quicho, Pepe had but one non sequitur statement for the officer: "Tsokolate." Other verbal comebacks weren’t so much nonsensical as they were planetary eurekas that bonded a generation, together.
But the singular salutation that encapsulated everything bright and beautiful, merry and rollicking, liberating and freedom-savoring, was that signature welcome and let’s-get-it-on war whoop that Pepe popularized, to label everything that had gone on before, as well as to introduce what was going to happen next, much to our collective delight: "ROCK ‘N ROLL!"
And we shouted back: "ROCK ‘N ROLL! Rakrakan na!"
Last April, GMA-7’s I-Witness program featured a fascinating documentary by that excellent broadcast journalist, Howie Severino, with Pepe Smith as subject. Baby boomers who were wondering whatever happened to the fellow who gifted us with an anthem, Ang Himig Natin, may have suddenly sat up and said in private jest: "O, buhay pa palang walanghiyang Pepe."
Who didn’t know him, from the ’60s and ’70s? Who didn’t thrill and throb with pride at the advent of Juan de la Cruz the Pinoy rock band? Who didn’t trade stories, many of them apocryphal, about that lean, lanky tisoy in tight jeans and a hat or early do-rag, who could swap drunken insults with the most raucous of crowds, bilingually at that?
Why, he quickly became legendary in his musical lifetime, so much so that his wispy figure even made it to the parade of contemporary, real-life characters in Nonoy Marcelo’s celebrated Tisoy comic strip.
In any case, yes, we sat up, eager with anticipation of how Howie’s docu would unfold. What did happen to Pepe? We last saw him years ago at Penguin, helping celebrate a coming-out party for someone – was it Mishka Adams at 18? He snorted San Mig beer up his nose, posed epileptically by the sidewalk, jammed with sexy saxophonist Pete Canson and his band.
Oh yes, after that we heard that Pepe figured in a car accident that broke his famous rock-hard jaw, thence recovered up in Baguio City where a loyal lady love, perchance his last, has been taking great good care of him.
That’s exactly how the videodocu has it, too, starting with a mini concert at a Baguio café organized by National Artist Bencab (hey, nice ring to that) – where Pepe Smith joins in, to highland barkada acclaim. Follow snippets of casual conversation, easy confessions, with Pepe’s quips quickly establishing how, much like his guitar-playing, foot-stomping, and vocal exertions, he hasn’t lost his verbal touch.
Howie accompanies Pepe to the old site of Clark Field Air Base, the subject’s hometown, where he reminiscences on his dad and how he grew up, a half-breed in a half-breed town. Poignant, this part.
Then Mr. Smith revisits a relatively recent habitat, the Quezon City jail, where he had spent time on drug charges, and where the inmates lovingly welcome him "home."
"Rock ’n roll!" Pepe announces as he strides across the sunny courtyard where the detainees have gathered. He whips out his guitar, acknowledges the camaraderie with his "’tols," plays his old Juan de la Cruz hits, and the calaboose compound is suddenly California with a Taglish twist. A few of the inmates can hardly fight off tears as they recollect great good times with the music idol who had spent a season of immersion with them.
It’s a fine videodocu; we text Howie so – congrats and all that. A week later we were off to Sydney, and we’re happily surprised that artist and editorial cartoonist Edd Aragon already has a tape of it. Of course he’s a fan, and friend, of "Peyaps" Smith, as his Banggaan e-group has re-christened the raspy-voiced idol. In fact, Edd, a budding musician himself – and here we refer to a bud to mean the flowering of friendship – says he’s anticipating Wally Gonzales’ and Joey Smith’s upcoming concert gigs in Sydney.
True enough, a few months later, Edd has Wally and Pepe as special guests at the opening of his art exhibit featuring his invented medium, "Aragonite," that only turns visible on the canvas under UV or what we used to call black light. Some of the paintings are a tribute to our Pinoy rebels and rock artists, from Pepe Rizal to Sampaguita to Pepe Smith.
Edd also does the stage backdrop for Wally’s and Pepe’s well-attended gig. Like Edd, writer-editor-photographer and book maker Ding Roces sends us pictures of the retro get-together Down Under.
A weekend ago, we got word that Wally and Pepe would be performing that Saturday at My Brother’s Moustache in QC, a hangout for Bedans and ballers of all sorts. And did everyone have a ball, with the duo starting out with covers of blues numbers, and eventually reloading their old Pinoy hits. Juan de la Cruz lives!
And where Juan de la Cruz goes – not the band but what it stood and still stands for – we can be sure that Pepe and Wally will continue to document his passage, dish out their tributes to the man on the street, on a jeepney, in the well of our collective unconscious. That same Juan turns into a rock ’n roller with consciousness enhanced by the gardens of the planet, the beer of the universe, the music of the spheres.
Mabuhay si Joey, Pepe, Peyaps!
Last Saturday, a cañao was conducted at the old Bose digs on Cut-Off Road, Quezon Hill in Baguio, to commemorate Santi’s comic disappearance. We all know, of course, that like Elvis, he’s alive and well, maybe somewhere in Mindoro or Cuba. And we’re waiting for Mr. Malaprop to intentionally re-materialize with his words of antic wisdom, misplaced laughter and all.
And on Sunday, Nov. 26, a memorial exhibit, Kartun ni Nonoy Marcelo, will open at 4 p.m. on the seventh floor of Robinson’s Place Residences on Padre Faura St., Ermita, Manila. Organized by collector Atty. Saul Hofileña, Pandy Aviado and Da Marcelo, the exhibit will showcase 30 representative artworks by dear Nonoy. Copies of the book on him, a National Book Award winner, will also be on sale. It will also be the launch of the CD of the Dagalandia rock opera.