JB

1982, heard Jackson Browne's top ten single off the Fast Times at Ridgemont High soundtrack "Somebody's Baby" on the hippest radio station of my generation - 99.5 RT.

1983, Lawyers in Love was released. Purchased the cassette tape of JB's seventh offering at the then fledgling JB Music Store. When I asked a sales lady if they have Jackson Browne's latest album in stock, all the clueless young lass could utter was "You mean, Jackson Five?"

I lived and breathed Lawyers in Love in the past. It was my coming of age album. I played it to death, wore out a couple of copies, memorized every cut, air guitared to "For a Rocker," sang along to "Downtown" and at one time, believed every line of "Knock on Any Door," "Cut It Away" and "Tender is the Night" as gospel truth. 

Those days man, those days...

Cuba Libre

In 1997, guitar player extraordinaire and genre chameleon Ry Cooder flew all the way to Cuba to round-up and record an album with surviving musicians of the pre-Castro Havana club scene

The end result - Buena Vista Social Club - garnered rave reviews upon its release.

But an album sung entirely in Spanish? That's the big question mark. Well, for me at least.

Not anymore.

If I can listen to the ethereal world music of Enya and to the bossa nova of Antonio Carlos Jobim, then why not to some son, bolero and guajira?

I believe now that music has this unique way of touching the inner core of a listener regardless of genre, age and of course, language. 

So, what are you waiting for? Fix your favorite Cuban concoction, sit back, relax and enjoy the music! 

The July 16, 1990 Killer Quake

Image Source: cityofpines.com

The July 16, 1990 killer quake came like a thief in the middle of the night. It shook the Philippine archipelago and left many structures in ruins. It served as a reminder to all of mankind that we are all but helpless against nature's wrath. When it hit us, I was smiling at first but a few seconds later, that smile was wiped out and was replaced by terror.

I'll never forget that fateful day. I just came from a successful job hunting. My uncle and I were having a conversation about it when the wooden floors of the house started creaking. He told me to stop twiddling my feet. Told him I'm not. The ground beneath us appeared to be shaking, rising and swaying left to right.

I tried to stand up but to no avail. My uncle was able to grab the portable transistor radio but no one was on the air. I mean, under such circumstances, who'd dare to do a live broadcast? The anchors surely must have scampered outside their respective stations for safety.

We decided to stay inside the house because it's a lot safer we reckoned. It was an old house made of wood. As we all know, these structures go with the flow unlike concrete structures that tend to fight the impact thus making it more susceptible to collapsing. It could have lasted less than a minute but it seemed like an eternity.

I proceeded to an aunt's house to check out the news. There was no traffic, the streets were practically deserted. It was like a scene straight out of the film The Day the Earth Stood Still. My cousins and I were glued to our seats listening intently to the extended coverage of the quake.

I had a hard time sleeping that night for fear of another tremor. Thank God there weren't any. Still, I was unable to shake the fear off and practically stayed awake till the wee hours of the morning. I really couldn't wait for the sunrise to assure myself that a new day had indeed dawned.

The Waiting

The waiting is the hardest part...

So goes a line from one of Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers' most beloved hits. A line I can't take off my head after being put in the freezer the moment our biggest client pulled the plug on their brand awareness campaign.

The long break was full of uncertainty. I pondered on the kind of future (if there were any) that awaits this fifty year old worker. It was mentally draining to say the least.

Am I through with the industry? Is it time to start a business? Any other way to generate income? Questions, questions aplenty.

After thirty days of inactivity, I decided to hunt for another job. I'm done waiting. I reluctantly printed out a copy of my resume to try my luck with a prominent BPO company.

Fortunately, I passed the exam and interviews and was done after more than seven tedious hours of, yeah, waiting. The caveat though is they won't take me in unless I'm officially separated from my old employer.

With that in mind, I headed towards the direction of our office which incidentally is just a few blocks away. Somebody's usually in at half past eight. Perfect timing I said to myself.

I reached the building still with a few minutes to spare. To kill time, I chatted with the guards and again waited.

At around nine o'clock, I texted my co-worker and asked if he's still coming in. Got a response not long after but it turned out he's out on sick bay. Told him no problem, everyone's coming in after an hour anyway.

So I waited, yet again.

But at half past ten, I finally gave-up. There was no one in sight. Everybody must've been bitten by the the holiday bug since they were coming off the day after the Memorial Day celebration in the U.S.

The very next day, I was notified to come back to work because an old client of ours just renewed their contract. For how long, I really don't know. Again, all I can do is wait.

