The Imaginary Indie Awards

The imaginary crowd gathers for the Imaginary Indie Awards! (Actually, a photo from the MTV Hits Cebu event)

First of all, welcome back, Kristine. :) Yay!

Last Saturday I was at La Salle, having been suckered -- I mean, persuaded -- by my sister to deliver a lecture on writing scripts for events and AVPs, to an org called the Green Media Group. They were a smart, fun bunch, and I'm not just saying that because they're young and net-savvy and will probably stumble across this blog someday while running searches on their own org name.

I was reluctant at first to lecture on scriptwriting because I always feel that the only subject I can talk about with any semblance of authority is fiction, but then I realized that in the past year alone I've written full scripts for at least three major live events (MTV Hits Cebu, Pilipinas '04, and the VJ Hunt), lots of bar tour and campus tour thingies, countless plugs and numerous AVPs, so what the hell. I like to think that I'm not the kind of teacher that can actually cause an audience to become more ignorant, as their brain cells commit mass suicide to escape the boredom -- so at the very least, I wasn't going to be doing any harm.

I kicked off with some footage from this year's MTV VJ Hunt, that being the only event I've written of which I actually have footage. While that was playing, I wrote down an outline of the usual stages an event script goes through: from the conceptualization to the working out of such details as hosts, performers, sponsors and presentors, to the writing of the sequence, and of course the researching and writing of the actual script. I also warned them about the many many things that can and do go wrong on the night of the actual event, such as absent performers or presentors, tantrums and tirades and last-minute changes backstage, and, um, wardrobe malfunctions. One event I wrote required a quick reassignment of lines because one of our lovely hosts couldn't go onstage for fear of suddenly flashing an audience of thousands.

Since the lecture was almost a whole-day affair, I had to do something interesting to fill up the hours, and so I proposed that they conceptualize and write an event of their very own -- I said, let's do an awards show, since it incorporates a lot of elements: performances, presentations, host banter, etcetera. So, I asked them, what are you guys interested in? Music, was the answer. I was pleasantly surprised by the Green Media Group's passion for local music acts, and their avowed support for independent efforts: and thus the imaginary GMG Indie Music Awards show was born.

We hammered out five categories, with five nominees each (we had to disqualify certain favorite acts like Pedicab and Sugarfree, as they couldn't be considered 'independent'), and came up with presentors for each category, as well as a set of four hosts, from their org's own 'hosting pool.' I separated the class into five groups of three (I had them count off by threes, until a sharp-witted student pointed out that they should be counting off by fives instead, to make five groups -- and me a former Math major!), assigned each group to write two segments, and at the end of it all, we had a run-through of the whole thing, with the hosts delivering the spiels and an announcer announcing the winners. The hosts were game and talented, and some of the spiels were quite well-written -- in short, it was a fun way to end the session. As I recall, the winners were:

Best Live Act : Brass Munkeys
Best Video: The Late Isabel
Best Student Act: The Bloomfields
Best Album: Imago
Best Act: Urbandub

Performances for the imaginary show included numbers by Narda, Bubble Band, and the Brass Munkeys. The SuperFoodBand -- composed of members of Sandwich, Mayonnaise, Cheese, and the Happy Meals -- started things off, and a world/hip-hop hybrid of SVC and Pinikpikan provided the finale. It was really great to see the students all excited about homegrown music: at one point, I overheard one of them reminding her enthusiastically-arguing groupmates that "Guys, it's not a real event." Be that as it may, it sounded like a show I would have very much liked to see.

This is What the World Looks Like On Sugarcoated Ecstasy Pills

"Winners" by 7 Seconds of Love. Which features the lyrics, "Who's winning?/ We're all winning!!" Winners. 7 Seconds of Love. And a video that stars a kitten.

Goddamn, this is the happiest fucking thing ever. I am not sorry at all to announce my return to the blogosphere with this craptastic entry and a link to the video. Woo-hoo!

