Tuesday, September 20, 2011

From Earl Klugh to Depapepe in 25 Years

this was something i wrote 2 years ago, after ending my term as Editor-In-Chief of the Xavier Alumni Times. It was written for private publication in the XAT but I never knew if it was ever published at all. So, for the benefit of the people I mentioned in this article...



The Paul Yan Chronicles

FROM EARL KLUGH TO DEPAPEPE IN 25 YEARS

Having had the opportunity to teach photography in Xavier last year, I was half-expecting that there would be as few musicians now as there were 25 years ago, but I was told that I was in for a surprise. In the span of one generation, the musical aptitude of Xavierians has grown exponentially.

I first learned to play the guitar in grade 6, during a 4-day bout with chicken pox. Needing to entertain myself, I picked up my brother's Cebu-made guitar along with a battered copy of Jingle magazine and proceeded to teach myself the three simplest chords: D, G, and A. Within the day, I already was playing my first three-chord song, which didn't sound anything close to how it was supposed to, but I was so blown away at what I had achieved. Incidentally, that song was “Let your love flow” by the Bellamy Brothers, which was a big hit in 1977 and was used as the music bed of the popular Levi's commercial.

Being the third guitar player in the batch as we were stepping into high school made me quite popular with everyone else who couldn't play, but wanted a musical experience nonetheless. In a short span of time, I learned to play the songs of James Taylor, Jim Croce, Florante, and the ever-popular Mike Hanopol and the Juan Dela Cruz band. This was the music of the late '70s, and I was playing them for my batchmates!

Within the school year, I witnessed a powerful instrumental performance by Neil Huab and Norman Sese, both from batch 82. They played a guitar duet arrangement of Earl Klugh's version of “Dance with me” and Antonio Carlos Jobim's “Wave”. Since it was my first time to watch a guitar performance, I was mesmerized at how they transformed the guitar from providing basic accompaniment to a completely melodic instrument. In an instant, my musical horizon shifted. Soon afterwards, I bought a cassette of “Finger Paintings” by Earl Klugh, and borrowed “The Composer of 'Desafinado', Plays” by Jobim.

I eagerly anticipated the annual songfest, not because I wanted to compete, but because I heard that Neil and Norman were both entered in the Guitar category, not as a team, but as individual competitors!
For me, this was wonderful opportunity to watch two of the best instrumental guitar players from my generation. Half-expecting a battle royale, I was caught by surprise when they both played the same piece, Burt Bacharach's “April Fools”, as arranged by Earl Klugh. Both performances were technically flawless. Both were tremendously expressive. How did the judges score it? Both were given identical first place awards!

I walked away from that songfest feeling as if I was part of their shared victory. But musicians, just like other artists, are like that. That was the last time I saw them play, as I moved to another school shortly thereafter. But their music had already made an indelible mark on me.

I carry a copy of Earl Klugh's version of April Fools with me to remind me of that moment.

Now, I recently had the opportunity of teaching in Xavier to mark the 25th anniversary of my batch. Half-expecting things to be similar to how it was when we were walking through those same corridors, I inquired about the guitar skills of Xavier students and was told that things have changed considerably since my batch graduated in 1983. Now, each class has more than enough musicians to put up their own band! “And did I tell you, 'cher, that we write our own songs now?” said Xavier Francis Su, a student from the first batch of The Paul Yan Experience photography course, and my main reference for this article. Incidentally, Xavier Su belongs to the graduating batch of 2010, and is the son of Fulton Su from the Dragons of batch '72.

After recovering my composure from the shock of Xavier's revelations, I asked what sort of music they listen to now. As it turns out, 1970's rock is still very much the “in” thing today. Perhaps because everyone else from their generation listens to “current” music, they prefer to listen to older music to set them apart. Incidentally, '70s rock is now called 'classic' rock. One of their so-called 'anthems' is “thunderstruck”, which I picked up from Avi Hemandas, also from the batch of 2010. I only got a perspective of how popular “thunderstruck” still is today when I heard it being played as Manny Pacquiao made his entrance during his fight with Hatton. But enough of classic rock.

“Is there anything current that is popular with Xavierians today?” I asked Xavier Su. He ponders for a moment and tells me about a Japanese instrumental guitar duo whose music is currently enjoying cult following in school.

“Have you heard about 'Depapepe'?” he asked.

“Depa what??” I answered, with images of anime and manga in my mind.

“Its a Japanese band, with just two guys, both playing acoustic guitar”. “Thats what my band plays right now. Music from Depapepe”. And he makes me listen to a tune. “Their band is named because one guy has an overbite”. I laugh, remembering how odd the reasons for a band's name actually are. “Red, simply Red!!” as it was shouted over the phone to the promoter on the other side of the country who inquired about the name of the band they were featuring. “Dr. Hook”, as a result of wearing an eye patch for an infection during their first few gigs. Or broadcasters asking which one from the band is “Hootie” from the Blowfish. Some of the bands I managed in my younger days also had names which came from left field, such as “Manang Damo”, “Mortal Yell”, “35-EC', “Praxis” and “Shanghaied”. Somehow I think that Depapepe probably has a private joke in there somewhere as well.

My next logical question was about this band he plays with. It turns out that they play mostly instrumentals, and mainly Depapepe music. His bandmates are from batch 2009, and they also currently have 2 understudies from batch 2011, in anticipation of graduation issues. “Would you like to meet them?' Xavier asks me. I agree and we look for them around the new high school building. We bump into 2 of them, Avery Wong & Ian Go, and they bring out their beautiful Lumanog guitars. They hit the opening chords of “Hi D” and instantly I was mesmerized all over again. Although Depapepe music is quite fast and complicated compared to the simple and slow melodic style of Earl Klugh, this was still guitar music and that thought alone brought back memories of the lecture hall from a quarter of a century ago. I offer to photograph them for their “album cover” and they both agree. I try to conjure up something in the scale of the visually iconic, and I pull it off. The images have preserved the moment of our first encounter. They walk away with smiles on their faces, not too sure about how the final image will turn out. I walk away knowing full well that I have bumped into another set of musical prodigies.

And while everything else may have changed in Xavier, the love for music, apparently, is still the same.

Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

The Pain of a Word Called Solitude (rated PG-18)

We are social creatures after all.

I am not an exception.
Through the years, I have learned to crawl into an emotional cubbyhole when everyone else has left.

I have learned to be in solitude, even when in the midst of a crowd.

Being in solitude meant that I could reserve my innermost feelings to be shared with the one person I cared to be with. To be open to only one person; and not to share that intensity with anyone else.

Occasionally it backfires.

Occasionally you realize there is no one else in the cubbyhole with you. And then you realize that the pain of solitude is unlike no other. And that there is no one else to share your pain with.

There is no positive note here.

All I know is that the light at the end of the tunnel just got a little closer.


Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles