Muzak

When Love, Friendship and How Not to F#*k Up Your Life Becomes Hi-Fi

Note: If you don’t belong to the late 20s or early 30s age bracket, better click that “x” mark on the top right of your browser since this doesn’t concern you. But if you’re in for a trip down memory lane and you want to hear the illest Pinoy Band around, then be my guess. Indulge.

I belonged to a generation which you either try to learn how to play a guitar or pick up chicks dancing The Running Man.

Yes, it was a time of Cole-Haan shoes, trapper keepers, semi-belly-bottomed jeans, Giordano shirts, Rotring and Staedtler tech pens, preggy dresses, pencil-cut hairs and even leggings. A high-end Nokia model would not stand a chance against two-way radios at that time. Beepers would only come close. Half days in school (or even a surprisingly announced suspension of classes because of storm floods) would mean loud cheers as throngs of eager adolescents hurry up to the nearest public utility vehicle terminal to go home and watch Anna Luna or catch a bus going to SM City to wander around the mall eight times without even buying anything. Consider school foundation days or Christmas parties to be marked in calendars as THE days when you strut on your new shoes (Doc Marten’s, Our Tribe Sandals, Tretorns, K-Swiss) pants (Guess, Levi’s 501’s, Calvin Klein curduroy jeans courtesy of a fly-by-night tailor near you), hooded shirts (Octopus Army, Seventeen Jeune Campagne), or even the latest Guess and Swatch model. Accessories meant everything back then. If you don’t have one, then you’re not one of the “IT” persons in school. You would probably be having a ball practicing calligraphy through Speedball books.

It might not be that uneventful, but my high school years surely had something to talk about for the next generations. In between classes (or during boring lessons, if you’re that douche with your teachers), we would pass around crumpled photocopies of tablatures just to learn how to play the songs in the guitar. In every tree shade, bench, gate corner or even in the middle of the school field, there would be a pack of young lads hungry for creative freedom to either be like Slash of Guns n Roses or the Universal Motion Dancers. Chinese get-up here, scaling virtuosity over at the other. An orgy of raw talent, so to speak.

Two of my batch mates pursued their childhood dreams of being rockstars. And by God, they certainly worked hard for it. Regie was my classmate way back elementary. He made a record of some sorts by being the only 4th grader to play “La Bamba” on the guitar. While Gerald got his own monicker by being the half brother of Eric Fructuouso, one of the Gwapings (you know, Jomari, Mark, and Jao Mapa the 4th Gwaping?). Though we didn’t become best buds, we became amicable pals. Back then, you would be unconsciously immersed into a big circle of friends once you become a batch mate. Both of them established themselves to focusing on their career in music by harnessing their craft, having to play with some of the proliferating garage grunge bands in school. In fact, they become famous among the peers for their killer riffs and wide knowledge of songs to play. I don’t know about how many chicks they have scored, but we’ll delve into that in another story.

The Club Dredd gig a couple of months ago

College came and they had become the closest of friends. From what I have known through the numerous drinking sprees we got into, they formed bands (even show bands to that matter) here and there, trying to find their musicality and that missing piece for them to be a complete band. They played gigs from fiestas in faraway provinces to the lamest of the school foundation days. It was the same old formula for so many years.

Until they had reached rock bottom. Both went broke. Into a downward spiral. Arguments became an everyday meal. I think Regie tried his luck overseas and returned after like a year. But the money he earned wasn’t enough to feed him and help his relatives. After his dad died, Gerald hoped to get support from his mother. But to no avail as she left him with a heavy heart caused by the tragedy in the family. Worse, it was only then that he discovered he was an illegitimate child. Added to that is the heap of so much debt that their phone, electric and water lines got cut off. For years, it was a constant rerun of a hard knocked life for the both of them.

