‘Random Karaoke Girl’ gets to dance Gangnam with Ellen

When Zendee Tenerefe, 21, emerged from being just the random girl singing karaoke at the mall, to earning a standing ovation for her performance as a guest on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, we couldn’t help but trace the parallels to the story of Charice Pempengco, who rose to fame when Oprah discovered her remarkable talent.

Zendee’s claim to fame took off when camera footage of her singing on a demo karaoke machine went viral on YouTube. People started to notice, “Who the hell is this random karaoke girl?” The video reached over two million hits within a few months. Ellen DeGeneres being one of them.

Of course stories like Zendee’s appeal to American daytime TV. This is a golden underdog story: the brown-skinned girl with kinky curls from a Third World country, who clearly has talent, discovered amid the most unusual situation.

For some reason, this effect doesn’t resonate as much with Filipinos here, and is probably also the same reason why even Charice has a mixed and extreme fan base, either really strong supporters or really zealous haters, even among our countrymen. Could be because there is already an ideal of what local pop stars should look and act like, seeing as they are packaged and crafted so well by the local showbiz industry, and neither Charice nor Zendee fit the mold. Or maybe we are so used to hearing about rags-to-riches stories. Some of the country’s most famous taipans share the same hardships.

Despite Zendee’s life, which has sort of become an old chestnut, I still find myself quite in awe of her. And it’s not just her story that I find particularly interesting.

A local of General Santos City, Zendee came to Manila with her mother after she made the initial cut on a talent show, X Factor. But once the competition got tighter, and the 168 participants had to be narrowed down to 20, Zendee didn’t make it.

Ashamed to go home because of the hyped-up sendoff she had received from her classmates when she left, she decided to stay in Manila. “Imbis na umuwi kami sa kinabukasan, sabi ko, wag na kasi nakakhiya. Grabe eh may mga poster na sila! Nahiya ako, sabi ko huwag muna, maghahanap muna ako ng trabaho. (Instead of going home the next day, I said, let’s not because it’s embarrassing. They had posters! I got embarrassed. I’ll look for a job first.)”

But Zendee and her mother did not have any relatives in Manila. They had to contact Tita Gladys, a friend of Zendee’s mom from long ago, who helped them get a place in a fire station in Mandaluyong. “After office hours, dun lang kami naglalatag. Tapos bukas na naman, aayusin na ulit, kasi may trabaho na sila. (After office hours, that’s the only time we can lie down. And then tomorrow, it’ll be arranged again because there’s work again.)”

It was just an ordinary day at the mall, while waiting for her mom to finish grocery shopping, when she watched a man finish a karaoke song at an appliance store and decided she wanted to sing herself. “Sabi ko, kuya pwede pakanta? Sabi niya, ‘teh, bibili ka ba? Nako nahiya ako! So sabi ko, ‘kuya pa-try mo sakin, taga Gen. San ako. Pakantahin mo ako. (I said, ‘Brother, can I sing?’ He said, ‘Sister, are you gonna buy?’ I got embarrassed. So I said, ‘Let me try first. I’m from GenSan. Let me sing.)’” After one song, the few people standing around started clapping. Time passed and she soon reached five songs, much to the pleasure of the audience. “Naka limang songs ako kasi nag ‘more, more, more’ sila. Nabigla nalang ako ang daming tao nanonood. Di ko lang alam may nakapag-video sakin. (I did five songs because they asked for more, more more. I got surprised because my audience got bigger. I didn’t know someone was taking a video of me.)”

Her fourth song, And I Am Telling You, is the one that went viral. “Puro foreigners ang nagcocomment. Ang daming nag-e-mail kay Ellen na nagrequest na papuntahin dun si ‘Random Girl.’ (It was all foreigners who commented. So many people e-mailed Ellen requesting for ‘Random Girl.’)”

After her first hit, Zendee started going around different shopping malls, looking for demo karaoke machines and singing for the people. Obviously, this is a gutsy girl with a damn big heart. This is a girl who told the Manny Pacquiao personally, “Sir Manny, tulungan mo akong sumikat. Hindi ka magsisisi. (Sir Manny, please help me become famous. You won’t regret it.)”

But all of this isn’t really what I found particularly interesting about her.

What made me instantly realize the kind of gem Zendee is happened only for a brief moment, in the middle of a TV commercial production where she plays lead talent, a small moment that probably no one noticed but me.

It happens in between one of the takes. Zendee walks back to her dressing room to get changed. The shoot is in a steel factory, and it’s a regular working day, so there are factory workers at work, but obviously curious about the production that is taking place. They are uncertain of who Zendee is, but certain that she must be somebody. Some begin to take out their cell phones to snap a few pictures as she walks by.

I recall this one specifically, one factory worker who pulls out his phone to take her picture, hoping to get a memento perhaps of this star. To his surprise, she stops to pose for him so he struggles to take the picture quickly as she stands in front of him smiling. Then, as if Zendee just seemed to realize the ridiculousness of the situation, she grabs the phone from his hand, stands beside him, and faces the camera around to take a self-portrait of the both of them. Because wouldn’t that be a better picture, she probably thought. When it’s done, she chirpily returns his phone and proceeds to the dressing room. Meanwhile, he stands there smiling, stunned.

And in that moment, I knew what kind of a gem Zendee Tenerefe was, and a tinge of disappointment sank inside me, knowing that maybe the industry, the business, would rough the gem up a little bit. Would it lose its sparkle?

Our interview lasts only a short while, but in the middle she struggles as she bursts into yawns. “Ay grabe, inaantok ako (Oh, I’m getting sleepy),” she says, still smiling. After getting signed to a major record label, having her first product endorsement, and being featured in one of America’s biggest daytime shows, Zendee’s life has not been her own, living by a schedule dictated by others. I know, because I had a very difficult time trying to squeeze myself in as well.

During our departure, I ask if I could take a picture with her. I hand my phone to someone else, and she comments, “Wow, Apple. Magkakaroon rin ako ng ganyan (I’m going to have one of those) one day.”

A few days later, she got an iPad 3. A gift from Ellen.