The King of Nothing to Do #5 / Gaiman Hangover

"I don't remember ever having felt so loved by so many people." -- from Neil Gaiman's blog

I talked to Neil Gaiman. I gave him a copy of my book. "It means so much to me that I can give you this," I told him. "If not for your work, I probably wouldn't have survived my college years." He looked me in the eye and solemnly shook my hand. Am still quietly overwhelmed.

Neil Gaiman has been and gone, and I've spent the whole morning jumping from blog to blog, reading about other people's Gaiman experiences, friends and strangers alike. There's Gerry Alanguilan, who lined up for ten hours just like everyone else, despite the fact that he's a major comics artist and internationally respected and everything. There's Waya and Lala, whose entries I love because they're so emotionally upfront (and yet still funny and well-written). Quark found himself "overcome by this feeling of happiness." Therese has Neil to thank for "the most gratifying and humiliating moment" of her life. Gabby recalls how she first came across his work, and explains why she's a fan -- among other reasons, "Neil Gaiman taught me to write something I wanted to read, and not something my teachers wanted to read, or my friends wanted to read."

Thor admits that, like many of us, "There was also a time when I felt too cool to like Neil. Everybody else was suddenly deconstructing the Endless, some columnist began painting her face like Death, and I didn't want to be mistaken for jumping onto the bandwagon. It's just the way it is. When someting underground becomes mainstream, the purists who don't even pee in the shower ;-) start searching for the next big thing." But of course, in the end, we all come around -- "And fuck it. Fuck the coolness. Fuck the cliques. Fuck the exes who memorized lines. (Well, not really.) Mr. Gaiman wrote and continues to write great stories." Something Thor wrote about the Writers' Forum being like a reunion made me smile. Yvette and I ran into so many friends, so many writers and artists and musicians, and I just thought, if this were an actual reunion, what an incredibly fun, horrifyingly insane school we must have all come from. The College of Gaiman. Hey, I'd enroll.

All of us gaimanerds (to steal a term from Lala) are indebted to Charles, who transcribed the entire Writers' Forum talk, and Astrid, who recorded the radio interview. And finally, more links and thoughts on the whole thing at Click Mo Mukha Mo.

There are, of course, many many more Neilstruck blog entries out there, but if I linked to them all, I wouldn't have time to tell alla youse to go out and buy the Manila Bulletin, because "The King of Nothing to Do," my twice-monthly column, has another installment out today. An excerpt:

My friend Kristine Fonacier once asked me who my favorite interview subject was -- at the time, I was working with her on the staff of a music magazine, and I had interviewed such people as Justin Hawkins (the lead singer of The Darkness), a pre-solo fame Kitchie Nadal, and great bands like Narda, Sandwich, Sound and Parokya ni Edgar. All of them made for good, fondly-remembered interviews, and any of them would have made for a decent answer to Kristine’s question. After today, however, I think I have a clear winner. Rock stars are all very well and good, but Gaiman’s stories of lost souls and lovers, of devils and dream kings, filled with dark humor and quiet tendernesses and epic adventure, and charged with something that no reader should be too embarrassed to call magic, changed -- if not in some way saved -- my life.

Yes: I got to interview him! That undoubtedly ranks as one of the most memorable lunches I've ever had. It was somehow mind-blowingly surreal and utterly, wonderfully ordinary at the same time. By "ordinary" I just mean that he was so casual and friendly and laid-back and all-around nice that one could almost forget that one was sitting next to, well, Neil Gaiman: Neil Gaiman, creator of the amazing stories that got me through some of my darkest days, and Neil Gaiman, trying out adobo flakes and longganisa, and not being upset at all when the dalandan juice he ordered never arrived.

My column today is only partially about Gaiman, though; am still transcribing (and processing) that amazing hour of my life. But anyway, my editor tells me that the "i" section is going to be a Neil Gaiman Special today, so there should be lots for gaimanerds to read.

"But thanks again to you all. And yes, I do want to come back." -- from Neil Gaiman's blog, again

PS. Just got my copy of the Bulletin, now. The ENTIRE "i" section is devoted to Neil Gaiman! Interviews and columns and everythang. GET IT!