Wish List

A part of my ever-growing mini collection.

After a cursory glance at the eighty plus more titles on my CD wishlist, I couldn't help but feel discouraged for I have this gut feeling that it would remain that way - a wish list.

It also doesn't help that more and more titles have now joined the ranks of the elite. Yes, even albums I have scoffed at in the past - Nirvana's Nevermind, Pearl Jam's Ten and Radiohead's OK Computer.

If I were rich, eighty would be a breeze. There are, however, far more pressing needs that I have to prioritize i.e. supplies/groceries, home mortgages, monthly bills etc.

Lately, I've pared down my orders, avoided impulse buys and shied away from local sales or used CD fairs. Nowadays, I get everything exclusively via Amazon with the help of a couple of fellows I know from an audio and video forum.

And why not when you have Deep Purple's Machine Head and Made in Japan selling for as low as $3.99? It's definitely a no-brainer.

So the best way to go about this is to take it one step or rather one batch at a time. Having said that, I couldn't wait for the arrival of my latest haul!  

The Great Gig in the Sky

The throng was bristling in anticipation for what could be the mother of all gigs.

Renowned music critic Lester Bangs stood forlornly in a corner at press row. Casey Kasem, doing radio anchor duties for WHVN announced the arrival of Batch 2016-17 composed of David Bowie, Prince, Glen Frey, George Michael, Leon Russell, Al Jerraeu and Chuck Berry. "Wanna' have a good time? Brace yourselves ladies and gents for a whale of a ride!" howled Wofman Jack on the PA monitor.

Seen mingling with the crowd and fellow artists were Lou Reed and Nico. Both were dapper in their velvet suits given no doubt by fashion impresario Andy Warhol. Grunge meisters Kurt Cobain and Scott Weiland ditched their bandanas, flannels and corduroys in favor of plain white shirts and loafers. The duo looked surprisingly in the pink of health. Keith Moon and John Entwistle were huffing about probably wondering where's Roger and Pete.

Then, the lights went off.

There was a deafening roar that greeted pioneering guitar wiz Les Paul when he took the stage by his lonesome playing a haunting intro of the day's initial salvo. Jeff Buckley came up and everyone stood up to sing along to "Hallelujah."

After the second verse, he paused and said "Here's the guy who wrote this masterpiece, Mr. Leonard Cohen!" as he retreated backstage where father Tim is waiting.

Next up, a pair of Brits were testing their grooves - Jack Bruce and John Bonham. Jimi Hendrix joined the fray with a mournful sounding lead guitar part. Janis Joplin jumped right in to do the stirring vocals of "Summertime."

How about some horns? You asked for it, you got it with no less than Miles Davis, Canonball Aderley and John Coltrane alternating on trumpet and sax!  It was like the "Blue Note" era all over again.

Doors bandmates Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek were jumping up and down. The quiet Beatle George Harrison was in near tears. The fifth and the sixth - Brian Epstein and George Martin nodded repeatedly in approval.

Muddy Waters and Johnny Winter had a reunion of sorts with a blistering version of "Hoochie Coochie Man" together with Duanne Allman on slide and Ronnie Hawkins on harmonica. Tim Hardin, Sandy Denny and Harry Chapin did a folk set, a prelude to Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie's reading of "Turn, Turn, Turn."

Otis Redding and Dusty Springfield did a medley of their hits and a jaw dropping duet of "Respect." The King of Pop, Michael Jackson moonwalked to "I Want You Back" all the way up to the clouds while the Chairman of the Board, Frank Sinatra together with the Rat Pack had a showstopper capped by "Strangers in the Night." Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, John Lennon with Bill Evans on piano solemnly closed the wondrous show with "Amazing Grace."

IceBorg

A Bjorn Borg hollow face

Do you like tennis? Asked Chris Rea from the title track of his 80's album Tennis.

But hey, I won't discuss the said album. I'm taking a breather from music this time. For this entry,  I'd like to take a look back at one of my boyhood heroes.

As a fourteen year old high school sophomore back in 1980-81, we didn't have cable TV yet. No ESPN, Star, and Fox Sports. In fact we only had five, I repeat, five channels on local television - 2, 4, 7, 9 and 13.

We tuned in most frequently to the last three channels for popular series like the Six Million Dollar Man, MASH and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. The channel that had the lion's share of our viewing though had to be channel 9, then known as RPN-9.

