Francis Magalona in Memoriam

Posted by Jayvee at April 6th, 2009

On the cover of Happy Battle is a Nintendo-era bare-knuckles fighter. He is shirtless. He is on bad-ass karate stance. He is wearing an expression that says “kill.” His face, however, does not give away his age easily. He is eternally in limbo between adolescence and full-blown adulthood. He is both fifteen and thirty. He is simultaneously twelve and forty. He is both a young teenager on Ninja Kids and a baby-faced father on Eat, Bulaga! He is Francis Magalona, and—like his likeness on that album cover—he is a superhero.

When he succumbed to complications from acute myeloid leukemia on March 6, 2009, the man unanimously dubbed as the “Master Rapper” disproved his proverbial immortality. Yet he became an even bigger, larger-than-life figure of myth, and people immediately started finding ways to canonize him as soon as he “left the building.” Not even seconds away from a posthumous Presidential Medal of Merit, a move from some sectors to nominate Magalona as National Artist started floating. But far bigger than any government-granted honor is the effect Magalona’s art has had on people. “Huwag ka nang matakot sa dilim,” he sings in the choruses of Gloc 9’s “Lando,” his recorded voice being played back a day after he died while Aries Pollisco (Gloc 9) sang the verses, battling oceans of tears streaming down his cheeks on live television.

Two decades ago, Kiko is freestyle-rapping along to Alma Moreno’s pseudo-burlesque act in LoveliNess. Two decades after that, he is publicly announcing his illness. He will also keep weblogs of every hospital visit, posing in pictures as his wife Pia Arroyo-Magalona snapped away, his optimism highly visible. In one picture, he is hooked up to intravenous systems. In another, he is bald. In all, he is smiling, like hospital visits to get a serious form of cancer treated are the most beautiful things in the world. From “Loving You” to “Mga Kababayan” to “Mga Praning” to “Ito ang Gusto Ko” to “Kaleidoscope World,” Magalona showed a lyrical sensibility closer to John Lennon and Bob Marley than, say, Tupac Shakur or the Notorious B.I.G. He is not a mere rap artist. He is a romantic, a proud nationalist, a social commentator, and a peacenik. The way the hundred-thousand-strong crowd at The Final Set concert of the momentarily-reunited Eraserheads is chanting his name with careless abandon—hearts firmly on sleeves—it is obvious the man is extremely loved. “Let the sun shine, let the rivers run away,” he sings on “Girl be Mine,” and, while it is an open love letter to his wife, it is also an appreciation of life, as he croons later on in the song, “It’s a beautiful day now, hey now.” However, apart from the songs, it is when he struts his stuff in shirts he designed himself—which will typically have “three stars and a sun”—that he turns into a modern-day nationalist, a break from the old-fashioned pomposity of yesteryears.

The pop world, where Magalona unapologetically belonged, did not diminish the man’s credibility. It was almost as though “The Man from Manila” was a street shaman one could simply not ignore. We will never really know what Magalona had—“Meron Akong Ano” will provide few leads—but we will forever be in debt.

// Article by Aldus Santos, April 2009