Why
the Philippines Are Asia’s Rock Engine
by Bruce Northam
Travel writer Bruce Northam walks, talks, and paddles his way
through the Philippines’ musical history via capital city
Manila and melting pot island Palawan
reprinted with permission of the author - all rights reserved

Weaned on window-side serenades and bred on
unruly karaoke bars, the Filipino culture is a distinctly musical
one that dates back to the early 1500s. The native musicians
of the Philippines—a cluster of more than 7,000 islands
in the western Pacific Ocean—have integrated assorted
American and Spanish influences with the loud, clear voice of
their country’s own musical past to create an infectious
throb that’s catching on. From China to Indonesia, Singapore
to Japan, if there’s an accomplished band on-stage in
Asia, they’re more often than not of Filipino descent.
Arnel PinedaWord has reached America too. Journey
recently recruited Arnel Pineda, a native son of the Philippines,
to take over their lead singing position after viewing some
YouTube clips of him belting uncanny covers of their hit songs.
Of his native land, Pineda says, “It’s
a big sponge that’s open to world music. We grew up breathing
music; it’s in our veins and in our hearts by age five.
It’s infused with our passion.”

It’s been a long and noisy, if highly
romantic, road to the Philippines’ unexpected prominence
in the music world. Its Westernization dates back to when Spain’s
rule of the Philippines gave way to American colonization in
1898. Then, during WWII, the United States brought with it a
Hollywood introduction to the entertainment lifestyle, and among
other things, launched the Filipino rock, jazz, and lounge band
industry. Especially during the Vietnam War, base towns like
Olongapo and Angeles became live Western music hubs. The U.S.
military also left a vintage guitar legacy—hundreds of
collector’s item guitars, many of them Gibsons, found
permanent homes in the Philippines.
Cowboy Santos at Hobbit HouseBut the American
soldiers certainly weren’t the first to introduce the
Filipinos to the guitar. The 333-year Spanish colonial era that
began in 1565 introduced guitars, choirs, and the art of serenading.
Historically, Filipinos have a song for every occasion: rice
planting, night fishing, birthdays, and courtship bids. The
Filipino word for serenade, harana, parallels the Spanish romantic
tradition. For generations, it was common for a man to show
up with a guitar outside his beloved’s home and croon
a love song. In fact, nearly every Filipino man born before
1960 has a vivid, wide-grinning recollection of serenading his
eventual wife—or of being shot down in flames.
Though the Filipino culture is still hopelessly
romantic, the music craze it’s become best known for today
is karaoke and its cousin, videoke. As common as horn-honking
in New York, jukebox-style karaoke and videoke machines, which
incorporate TVs that flash song lyrics, boom from crowded street
corners, dimly-lit bars, and Asia’s biggest malls. The
Philippines gave rise to the modern musical phenomenon in the
late ’80s. Invented by a Filipino man and then sold to
a Japanese investor, karaoke has now proliferated all over the
world.
Manila, the Philippines' Bustling Capital
City
A heavily populated city of 14 million, Manila
is a study of contrasts. Modern yet traditional, Asian in character
but Western in disposition. Inside the capital city’s
music joints—and there are hundreds of them—the
guitar still takes center stage. This is a cultural center where
musicians, not DJs, are still local celebrities.
Manila’s Malate nightlife district alone
has dozens of sing-along bars with non-canned music ranging
from sitar and bongo duos to American Idol-style contestants.
In five bars lining one street, one might find a rock band,
a musical comedy, a trio of women singing and dancing accompanied
by a keyboardist, a jazz singer/pianist, and an acoustic guitar
duo. Serving 50 cent bottles of cold beer, outdoor bargain cafes
and traveler’s hangouts abound, and each spins tunes from
their massive, classic rock and blues CD inventories.
But live rock bands remain the foundation of
Manila’s entertainment scene. The Hobbit House, a downtown
Manila institution, is gritty and fascinating—almost a
Filipino version of New York’s CBGB, except that it’s
entirely staffed by dwarves. Catering to an uptown and downtown
Manila crowd mixed with U.S. Vets and visiting tourists, bands
load in and out while the dwarves carry around trays of beer.
One local band that plays there often is Blue Rats, a blues
ensemble fronted by guitar prodigy Cowboy Santos, who plays
a left-handed Tobacco Sunburst Les Paul. Though Santos has the
easy confidence of a rock star, for now he’s just a local
hero. “My guitar is ready to rock right out of the case,”
he enthuses. “It just makes me feel like a badass.”
A more intimate live music venue is the Casablanca-like
Penguin Cafe, an artsy Malate bar that’s a magnet for
art students and musicians, actors from the Cultural Center
of the Philippines and downtown’s avant garde. Assorted
world music lovers have been mingling here since the early 1980s.
Artwork covers the walls. The absence of an elevated stage,
or cover bands, keeps it bohemian.
Palawan, the Philippines’ Charming
Tropical Paradise

