The voice of Rivermaya

When Perf de Castro left Rivermaya, fans wondered how the band would fare without the work of the fiery axeman who went on to found Tri-axis. But Rivermaya persisted, even went on to record arguably its best album, Atomic Bomb, with vocalist Bamboo and bassist Nathan Azarcon still on board. When Bamboo Manalac left the band however, gone too was the voice that was the great counterpoint to Rico Blanco’s songwriting.

It seemed only a matter of time before Azarcon left, and the rest, as they say, is the refurbished Rivermaya (with only Blanco and the drummer Mark Escueta the remaining orig members joined by, among others, former Mr. Crayon guitarist Kakoy Legaspi) and the newly- formed Bamboo (name of both vocalist and band) with Azarcon and second generation rocker, Ira Cruz on guitars. Both bands, when their strong points are combined in a kind of digitally-enhanced audio hybrid, sound like the Rivermaya of old: Blanco’s songwriting is still the bedrock of the band’s latest incarnation, while Bamboo could well be the best rock vocalist we have today this side of the Pacific.

Latter-day Rivermaya’s latest CD was released late last year, Between the Stars and Waves (Viva), and though a solid effort, it received mixed reviews mainly due to the Coldplay/Radiohead angst-like stance of Blanco and the rest of the band. But it is hard to put down a good songwriter even in his off days.

Without Bamboo, Azarcon et al., the band found a way to survive and, more importantly, move on. Still one can’t help imagine what A Love to Share would have sounded like with the two still around.

Perhaps another sign of moving on is Bamboo’s debut CD, As the Music Plays (Polyeast). Soon after Bamboo left Rivermaya for the Bay Area for reported domestic bliss and a job at a bookstore, the local music scene suffered through a void with the absence of the Pinoy’s counterpart to Michael Stipe. Then word got around that the voice of Rivermaya had returned, not to the band but to our shores, and was seen doing gigs at Sanctum, and even had a guest spot on Crossroads on NU 107 with Cousin Hoagy, whose turn it is to go Stateside. On the program the band did a live, stripped-down version of Sting’s It’s Probably Me, as well a memorable new tune with the lines that stuck in one’s head, Linamon ng pag-ibig, and which upon listening to the CD is actually from the song Masaya.

The power of radio brought us the hit single culled from As the Music Plays, the seeming FPJ-tailored Noypi, which began filling the airwaves at the height of the actor’s citizenship case. But if fans of Bamboo and the old school Rivermaya were delighted with Noypi, there are a number of songs on the CD that are just as good, if not better.

When before it was Michael Stipe who most came to mind when listening to songs like, say, Kung Ayaw Mo Huwag Mo, now there are other echoes present as a kind of indirect tribute by a vocalist who is blessed with his own. One might hear shades of Matchbox Twenty in the opening cut Take Me Down, or nuances in the songwriting of Pride and the Flame akin to 10,000 Maniacs, but the voice is unmistakably Bamboo’s, as it was Rivermaya’s.

Of the 10 songs on the CD, seven are in English, which could be because the album aims to be packaged internationally, or that the band is more comfortable with this medium, or both, since the music if it’s worth anything should transcend language. One notices a kind of healthy balance between the harder rocking numbers and the slow, ballad-like cuts, and the players acquit themselves well in either format. A song like the politically subtle War of Hearts and Minds has this memorable verse set against a backdrop of laidback melody: "Take my wife please if you think it’s funny/ Cut my heart out for a souvenir/ Take my life please if you think it’s worth it/ I’m glad you’re not here." The songwriting may not be as mature as the veteran Blanco’s but it’s getting there and quick.

The title song itself delves into funk with a wicked bass line slithering between the bars, while These Days has a down home reggae coda punctuated by the drummer’s ability to change time signature in midstream (credits too small for these nearsighted eyes, can’t read drummer’s name).

Of the three songs in Filipino, aside from the aforementioned Noypi and Masaya, there’s Hudas which provides some nuggets for reflection post-Holy Week as well as give new meaning to the jeepney saying, God knows Hudas not pay: "Sana ay mamulat ang matang bulag/Nag-iisa lang naman ang Diyos/ Tinatawanan lang ni Hudas si Satanas at ang ating Diyos Ama." All this theological meandering is driven by a rock solid beat-clanging guitars, bubbling bass, and the voice that is no longer Rivermaya’s but sings like a bird of the polyphonic river just the same.