PPS. [Added July 14] I was going to post some crappy, fuzzy pix I took at NU on the morning of the radio interview, but you know what, these are much better. Thanks to Francis and Niña!

PPPS. [Added July 15] I love how Quark put it: no matter how everyone says "it's so hyped" and "my god there were so many posers yadda yadda yadda" it was just so exhilarating seeing people scream and cheer for someone whose contribution to the world is... words :)

Musik and Gaiman

Just caught the last half of this local music show on channel 5 called Islamusik. Not bad, not bad at all. Am not sure if they always focus on a particular genre*, but this episode was all about the hip-hop scene here: they interviewed a bunch of artists (DJ Arbie Won, SVC), showed some cool videos (Mista Blaze, Artstrong, DJ Arbie Won and the United Freestyles), featured one of the regular hip-hop venues (Club V), and basically did a pretty good job. It's scripted in a pleasant conversational Taglish that conveys info without being stilted or grating. Plus I have to admit that, even though her Penshoppe ads kind of irritate me, host Ala Paredes was very good: engaging without being annoying, casual without being pa-cool, and comfortable with the language.

Some bits, like their man-on-the-street interviews, could be improved (perhaps musicTrip could be done away with altogether, or at least revamped), and some of the cameos -- the Itchyworms? Random members of Sound? -- were puzzling, but admittedly amusing. And speaking of sound, the sound on some of the videos (particularly Artstrong's "Jazzy Monday") was muffled to the point of being unlistenable, but am not sure who's to blame for that. In any case, was happy with their choices of which videos to show; I've never even seen Mista Blaze or Arbie Won's stuff on MTV. They also exercised good judgment regarding which artists to interview (of course, I wish there had been a few more, but then again am sure they were constrained by time and budget). All in all, am looking forward to catching Islamusik again next Saturday at 6, should I happen to be home. Am wondering what they'll cover next (that's another thing: they should have a NEXT WEEK teaser). Channel 5 seems to promote its other Saturday shows more aggressively though, like the bizarrely titled Mr Fighting: Fight For Love, which seems to be a live-action showcase for fisticuffs, anime hair, and bad makeup, and some local music/variety show type of thing that has Tim Yap involved somehow -- tonight's episode features Kyla, Chynna Ortaleza and Mojofly; might check it out later out of curiousity.

Change of topic. So -- all you people who attended The Gathering at Rockwell today -- how did the Neil Gaiman lovefest go? :) Some people I've talked to about Gaiman's visit have found themselves less enthusiastic about it than they thought they would be, given their avowed fanhood, and the reason for that is that the thought of sharing him with hordes of other fans (as one wit put it, a "nerd frenzy") makes them go bleah. There's an element of interior cringing, of elitism, involved: "These people are Gaiman fans too? Jesus." I've felt this myself to some degree, but I'm not going to let it stop me from seeing one of my favorite authors in person, this Monday.

Aside from a distaste for the idea of an uncool local Gaiman horde, there's also the somewhat related trepidation of not wanting to disappoint him, as Waya and I talked about. We want him to be impressed, we want him to have a great stay, we want to read his blog entries afterwards about how great it was here. We want to ask really intelligent and insightful questions, even though we will all probably just devolve into gibbering hero-worship (or the equally annoying flipside: needless snotty impertinence). Anyway, will be checking fellow enthusiasts' blogs later for their accounts of the day.

*Just found their Multiply page: apparently they do.

Isha (and Mishka)

So I missed NINJA KISS 6, much to my regret. Blame a sleepless Friday night, and a hectic day shopping for my pamangkin Kaya's birthday, as well as attending, albeit briefly, said pamangkin's party. She is five, and will conquer the world (or at least the Philippines) in a decade or two, so it's best to be on her good side.