And then it came. All it took was one catchy tune. In one of the batch mate get-togethers, Hi-Fi Indios (as they are currently called with Regie’s neighbor Jami playing the drums with sheer enthusiasm) played their original songs with so much zest, anger, compassion, and energy completely rolled into one set of unbelievable revelation. But there is one that stood out. And it was “Sa ‘Yo”. I may be intoxicated that night, but I know a good song when I hear it. This one is great: a melodious riff intro, semi-baritone voice pipes, college-rock themed lyrics, sitting under the groove of the drums. All the elements comprise a perfect formula for a hit song. Not really an epic hymn that transcends artistic boundaries, but an anthem of a generation which it can relate to.

With high school friends at Grindhaus in Valenzuela

Aside from that catchy tune, there was this big helping hand. By divine intervention or mere coincidence, Elibeth Solano (a batchmate, as well who works in the medical field) has a big-time record producer friend (when I mean big-time, I mean the one who handles some of the biggest local music artists of today). She asked for the sample tape. Submitted them. The producer heard it, and got them signed a contract.

“I hope this is it,” said Regie, who kept saying “we will definitely pay you back, man” as another cold beer bought for him slides through the top of the table in front of us. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s get wasted,” Richie, the only Hiphop-influenced road manager in the industry that I know of, jokingly replied. “This blessing is definitely worth it, though it’s happening so fast compared to the almost 10 years of shit we have gone through,” added loudly by Gerald with a big sigh of relief.

So far, what seems to be the “missing link” to them is Jami. Having the same musical influences as Regie and Gerald, Jami has this knack of hitting the right displacement at every musical measure - and bringing it to a whole new level with each pound on the skins. If Regie and Gerald are the very foundations that Hi-Fi built, then Jami is the sole catalyst that binds them altogether.

Fat Jack pimps Arnel and Richie, Hi-Fi road managers

The dichotomy in the Hi-Fi sound lies on the variety of their songs. the whimsical “Paalam Na” is another anthemic melody for the broken-hearted. An Emo-themed tune mowed in a college pop-rock landscape. “Magliwaliw” is a tripped out celebration of life and the simple things in it. In “Kaibigan’, Gerald sings as the Pinoy Dr. Phil who lends a helping hand to those with fucked up lives, making them realize that life is all too short an should be wasted down the gutter (though it’s kinda funny that the beginning of the chorus part sound like a Regine Velasquez tune). “Ganyan” presents us the dark sides we have gone to while reminding us to look back at our beginnings, where we honed our skills and instituted our values. Get a trip down memory lane on a “what if we get back together” scenario with “Sabay”. How to handle problems and assessing them carefully makes a “Shock Absorber” in you. While “Chosen” is somewhat paying homage to perennial band The Dawn. Mind you, they pulled it off pretty well.

Th Hi-Fi sound takes us back in time when falling in love and the value of friendship takes on a simplistic path. It rides on a melodic rollercoaster of twisted loops and sharp turns that, knowing the value of co-existing with your loved ones or friends, everything will be all right. And, with respect, trust and love for life, anything’s possible. Who would have ever thought that a grunge band from Valenzuela could display such awesomeness and sheer artistry fused with infectious pop-rock influences?

Honestly, I am so proud of these guys that they have remained steadfast in reaching their rock n’ roll dream. They are more than aware that this is not the kind of steady job that could earn them a sustainable living. But there’s no denying that music is in their system. Rest assured that they will be around for another 10 years—and if the gods permit—forever.

In these times impending global catastrophe, insatiable human greed and technological imperialism, this is something that we ll need right now. A breathe of fresh air.

Bela Bar going Hi-Fi last May (I think)

You can catch them online at Richie and Arnel’s Fat Jack Productions, or through their Channel V, Multiply and Friendster account. Join their Yahoogroups account for gig announcements and other gimmicks

Oo nga pala: It’s gonna be Blue Job Sessions 2nyt at Sausage Bar in Timog. PLaying are Plug Blutith, Kernel Overdrive, Uninviteds, Anibughaw, Fat Acid Drop, 1st Chronicle, The Satellitesproduced by Fat Jack Prod, click here for details.

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