Repeat While Fading

Posted by Jayvee at April 3rd, 2009

This is a piece written by Luis Katigbak from our Jan – Feb issue. Writer and musician Aldus Santos celebrates and autopsies Pinoy Rock in his new book, Repeat While Fading.

Some wit once said that “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” I suppose the implication there is that both are fairly pointless activities that fail to capture the essence of — well, anything, really. But you know what? Hell, I’d rather watch someone try to dance about architecture than dance about dying swans or the indomitable spirit of simple country folk or something like that. Dancing about architecture sounds pretty damn interesting.

And “pretty damn interesting” is as good a description as any of Repeat While Fading, the new book by prolific writer Aldus Santos, whose byline will be familiar to anyone who reads plenty of local magazines, particularly music-oriented publications like PULP and the Pulse.ph site as well as the now-defunct BURN. (Aside from articles, he writes poetry as well―his first collection of poems, Vocalese, came out in 2006.) He also happens to be the lead singer and songwriter for acclaimed independent rock band The Purplechickens.

Why a collection of writing on music?
I always tell people that it’s not a work of rock scholarship; it’s a personal anthology of what I think is my best music writing. I’m a bit defensive about the undertaking, to be honest with you, especially since the last guy who did it was probably Eric Caruncho with Punks, Poets, Poseurs. Which naturally made me think, “Damn, Caruncho’s book came out thirteen years ago.” Can you believe that, Luis? Thirteen years, man, and no rock books. It’s really strange that there are no Pinoy rock books around, with the possible exception of 2007’s [anthology on the Eraserheads] Tikman ang Langit, which was sort of part-rock-book, part-fan-memoirs, I think. I don’t know why this is so―I mean, seeing how rock is back in fashion again. I guess it’s more telling of publishing practices than the lack of material to publish. Also, local music writing―like local music―tends to be serialized rather than anthologized. It’s more magazine fare.

“There is nothing more elusive than the artistic process. Often, being asked to speak of one’s craft is like being asked to describe the sun, the stars, or the wind: you’d be right, but you’d be terribly mistaken as well.”
– Excerpt from “Divine Write: Songwriters and the Creative Process,” Repeat While Fading

What makes you an authority? Or, in other words, why should we listen to you?
I don’t think I’m an authority on anything. What I’m doing―performing CSI-type work on the myth of the rock musician and song-making, among other musical issues (which would make the songs corpses)―will not tickle everybody pink. Seriously, though: I guess my take on things, as poet Marc Gaba said in an advance review of the book (and I’m paraphrasing), is a negotiation between being an insider and an outsider. That’s not particularly rare, I know; I mean, we have the PULP [magazine] guys―Pedicab’s Jason Caballa and Intolerant’s Joey Dizon―and Sago’s Lourd de Veyra, among many others. But I think “familiarity” is not so apparent in my writing, except when key to the narrative. Also, when I really want to be polemical and investigative and really take things apart from a musical technician’s standpoint, I guess I can. Is that a good thing? I hope so.

What time frame does this collection span?
If you mean the dates the articles were written, I guess you could say the past almost-decade. But if we’re talking about subject matter, I guess some of it dates back to the 70s and 80s (Juan de la Cruz and Pinoy punk included). Largely, though, I talked to a lot of the “survivors” of the stellar alterna-90s―some with their original bands, some with their new bands (the Eraserheads, Rivermaya, Wolfgang, Sandwich, et cetera). There are also some new artists (Wolfmann+ and Markus Highway among them), and, yeah, the pseudo-critical essays.

Give us a history of the steps taken towards coming out with this book―from the initial assignments/ideas, to the notion of releasing a collection, to the printing/design/launch.
When publisher Poppy & Plume asked me for a book idea, I initially wanted to pitch this prose-poem cycle I was working on, but I knew that was, from a business standpoint, suicide (and these guys are my friends). So, I thought, “Hmm, rock book!” The selection process was partly based on writing quality, and partly on a timeline (as I said, the 90s “survivors,” et al). When the selection was done, I had the idea of featuring the photography of Mari Arquiza, because I’m a big fan of her work (she was initially associated with Kitchie Nadal, but she has the best photos of everyone, really). Then I asked The Lowtechs’ Gelo Lagasca to do my cover, because I was happy with how his design of The Purplechickens’ [second album] Girls, Et Cetera turned out. P & P’s Gerard Baja was the best choice for book design, because he’s really a local printing-press Michelangelo. Oh, and I art-directed the book along with P & P’s Kathleen Pador.