According to some records, music cultivated
its way into the Philippines even before the Spanish towed in
cannonballs, religion, and government. In Palawan, a narrow,
250-mile island paradise bisected by an imposing spine of limestone
karst peaks and flanked by white-sand beaches, the indigenous
lowland aboriginals—the Tagbanuas—expressed love
by singing poems inspired by the inexhaustible variety of nature
sounds. The Tagbanuas imitated the singing of insects and birds
and created a “bird scale.”
Situated in the southwest corner of the Philippines,
Puerto Princesa is Palawan’s main port. One of its 160,000
inhabitants is Bing, a charming mother of five, who relates
being serenaded by her lover several years ago. She recalls
coming to her window at 2 a.m. with talcum powder all over her
face. There stood her now-husband singing, “My love, please
listen to this sad love song which is coming from a loving heart/
Please be generous with your compassion to my pitiful heart
that longs for your love.” Today, he serenades her still.
But during more hospitable hours.
In Palawan’s west coast village of Sabang,
near the site where survivors of Magellan’s expedition
restocked supplies on their way back to Spain, a tour guide
named Danilo rows tourists on three-mile trips through what
is probably the world’s longest underground river. During
one such trip, with only a hand-held lantern illuminating the
subway tunnel-sized passageway, Danilo relates his own serenading
tale. Floating motionless, he turns off his headlamp, and his
passengers follow suit. Amidst the pitch blackness, Danilo admits
that his serenading debut (“breeding season bellow”)
was a failure. Seems the courting stakes are higher in a country
where divorce is still nonexistent.
“She may not have even been home,”
he wonders aloud, as bats and swifts audibly swoop past.
Reemerging into daylight near the cave’s
mouth, past a patch of thousands of quivering bats, Danilo suggests
in soft tones, referencing caves, or love, or both, “Sometimes
it’s best to look back, but not turn back.”
Paddling on, Danilo winks ahead at a waiting
throng of new customers, all female. As he paddles back into
his ‘office’ with a fresh load of cavers, he can
be heard pledging to his female customers that he’s “learning
to play the guitar.” It’s a classic Indo-Pacific
pickup line, and they laugh appreciatively.

Author's Bio
BRUCE
NORTHAM has created travelogues in 100 countries on
every continent. The author and travel columnist lectures on
freestyle travel via the Lordly & Dame speaker's bureau
at universities, corporate events and Governor's Conferences
on Tourism.
He's the travel columnist for Canvas Magazine, a “Green”
Long Island monthly, and The Improper Magazine, a New York Metro
monthly providing the "view askew" for 185,000 readers
from Manhattan to Montauk; bulk of readers reside in the Hamptons
and Manhattan. The former writer-at-large for Blue Magazine,
Northam has also contributed to Newsday, Perceptive Travel,
National Geographic Traveler, New York Post, Details, Men's
Edge, GoNomad.com, Gibson.com and The Meeting Professional.
He's been anthologized in Travelers' Tales and Chicken Soup
for the Soul.
His third book, Globetrotter Dogma: 100 Canons for Escaping
the Rat Race & Exploring the World, was cited by National
Geographic Adventure as one of "Ten better choices: insightful
travelogues that will inspire rather than dictate." (Geographic's
list included The Travels of Marco Polo, by Marco Polo). He's
also the author of The Frugal Globetrotter, and In Search of
Adventure: A Wild Travel Anthology.
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