Anyway, check it out: ISHA's first solo gig at 70s Bistro is tonight, at 9:30 PM! Isha is, of course, the singing/songwriting, piano-playing, insanely talented (and, in many ways, just outright insane) former PULP Managing Editor, Peach Abubakar-Quebral. As she says:

"i'll be playing with the legendary simon tan on bass and the great jayvee torres on drums (the best ititch!). if you're into jazzed-up new wave, nina simone, bananarama, tori amos, joni mitchell and senti torch music you might enjoy the sets. plus i'll be debuting a few of my latest originals!"

Peach's special guest for the evening is MISHKA ADAMS -- caught the last part of Mishka's 2nd set at Mag:net Katipunan a couple of weekends ago, and despite talkative bastards, too many smokers, and too many people singing along (hey, wannabe vocalists -- we didn't squeeze our way in here to listen to you perform), it was well worth seeing.

70s Bistro is located along Anonas Road, Quezon City (tel # 4343597) -- just a trike ride away from where I live, yay.

Finally, listen to Wolfmann's remix of NIN's "Only." It's pretty cool, and in the running for this contest on myspace, so rate it and make W. happy.

The King of Nothing to Do #4

But it is, nameless rent-a-cop! IT IS. Time for this month's second installment of my Manila Bulletin column, to be exact. Remember, kiddies, it's every 2nd and 4th Wednesday of the month, in the Bulletin's 'i' section. This time around, I wrote about the recently-concluded Fête de la Musique:

Those of you fortunate enough to have owned -- or in my case, borrowed -- a hardbound series of books collectively known as Childcraft while growing up may recall a reassuring demonstration involving vampires and mathematics in one of the volumes. (Other readers may wonder what business the words "reassuring" and "mathematics" have being in the same sentence with each other). It goes something like this: say that a vampire needs to feed once every week, and that every time it bites someone’s neck, that person becomes a vampire too. So in two weeks you have two vampires, in three weeks you have four, and so on and so forth in rapid geometric progression, until by the time you hit a little over half a year you would have about 8 billion vampires populating the Earth.

And so, the demonstration reassures us, vampires cannot exist, because if they did, you and everyone else you know would be a vampire right now. What the authors of Childcraft may not have realized is that the idea that everyone one knows, including oneself, is quite possibly a vampire -- and in fact, is likely to be, as proven by mathematics -- is far more terrifying a concept than the idea that some lone vampire, vulnerable to crucifixes and garlic pizza, might be wandering around somewhere.

Which brings us in typical roundabout fashion to the annual Fête de la Musique, which I had the pleasure of attending last Saturday night at El Pueblo. As always, over a hundred bands performed for free on various stages, grouped loosely according to genre: Rock, Blues, Jazz, Hip-hop, Electronica, etcetera. Okay -- you may well ask -- what do vampires have to do with the Fête? Aside from the fact that almost everyone who attends seems to be dressed in black, the main reason the Fête reminded me of the Childcraft horror story is that the number of people seems to double every time, as if every attendee in a given year seems to make it a point to come back in the next, dragging another music afficionado along.

As always, check out the print version for the full column. I have yet to discover why the MB's online archives seem to have swallowed the previous three installments in Sarlacc Pit fashion. Perhaps they will be regurgitated sometime soon.

In other news: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy opens in local theaters today! Go watch it! Unlike the last Star Wars movie, all the jokes are intentional. (And speaking of SW3, check out this abridged screenplay). And while waiting in line for your Hitchhiker's tickets, you can try writing an entire novel in six words. Funny how the John Updike example renders much of his actual written work superfluous.

Finally, if you're not in the mood for light, quirky spacefaring fare, you could watch this bit of cinematic anti-whimsy, as I did last night with my friends Kidlat, Ronnie and Tanya. We were originally supposed to watch Mr. and Mrs. Angelina Jolie, but we noticed the invitation-only Hotel Rwanda premiere being held in the theater right next to the ticket booth, and Kids used his manly charms to wangle us four free passes. I kid you not. Anyway, if you want to flinch and squirm as based-on-true-life hardships and atrocities are reenacted onscreen, Hotel Rwanda is the movie for you. It's sad, frightening, and, at times, all too close to home.

