“Tango—Philippine-style: tañga na gago pa!” — Teodoro M. Locsin Sr., Philippines Free Press
What am I listening to? That’s something I’m often asked, along with my colleagues Luis Katigbak and Quark Henares. It’s understandable, given that two of us are professional music reviewers and the other is undoubtedly an impresario; heck we even made our own music awards called QLE (yep, after our initials, buddy) just to show how much we think of our tastes in music. But at its heart it is a passion that we’re all proud of. So much so that the three of us hardly agree with each other when it comes to albums, artists or songs. Which is great and the way it should be. Music shouldn’t be democratic — at least regarding matters of taste. Each should be his or her own despot.
The first impulse of any critic should be of love, as our late friend Alexis Tioseco once wrote. And if there’s anything positive that came about from his murder it’s that what we love can stand out in stark relief to the bull that surrounds us: the fact that a Quezon City government state prosecutor tells us that we need six months for a warrant for a suspect-at-large or that Carlo J. Caparas was “supposed” to be our National Artist or that Gilbert Teodoro isn’t half the guy Gang Badoy is. (That’s a compliment, Gang.) Or that he played an instrumental role in making sure that 20 million coconut farmers didn’t get their just due from the Coco Levy Scam of his uncle. Or the fact that the LGBT community is suffering from a state-instituted bigotry by non-accreditation by the COMELEC; or that a competent, brilliant, passionate, compelling, courageous candidate like Risa Hontiveros is lagging behind the surveys (and dunderheads like Lito Lapid, Bong Revilla and whoever godforsaken “senatoriable” we have is not, despite not being half the person she is. (Okay, that’s a better compliment, Tita Gang, but we love ya, you know it.) No matter how much we look at it and try to see the light, we look at the glass darkly.
But to listen to glorious music! Ah, that remains unsullied despite the crapola they’re still peddling to us. The great thing is these days we don’t have to listen to “them” anymore. Not as much as before anyway, and not like before we don’t. Piracy has benefited this country more than Edu Manzano has ever done with his acting or other related duties ever did. And the rise of independent music has given much to cheer for in local music, or to be cheerful about, at the very least. The times may suck, but the sounds are still sweet. A balm, if you like. (Not enough to fill the void you left when you did us, but it’ll have to do, man. I’m also talking about Je Bautista and someone else who is thankfully still around. We love you all. Please remember that.)
So, what am I listening to? Great… Brilliant question and with an answer that’s not as smart-alecky as Alexis would’ve eloquently conveyed with a smile, but the answer is loads. Even better I think I’ve already heard what may well possibly be my personal choice as the best album for 2010. And it’s none other than seminal hardcore band Throw’s third album “Believe,” possibly the best of their career and up there with the best of their frontman Al Dimalanta’s other stuff.
Not exactly a throwback to his former group the Dead Ends nor is it either something completely different from what’s differentiated Dimalanta as one of our greatest songwriters and voices in local hardcore. Caustic as ever as heard on songs such as This Government and Eleksyon —his rage still pummeled forward by an intense, sensitive intellect that remains engaged and is still pissed off by it all.
The title track itself — for want of a better word or just the poverty of the vocabulary of this music reviewer — is an anthem: but the kind that really means something. Not a handy word to bandy about some song riddled with a derivative riffage or some ill-thought proselytizing complete with white flag or, worse, no shirt. Believe is about as charged as you can get it — you can hear it the intent, the narrowed eyes trying to see past the slam-dancing audience to the streets outside and all its clutter to within his own reasons for being there in the first place, screaming his soul out for the kids. And it’s tender, too, a lament about ideals that grow gray with age set to a lovely tune that complements the song’s struggle to retain some form of optimism after all of this, all these years. There’s an audible hurt in the music and in Dimalanta’s voice that belies the belief he seems to have spent most of his career trying to keep together. “All we ever wanted was to believe,” goes the song’s chorus and we can only nod (not slam anymore) to its sentiments. But we are moved.
And though this column usually avoids any special mention of how good the band is (if the music is good then they’re supposed to be), this current lineup of guitarist Albert Ascona, bassist Dennis Maniego and drummer Spyk Maniego is just worthy of praise. Tight but with a palpable passion in their playing that’s quite rare these days of professional session players or enthusiasm but without chops. This is hardcore, Manila-style. The way it was supposed to be; the way we always knew it, the way we’ve never heard it before.
And, this is what makes us still believe. Thanks guys — we’ll keep listening.
What else am I listening to?
Here’s a mix-tape for you all (with apologies to Luis):
1. Future Generation (originally by Private Stock but as covered by Bad Omen from their album “God Is Everywhere”)
2. Them Changes by Buddy Miles (from the album of the same name)
3. The entire side A of Frank Zappa’s “Chunga’s Revenge”
4. Not to Touch the Earth by The Doors
5. Pull Up to the Bumper by Grace Jones (from “Island Life”)
6. The whole “In a Nutshell” LP by Orange Juice
7. The Falconer by Nico (from her “Desertshore” album)
8. You’re Irresistible by The Tsunami Tsunami
9. Loneliness Remembers What Happiness Forgets by Dionne Warwick
10. Climate Spike by Moon Fear Moon (from “Architexture”)