Back to basics

Of all the music albums I own, I always come back to the likes of Nevermind, Siamese Dream, The Downward Spiral, Superunknown, and the rest of the early 90s alterna-groups that were ushered into the era by the massive commercial success of Nirvana's second album. Suddenly music that was supposed to be an alternative to the pop music that dominated the airwaves hijacked MTV and got 24/7 attention and substantial following from youth across the world; and that, ironically, 'alternative music' became the new pop.

Not since the Beatles had bands enjoyed mass popularity and support. It was not uncommon during the early 90s to tune in to MTV and see videos of guitar-based groups populating different programs of the iconic media giant. For every one featured pop artist like Seal, Mariah Carey, or Toni Braxton, ten bands were next. From the testosterone-heavy (Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots) to riot grrls (Hole, Babes In Toyland, L7) to college favorites (R.E.M, Pavement, 10,000 Maniacs) to buzz bands (Live, Dig, Cracker, Collective Soul), it was, for an impressionable little boy like me on the onset of puberty, perfect.

Perfect timing in a sense that rock music got into high gear when I was in that impressionable age. With the perpetual scowl of the 'go away leave me alone' phase of adolescence. The introspective lyrics and critical self-examination of the musicians that dominated that era profoundly affected a lot of my generation's outlook well beyond the school years. It was pop music that aimed to commune and communicate to its audience telling everyone they know how they feel despite the gloom-laden messages, instead of the prancing and preening about of pop musicians these days telling everyone how rich, how great and how deserving they are of people's undivided attention.

It was an era when concert-going was like a religious experience. Where people came not to be seen, but to feel and commune with like-minded misfits who exorcised their frustrations, alienation, and anger through the band who also felt, identified, and even looked like the audience. It's gone now. And in its place are pale, superficial imitations bludgeoned even deeper to obscurity by big-named "artists" who have very little in common with the people who idolize them.

But that's the thing about recordings. You can play them again over and over and relive what it was like to be in a certain era you were proud of. And maybe, if you're lucky, take new audience members for the ride and let them in that past-but-hardly-forgotten era when listening to music was exhilarating and gave the listener a sense of belonging.

105.9 Retro FM

Listening to FM radio has been one of the many constant pleasures that has not been totally eradicated by advancements in technology and availability of free data at the click of a button. Especially in a place where digital information is not readily accessible to the majority of the population. In that regard, free TV and radio are still the main form of entertainment and news-gathering sources for most Filipinos. 

 Growing up in a province from the mid-80s to the late 90s, free TV and radio were the only electronic means I could link up to the rest of the world. Cable TV was not even available to our place by the boondocks and the net was a decade away from being a household commodity. All the information about pop culture and the trends in music (that I was starting to really get into) were supplemented by back issues of magazines, paperbacks, and comic books from second-hand bookstores, rentals, and local flea market sales.

All this time the radio in the room was on, constantly tuned in to the local rock station churning out the latest 'alternative' single after the next. And going to classes in the city meant commuting and being subjected to the more traditional programming of other stations the drivers favored. One of the noticeable things about that experience is that while I was totally indifferent to what I was subjected to on a daily basis, I have observed that most of the songs these various mainstream stations aired during the late afternoon and early evenings when I was on the way home from school, were singles I heard as a toddler and still continue to hear at the same span of time even today.

The usual songs you'd hear from these stations' programming at dusk were what I jokingly called 'jeepney hits'. Usually tracks from the early 70s to mid-80s slow rock, disco, folk music, new wave, synth-pop, Italo, and Pinoy novelty songs  dominated the air during early evenings. So it's not uncommon to hear Air Supply, Queen, Starship, Boston, Yes, Duran Duran, America, Toto, and the rest at this time.

I ignored it back then, too caught up in being a music snob to appreciate them. It's only after a few years, and being away from the place that I grew up for so long made me appreciate them when I heard the very same type of programming in a different place. Thing about music is that it brings you back to specific events when you hear a familiar tune. I even wrote about it a few years ago.