HBDB

Happy birthday, dear blog. Happy birthday, dear blog. Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday dear blog!

Hard to believe that it's been exactly a year since we started this thing, Kristine. As I recall, it was originally supposed to be a lengthy article about our past and current listening habits, with a back-and-forth epistolary thing going -- kind of like a cross between At the Movies with David and Sarah and Nick Hornby's 31 Songs. (Incidentally, note how in that Observer article on 31 Songs, the ostensibly literate Alain de Botton completely disregards the instructions and lists an entire album instead of a single favorite song. Oh well, who can blame him: it's The Sundays, after all). Somehow that idea evolved into this ongoing, anything-goes, nonprofit thing. Which is fine, except for the nonprofit part.

Anyway, here's to our blog, and here's to music in all its forms, except the bad ones. As Fran Lebowitz wrote in Metropolitan Life, "There are two kinds of music -- good music and bad music. Good music is music that I want to hear. Bad music is music that I don't want to hear."

For more Lebowitz wit, by the way, there's a great interview here. Also, would like to wish a slightly belated happy birthday to Joelle and JB, music-lovers and excellent human beings both. :)

Batdance

So the other night I finally watched Star Wars: The Revenge of the Sith, and just last night, Yvette and I caught Batman Begins on the first day of its run here. One of these films had atrocious dialogue, plenty of bad acting, some cool fights and a lot of mostly wasted potential. The other film was Batman Begins. (Not that SW3 wasn't entertaining in its own right: as we discovered, a great way to pass time on a rainy car ride is to quote lines from the movie to each other. Hilarity, inevitably, ensues).

Four words will serve to sum up the new Bat-flick: Best Batman movie ever. While the utter craposity of the last one will forever remain a low point in the annals -- huh huh, I said annals -- of comics fanhood (damn you, Schumacher!!), this new one reinvents the Batman story from the ground up, with the use of a good, solid script, a whole roster of A-list actors, and of course, the talents of director Christopher Nolan, of Memento and Insomnia fame. "A rousing, reverent, often brilliant re-creation of a seminal comics character, Batman Begins proves Batman is at home in the 21st century as he was in the 20th," says Keith Phipps. "The movie works dramatically in addition to being an entertainment," says Roger Ebert. "Batman Begins is so fresh and feels so definitive that there might as well not have been any such creature as Batman ever before," says MaryAnn Johanson. "Hey, Katie Holmes' nipples are showing through her blouse," observed Yvette.

The basic concept of Batman remains, of course, insane. But hey, as Jay Pinkerton writes in Why Batman Works: "That's the simple beauty of Batman's enduring legacy. We don't identify with him. We don't laugh at him. Mostly we just marvel at him, I think. In most movies, the villains get to have all the fun, and the heroes tend to be fairly bland. Batman's one of the few characters I can think of who's as monumentally fucked up as the criminals he's chasing."

Christian Bale brings life and complexity (and, according to Fran, major hotness) to the role of Bruce Wayne. Michael Caine brings humor and warmth to the role of stalwart butler Alfred. Liam Neeson plays the mentor role again, but kicks even more ass as Ducard than as Qui-gon Jinn. And amidst all the pseudo-ninja training techniques and cool gadgetry and fight scenes, through the interplay of characters and circumstances and viewpoints, we gain a new appreciation for the Bat-story. Yay! Good stuff. Go watch.

More Adventurous

"Hey Jenny, weren't you in that crappy Fred Savage flick about video games?"
"Ha ha ha, yes I was! Go to hell."

Any asshole can open up a museum
Put all of the things he loves on display
so everyone could see them
The house, a car, a thoughtful wife
ordinary moments in his ordinary life

-- from "It's a Hit"

So I know this album came out almost a year ago, but hey, sometimes it takes me a while to get around to finding out about things, or appreciating things, or just plain doing things, as people who know me even in passing will attest. Anyway: Rilo Kiley. Really good stuff. Go to their official page and listen to "Portions For Foxes" ("I'm bad news, baby I'm bad news...") and "Does He Love You?" and be pleasantly diverted, perhaps even utterly smitten. Wonderfully catchy music, and great lyrics.

