Ka Pete’s ‘Salinawit’ poetry
Poet, journalist and editor Pete Lacaba might have felt like the handsome Paris in the midst of three implacable goddesses, that night divas Cooky Chua, Bayang Barrios and Girl Valencia sang at Conspiracy Bar a couple of Tuesdays ago. But he had enough of golden apples, of his eye and ear, thus poetry — more than what were needed to go around.
In fact Ka Pete had all of 72 songs on hand, neatly compiled into a songbook called Mga Salinawit ni Pete Lacaba — so-called old standards of Western music, with some pop hits thrown in, with the lyrics all translated/adapted into Tagalog, er, Filipino.
And so the crowd relished the vocalizing Olympics, with the trio of muses dishing out such numbers as Sa Pagsapit ng Madaling-Araw (In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning), Ang Tagal-Tagal Na (It’s Been a Long, Long Time), Tuwing Magpapaalam Ka (Every Time We Say Goodbye), Kulay-Rosas (La Vie En Rose), Lagot ang Puso Ko (My Foolish Heart), Anino ng Ngiti (The Shadow of Your Smile), Ngayon (Today), and Kahapon Lang (Yesterday), atbp.
The main draw for the night was really Cooky Chua — she of the wondrously throaty styling that may or may not be related to guzzling habits (or pards/babe looks). Her front act consisted of Reli German, who takes French lessons from a svelte daughter so he can parlay La Vie En Rose into yet another extended “A.I.M.” (“Ayaw Ibigay ang Mic”) effort, with or sans Lacaba’s translation; the multi-faceted and highly personable actor Ricky Davao, whose singing doesn’t suffer much in comparison with his genius as a thespian; and Ka Pete himself, another A.I.M. alumnus-about-town, from Malate to Pasig to Quezon City.
The luck of the draw had the audience enjoying open mic bonus performances, however. Girl
Then Bayang Barrios dropped in just as the second set peaked. And the little lass from Mindanao was easily prevailed upon to do her bit: a couple of numbers, the first straight out of Ka Pete’s songbook — the only one she was familiar with, she said — and a non-Salinawit encore allowed only her, a rousing version of Dandansoy.
Hey, such greatness from small packages. And we’re not even talking of a president. BB’s also been composing fresh tunes for a new CD album, and we were privy to a couple of demo tapes she played at sculptor Agnes Arellano’s garden a few weeks back, the same venue that nurtures the Pinikpikan band. Sounded great, with Sammy Asuncion’s trademark riffs amid the ethnic syncopation.
Back at Conspi, it was Ferdie Borja who once again served as the ultimate accompanist on the piano. We knew it was to be a terrific evening once he got the show rolling with his take on George Winston’s Gone — an old favorite, even before a PBA TV session utilized it for a tribute to Joe Cantada when the baritone broadcaster passed away.
In any case, a couple of other treats helped wrap up the musical evening. Conrad de Quiroz of a now infamous mural chucked his hardhat for a turn onstage. Game was he, urged on by the crowd regulars. Soon after, he confided that he hadn’t just been intent on competing with his rocker son DQ, lead guitarist and vocalist of the upcoming Mantikilya band, which performs at Kublai’s on Katipunan.
The final open mic convert was Princess Nemenzo. Why, the applause she generated can power any Philippine-Cuban friendship association for another decade. Only thing missing was her No. 1 fan, a former towering campus president, and one of our favorite whisky buddies.
Of course there’s something curiously heartwarming about humming along to familiar music with suddenly strange/familiar lyrics.
For instance, As Time Goes By becomes Walang Kupas — and our mind’s eye finds itself dredging up Sam the pianist, who plays it again in Casablanca, but this time it’s as if Bogart and Bergman are starring in a Tagalized redux on local TV, thus:
“Alalahanin mo,/ Halik na totoo/ Ay di nagbabago—/ Kapag dalisay at wagas,/ Walang kupas.// At sa sinisinta,/ Sinasambit tuwina’y/ ‘Iniibig kita.’/ Kapag tapat ang pagbigkas,/ Walang kupas.// Rosas at awit/ Na di naluluma,/ Lambing at galit/ At selos at tuwa./ Isang dibdib,/ Dalawang nilikha—/ Pag-ibig ay ganyan.// Paulit-ulit lamang/ Ang ating kassaysayan/ Ngayon at kaylanman./ Walang wakas itong pag-ibig,/ Walang kupas.”
