Many things were said about the Eraserheads Reunion concert, not one of them critical, every one hopeful for a repeat or continuation. Which is understandable for those of us who are fans. To us, a reunion has always seemed impossible, even if - or maybe because - all we knew about the breakup was that it was a bad one. Too, loyal fans who have followed the individual careers and lives of Ely, Raimund, Buddy and Marcus must rightfully feel ambivalent: insisting on a reunion is, to a certain extent, an affront to the lives they’ve lived beyond the Eraserheads. To demand a reunion concert seemed selfish.

But of course it is all these as well that made the Eraserheads Reunion Concert the landmark event that it was. It is also these that make the The Reunion Concert 08.30.08 CD a must-have for any Eraserheads fan (yes, even with all the bootleg versions online).

And yes, even when Ely sounds different, more mature, with a voice that seems to have outgrown the songs he had written a decade ago. Even when the CD made them sound cleaner than they ever sounded live. Even when some songs were, interestingly enough, from their less famous albums (”Kaliwete” and “Lightyears” from Sticker Happy and Fruitcake). Almost as if they’re testing your Eraserheads fan-hood: if you’re a real fan, you wouldn’t just know these songs, you would have them memorized the way you have “Alapaap” or “Huling El Bimbo”. And yes, even when there were no spiels to give us a sense that this was the Eraserheads of old, the ones we listened to at the U.P. Fair and Club Dredd, the friends from U.P. who played music for fun.

More than any of these, it’s how this first set of the concert - the only set performed as it turns out - tells us so much of what it is the Eraserheads wants us to continue to remember about them. That they spoke of love and courtship with a lightness and humor that youth brings (”Ligaya” “Harana” “Sembreak” “Toyang”). That they could speak wittily of desire (”Kama Supra”), as well as they could take on society’s prejudices (”Hey Jay”). That they could speak of uncertainty and displacement (”Huwag Mo Nang Itanong”) as they could the universals (”Huwag Kang Matakot” “With A Smile”).

That all of these songs are grounded in a context that is clearly third world Philippines reminds us of how worthy Ely, Raimund, Buddy and Marcus are of their status as music icons of this country. Ones who deserve our respect more than our adoration, ones whose individual careers speak of more than just the break-up of the band that made them famous.

Listening to the opening song “Alapaap” in this context, we are allowed to imagine that the Eraserheads are speaking of a different kind of freedom: all four members of the band had freed themselves of people’s expectations, of whatever bad blood the breakup had left, of whatever the fans seemed to demand of them. They did this concert and CD on their own terms. To fans, “Alapaap” can’t but resonate differently: it forces us to ask how far we’ve all come since the time we made this our anthem. The goosebumps and the high aren’t just for the Eraserheads but for us as well.

So in the end, what this CD is, all that it brings, is nostalgia for things past. For lives lost in the Eraserheads CDs that kept us alive once, and for a band that articulated what it was like to be young in the 90s. What the Reunion Concert CD reminds us is, that Ely and Raimund and Buddy and Marcus have not dwelled in the past. That there is their present and the maturity it brings. They have all grown up. And apparently, we must, too.*

What’s in a name? In choosing to buy the album Radiosurfing by Kenyo, it meant nothing. Because seeing the face of Mcoy Fundales, old frontman of Orange and Lemons, was enough reason to get the album, never mind that his new band’s name did not, in any way, strike a cord, nor did it seem to work with wit or humor. Without thinking, and with memories of his creativity as part of Orange and Lemons and as housemate on last season’s Pinoy Big Brother Celebrity Edition, the album was bought.

After listening to the CD, I was just not buying.

Not only did Radiosurfing turn out to be practically an all-revivals album, it was also the most uncreative revival album I’ve listened to in a while. It is, after all, the age of the local tribute album (to Apo and the Eraserheads), Regine Velasquez’s creative revivals of “Mac Arthur’s Park” and “Blue Suede Shoes” among many other songs, and KC Concepcion’s version of Rihanna’s “Umbrella”. There is more to revivals than just singing an old song, and adding extra instruments to beef it up - or pretend that it’s any different. There are many aspects to a song that can be played around with, renewed, re-created, towards making new hits from old ones.