Get a real job
Keep the wind to your back
and the sun on your face
All the immediate unknowns are better
than knowing this tired and lonely fate.

-- from "Does He Love You?"

"Pure pop for grown-ups," as PopMatters describes it. Have downloaded a handful of songs from here and there, but would really like to get their albums. Here's hoping one or more of them were released locally.

The King of Nothing to Do #3

Yeah, it's that time of the month again, when I have to chain myself up in the basement before the Transformation overtakes me and I cannot be held responsible for the ensuing bloodshed. Either that, or it's time for my column to come out in the Manila Bulletin -- I get confused sometimes. On the stands now: The King of Nothing to Do, Episode 3! This time around, it's about geekhood. (No chickens were harmed in the writing of this column).

Discrimination goes both ways, though: music geeks, for example, usually hate it when obscure bands they love become popular, or even semi-popular. Tolkien fans will pull pained expressions and rethink their opinion of you as a human being if you tell them you only watched the movies and never read the books. God help you if you have the insane compulsion to pretend to be a geek about something you have only a passing interest in: real geeks can detect you a mile away. This is less a matter of geek snobbery than a matter of appreciation, though. In other words, if you’re a pretender, you won’t inspire real derision -- just pity.

Geekhood is not like a fraternity that requires an initiation, or a course that acts you to pass a test: in fact, if you’re making a special effort to learn facts and figures, you’re, well, faking it. The effort is barely noticed by the true geek, as are the expenses (because if a geek stopped to think about expenses, honestly, he or she would get a little depressed)—and the accumulated trivia is like a side-effect, a badge of that love Weiss wrote about: that "abiding, obsessive, self-effacing, even self-destroying love."

1-2-3 Times Two to the Mix!

Sometimes I miss mixtapes. I had a brief but prolific career making mixtapes in college (if you can call anything that doesn't actually make you any money a "career"), sometimes on request and sometimes out of the sheer need to impose my listening habits on unwary friends, and I enjoyed piecing together appropriate playlists and making little cassette covers (yay for Microsoft Publisher, the limited but idiot-proof layout program). Perversely, I think I even enjoyed calculating how much time was left on my 60 or 90 minute tape, and trying to fit stuff in right to the very end. (As a rule of thumb, one side of a 60 minute tape can accomodate 8 pop songs, and 12 can fit on one side of a 90-minuter).

All these tapes, whether compilations of avant-punk or classic rock standards, have a common purpose: to communicate an emotion or idea -- to a new friend, a potential lover, or even to oneself. The mix tape, Moore says, is "sort of a safe-sex thing: It's sharing music instead of sharing germs." The romance comes not only from the emotion expressed by a series of songs, but also from the sheer effort that it takes to plan and execute a mix. "The time spent implies an emotional connection with the recipient," writes Dean Wareham of Luna. "It might be a desire to go to bed, or to share ideas. The message of the tape might be: I love you. I think about you all the time. Listen to how I feel about you. Or, maybe: I love me. I am a tasteful person who listens to tasty things. This tape tells you all about me."

I remember doing an 'upbeat' mix for Kidlat (Cardigans, Toasters, etc), a Cocteau Twins primer for Camille, a hodgepodge of a tape for Indira (Ruby, XTC, etc), a Cure + Smiths combo for Lala, Massive Attack for Waya, and "songs to listen to while riding the MRT," for JB (mostly electronicky stuff -- FSOL, BT). Of course, I still make mixes for friends to this very day -- but on CD, not cassette. Anyway, the quote above is from this article in Salon, on Mix Tape: The Art of Cassette Culture, edited by Sonic Youth frontman Thurston Moore. (And by the way, I wanted to use that cassette-as-book-cover idea for my second collection of short stories -- dammit! That'll teach me to drag my feet). Here's Moore on CDs versus cassetes:

"Maybe it doesn't take the same amount of physical effort," he says, "but that's not the point. I think it takes the same amount of psychological effort, or romantic effort." Indeed, the true challenge of the mix tape -- selecting the right music and arranging it in a thoughtful manner -- is at least as tricky and probably even more difficult with a laptop and CD burner as it was with a boom box. In both cases, the mix is governed by the same compositional considerations: You need a narrative structure, an internal logic, a strong opening, an appropriate and preferably surprising ending.