I daresay that Ka Pete now provides all karaoke/videoke stalwarts with even more guts than had been traditionally necessary, even in dimly lit parlors where a fellow customer may be packing something in his waistband or pocket, and the rogue cop isn’t just excited to see and hear yet another amateurish cover of My Way.
No, Pete’s hasn’t included an adaptation of that yet in his burgeoning songbook, which started a few years back, with lyrics shared only with fellow e-group Plaridel-ians. Soon enough his adaptations were given a collective title by younger bro Billy Lacaba: Salinawit. And even sooner did we start hearing sundry vocal jammers, mostly Pete’s friends, of course, trying out the homegrown lyrics at various haunts.
In fact Pete would often get SMS reports, from snitches like yours truly, saying that even as we text, Skarlet or Myra Ruaro is doing his Siya (adapted from She: “Siya and di malimot na ganda/ Na ang timpla’y iba-iba,/ Haplos ng hangin o haplit ng tag-araw...”) at Chakik’s on Julia Vargas Ave. And Pete would text back to demand his copyright fee: a round of beer for the informant and his table. (By the by, Skarlet eventually jammed along at the first Conspi concert, as did Justine Draper of Celebrity Lounge.
And so the beat went on, with Pete giving a new meaning to “songwriter” — until word of mouth and/or larynx spread like cogon fire, and more instances of friendly piracy were reported. Thus the idea of a first, consolidated concert: at Blacksoup Cafe at the Marikina Shoe Center in Cubao on Dec. 9, 2006, where Salinawit songs were rendered by Isha (a.k.a Pearlsha Abubakar), Bodgie Pascua, Glaiza de Castro, and Susan Fernandez, with Bonnie Baynosa on keyboards.
We recall that night, how a drizzle divided the audience into opposite sidewalks across the road, but oh how we all reveled in familiar Western songs done “in the language of our blood.”
Tiina Monzon Palma heard about it and anchored her ANC cable channel program Talkback to celebrate Salinawit love songs on Feb. 12, with singing guests Pinky Amador, Isay Alvarez, Robert Seña, Arthur Manuntag, Ricky Davao, Susan Fernandez and Girl Valencia, all accompanied by Bonnie Baynosa.
Followed the Salinawit Singing Writers Night at Conspiracy lon May 29, with pen-pushers Charlson Ong, Marne Kilates, Mike Coroza and Pete himsself upping the ante for the translation genre. Singer-pianist Rica Arambulo joined in by doing the songs in the original, while Susan Fernandez interpreted Salinawit efforts by Becky Añonuevo and National Artist for Literature Bien Lumbera.
On tap next Monday, Nov. 19, is another concert, this time at Capisce at Metrowalk in Ortigas Center, with Ricky, Reli, Pete and possibly the goddess Cooky again. We’ll be there, albeit hoping Pete will keep his mic off our boyhood’s signature song: If You Love Me (Really Love Me), or Basta’t Ako Ay Mahal Mo (“Kung mawala sa langit ang buwan,/ Kung matuyo ang buong karagatan,/ Hindi problema para sa akin/ Basta’t ako ay mahal mo...”). Otherwise we might begin to believe Billy’s claim that when his kuya takes that mic, there ought to be a listener’s fee.
Oh, and the songbook sells for only P200 (available at Conspiracy, and wherever the musical revue follows up on the moveable feast). It contains 72 songs with the original and adapted lyrics, proper credits and all that, even the orig French for If You Love Me... (Hymne a La’amour) and La Vie En Rose. Don’t worry; Reli will be there to explain it all, including the orig Latin lyrics for Gaudeamus Igitur (Tayo Na at Magsaya)
May bonus track pa: Desiderata translated into Minimithi: (“... Sa kabila ng lahat ng pagkukunwari, kabagutan, at gumuhong pangarap,/ Maganda pa rin ang daigdig.”).
Kudos kay Ka Pete!