They had movies, hit series, specials and most importantly sports programs. They were the first home to Asia's first pay for play league, the PBA as well as to the widely popular ABC's Wide World of Sports that aired in the morning right up till noon.

One of the many oft replayed feature was the classic 1980 Wimbledon finals between John McEnroe and of course, the subject of this entry, no other than Swedish tennis hero - Bjorn Borg.

It was a finale for the ages. Many considered it to be the greatest in the history of the All-England Club. The brash, volatile and then young upstart from New York aiming to dethrone the then four time champ.

It was also a study in contrast - fire and ice they were dubbed by many sports scribes. You have the temperamental hot headed Yankee on one end of the court and the mild mannered, reserved Swede on the other. Mac was all out aggression while Bjorn was always cool and calculating.

It was truly a championship for the ages.

The two combatants split the first two sets. Mac was so dominant in the opener. I can still vividly recall that wicked McEnroe serve. The angles he created and the speed he generated gave the champ more than he could handle. Borg, who has one of the best, if not the best returns in tennis finally got his groove back in the third set and was conceivably playing better until the middle of the fourth. There I was in front of our old Zenith black and white television set saying to myself that it's just a matter of time.

But lo and behold. Borg squandered a match point and McEnroe forced the now legendary tiebreaker. It was "the" tiebreaker that gave us more drama than what the most popular soap operas could offer. Momentum shifted from one player to another. Just when you thought it's over, one player saves a set or a match point. One great shot only to be followed by an even greater shot. And after what seemed like an eternity, we go to a fifth and deciding set.    

The fifth was another humdinger of a set but in the end as fate would have it, Bjorn Borg was able to whip that famous two fisted backhand pass and it sailed past a waiting McEnroe at the net for the win.

Bjorn then fell to his knees, fist pumped and shouted to the heavens. He has captured a then unheard of fifth consecutive Wimbledon championship! 
    
That year, I bought a shirt from Bjorn's clothing line for my Christmas get-up. A trading card of his was on the cover of my notebook. I tried to emulate his demeanor and style when playing badminton or hand ball pelota with my brother. For an informal theme in our English class, I composed "The Wimbledon Champion."

I had no inkling whatsoever that it was my hero's last hurrah.

I thought Bjorn Borg was unbeatable. My grandfather saw otherwise. He said the match indicated that Borg's reign was about to end and next year would be a passing of the torch. I argued of course.

A year later, I realized that a fifteen year old's biased mind was no match against a fiftysomething's wisdom.

True enough, McEnroe claimed his first Wimbledon title that very same year and then broke Bjorn's and my heart again later at Flushing Meadows where I thought Borg would exact revenge, return the favor en route to capturing his first ever US Open crown.

I was wrong and my grandpa simply said: "I told you so..."

A year and a half later, Bjorn Borg officially announced his retirement.

Perhaps, Bjorn saw the writing on the wall the way my grandpa did. More than anybody, he knew that his time was up and maybe, just maybe, he couldn't bear the thought of playing second fiddle to anyone.

After Borg faded into tennis oblivion, I lost the desire to learn the rudiments and the love of the game.

The Devil Inside

To buy or not to buy.

I'm still in a quandary on whether to start a vinyl collection or not. On a previous entry, I've already written about my vinyl roots and the reasons why I'm hesitant to tread the analog route.

Up to now, the itch remains unscratched, afraid that it might turn into a full-blown black wax addiction but like gravity, I'm being pulled down by some unknown dark forces to finally give in and join the growing multitude of analog returnees and converts.

These days, I'm desperately trying to save some moolah for an entry level integrated amp. The prominent brands being considered in order of preference are Marantz, N A D and Rotel. All three, incidentally, have that much sought after phono stage in their arsenal.

After buying an amp, I guess it'll be back to a steady diet of 7 Eleven coffee and leftover from breakfast pan de sals in order to raise funds for a decent turntable.

The devil inside me though is whispering rather convincingly:

"Your old amp's still fine. You can now buy a turntable, a phono preamp and some LPs at Cubao X and you're there. Go boyo!"

You little devil!

Tempting, really tempting...  

Video Killed...

The first music video shown on MTV was the Buggles' iconic and aptly titled single "Video Killed the Radio Star." From then on, the once fledgling channel would become the de facto visual arm of the music industry and in effect an integral part of pop culture. 

Michael Jackson, the late great King of Pop and MTV trailblazer, immensely benefited from the new medium and so did innovative new wave acts like Talking Heads, Duran Duran, and Split Enz. 

