Women Rule: Kaong In Halo-halo Syndrome

Numeric Sampler 502
Various Artists





GIVEN HALF A CHANCE, FEMINIST extremists would probably have the male of the species, which they see as the cause of most if not all of the world’s problems, should be castrated. In this record, at least, they almost get their wish.

In a compilation of 16 songs by seven male bands (Sugar Hiccup has a female vocalist-guitarist) and an all-female ensemble (Keltscross), it is these two groups who stand out. The producers may have seen this and allotted them threes songs each while giving the rest two at most. Keltscross is everyone’s favorite little sister who discovers the joys of rebellion. She
drinks beer, smokes weed and sings songs like German Cut (Opera) and Johnny Look Twice. The latter, a song about rape and homicide, with its ’77ish punk delivery, is a sharp contrast – a love ballad that wrings out irony from melody.

Keltscross is everyone’s favorite little sister who discovers the joys of rebellion. She drinks beer, smokes weed and sings songs like German Cut (Opera) and Johnny Look Twice love ballad that
wrings out irony from mel. The latter, a song about rape and homicide, with its ’77ish punk delivery, is a sharp contrast – a love ballad that wrings out irony from melody.

In a compilation of 16 songs by seven male bands (Sugar Hiccup has a female vocalist-guitarist) and an all-female ensemble (Keltscross), it is these two groups who stand out. The producers may have seen this and allotted them threes songs each while giving the rest two at most. Keltscross is everyone’s favorite little sister who discovers the joys of rebellion. She drinks beer, smokes weed and sings songs like German Cut (Opera) and Johnny Look Twice. The latter, a song about rape and homicide, with its ’77ish punk delivery, is a sharp contrast – a love ballad that wrings out irony from melody.

Up front you’ll get the impression from Trust of a resigned attitude on the age-old phenomenon of girls loving boys, girls giving boys all they ask for, then boys the pigs that they are betray and leave. Keltscross takes on a tougher stance: “You didn’t have to kill her/You son-of-a-whore.” Of all the bands in this album, with the possible exception of Siakol, Keltscross is the most deserving of a solo record.

Despite the women’s talent, ladies first is not observed here. Siakol starts off the record with the radio and concert-favorite Lakas Tama. Lagim, by the same group, follows. These two songs’ thematic pose practically sets up the whole album: love and politics, heartache and social conscience, indifference. It’s as if everybody who has joined a Pinoy rock a band is a closet radio advice-program host or pulpit firebrand. From Juan de la Cruz to The Youth, everyone freely boasts of their romantic adventures cum sleazy escapades and dispenses with unsolicited counsel. It’s uncanny that in a compilation record, the bands here, all seven of them (Cathode Ray’s Diagram is an instrumental) do just that.

Speaking of compilations, the rust and glut of Pinoy Rock compli releases trivialize the format. They are almost like OPM alternative music Stars On 45. From an economic point of view, it’s practical buying complis. You get more for your money. That’s quantity-wise. But this very format ensures scattershot musical menu. You get grunge, you get punk, you get thrash, you get pop. And the caliber of songs usually varies from execrable to divine. Those who prefer a more focused and consistent approach to music appreciation are advised to steer away form this sort of buy.

Incidentally, it’s not only the average enthusiast that’s shortchanged by the halo-halo syndrome now rampant in the recording industry. The music reviewer, deprived of a center to draw a bead on, finds it twice difficult analyzing. But if enough good material of a single style (cyberpunk, for instance) is deliberately made available, the focal point will be a big help for layman and reviewer.

One thing about complis is that, granted the selections are uniformly interesting, you don’t get bored. If the good ones come few and far between, it’s like trying to sift through a lot of scraped coconut in a fruit salad for kaong.

It’s a quaint coincidence that all the bands featured in Numeric Sampler 502, except for those with one-word names, have alliterative handles: Keltscross, Tame The Tikbalang, Poppy Field, Feet Like Fins and Children of Cathode Ray. It’s certainly no coincidence that the styles are copies of mostly western rock. You hear traces of the Sex Pistols, Metallica, Talk Talk, Faith No More, The Go-Gos, Megadeth, Suicidal Tendencies, Public Enemy and even Enya. Anyway, rock ‘n’ roll is a western/American invention; and as the allegation goes, we are “little brown Americans” pumped full of colonial mentality. So, on with the show.

Record companies can’t really be blamed for producing compilations. It is a practical means of testing market reaction on what bands sell without resorting to the Russian-roulette Marvel mutant X-titles method: Oh, Wolverine is hot with the fanboys. Let’s give him his own series. Yeah, and Cable too! And while you’re at it, give Gambit his mini series. The bands that prove most popular get their solo deals.

The best thing that can be said of this record is that it is proof of the theory that shelling out that inflation-ridden peso for every release which prominently displays the warning “Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics” on its inlay card is not a guarantee for satisfaction. It’s not like the Ten Commandments with its irresistible “thou shalt not…” a foreshadowing of sweet dark thrills. Summed up, Marilyn Chambers does not lie in wait behind every Green Door. PJT/October 1995 Horizons