Gig logos courtesy of tunogtimog.tk

At late, I’ve been sort of a drifter in the so-called local  music “scene”, partly because having to go to all the gigs and listening to the same people and the same songs over and over can eventually grow tiring, (not to mention being coaxed in to yet another drinking session, which I have already outgrown) even though it’s totally hip to support the local music scene. A part of me still thinks that showing up to these things is helpful in mobilizing gigs, and as a result you’ve got a healthy music sub/culture. (Note: In fact, this was exactly what Paolo Castillo and the early Kaibans have envisioned. Making music gigs a habit in order for musicians to habitually create and play music.)

Years later I realized that in Davao, the music culture has met some difficulty in departing from the “gig” machinery.  On one hand, you have got to admire how the locals have finally warmed up to the idea of recording their original music, also home recording at that.  However, recording became an alibi to go out and support yet another gig.   I know I’ll divide the discussion on this but I daresay that music distribution hasn’t outgrown selling CDs to friends (even giving them away for free – as alternative interpretations of “indie” permit).   And so it comes as no surprise that you have a handful of very talented musicians and even music producers that have a day job. Unless you’re the likes of Noel Cabangon, Gauss Obenza, Bayang Barrios, Popong Landero…you know…the MTS people.

In a “scene” where music is appreciated but not necessarily “sold” (not to be confused with “sold out” as that requires a more complex qualification), being a musician  is just not a career option around these parts.  And so Davao has made it possible to have a music scene without a music industry.  Because the latter for me is manifested by the proliferation of artists who have records people go out of their way to buy in order to listen to.  When artists have a listener-ship with demand high enough to “inspire” more music, then tautologically, you’ve got yourself a market.  But unlike this ideal scenario you notice that in Mindanao, the artist is lax on the business side of music.  Which is fine but it’s symptomatic of obscurantism and a low appreciation of independent music.  Independent music is a musical process or genre that is, more often than not, commercially relaxed or devoid of formulaic musicality that the only way to give it artistic justice is for it to be appreciated by as wide an audience as possible.

This is the predominant trend in Mindanao.  We could make an exception of this period in time in Cagayan de Oro, when they were at their most abundant musical days thanks to the emergence of music powerhouses from the city, like Nuncyspungen.   Before even knowing that the band was from CDO, I was able to acquire a copy of their music off Manila racks.  It’s just an example of the potential for artists to enjoy wider circulation than most Mindanaoans.  Although in this case, they had a little help coming from the “South” music industry, which is actually Cebu (it’s strange that they call it South when Mindanao is a lot more…southern).  But I digress.

Digression #2: Wait a minute, what about Myxtreme?  Or Sidecrash?  Aren’t they widely proliferated? Well, I’m only talking about Indie here, get with the program.

Digression #3: What’s Indie by the way? Let’s keep these ideas at bay for now.

I categorically exclude mainstream artists from Mindanao who’ve been absorbed by “big” recording companies because there’s really no point in calling them independent.  And recording companies tend to hegemonize sound such that they become commercial and formulaic – creative impositions that Indie culture resists.  I’d like to think that aside from independence from companies, it can also be said that it’s a culture that resist creative conformity.

And so the point of this article is: Yes, Davao has an existing independent music culture but with some internal issues that need to be addressed in order to grow.  Your thoughts?

On board the Red Ball Express

The road from Bukidnon to Davao is the last stretch for cargo trucks en route from other parts of Mindanao to the trade port at Sasa, and as told to us by manong ”Gerry” a driver of 12 years, it is the most arduous.  The road is full of abrupt curves and rocky parts that ought to be driven on with caution, especially in the dark.  Many deaths have occurred along this path and in Gerry’s career he can name a few of his colleagues.  He laments as he points out an area with an abandoned truck at the side of the road, “Katong usa ka biyernes dara namatay tong kauban nako.” (Just last friday, one of my colleagues died right there).  There was a black stain on the street that looked like mud, which Gerry morbidly insisted was blood.

That night, we had mixed feelings about getting home.  It rained hard all afternoon and the biting mountain wind felt too daunting.  It was a carefree decision to wait for it to subside for a few more hours since we were at a coffeeshop by a gas station.  Our party played poker until we lost track of time then came sun down.  After conferring with locals, we found out that the rural transits would only stop terminal to terminal.  And so our only chance to get home was if we got on a non-airconditioned bus, a chartered van, a friend willing to pick us up and finally a hitch.   Our first option was a non-airconditioned bus, but every time one passed by it swept by too fast.  We were stranded even after the coffeeshop and the gas station had to close for the day.  To while away the idle time, we drank wine, some coke and ate packed dinner.  Back in Davao, the night would have been as young as us.  But in the midst of the provincial highlands, we were the only ones awake.

When Jerry spotted us and decided to halt, Karla was apprehensive to climb up the truck and I suppose, some of it rubbed off on me until I said to myself, “There’s five of us”.  I have never hitchhiked before in my life but I’ve always wanted to.  All the reservations I might have to that possibility was due to the obvious fact that it’s not safe to do alone. 

Hitchhiking is a game of chance and has the same risks of being exposed to a potentially dangerous stranger.  This option should only be open when your party is desperate to go home. Yes, traveling is naturally more exciting when it’s spontaneous and less expensive, in fact, Gerry refused to take our money.  But I don’t think it’s wise to travel by intentionally hitchhiking all the way.  Besides, it is virtually impossible to get to hitch on a truck whose driver doesn’t want to run the risk of being caught by monitors, as it is grounds for suspension.  A traveler’s wanton ways could cost someone’s job.

As it turns out, hithhiking was as fascinating as I had thought it to be.  I was quickly enthused by the driver who had stories to tell about other hitchhikers and of the road.  The idea that I was on a twelve-wheeler truck carrying pineapples from Mao, Lanao due for shipment to Japan was infinitely more intriguing than taking the bus from point A to point B.  I imagined what it would be like to regularly hitchhike, and my conclusion was that the journey had an indirect sideshow, like it was its own mobile entertainment.  The stories that could be told between the hikers and drivers amounted to more travel experience that Confucius would probably be proud of.

May the universe gift your soul with more good vibrations, “Gerry”.