The good thing about having a station like 105.9 Retro is that it provides listeners an option to be in that zone anytime they want to without interruption. For a few minutes or even hours in a day, the familiar tunes you heard during happier times in a place you called home brings you back like a welcome time traveling vessel.

R.E.M.: 1980-2011

I considered calling this post It's the end of REM as we know it. An obvious tongue-in-cheek reference to the recent retirement of the band, and their 1987 single off their album Document. But that has an unpleasant ring of permanence to it as if the members died or actually wouldn't do any other productive things thereafter. And the fact that a million others titled their article like that.


All bands eventually succumb to this; it's just a matter of time. It's actually surprising the band held out for as long as 31 years.


I never considered myself a big fan of the group. But I do have three albums I enjoy spinning every now and then, mostly the later works they did for Warner Music after they departed from IRS Records.


"Losing My Religion" was the single that sparked my interest for the band, and I even had the mistaken notion that it was a debut single coming from a new act that obviously benefited from what Nirvana did in ushering the alternative era and making college music cool enough to merit endless airings in MTV and mainstream radio. It had a jangly, catchy pop hook to it that was missing in most of the hard rock crunch of the distortion-heavy groups I listened to in heavy rotation that time. The lead singer, a good friend would later comment, even looked like a geek and slightly gay version of 90210's Luke Perry.


R.E.M was my introduction to 'rock' music minus the cock-rock and macho BS-posturing and moping evident in some of the buzz bands that took up most of my collection. While the band may take it negatively being referred to as rock musicians, or being purveyors of music anywhere remotely near the term rock, is beside the point. I always believed 'rock' meant not doing the same asinine disposable top 40 single with the shelf life of two days. 

R.E.M., Murmur era, 1983

Out Of Time (1991) was the first album I had of the band, mainly because of "Losing My Religion" and my budding interest to a local newspaper (Teddy Locsin's TODAY) column by someone named Jessica Zafra. She practically worshiped them, not unlike a religious zealot---most especially lead singer Michael Stipe---that I had to find out for myself that the group was more than just the single I came to know them for. 


I did not like the album that much. It was good, but not great. At least in my opinion that time.


It was too adult contemporary rock for me, being only 14 and still maintaining my stand that Megadeth is the best band of the last 1000 years. It was hardly the kind of band who channeled the angst, confusion and rebellious sentiments of the turmoils of adolescence unlike Green Day or Pearl Jam. 


 I walked out of it more than a little disappointed and thinking only "Losing My Religion" and "Near Wild Heaven" were the only great tracks on it. It was relegated to the last section of the drawer where I kept most of my cassettes (CD cost too much back then, even more so now) to be played now and then when I have had too much of the ear-splitting approach of their much louder Seattle counterparts or the token thrash metal records I had in abundance. In other words, it served as an intermission record for the next how many years I had left in high school, and had to get another copy of it when I entered college due to an unfamiliar deck's messing up the cassette ribbon into a tangled mass of trash.


By this time, and probably because of the hormones starting to stabilize coupled with reading some of the major music publications as well as an unconscious need for variety in listening materials, I gave the album (the new copy) another spin and found myself warming up to it a lot more than the first time I listened. I found myself sitting through the entire tape, with a few rewinds to the track "Belong"---wondering how the hell I missed such a good song and skipping it all these years. 

Automatic For The People (1992) is the best R.E.M album according to most publications and even Peter Buck (guitars) himself, but the one I wore out due to repeated playing was the little known New Adventures In Hi-Fi (1996). Out of the three albums I had, the latter was probably the one that had the most resonance to me. I don't know, maybe the fact that most of the songs were recorded live in various locations, sound checks and dressing rooms while on the Monster tour and still sounded a lot better than other overproduced garbage of that time was the reason. And that the songs had a floaty, introspective feel to them not even readily apparent in all other earlier songs I heard from them. If I were a superstitious man I'd  attribute the overwhelming sense of melancholia that pervades the entire record as an omen for drummer Bill Berry's departure a year later.


