Torrential rains never sounded this good
December 8, 2006 | 12:00am
With the knowledge that a super typhoon was entering the country, people last week were readying themselves for every worst-case scenario. Power interruptions would require fresh batteries and candles; water should be saved and covered well; canned food and other easy-to-prepare items were to be bought in bulk.
Living in the Philippines, typhoons are commonplace, nothing out of the ordinary. It is sad, however, when information doesn’t reach those who need it most. Our brothers and sisters in the areas of Bicol, Mindoro and Marinduque were badly hit by typhoon Reming, and our prayers go out to them.
No one wants a super typhoon to hit the country. Even if people enjoy the opportunity to skip work, school or other responsibilities, they still think about those who feel the brunt of any calamity. Those directly affected may be hurt, or worse, die in the deluge. The country’s economy suffers. Our lands are ravaged. In short, typhoons are very costly and dangerous. Like the last one, Milenyo, which taught us all that billboards and advertising have a lethal potential (the bigger the advert, the more motorists and bystanders it can hit in a single go). Or even years back, when a typhoon rated signal number 4 hit Baguio and you could literally hear wind whistling, trees falling in the distance – some pretty scary stuff.
But then again, there are storms that you know you don’t mind enduring. Like when school is cancelled because of a signal number 2 warning, and all that’s going on outside is a light drizzle. A light drizzle can’t be affecting too many people; and besides, you can gauge when and when not to feel bad about a storm. Or when PAGASA just totally bombs out on a prediction they make. That simply rules. Not just for me or anyone else who doesn’t really like the idea of Politics and Governance 100 at 8:30 in the morning; but for those who may truly be affected by a big storm.
And then there are some storms that you will wait a year and a half anticipating. Like Blue Monsoons, to be precise.
Last Wednesday, Capone’s on Valero Street in Salcedo Village, Makati, was the site of a huge musical storm. Great bands played that night, including Verb and Chillitees, while ace DJ Caliph8 was on the deck spinning some great tunes. However, the highlight of the night was the album launch of "Blue Monsoon," local band Sound’s sophomore effort. To those who are not familiar with the band, their first album is entitled "BossaManila" (grab a copy if you can), which gives a modern and Filipinized twist to the bossa nova genre. "Blue Monsoon" retains some of "BossaManila"’s traits, but it is a whole other story altogether.
Where "BossaManila" was light, breezy and somewhat aloof, "Blue Monsoon" has an entirely different tone. It is edgy and demands more than a single listen. Both Sound albums take listeners on a journey, but "Blue Monsoon" seems to go farther. I guess this is what second albums are all about – more experiences, deeper meanings. The title can’t be more apt. Monsoons are downpours and blue is associated with so many more emotions than sadness. The album isn’t sad, per se, but it does explore a wider array of feelings. And boy, does it pour these feelings on you. In short, you’re affected. I know I am.
From track one to 15, Sound takes listeners through emotional leaps and bounds. The eclectic mix of jazz, breakbeat drum ‘n’ bass, and that distinct Pinoy flavor make listening to "Blue Monsoon" a trip. The opening track, Blue Monsoon, is an ode to the changing times and how there is a longing for the good old days ("Looking for cover/ when the weather won’t turn/ looking for color/ in a black and white world/ as the waters rise/ emotions high/ and currents sweep us back inside/ to dream of times of love and sunshine/ when every day was Sunday"). Bagong Siglo asks the world when change for the better is supposed to happen, perhaps in our own country where we suffer so many trials ("Puwede ho bang magtanong?/ ito na ba ang bagong siglo?/ nakarating na tayo?"). Hip-hop-inspired Maynila is dedicated to the city we reside in, and how we are, in so many ways, a part of it ("Nagising sa koro ng busina/ awitin mo’y muling kinakanta/ sa gitna ng katok ng tambutso/ libu-libong taong nagkaisang/ sundin ang tambol mo"). The success of any album is how it stimulates certain feelings in individuals. "Blue Monsoon" does more than succeed in that department.
And this is because of a team effort. At the expense of sounding redundant, Sound is a solid unit of sound – a veritable wall of music. Each member brings something that gives truth to that old maxim "unity in diversity." Of course, there is vocalist/guitarist Sach Castillo whose striking lyrics and vocal prowess are bound to catch your attention. David Esteban, the group’s percussionist, keeps you moving with his infectious playing. Paolo Lim, drummer and anchor of the band, plays with a pleasingly different sense of time altogether. Keyboard master Malek Lopez takes listeners far away and back with his space-y synth licks and jazzy keyboard stylings. Chad Rialp plays tight yet explorative bass lines that consolidate the band sound. Lastly, Chino Yuson’s catchy guitar licks and riffs add yet another layer of icing to the cake. It’s all about a good balance, and Sound seems to have found that in "Blue Monsoon."
I love how Sound ends this album. They followed their first album and ended it all with a reprise – a final say on the state of everything that’s already been declared. On "Blue Monsoon," it’s Blue (Reprise), a grace note to whatever feelings they already conveyed throughout the album. What better way to end any album than with a fast and groovy exclamation of the truth – the truth that stems from hope and a positive outlook on things, no matter how blue they get: "When we’re through/ running from goodbyes/ when we’re through/ swimming for the sunrise/ there’ll be music and sound."
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