Other music stuff: thanks to Fran for the link to Nerve's Music Issue! Some of the features are for Nerve Premium subscribers only, but anyone can read 29 Thoughts on the iPod, Great Sex Records You've Never Heard, and Sex Advice from Music Critics. Heh heh.



And finally, NINJA KISS 5: Ninja Ka Na Naman! is tonight: June 4, Saturday, at Saguijo Bar -- 10 PM, P100 entrance fee (with 1 free beer). Featuring IMAGO, MAKOPA, BAGETSAFONIK and the MILAGROS DANCEHALL COLLECTIVE! Yey!

I Saw the Signs

Yay! It's the Church Sign Generator! Yes, I am constantly finding new ways to squander time. Don't judge me. Of course, feel free to judge these guys.


Hours of pointless fun, for everyone. For those of a morbid turn of mind, there's also the Tombstone Generator. (Here's mine). In other news, I am apparently 26% gay. I think I would have scored higher if there had been any Pet Shop Boys or Queen questions.

Whose iPod Would You Steal?

So Indira and I were talking about Fascist Fridays at Cubao, when she admitted that "I'd love to steal Quark's iPod." (Watch out, Quark!) As I had previously been unaware of my friend's penchant for larceny, I asked why. "'Cause I'm sure it would have lots of great stuff on it," she replied. Ah, I thought... Makes sense! So who else would have an eminently steal-able personal mp3 player? "I'd steal Myrene's too," Indira said. "I'm not sure if she has one yet, though."

As for myself, I'd probably steal Toti Dalmacion's. Never met the guy, but whenever he's profiled in a magazine and he lists his current listening choices, I always notice shared obsessions: XTC, Prefab Sprout, and the like. And hey, his record label's roster includes Drip and Juan Pablo Dream!

I even have a copy of Mr. Dalmacion's 'wedding album'. When I was living in an apartment on Manigo Street next to my friend G (and below my friend Kidlat), I overheard her blasting song after great-sounding song one summer afternoon. I wandered over and asked her what she was playing, and it turned out to be a mix CD given away to guests at the Dalmacion-Alfonso nuptials. She got me a copy, for which I am grateful to this day. Lots of good, happy-romantic stuff on it: Prefab Sprout, Terry Hall, Lighting Seeds, even Spiral Staircase. I imagine his iPod would contain 40 gigs more of the same.

Other people whose iPods I would steal, off the top of my head: Robyn Lee, whose recommendations I always enjoy, and Marcus Nada, who was always listening to something cool (and usually obscure, and more often than not hip-hoppy) in the office.

Whose iPod would you steal? :)

Something to Sing About

Hey Kristine, too bad you couldn't be at the Awit Awards last Thursday. It went pretty well, and as a fellow judge (and alleged music expert), it was nice to feel like one had contributed to the whole affair -- except perhaps during the numerous, inexplicable and lengthy pauses during the program, which I suppose were meant to correspond to commercial breaks in the soon-to-be televised version. A couple of pix I snapped:



Session Road at the Awit Awards. The lovely Hannah Romawac’s cleavage has been blurred for the sake of those of our readers with delicate, easily frazzled sensibilities, assuming we have any.



South Border triumphant. They now have enough Awit Awards to start their own awards ceremony show, if they wish. Or to melt down and resculpt into a 1:1 scale model of the late Ike Lozada.

Commentary and a list of winners are at Philmusic.

My feathered hair looks spectacular

I'm freakin' LUKE SKYWALKER?!! Aaaaaaaarrrrrgggghghgghgh! I'd retake it and then lie about retaking it, but I'm not that evil.

