Got home a little after 4am from an interview with Kiko Machine. We conducted it in the starkly flourescent-lit, garbage-strewn front lobby of Vinzons Hall, in UP Diliman. (We were supposed to hold it in the Sunken Garden, but a security guard shooed us away). Like myself, all the band members are UP graduates, so it was an eerie sort of after-hours nostalgia trip for us all.
The interview was quite entertaining, as one might expect from a band that dresses in red jumpsuits (except for their bassist Dan, who dresses like a certain arachnid-bitten superhero -- they call him Spider-Dan), and sings songs about Val Sotto, Panchito, pro wrestling, and superheroes. But under the goofball exterior, these guys have heart, and ambition, and they know what they're doing. They consciously mix musical genres and write songs about pop-cultural icons as a Warhol-influenced attempt to make art out of the everyday. A barkada since freshman college days (they originally called themselves "Punk Sinatra"), the group's friendship is what makes their performances tight, and their wit and songwriting chops are what makes audiences grin. Give them a year or two and they'll be as big as Parokya, mark my words.
Aaand... that was probably the last interview I'll ever conduct for PULP magazine, so it's kind of fitting that it was with a band that made a song about wanting to be featured in PULP magazine. As of last Monday, I've known that, for better or worse, the March issue of PULP will be my last. It's back to the freelance life for me, with all its difficulties and rewards. I'll miss my old gig, and most of my officemates, but I guess it's time to move on. The leavetaking is not without its share of regrets -- two years is two years -- but what the hell, what the hell.
And speaking of breakups -- which we sort of were -- I don't think I can make a soundtrack of my love story, Kristine, as it's still ongoing. ;p I could probably make mixes charting the highs and lows of my last two relationships, but they might turn out a little too flippant or dismissive. I remember, though, that one of the first things I gave Yvette when I was courting her was a mix CD. It had "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths on it, as well as "Nightingales" by Prefab Sprout.
Tell me do, something true, true of you and me
That we're too busy living through, too busy to see.
What is it that we do makes us what we are?
If we sing are we nightingales, shine are we stars?
Who are we? What we got? Are we a firework show?
Growing pale like a star that burnt out years ago
Stranger things have been, stranger things have gone,
I find it hard right now to name you one
Tell me do, something true, and drop the fairytales.
If singin' birds must sing, with no question of choice
Then livin' is our song, indeed our voice
Best agree, you and me, we're probably nightingales
23 hours ago