Sadly, MTV also had its fair share of casualties, most notably Christopher Cross and Billy Squier. Make no mistake about it, the two were no one-hit wonders at the time. Both were bonafide solo acts with million selling albums and hit singles to boot at the peak of their respective careers.

What happened?

Christopher Cross' self-titled debut album topped the charts, spawned three top ten singles and also won Grammy album of the year honors but by the time his sophomore effort Another Page came out, his popularity was already on the wane. 

With the advent of music videos, being "that" voice on the radio simply wasn't enough anymore. Then again, how can he compete aesthetically with the telegenic Brits led by John Taylor, Tony Hadley et al?

Billy Squier on the other hand suffered the same fate primarily due to an ill-conceived music video. If you want to know why, go ahead and watch "Rock Me Tonite." Whoever conceptualized that music video deserved to be hung upside down! For heaven's sake, the rock star and guitar hero lying on satin sheets, gyrating, prancing around in pink tank tops amidst a backdrop of pastel colors?

He would eventually go on record to disown the cursed video. Capitol Records' ploy perhaps was for him to gain more female following a la Rick Springfield. After all it was the 80's, right? Not!

Video killed the radio star. Video killed the rock star.

Pizza Hut Days Revisited

That's me in green shirt with fellow Pizza Hut employees.

Ermita was once considered as the premiere red-light district of Metro Manila. There were bars left and right like Firehouse, Superstar, Flames, etc. It's such an unlikely place to put up a branch of a then booming pizza chain but there it was, right at the heart of Sin City.

Before becoming an official Pizza Hut-Ermita crew, let me tell you first how I was hired by Progressive Development Corporation, hut's parent company.

The first step I took was an in-store interview, a second one at the home office and a written exam. Unfortunately, I didn't pass that last hurdle. I was crushed and sulked for a few days. After the initial shock subsided, I realized that there were other jobs out there.

A few weeks later, an ad appeared on the pages of the Manila Bulletin: The Araneta Group of Companies' security agency called Five Star was on the lookout for a new breed of security guards. The chosen few will be trained at the company's expense and will man select Araneta Center establishments like the Araneta Coliseum, Ali Mall, Farmers Market, Fiesta Carnival and of course Pizza Hut.

Since no licenses and extensive experience were required, I decided to try my luck. The screening was at the Aurora Towers, the same building where you can find the PH offices. I breezed through the written exam and passed it with flying colors. Only a few of us survived and made the cut.

My fortunes drastically changed during the interview proper. I don't know if I impressed the heck out of the HR rep but the lady did look at me with an approving eye. And as the interview dragged on, my fellow applicants couldn't help but wonder what's taking so long.

I felt that the said HR personnel had something in her mind and my hunch was proven right when she excused herself to confer with a colleague. She pointed to my direction and it was obvious they were talking about me. Upon her return, she asked if I'm really serious about this thing because if not, they can refer me to their fast expanding food business. Told her I am and that not too long ago my application with the latter didn't prosper.

Again, she excused herself and went into another room. It appeared they were pulling out old files. She came back with my previously rejected application and then asked if I'm still open to working as a service crew. It was a done deal the moment I said yes.

A couple of months later, I was still in limbo while waiting for that all-important call. Bored, penniless but nevertheless armed with a new found confidence, I went back to roam the city jungles hoping to land a job somewhere.

Lady luck smiled and I got a relatively easy gig at Plaza Fair, a popular but second-rate department store back in the day. I inked a mere five month pact but didn't mind because it was just a stopgap measure.

Barely on my second week of work as a sales clerk, I received a notice from the PDC administration office to attend the week long orientation for Pizza Hut new recruits!

The orientation was easy pickings for me but the actual training was hellish to say the least. I got my baptism of fire at SM City and hopped from one branch to another until the completion of our designated store.

On December 1990, I was among the pioneers who opened PH-Ermita.

Being a newbie, I was overshadowed by more experienced fellow crews at first but it didn't take that long for me to prove my mettle. Our acting store manager was more than kind enough to help me out. She took me under her wings and I didn't disappoint. I was subsequently voted as Crew of the Month twice in 1991 and then designated as crew trainor upon the new program's launch.

I was on the right track and had my sights on the ultimate prize: Promotion and become a part of the management team.

At that time, the compensation was quite lucrative. More than five figures in salaries and perks. It was really within reach and ripe for the picking until that unforeseen incident known as "The Anomalous Pizza Order Entry" came along.

The said brouhaha wherein a pizza was about to be delivered without an official order slip or docket as we called it triggered my transfer to another branch and eventual albeit unofficial resignation.

