Freedom Park. Families were eating dirty ice cream. Kids were holding balloons and running down the bricked pathways. Half of the park was closed off with metal pipes clamped and connected to waist-high barricades. They circle the stage–the stage flanked by two LED screens projecting advertisements of the Energy Development Corp, with a rolling dolly platform on it; a drum set and several speakers on the dolly. Behind that stage was the white theater stage. On it and around it were the guests’ tables, holding the performers–occasionally a manager, a host, a politician.
Last Oct. 10, ten local acts fought to be the best band in Dumaguete. Despite the hour-late program, the audience slowly poured in as the security guards opened the gates for the opening act: a pair of comedians dubbed as “The Crazy Duo”. One of the hosts called out to her boyfriend, who was eating his dinner at one of the tables on the white theater stage. “Come and listen! They’re so funny,” she said. He declined, delegating his attention back at his tuna and rice. “Maybe I don’t get them because I don’t really know how to speak Cebuano,” he told his friend.
The Crazy Duo drew in the crowd. Buganda, a DJ act, blasted music; their dancers clad in lights swept the stage with a spectacular light show. One of the acts, Jett Pangan, sang before the hosts, Kim Covert and EJ Bartlett, went on stage. They greeted Dumaguete a hearty hello.
Backstage, a man in a red jacket, surrounded by several bodyguards, walked into the VIP section. Gov. Roel Degamo settled at a table, with men of different statures leaning and listening to him speak. He finished his dinner just in time to deliver his message. “This event is very important,” Degamo said, backstage. “This province kanunay gibisita ug typhoon. Ang probinsiya nato, gamay na ulan, baha dayun. Kung wala nay kahoy, kanunay dili na makapugong ang mga kahoy na nangabilin. [Typhoons visit this province frequently. If this province receives even just a little rain, it gets flooded right away. If we don’t have enough trees, the trees that are left behind cannot hold what’s left.]”
What Gov. Roel was underlining and supporting was the 10M in 10 project by the energy company, which will pave way for 10 million trees to be planted, grown, and maintained in the next 10 years. “As we expand our BINHI program [the company’s greening legacy,] we are raising the bar for environmental stewardship by partnering with as much people and institutions as possible to make 10M in 10 a fully-committed forest restoration program,” said EDC President and Chief Operating Officer Richard Tancoco, in a press release. They kicked off that project with 40 SPUD grade school students, alongside the 10M in 10 partners, planting 40 premium native tree seedlings in the mountains–representing EDC’s 40 years of providing clean, renewable power to the country.
Gov. Roel also said that the event helps promote local music. “If we let them show their talents, then we are promoting their talents.”
On the far end of the white theater stage, a group of men–bodyguards and managers–lounged at one of the tables. They made conversation; one of the men listening idly, probably relieving the tension before he hit the stage or practicing the rhythm in his head. He and his lead singer had arrived that morning; she visited radio stations while he stayed at the hotel. His bandmates, Carlos and Paul, were unable to join them–they had personal commitments to attend to. For Ean Mayor of Up Dharma Down, he had not been in Dumaguete since 2005: the band’s first out-of-town gig. They were opening for jazz band Radioactive Sago Project under the canopies of Hayahay. For Ean, this time felt again like his first time playing in Dumaguete.
“Nagulat kami; ang daming bands dito. I guess very healthy ‘yung music dito,” he said. “Dala [ng EDC mga] artists from Manila: Jeff Pangan, Cueshé… Nagiging healthy ang music industry because of these kinds of events…[I’m] very thankful, at sana hindi ito ang last.”
[We were surprised; there are so many bands here. I guess the music here is very healthy. EDC brought in artists from Manila: Jeff Pangan, Cueshé…The music industry gets healthy because of these kinds of events…I’m very thankful and I hope that this won’t be the last.]
One after the other, the bands performed their selections; an eclectic jambalaya of Dumagueteño sound. Each band played a cover and their original composition–testaments to their flexibility and their creativity. Most of the bands–G-Clef, Fata Morgana, Birefringence, Perfect Paradigm, Karma–blared different shades of rock: grunge, punk, metallic, house. Environs stripped down their songs; Random Play sang ska, their flautist flying airy melodies. Fata Morgana opened with a war cry and thundering drums; Musikat hit their ending high note.
The lead of Up Dharma Down, Armi Millare, said that all who performed had great songwriters–which made judging the ten bands more difficult. She sat in between EDC’s head of corporate communications Ricky Carandang and Cueshé’s lead singer Ruben Caballero, on a raised platform in front of the stage; the audience surrounding them. “Writing an original song is again becoming natural with our musicians,” Armi said, backstage, after all the bands had performed. “That’s what we always say: ‘What do we write about? What resonates with us as songwriters, as people at this time and generation?’ The more people who write original songs, the more they can catalog what is happening.”
To Armi, it’s also important to know where we stand with the environment. “It’s quite simple: everybody who’s in tune with what’s happening currently, they know that environmentally we’re currently not in such a great state.” She said it would be good to use music as a tool to educate people. “Music brings people together,” Armi said. “If you write a very compelling song with a good message, people will pick it up.”
The crowd watched on as each band played their songs. A few persons, the ones who stayed at the back, turned to look behind them. A set of twenty-odd people marched along the cemented pathways of the park. They waved their placards, but they didn’t shout or yell. They tried to get inside, but the guards barred them from entering. They leaned their banners on a cement bench under a lamp in the park.
“They did not let us in. We tried to get into the VIP section. We were relatively quiet,” said Venice Francine Bogo, membership chairman of Cuernos de Negros Mountaineering Club. She and other activists–mostly friends–gathered for the event to declare their frustration. “If they plan to plant ten million trees, then why are they cutting the trees in the first place?”
According to Venice, the group wanted to promote realistic sustainable goals that can be achievable. “Maybe what they’re trying to do is on the right track but it’s not enough to compensate the current level of devastation in Mt. Talinis right now,” Venice said. Fellow protesters Natalie Curran and Earnest Hope Tinambacan agreed to the statement, and added that the event did not promote local music.
“Based on my observation, it did not totally showcase what Dumaguete musicians can offer–songwriters in particular,” Earnest said. According to Natalie, bands that failed to mention EDC and positive energy in their songs were unable to surpass the eliminations. “It was more to me–from what I heard–that it was more of a jingle event to promote EDC rather than about the battle of the bands and music.”
“We just want people to be aware of what’s currently happening and not what they’re just trying to show, we want to cover all angles of the issues circulating especially in Mt. Talinis,” said Venice.
After all ten bands performed, Perfect Blend was declared the winner; a large check of P100,000 awaited their grasp. Throughout the night, the audience watched the event with scattered cheers and contemptuous glares. Some yelled and hollered when their friends performed, but the majority of the audience gawked at what’s in front of them. When Cueshé and Up Dharma Down stepped on stage, the crowd hummed along to their songs. As soon as the backstage crew wheeled out Up Dharma Down on the dolly, people vacated the front lines. Buganda closed the show. Their dancers swung balls of fire; their lasers jutting into the audience. Their wands, flung by the dancers in circles, spell “EDC”. More dancers wheeled in on tech-y scooters, clad in bright LED lights. The DJs blasted electro-dance music from all sides.
And yet, the crowd slowly receded. The stage, violated by trespassers seeking vantage points in between the floor speakers, was left emptied. A girl lowered her smartphone, busy from the dizzying amount of photos taken of the Manila bands. She stepped off her perch–the stairs at the side of the stage–to go home. “Who cares, who cares,” she declared, as the performers went on with their light show.