No to originality

Save for the one original, the introductory song “Radio” where Fundales’ lyrics and Kenyo’s music remain reminiscent of Orange and Lemons, there didn’t seem to be much space here for the band to stretch their wings. The Florante original “Sana” and Rey Valera’s “Ayoko na Sa’yo” just has Fundales singing plugged versions, i.e., more instruments, and nothing else. The same may be said for “Putting on the Ritz” - a version that makes you ask: why even revive this?

Granted that Fundales’ voice and Kenyo’s sound as a band - no different really from the original Orange and Lemons - are perfect for the cheesiness of the songs they chose (”Love Me” by Michael Cretu, “Reality” and “Your Eyes” by J. Jordan and Vladimir Cosma, “Let Me In” by C. Cannon and Mike Francis). And there is a rendering of “Kiss on My List” by Janna Allen and Daryl Hall which is a wee bit different, depending more on a re-arrangement of the original song, and not just additional instruments or vocal arrangements. But the version of “Don’t Worry be Happy” by Bobby Mcferrin? Oh, don’t get me started! Mcferrin must be turning in his grave, wondering why he deserved to lose his soul in this rendition.

Yes to mimicry

The album ends with “HBK”, a rendering of “Hello” by Lionel Richie and “Knife Cuts Like a Knife” by Bryan Adams into one song - and a pain to listen to, with Fundales screaming his head of, losing the innocence that Richie’s original has. Really, he sounds like he does need a knife - magpapatiwakal na siya.

Given the almost mimicry that this album banks on, you’d rather settle for the originals. And this needs to be said as well: a vocal arrangement here, a guitar solo there, is not what makes a good revival album. Much less a promising debut as a new band. So maybe, yes, the name doesn’t even matter.

It’s always a struggle, whether or not to spend good hard-earned money on OPM CDs that have no Tagalog songs in them. But then again, maybe an all-English album is but a measure of how music-making still remains a luxury, i.e., those get their albums out there are those who can afford to.

With that struggle down the drain, The Vince Noir Project’s self-titled album had much going for it. Listening to it at the music store, I cajoled my husband into getting the album, if only because I was interested in what sounded like techno music from a local band. How could I pass it up in this age of rock bands and novelty songs?

Not for everyone

Well, as it turns out, I could’ve. Don’t get me wrong the sound is unique, at least for third world Philippines and our penchant for fads and sure hits. VNP had it in itself to decide to be otherwise, and sound different from the current crop of rock bands. And I say rock, because it is a little bit of that, plus much of techno/electro and psychedelic music, as the band would label itself with a lot of hesitation on their Multiply site.

But as the sound of the album depends much on the technology of a computer and not just good ol’ mixing in the recording studio, VNP is obviously not for everyone. Suffice it to say that you’d need to stretch your listening wings, and allow for the album its own identity, distinct from what you expect or might want to hear. It is redundant, as is true of much of techno music; lead vocalist Aless Tinio barely proves her singing chops, too. In fact, it’s easy to brush it off as an album for the younger generation - the kind of music they can dance and drink to, and whatever else it is that they do these days.

Angsty lyrics and nothing else

Which is to hit the nail that is the songwriting of VNP right on the head. The music notwithstanding, you won’t get much lyricism here. Reading through the band’s song lyrics is like reading the diary of a stereotypical angsty teenager who feels like the world’s ganging up on her. With a smattering of designer brands, computer hardware, foreign places and musicians, it’s also pretty clear that the influence behind VNP’s concerns doesn’t necessarily come from here.

And yet, even then, it wouldn’t be surprising to see a whole generation getting a kick out of lyrics such as this: They’ll always try to patronize you, / Spread disease about you all over town, / They’ll always try and bring you down, / Down, down down down down, down …. (”Alavet”). Or this: I’m 6 million gigabytes / I’m your desired hard drive / Do you like it on your lap or on a desk? / Have you seen my mouse / Cuz I saw your USB / Lots of space in there you can rip my files anytime / Just make sure you’re virus free? (”6 Million Gigabytes).

Rebels without a cause

Sounds like the perfect outlet - and voice - for the angst that only adolescence can bring, right? As the song “Whose Vince Noir?” tells us: He’s the king of all the mods / but he can pull off goth / he’s got girls of every kind / animals with human minds / had an affair with a polar bear / a young hot rebel who doesn’t even care.

And that is pretty much what you get from this debut album by The Vince Noir Project. Rebellion without a cause, self-centered angst that doesn’t care for anyone or anything else. That it will undoubtedly find itself a market in this crises-filled context is not so much a measure of a generation’s self-centeredness, as it is a measure of how much importance they put on their angst-ridden lives.