All that was required of me was to name the culprits and MTs here I come. I admitted to one thing and one thing only, I prepared the pizza order in question since I was stationed at the "maketable" and that was my only participation. I knew that a couple of my fellow crews were about to make some money out of it but sorry, I ain't no snitch.

Everyone involved, the CSR, rider/delivery guy and myself were questioned and we didn't wilt even under immense pressure. As a result, management couldn't prove a damn thing. No one was punished or axed. In local lawyer's parlance, "absuwelto," or so we thought.

In hindsight, I may have abetted a wrongdoing and should have sided with management. Maybe I was too naive back then. We all thought we could make a fool out of our superiors and still get rewarded in the end.

Things would never be the same again after that. Management started to crack the whip and showed us who's really in charge.

First, they installed a new set of managers in our branch. Then, they broke the core of our batch. Almost all of us were transferred to some other branches in rapid succession. Last but not the least, my quest hit a dead end and I had no other recourse but to leave and bid my managerial aspirations adieu.

Mystery Tune

A friend of mine from Guam once compiled a killer mixed CD for my listening pleasure.

As expected, most of the tracks were classic rock staples.Then, I heard this bluesy, chugging along little ditty that's unfamiliar to my ears.

I thought it was a Steve Miller track but my friend said it wasn't. For some reasons though, he can't remember not only the title of the song but the artist as well. "It's always on classic rock radio anyway." was all he could say.

The mystery tune? Listen and rock on!

The Lennon Masterpieces

Spotty as hell.

That in a nutshell was how critics described John Lennon's post-Beatles work and I couldn't help but agree.

Sure, Plastic Ono Band and Imagine were high watermarks, Lennon's yin and yang so to speak. What followed though was a series of mediocre albums that had sparks rather than sustained brilliance unbefitting of the man who once was the other half of arguably the greatest songwriting tandem of all time.

The stark soundscape of Plastic Ono Band gave it an enduring appeal. I'm more than glad the 2010 remaster retained that demo like quality because John didn't intend this to be an ear candy.

I remember the many late nights spent by this once pimply teenager listening intently albeit uncomprehendingly to this Dr. Janov's primal scream therapy inspired album.

The semi sacrilegious "God" and achingly tender "Love" stood out but I was more than shell-shocked after all those incessant screaming on "Mother," and "Well, Well, Well."

Many years later, I realized that this was a seminal work of a troubled and confused genius trying to come to terms with his past, present and future. It's visceral, raw, harrowing and even painful to listen to but once you get past that initial shock, you'd certainly be more appreciative of this album.

On Imagine, John's back with his sardonic wit, punkish anger and biting lyrics.

He allowed producer Phil Spector to apply just the right amount of production sheen to balance the inherent darkness of the songs. 

Don't be misled by the serenity of the ubiquitous title track, the vulnerability of "Jealous Guy" and the playful and at times nursery rhyme sounding "Oh Yoko" because he was spewing fire and venom on the scathing "Gimme Some Truth," and the anti-social "I Don't Want to be a Soldier Mama."

Reportedly irked by some tracks off Paul McCartney's album Ram, he didn't mince words on "How Do You Sleep," a stinging response and a ferocious assault on his former songwriting partner and bandmate.

A case can still be made that Imagine is John's best work ever. Never mind if it's sugarcoated in some ways because the personal yet universal message of peace and love still ring true even up to this day. It's timeless and not just some snapshot of a now forgotten era.

Changing of the Guards

The new man on the block.

I lost faith in the Philippine electoral system many years ago. 1992 to be exact, the first presidential election after EDSA.

The late former Senate President Jovito Salonga and his then running mate Nene Pimentel were my bets for president and veep respectively.

The duo offered an honest to goodness alternative to the political landscape back then and conducted their campaign based on issues and ideals. But still, they lost and lost badly. I was flabbergasted with the outcome and vowed never to vote again.

To this day, our party system remains a big joke. Truth is there's no real parties out there. What we have is merely a collection of fair weathered friends, old faces, soon to be "trapos" and turncoats. Heck, the candidates themselves can't even distinguish their party's platform from their program of government.

Yes, some twenty four years later, I still don't see any reason why I should reconsider my stand.

There's no need to state what's happening nowadays because I might offend the sensibilities of some relatives and friends.

After this administration, we'll have another changing of the guards then another and that's about it. Nothing more, nothing less.

An apathetic reaction one might say but that's just me.