FADED FOLK. The Gingerbread Tape, recovered.
Over the weekend, I was rummaging through my desk, when I found, in the rear compartment, a tape I made in 1975, of a one-night gig at Gingerbread Man Folk House. I plunked this about-to-be-extinct 33-year old tape in my still-functioning cassette player, and out came a familiar voice, accompanied by a single guitar, singing the message songs that caught the fancy of my generation—Baez, Dylan, Guthrie, Lightfoot, Collins, CSN&Y, Simon & Garfunkel, Peter, Paul and Mary, Denver, Taylor, Young, King, and many more.
I am instantly transported back to my Baguio student days, when I, too, joined the folk bandwagon by serendipity, jamming with the same folkies whose voices I had saved on my Scotch cassette—Caloy Medina, Tito Mina, Bubut Olarte—considered as one of Baguio’s finest troubadours. That time, the city had a growing reputation for having the best folk houses around, populated mostly by hip college kids, before the advent of internet cafes.
Fireplace, strategically located along Assumption Road was always packed with a motley mix of students, residents and tourists. On Bonifacio Road, at the foot of St. Louis University was Gingerbread Man, operated by Mars Cuesta, which had mainly students as captive audience. These two became the enclaves of Baguio’s bohemians, beatniks and plain folk music lovers—of which I would soon find myself a willing participant.
I discovered American and English folk music when I was 12, from my big Sis who sang these songs in "Rock Masses" with 2 guitar-toting friends. They would cover “All My Trials”, “Kumbaya” and “If I Had a Hammer”. But they would also dish up "protest songs" like “The Times They Are A-Changing”, “Sounds of Silence”, “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” and “If I Were Free”.
While I was fascinated with the melody, I was caught up in the storytelling of a love gone so dreadfully wrong, of Johnnies going to war, of an answer that’s blowing in the wind, and of the travails of young and tender ladies, wayfaring strangers, rebels and royalties. Thus, after their rehearsals, I would borrow my sister’s guitar and virtually taught myself how to play those chords from a JINGLE songbook.
With 3 chords mastered, I could actually do half-a-dozen songs in no time at all. Learning to pluck too a lot longer; I learned calypso plucking by spinning the records of Joan Baez, over and over again, which must have driven my siblings nuts. I was also responsible for damaging countless stereo needles using this technique.
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Fast forward 1975.
Baguio’s construction boom was in full swing. Cashing in on this economic boom and riding on the folk wave, bistros and restaurants were hastily put up to cater to a new listening audience. Bahay Kubo Restaurant was one such place along Session Road. With the place finished, a call was sounded for folksingers. The building contractor (my Manong Nanding) told the owners not to look far---for he has 2 brothers-in-law (meaning me and my elder brother Gregg) who could provide entertainment for 10 bucks a night. A repertoire had to be quickly drawn up, songs memorized and my career was on the way!
“You can get anything you want, at Bahay Kubo Restaurant”, a reworked “Alice’s Restaurant”, by Arlo Guthrie was a favorite opener. Melvin Tampinco popularized that song for Bahay Kubo, and every folk singer learned to play it. The same formula worked when one concluded Denver’s song with “Take Me Home, Session Road” (instead of Country Road). It was not uncommon too, to incorporate a local folk song in one’s song list. “Salidum-ay”, with its tri-lingual lyrics was a top sing-along song (“Lipistik ka ng a-lipistik, di ka naman ag-brush ng teeth! Ay, ay salidum-ay..”). Bawdy songs were also de riguer, if you want to work up a sleepy crowd. (“Ang lalake pag umihi, iniipit pa sa daliri”…).
While I have performed before an audience in school productions, I have never sang for people just a few feet away from you. This made the experience even more nerve-wracking. Bahay Kubo, I now conclude, had the worse crowd of all; but it can’t be blamed. With a dissonant name and ambiance, it was really a restaurant masquerading as a folk joint.