It was undoubtedly poised for flight. Songbird was to be the only musical-variety show in a sea of reality shows, soap operas, asianovelas and the few sitcoms that have local TV’s daily primetime covered. It has as star Regine Velasquez, upon whom the label “Songbird” has been bestowed, and who is known for reinvention and defamiliarization - you think you know her and then she does something extraordinary; you imagine she’s done everything imaginable with her voice, and then she surprises you with CD upon CD of different songs; you buy her CDs, and even the way she looks is different every time.

But when Songbird started out on Thursday evenings, it proved to be easy to forget: its timeslot overlapped with the local evening news on other channels, and we have been conditioned to imagine nothing but cheesy koreanovelas during this timeslot as well. It didn’t help that the first two nights were tributes to Barbara Streisand and Michael Jackson - and while the news was just more exciting than the former, I was excited about the latter show, knowing full well how Regine and her musical directors can reinvent songs like no one else. Case in point: her album Covers Volume 2 had everything from Elvis Presley’s “Blue Suede Shoes” and Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up” unbelievably and enjoyably made unfamiliar and new. Suffice it to say that the strange costumes and less experimental versions of Jackson’s songs had me switching channels anyway.

Madonna night was no different, but OPM night, along with the changed timeslot to Saturday evenings (practically nothing else to watch on the local channels), had me and my husband hooked - at least until we realized that Songbird is where non-singers are also made to sing, and where Regine can show off her fabulous gowns and pile-on the make-up - a discomforting sight to say the least.

We understand that Dingdong Dantes is the hot male of the season, but we almost screamed for Chito Miranda to do that duet of the Parokya ni Edgar song “Harana” with Regine anyway - differently guwapo that he is from Dingdong. With a live band and that engaging reinvention of the song that otherwise brinks on novelty, it would’ve been great to see Miranda, its original singer, battling it with Regine’s beautiful falsetto. It would’ve also been a real and true tribute to a singer and songwriter of current OPM - something which the spiels for the evening made a point to highlight.

But more than the too made-up way Regine looked for primetime television, and the need to include GMA 7 artists in its roster of guests even if they aren’t singers, it was really the set of songs chosen for the evening that barely allowed for Songbird to take flight. After starting off with familiar love songs (including “Tell Me” by Joey Albert), it changed gears with an older and unfamiliar song, and then shifted to more contemporary OPM with Parokya ni Edgar. It was disconcerting to say the least. At most, it would’ve been the one reason to change channels.

Elsewhere, it has been said that Songbird was going to be about Regine singing her favorite songs by her composers. It would do well to rethink that, and allow for a more cohesive concept (other than favorites and singers for the week) to tie together every night of song that Songbird promises to treat us to. Local composers and singers might be a good thing to start off with familiar as these are, maybe even full albums by particular singers (if that’s even possible), as reinvented by Regine and her musical director.

That I even stayed on the show on OPM night tells you that there remains a chance for this show to soar, it just needs stronger wings in order to fly. The thick make-up and heavy gowns could be weighing down this Songbird and keeping it from flying, too.

Marcus Adoro’s silence has given him legendary status—at least as far as Eraserheads fans are concerned.

After the breakup, while other members of the band remained visible, lead guitarist Adoro disappeared. A few years ago, a cassette tape entitled “KamonKamon” became available only to the fan who knew where to find it.

Using low-tech facilities, recording with only a guitar, and speaking of his new-found love for surfing and Sagada, it was clear why Adoro had yet to come out with a mainstream solo album. “KamonKamon’s” unplugged, non-commercial, raw sound wasn’t easy to sell. Not that his new album, released by major-label Warner Music Philippines, is all that different. Curiously titled “Behold! Rejoice! Surfernando Is Here Nah!” and credited to his new identity with a newfound band, Markus Highway, Adoro’s music remains close to novelty.

But it’s really more folk rock, and maintains a rawness that’s riveting, given the full band that backs him up. With barely any press announcements, no TV appearances save for a video on MTV and Myx, and no major album launch, it seems like “Surfernando” (a name that also functions as an alter-ego) has silently crept up on all of us. But maybe the lack of hype about Adoro’s surfacing is precisely the point.

the rest of this article at: www.inquirer.net