Hardcore fans thought the abrupt departure of the drummer would deal a blow so big the band would quit shortly after that. They didn't. Even made at least five other albums, with the latest released just last March of this year. What makes REM unique is that unlike some of their peers who achieved legendary cult statuses due to stopping at the peak of their artistic apex, they decided to milk the possibilities dry. 


Bands like Nirvana, Pavement, Radiohead, and Live all proclaim reverence to the group. And rightly so, because while Michael Stipe and Co may sound weird and so out of touch to today's contemporary music scene, their brand of DIY cool set the template for all other bands to follow. What I liked most about the band was that they were never saddled with the hubris that came with the 'indie' or college music tag. They helped define the indie genre that produced them, and at the same time maintained a comfortable distance from it that you rarely hear snotty indie aficionados name drop them in discussions. An indication that they never allowed to let themselves get pegged on a certain spot. And even when the later albums and songs were not as sharp or as potent as the singles that defined them, you'd have to give them credit for not copping out on it all too quickly.


And that, as they say, is that.

Ball tongue

I made a bet with my wife saying that Korn's opening song in last night's Araneta concert in Cubao would be "Blind", the first track off their impressive self-titled debut. We walked in presumably several minutes after the opener's (local group Slapshock) performance. There was a DJ/programmer onstage who was probably a tour member of the band entertaining the crowd and no doubt, doing a little intermission before the main show.He was playing tracks like Ramms+ein's "Du Hast" and The Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up", doing his best to alleviate the crowd's growing impatience for the band.


True enough, a few minutes later someone growled a guttural "ARE...YOU...READYYYYY?!!" from the darkness of the stage and the band erupted into a frenzy of throbbing intensity that sent audiences jumping around like living pogo sticks. I collected my winnings and joined the communal jumping and repetitive head-bobbing. 


Jonathan Davis, wearing a kilt, black tank top and badass boots and the rest of the band---guitarist Munky, bassist Fieldy and drummer Ray Luzier--- looked pumped and ready to prove once again that they are the real deal when it came to dealing out hard-driving music that is equal part introspective musing and antagonistic missiles delivered via Davis's trademark scat and unique singing and snarling.

The venue may not have been that packed (some areas within the upper boxes had entire sections devoid of people), but the band went at it like the true professionals they are and gave their all as if playing to an audience of thousands. Just a little surprised at the noise-mongers situated near the general admissions area earlier before the show started to have quieted down the moment the band took stage. You'd think the rowdy bunch shouting catcalls and demands to already start the show would live out to their promise earlier.


Pansies.


You'd think a crowd showing such passionate cries for attention would have enough left to take them through the rest of the show. Never did trees look so alive compared to most of them when the show was already on full swing. 


I admit my familiarity with the band is limited, having heard only the first three albums they released from 1994-1998. There were songs last night I was not familiar with or heard only in passing in some rock radio, but seeing the band performing live is a sight to behold. Specially Davis, whose gyrations and overall appearance was sure to leave a lasting impression to both hardcore fans and casual listeners alike. Someone at the back even asked why the hell the guy wore a 'skirt'. 


But the highlight of the evening was when "Shoots and Ladders" was played. I always wanted to see them play that on a live setting. The bagpipes adds a touch of majestic grandeur to an otherwise heavy and sludgy music. And it doesn't hurt that it was also the first time I actually saw someone playing a bagpipe on a concert. 


Singles like "Ball Tongue", "Freak On A Leash", "Falling Away From Me', and other songs were interconnected by a little playful medley that featured parts of Metallica's "One" and Queen's "We Will Rock You". They played masterfully, as expected from a band well-versed in hip-hop throb and hard rock crunch. But more than that, it was the band's good-natured humor that sold everyone.


