|
31 July 2003
Vintage recordings
 THE
CASSETTE tape's cover design was almost too simple, but the title caught
my eye: "Kamuning: A Vintage Recording." Beneath the title was
the name: Atang de la Rama.
The tape, produced by Tawid Publications, is a compilation of Atang
recordings dating back to the 1920s. As far as I know, it's a first for
the Philippines, and I hope not the last.
Thanks to digital technologies, Tawid was able to transfer recordings
from the private collection of Nestor R. Vera Cruz (Yesteryear Music
Gallery). The product is quite good, with crisp sounds and a bit of the
scratching sounds that give it the sense of an old record.
The cassette has 10 Atang de la Rama recordings, four of which are duets
with Vicente Ocampo. I thought the songs would be mainly sentimental
"kundiman" [traditional Filipino song] but it turned out the
selections were much more varied, the songs quite playful in the "bodabil"
(vaudeville) tradition.
An amusing piece, "Kung Umibig ang Matatanda" pleads the case
for older lovers. The song starts out with Atang teasing Ocampo,
presumably an older man, as having "malambot na baywang (a soft
waist)," to which Ocampo retorts, "Matigas pa ... (It's still
hard...)" He then goes on to point out the advantages of loving and
being loved by an older person. One line says it all: "Walang hibok,
walang salita, lahat nakukuha sa gawa (No flattery, no words, all's
achieved through action)."
The cassette gives us glimpses into what Filipino society was like in
the 1920s.
Most intriguing are the sexual innuendoes in several of the songs. I've
mentioned the play on the words "soft" and "hard."
One entire piece, "Bibingka" (Rice Cake), has Atang and Ocampo
exchanging challenges to have a taste of Atang's bibingka, a sexual
metaphor with the singing stopping at strategic words. It looks like Sex
Bomb and other singers of that genre aren't really that original -- we
had "sexy songs" back in the 1920s, together, I am sure, with
the usual prudes bristling in indignation.
The songs have social commentaries as well. "Paganito at Paganyan"
(This Way And That) pokes fun at Filipino habits. Atang chides the
Filipino for imitating everything in Western movies: We learn that after
Charlie Chaplin films came around, our men began sporting moustaches, a
la Chaplain.
She sings, too, of how Filipinos tended to live beyond their means,
ending up hocking stuff at the Tambunting pawnshop chain. Now, doesn't
all that resonate into the 21st century?
I can assure you the
cassette won't appeal only to older people. I played the cassette to a
group of University of the Philippines students and they were totally
captivated. Without my coaching, they were noting how words had changed
in their meanings, or even catching words no longer used these days, for
example, "hibok." (We had to check Panganiban's 1971 Tagalog
dictionary, which defines it as "persuasion by flattery.")
I know that part of the cassette's appeal is the element of novelty, one
that could easily wear off. But I also suspect that if we had more
vintage recordings, we just might get more Filipinos interested,
especially if radio stations pick up. It's ironic that AM radio stations
play many old songs, but these are all from the West.
Other countries have long cashed in on the nostalgia market, reproducing
old records. In China, you can go to any music store and ask for
"old music" and they will show you vintage recordings of
Atang's contemporaries.
 |
| Dela
Rama |
Beyond nostalgia
though, I think it is important to have vintage recordings as a way of
honoring our great artists. I've been following the controversies
surrounding the latest selection of National Artists and feel that we're
wasting too much time griping. I'm more concerned about how little we do
for the artists once they receive their awards. What we need to be doing
is preserving and reproducing their works, and making sure each
succeeding generation of Filipinos knows who those artists are, and why
they were chosen.
When I asked my students who Atang de la Rama was, most of them had
blank faces. As I explained her rather colorful life, you could see the
students' faces perking up as they realized that Atang was honored for
her contributions to popular culture, with a mixed repertoire of the
"sarsuela," "kundiman" and vaudeville songs.
Talking about Atang also allows us to explain why she is a National
Artist and Sex Bomb isn't. Atang was a true artist, singing from her
heart and her soul. It's not surprising she also had songs with social
commentaries; in her personal life she was also an activist, and married
the fiery labor leader and poet Amado V. Hernandez.
After buying the cassette at Tradewinds bookstore in Manila's Intramuros
"walled city" section, I called up the cassette's producers to
ask if they had other vintage recordings. Tawid's Melissa Moran sadly
explained Atang was the only one. They do have recordings of Raul Sunico,
doing old songs on the piano, but the Tawid people have been
hard-pressed to find original vintage music.
This column is a call then: If there are readers out there with old
Filipino records, you might want to share them with Tawid. Perhaps
corporations can take this up as well. ABS-CBN Broadcasting Corp. is
celebrating its 50th anniversary and it could make a lasting
contribution helping to get old recordings going, not just of music but
of old films. Just last week in the United States I noticed how black
and white TV series like "I Love Lucy" and "Twilight
Zone" have been transferred to DVD, and were selling quite briskly.
The Atang tape is hard to find in commercial outlets, a reflection of
the still limited market for such recordings. Readers who are interested
can call Tawid (phone 632-4260578). Or you can write them at tawid@i-manila.com.ph.
|