Anyway, the cover is not hard-sell rock: it’s a picture of a set-list on the stage floor, and a guitar jack coiled up (trivia: Rico Blanco’s). The typography is semi-inspired by the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds (you’re right, Wincy Ong), while the art direction is partly prompted by a new reissue of Sam Shepard’s Dylan book Rolling Thunder Logbook, which is really jagged and occasionally asymmetrical. Lourd de Veyra was also game to do my foreword, which is really awesome (I was of the belief, naturally, that he understood my situation, having a simultaneous existence as music writer, musician, and poet). I usually produce my own launches (the book launch for Vocalese in 2006, the CD launch for Girls in 2007), but I thought I’d kick back this time and ask my college orgmate Cris Ramos (of Revolver Productions) to do the work. I did the booking myself, for a more personal touch (ha-ha), and my friends from Pupil, Rivermaya, Truefaith, Peryodiko, The Wuds, and my own band all agreed to play at the January 28 saGuijo launch.

Which of these pieces were particularly difficult to write and why?
“Divine Write: Songwriters and the Creative Process,” probably, but it was a beautiful kind of difficulty, because I was autopsying a delicate (not to mention impalpable) subject matter. This was originally pitched by the Pulse.ph people; they asked me to write about how I write, to which I said, “Why just me?” So, I asked Ely Buendia, Dong Abay, Vin Dancel, and Owel Alvero to help out. Luckily for me, they agreed.

Which of these pieces yield the fondest experiences/memories and why?
My blog-series about the Eraserheads reunion, probably, because I was hanging out with Marcus Adoro quite a lot during that time, and I got to see him preparing for the show, setting up his effects, et cetera. Also, the piece on Bobby Balingit and The Wuds―which is long overdue; nobody’s ever written this extensively about this important band, I believe. Also, at the end of the interview, I ended up getting dragged by Bob to Bilibid, where he was playing to inmates one Sunday. Needless to say, the prison visit proved to be really exciting, and it afforded me the sense of danger I so badly need (ha-ha).

What are the advantages/disadvantages to being BOTH a musician and writer when tackling assignments like these?
Well, as I mentioned earlier, if I want to tackle the more technical aspects of music-making, I can. On one hand, there’s empathy; but, on the other, there’s sympathy, which I think is always a looming danger. I try my very best, Luis. I remain honest and candid, though, that’s for sure.

Name your favorite music journalists and/or works of music journalism.
Overseas, definitely Greil Marcus and Simon Frith. Marcus wrote Mystery Train, which was really a critical paper disguised as a rock book. Frith, on the other hand, brings a sociologist’s eye in his music writing, especially in Sound Effects. I’m currently reading Like a Rolling Stone: Bob Dylan at the Crossroads by Marcus―a freaking book-length discussion of one song! I can relate to this sort of obsession, and I’m stoked that Marcus is an even better writer now than in the 70s (you’d think the guy would slow down in old age). Guys like Marcus and Frith are never trendy, and they’re always critical (in the original “amorous” sense of the word). Oh, and on the more profane side of things, I also love this critical essay by producer-engineer Steve Albini (of Nirvana’s In Utero fame) called “The Problem with Music,” which is largely an indies-versus-majors piece.

How has the scene changed since you started performing/writing? What is the future of the Philippine music scene?
Meritocracy is peeking shyly, and there’s at least more chances for smaller musicians now. The logic of old business models (i.e., labels and such) is also getting disproved. I don’t know about the future, though my sincere hope is there’d be more successes on the avant garde side of the fence. I’m still alarmed about the existence of a reigning (arbitrary) “cabal”―not that they don’t deserve it, and not that they’re being gangsteristic about it or anything―only because I’d like to see someone like Ginseng Luzon or Einstein Chakras shine, you know, for a change?

Repeat While Fading: Pinoy Rock Biographs by Aldus Santos is available at bookstores. E-mail gerard_baja [at] yahoo [dot] com for inquiries and orders. The launch was held at Café saGuijo on January 28, 2009, and featured performances by Pupil, Rivermaya, Truefaith, Peryodiko, The Wuds, and The Purplechickens.