I was afraid Fieldy's drop-tuned bass would blow the speakers from the inside-out, or flatten everyone's chest all the way to their backs with its incessant pounding. It was that heavy and no doubt the driving rhythm responsible to everyone's communal headbanging and jumping. Along with him and Davis, Munky (guitars) is the other original member left from the old line-up. Out of all the members I expected the guy to be the most aloof and quiet member but turned out to be a very warm and accommodating person to his fans, acknowledging the audience every now and then.


They ended the set with a promise to return. 


This time don't miss it.

Radio for your head: Why Radiohead elitists make me puke

Radiohead's 'Creep' was one of the few alternative-era songs I didn't respond to favorably at first when it hit the local airwaves. 


I was in high school listening to existential and angry music of that era like Metallica, Pearl Jam Guns N' Roses, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Megadeth, Alice In Chains, and the rest of the brooding, throat-shearing, guitar shredding, and flannel-clad, Doc Martens-wearing posse that dominated the pop music climate back then. 


What struck me with that song was how whiny and un-badass sounding it was next to bare-knuckled alternative rock singles like 'Rape Me' and 'Jeremy'. Me and a good friend even joked about the band's trying-hard attempt to sound grunge-y with that all-too familiar crunch guitar noise that comes out of nowhere just before the chorus hits.


That lead singer Thom Yorke sings in a higher falsetto register that sounded too... girly... compared to the popular testosterone-heavy, baritone growl that Eddie Vedder unwittingly set loose upon the world to be used as an instrument of evil by the likes of Scott Stapp and Nickelback, did not help at all. The band members even looked like scrawny, effeminate Vogue model extras who probably got bullied all the time when they were still in school.

Due to endless rotations on MTV, label promotions and strong word of mouth following, Radiohead was ushered into the alternative scene with their unique brand of music that spawned at least another single ('Stop Whispering') that I found more catchy than their banner hit.


But Pablo Honey (1993) won't make it to my collection for at least another ten years. By this time, I have already concluded The Bends (1995) is the best Radiohead album (and one of the best of all time). The overhyped OK Computer (1997) was good, but it was a little too electronica for the band. I like electro-beats, and mechanical bleeps just as much as the next Kraftwerk and Aphex Twin fan---no doubt the template with what they wanted to emulate that time---but I always liked them better singing introspective songs with traditional instruments with the least assistance from synthesizers and sound processors. Case in point: 'High And Dry', 'Fake Plastic Trees', 'Just' and 'Lurgee'. 


Devastating songs that hit you straight in the chest instead of the intellect that mutated into something annoying via rabid fanboys of the band during their later years.


Call me an ignorant philistine but every single Radiohead review, forum discussion, and even the occasional celeb rant almost always contain words likes 'avant-garde', 'erudite', 'artful', 'profound' 'boldest artistic statement', 'genius' and every other intellectual jerkoff terms people scoured the thesaurus with just to describe the band's music. I have never seen/read so much hubris outside of a few forums and video sites that are frequented by snarky jazz music, and Stanley Kubrick enthusiasts.





They are exceptional musicians. Make no mistake about it. Definitely up there with the greats like The Beatles and Miles Davis. But what I do find annoying is the constant edification of the band's fans like they were incapable of making a bad-sounding record because, well, they are Radiohead. It's one of the universal truths, apparently. Understandable behavior from fans, of course. But I suspect a more phoney motivation in that type of following.


There's this unwritten rule that floats around music snobs and indie circles that you can never go wrong with weird.  Of course, the moment MTV plays you, you cease being weird and it's adios muchachos as far as street-cred and artistic integrity is concerned. Even if you're a musician utilizing chainsaws as major instruments or singing about the most mundane things and giving it a little twist by, say, doing something totally self-deprecating and crazy but art-y, that (usually) bespectacled twits are gonna call deep and artistic.


