These are strange times we live in. World conflicts. Monkey viruses. Inabilities to agree upon historical events. The mound of laundry piling up in your bedroom.
Chaos, absolute chaos.
And despite all these, we must find ways to proceed with the day-to-days of our lives. To head to work and answer emails about some typo in a report no one reads, or to school to solve math problems about hypothetical farmers and cows. (How much milk does the farmer take home daily if he has two cows producing 1101 ml. of milk every three hours? Note that the farmer is also lactose intolerant, so he hates milk and throws out 3/4 of the container. The container is an unmarked drum about the size of a miniature pig. Explain your solution in Mandarin.)
There are times in the surreal mixture of life’s chaos and routines that our brains crave to hear, taste, or see something just as strange if only to have the insanity embodied into something we can sense. Something that takes all these oddities, anomalies, stupidities, and feelings then summarizes them into a neat little treat our brains can process from a distance.
And so enter…
This Week’s Song:
Nasusunog ang Maynila by Radioactive Sago Project (2007)
The album art is fitting once you listen to the whole thing. Trust me.
What do I like about it?
What’s not there to like? Scratch that. What’s not there to love? Essentially an adult-swim, fever dream skit in audio format, the track features the narration and writing from the spoken word vocal master and poet Lourd de Veyra. His words float almost indifferently above the skillfully intertwined bedlam and musicality woven beneath by the rest of Radioactive Sago Project’s instrumentalists.
The song begins with a narration depicting a quiet Manila night with just the right tinge of Filipino fatalism, followed by a darker build-up of how a shanty’s forgotten gas lamp starts a fire that begins to grow. The firemen are delayed because, of course, they’re drunk, and there’s no water to douse the flames because, of course, the deep wells have dried up.
So far, so Manila, right? But here’s where the song really takes off.
The horns then enter with a section that always reminds me of jingle bells— which I believe likely symbolize fire trucks honking their horns as they finally shake the booze off enough to respond. I only believe this because of the utter madness that follows: a twisted, tumbling, frenzied dance of notes and speed and noises that paint the auditory equivalent of panic spreading as the flames begin to consume everything, including all semblance of sense.
Suddenly in comes a rapid, frantic yelling of items that need to be saved: The videoke, the TV, and dreams among them. “Ihagis sa bangketa!” scream the voices.
It’s absolute madness, and I love it.
It’s incredibly entertaining and liberating. The ability to translate such a twisted idea into a musical track, with no regard for how it’ll do on the radio pop charts, is inspiring and energizing. As a musician, you feel the walls taken down and are reminded that there are no wrong notes, no musical combinations too strange as long as you have a tale to tell.
It’s very jazz—very Pinoy jazz—and it’s fantastic.
What mountain memories does it conjure?
Years ago, in the middle of a jam at a bar along Session, I remember one of the joint’s regulars walking onstage and asking to sing Poison’s Every Rose Has Its Thorn. Being a typical request, the band agreed and gave him the mic as we started the oft-played song behind him.
For those unaware, the song is a slow, cheesy track, dripping in the glam metal vibe of the 80s. It’s also a crowd pleaser that’s easy to play and is a “given” if you’re around standard-issue highland manongs. Nothing exciting or too out of the ordinary ever happens when we play the song, except for this night.
During the bridge, where the instruments gently back off and give the vocalist space to sing his “emotional” quiet part, our bar regular instead pulled out a worn notebook from his pocket, flipped a few pages towards the middle, and began reading a poem he had written. Raised eyebrows aside, the rest of the band played along, gently backing him with soft instrumentation as he read each line with conviction and feeling. It was surprising, unusual, and quite good. And just as he finished his poem, the band ratcheted back up, and we all went back to playing the last verse like how the original track went.
This Radioactive Sago Project song reminds me of that night. Although not as intense or wild, the feeling of combining things not usually lumped together—and seeing them work—is something to behold. It’s almost as if you dumped together a bunch of random ingredients and rarely used spices into a stew, and it still comes up flavorful and decent enough to earn the approval of your strict Auntie Aida.
Who should you recommend it to?
This may be a nice track to recommend:
- To your creative kabsats who may be experiencing mental blocks and need a palate cleanser of sorts to help get the ideas flowing.
- To your friend who spaces out to Salvador Dali, David Lynch, and episodes of Tim and Eric.
Which lyrics deserve a second read-through?
“Sa dako paroon ay may biglang kumislap.
Sa maitim na pangarap, kulay dugo na ang ulap.
Wala pa ang bumbero, lasing na naman.
Tuyo na ang poso, wala na ring laman.”
Picture painted. Mood set. Kasta adi.
And so…
And so, the eight Cousin’s Kanta Corner entry is in the books! Trying my best to catch up on all the writing to-dos before I give myself another mental break week away from town. (Mental break, not breakdown)
Work has been kinder, which thankfully gives me enough time to gather and organize my life as we push through the 2nd half of this crazy year.
Announcements and Matters of Cousin Interest:
– I’m older.
– I recently did an interview (spoilers: no face) with the facebook page Taraki TV and the kind folks there: shoutout Kent, Brendel, and Kurt. I don’t like doing interviews, or advertising myself outside of the weekly terrible jokes we write, ngem if you’re ever interested in listening to me ramble answers, a link can be found here.
Thank you once again for reading, kakabsat! Be well and please ignore the fact that this entry is a few days late again. Please. Ignore. Don’t think of it. Stop thinking of it.
Take care! Apir!