By now, I had gained a measure of confidence insofar as performing in public was concerned. Out of audacity, I auditioned for a slot at Gingerbread Man Folk House, 10 pesos a night—with free sandwich dinner. I remember rushing from my class to the nearby folk house with my guitar to sing for Mars Cuesta, and after 3 or 4 songs, he told me I was in! I can’t believe my eyes—Gingerbread Man was THE big league and I made it! Whoopee!
I tell you what. My voice is anything but good. Someone once described it as the singing of a man with a bad nasal drip. Many times, I have been heckled for it.
But what the heck, Dylan's voice was once likened to that of a dog caught in a barbed wire fence. Looking back now, I think it was my obscure repertoire that separated me from the other singers. I was the only male singer that tripped on Joan Baez and Judy Collins folk, wailing unheard-of ballads like “Silver Dagger”, "The Trees They Grow High", “Henry Martin”.
My material was so strange, I researched on the earliest precurors of familiar folk tunes and sang them. So instead of “Pretty Peggy-O”, I would sing “Fennario”. “Blowin’ in the Wind” was “No More Auction Block for Me”. “ Cruel War” was “The Warfare Is Raging”. The most extreme was “Scarborough Fair”, which I introduced in a radio program as a “lyric song so old, it was documented in Ravenscroft’s Melismata in 1611..”, --to the total bewilderment of the DJ.
And so now, I am listening once more to this tape. I smile as I hear Caloy Medina and his repertoire of Simon and Garfunkel songs ("Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall", "Hazy Shades of Winter") , with an occasional Mclean ("Pride Parade") and Denver originals ("Gospel Changes"). Caloy was my favorite singer; he had an easy, casual style and was handy with a 12-string guitar. He was also enterprising, producing folk concerts that gathered the best folkies of the city. Caloy was also a Philosophy teacher, and years after, I heard that he secured a scholarship in Belgium and is now a Ph.D holder.
Tito Mina came next after Caloy’s set. Tito was the most accomplished musician of the bunch; he played wonderful guitar and brought a more edgy approach to his songs that were such unconventional choices to sing in a folk house. On tape, he sings Minnie Ripperton’s “Lovin’ You”. Just a few years later, he would record his most well-known hit, “Ikaw Pa Rin” and move to Europe with his Belgian wife. He recently had a homecoming concert this year. I wonder if he still remembers his co-folkie every Thursday nights at Gingerbread. ;-).
I was also surprised to hear myself singing a duet with my schoolmate Jane. With my nasal voice, we did “Hangman” and “ Paper o’ Pins”. Striking solo, she sang “If I Had Wings”, a Peter Yarrow song I taught her. In my mind, I hear again classmate Veronne Perfecto and her college sweetheart. As Mike and Veronne, they made the rounds of the folk circuit and wowed campus crowds.
David Medina, Caloy’s younger brod, also was a Gingerbread regular. Many years later, I would become an officemate of his ex-wife at Saatchi & Saatchi. Bubut Olarte, a law student at that time, was a gifted Dylan interpreter. Johnnie Chan was another schoolmate with amazing presence but he would migrate to the U.S. while still in college.
Tony Marasigan, Joey Carino, March Fianza, Jojo Barreiro, Mannix Santos, Vangie and Ira—these were the talented people I recall having worked or jammed with, in an open, artistic milieu possible only in Baguio, even under a regime of repression.
Those years may have gone, but for one brief shining moment, up a cool, mountain city, we raised our voices as one, singing our hearts out and our personal convictions through the music of the common people—nasal twang and all.
Brothers Jojo and Bimbo Villalba were also very much a part of the folk scene once upon a time.
ReplyDeleteIt's normal to miss out on many other vintage folks. Like one of your faves who'd dish out jokes like ' ay nurse kayo gayam duktor?' Or Unbilibubble BUT true. Sinno ti kumarret? Well now, who's that folkie with a deep golden voice? Kumusta kadwa dr.alex?
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