Radiohead are equal parts pop and indie music, in that they are often featured prominently in some of the most popular music rags like Rolling Stone Magazine and SPIN;  be seen on  MTV and other music channels, and can even elicit a slight ripple of familiarity form today's TOP 40 audience. And indie, because most of the latest material the band had produced aren't exactly designed for Starbucks, high school proms, or your average Katy Perry-listening teenager. They're just popular and relevant while retaining a sense of being alienating to most casual listeners, that a lot of the members of their fan base lap up. Like what I previously said about most indie music fans, they'd gobble anything not particularly appealing to most because they see/hear something most of the braindead MTV audience do not. Ergo, superior taste and intellect than most.


Not to mention the elitism and pomposity that goes with the honor of being a 'fan'. Time and again I have witnessed people insinuate, even in a respectful discussion, that a person is "too far off in the mainstream conditioning" or simply" just do not understand the band" when he expresses an opposing, but respectful opinion. Instead of a regular 'its just your opinion' kiss-off, you'd get a full page, single-space lecture on how bad your taste is for not comprehending the glory that is the band. And their boldness to push the limits of music to another level. Rolling Stone writer Rob Sheffield received it with both barrels when he spoke about the band's latest opus in less than flattering terms.


Radiohead has become the musical equivalent of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some parts are spectacular, some are not; and you don't particularly get it.


But you just have to like it.

'Bout a boy his name was Sue

Loud. The damned thing was too loud.


Of all the series of concerts from foreign artists I have watched in Araneta Coliseum, the Stone Temple Pilots gig will probably come across as the most sonically punishing of the lot. Not even the fabled abrasive industrial noise of Nine Inch Nails produced such ear-splitting intensity when they performed back in August 2009.


It was so great of an auditory assault I felt that familiar New Year's eve sensation when you detonated a horrendously huge firecracker at very close proximity; it is characterized by that constant ringing drone and the feel of an ear stuffed with cotton. That was the case after each song. It was 'loud' in a volume knob turned all the way to the right kind of loud; Disney's Happy Monster Band could be playing and your ears would still hurt. Nothing to do at all with the genre of music or musical intensity of the artist, but an abnormally cranked up volume control. Even singer Scott Weiland's voice, that great melodic set of pipes got drowned amidst the guitar and drum attack of Dean DeLeo and Eric Kretz (both playing with supreme skill and mastery) more than half the time.


I don't know if the band intentionally did that but I'll be damned if my hearing has not deteriorated after that concert. 

They started late, presumably because they had to rouse Weiland from a drug-induced coma. I'm not so sure how sober the guy is nowadays but he looked relatively healthy last night compared to the gaunt and skinny publicity photos he had at the height of his drug addiction. The singer danced and preened through several radio-friendly hits, much to the delight of the audience, which was composed predominantly of people within the late 20s and early 30s mark. We were in high school when STP hit it big. Do the math.


'Crackerman' was the opener, and that set everyone on their feet. It was mostly a catalogue of old hits from their top 3 albums: Core (1993), Purple (1994), and Tiny Music...Songs From The Vatican Gift Shop (1996). ALL the singles were played except for 'Creep'. Now that mystified me not because I needed to hear them play it (I'm partial to 'Wicked Garden' and 'Tripping On A Hole In A Paper Heart'---and they thankfully played those), but compared to 'Plush', that song has a lot more going to it, in my opinion. A smattering of new and decent-sounding singles from their new record were played, causing most of the audience to sit down and keep quiet, which can be embarrassing to both performer and some viewers.


All through the entire proceedings bass player Robert DeLeo kept the groove, horsing around most of the time with the audience members nearest him. But his highlight came when 'Interstate Love Song' was played. If there's one thing that stands out about that single, it is the great bassline done by this Deleo brother. And Weiland's great singing. That you cannot dispute.





It was a performance punctuated by Weiland's occasional joking---even parodying professional ring announcer Michael Buffer as he introduced his guitar player as Joe Frazier and bass player as Muhammad Ali. No doubt, referring to the Ali-Frazier Thrilla In Manila fight in 1975, also held in Araneta Coliseum.


It was a great concert, no doubt. If only my ears would stop ringing.