This reminds me of the time I was invited to a Star Wars party, and told to come in costume. I went as a Jedi, of course, and I gotta say, my outfit kicked major ass. Too bad NO ONE ELSE had bothered to come in costume. That tragic incident scarred me for life and guaranteed I would never be inclined to participate in the rich, rewarding culture of geek cosplay... wait, that means it wasn't tragic at all. Thank Christ for that, then.

Tuesday Morning Listening

Five songs that have vastly improved the quality of my life this Tuesday morn:

Time Stops - Teenage Fanclub

From their new album. Are these bastards actually getting better with age? This is just as catchy as most of their insanely catchy back catalog, but tinged with melancholy and a kind of just-awakened hazy freshness.

We Are Right For Each Other - Julie Plug

From an incredibly underrated Fil-Am band. Don't even know if these guys are still together (their website was last updated in 2004, apparently), but everything I've ever heard by them is fantastic pop-rock fare.

The Robots In My Bedroom Were Playing Arena Rock - The Soft Lightes

Sounds primitive and futuristic, at the same time. And hey, one of the best -- and most oddly appropriate -- song titles ever.

Dito Tayo Sa Dilim - Pedicab

They call it dunk (danceable punk), apparently. The recorded version actually manages to capture the sweaty immediate fun of their live renditions! And hey, I'm thanked in the album's liner notes, so you know it's gotta be good. ;p

Krafty - New Order

I should be tired of this song by now, but the chorus still makes me smile. Also, I had a dream last week where I met a girl who looks like the girl in the video. Which has basically nothing to do with the song, but I just thought I'd mention it.

The Perry Bible Fellowship

Don't be fooled by the seemingly God-friendly title. These comics are the work of the devil: twisted, sick, disturbing, and funny as hell.

"Yes!" to the last question

I realize this is not music-related and that this is jumping on the bandwagon in the worst way. Whatever.

The Star Wars Personality Test!

(and my result...)

Hornbyesque

"I once expressed to a friend my desire to be able to erase from my memory all of my favorite songs so that I might have the experience of hearing them again for the first time. It seemed to me that if I listened to a song I loved too often, I ran the risk of wearing it out. I was afraid that eventually it wouldn't move me in quite the same way. I would still want, maybe even need, to hear it, but the level of emotional intensity simply wouldn't be as high. With every listen, I would be looking for the magic and it would be gone. The passion would be traded for a friendly laugh, some small talk, and a pleasant goodbye until I felt like meeting up again. I have come to realize this is not so with the really great songs, the ones that are new every time, the true loves." -- from "On 'Alison'" by AD Hoover

From McSweeney's Internet Tendency: here are some short essays on favorite songs, inspired by Nick Hornby's Songbook (a.k.a. 31 Songs, to the local book-buying public).

I like it when they write about stuff that's kind of cheesy -- say, A-ha's "Take On Me" or that Aladdin song (Disney, not Bowie) -- and still convey how much it meant, and still means, to them, with unembarassed sincerity.

The King of Nothing to Do #2

The second installment of my column should be out in the Manila Bulletin today. Woo hoo! This time around, I wrote about writing about music, PULP stylee. An excerpt:

"It’s been a while since we used midgets."

That was an actual statement from an actual editorial meeting for the publication I used to work for... I used to be a staffer for PULP magazine, the notorious music-oriented monthly. (Or, as an old friend of mine put it when I told her who my employer was: “PULP? Every mother’s nightmare, PULP?!” She should know; she’s a mother of two). PULP made its name by catering to the obsessive fan of music—particularly the heavy, stave-in-your-skull variety—and by staging elaborate, outrageous photo shoots involving anything from freaks, Vikings, religious iconography and buckets of fake blood to, yes, some vertically challenged members of our society. (Oh, and more often than not, naked women). Politically correct was something it never aspired to be, but it was undeniably attention-grabbing...

If writing about music is like dancing about architecture, as some smart aleck once said, what we were doing was like tap-dancing about architecture, or cartwheeling about biochemistry, or some other playful variation on the original analogy.