Ang himig ni Pepe Smith
Langit ay itim ang kulay...
Joseph William Feliciano Smith is dead. Long live Joey “Pepe” Smith.
Rock ‘n’ roll icons like Pepe never really pass on. The voice, those guitars are in the grooves of vinyl, illuminated in the rainbow flashings of compact discs, floating in the ethers of radio and Spotify, recurring like summer wind. A song like Himig Natin, for example (with its acoustic guitar intro, sparse piano, bluesy electric six-string solo and lyrics about suffering and seeking redemption through music) is forever installed in our psyche. But Smith’s death still hurts like hell. Makes you wish that the throng at Pepe’s funeral attended even one of his solo gigs or his concerts with Juan de la Cruz instead, bought a ticket, partook of beer and pica-pica, supported the musician, lent an ear. (Instead, we get all these “thank you for the music” posts on Facebook from people who never even made an effort to see Pepe, Juan de la Cruz or other OPM artists like Lolita Carbon, Jun Lopito, Noli Aurillo, and The Jerks as they try to earn a living heroically playing songs that define our country’s musical DNA. It is a hard life for those who refuse to clown around in noontime shows and pass judgement in singing contests, to sell out.)
The music of Pepe Smith is transcendent. The man was one of a kind. How do you go about replacing a national treasure? Pepe had the songs, the superstar looks, the mass appeal, a kindness of heart and a twisted sense of humor. He was a human quote machine — a cross between Shakespeare and Keith Richards.
Did you know that the immortal ballad by the great Joey “Pepe” Smith — a national anthem, a hold-that-Zippo-up moment, the manifesto for the movement that would become Pinoy Rock — was written in a toilet?
It was 1972 and the band was about to go onstage for a concert at Rizal Park. Smith had the urge to sit down somewhere and write a song. He recalled in a 2008 interview with The STAR: “Sa ladies’ room ako pumunta para isulat ‘yung Himig Natin kasi out-of-order ’yung men’s room eh. Ayoko maistorbo.”
Pepe Smith, Wally Gonzalez and Mike Hanopol were in the middle of rehearsals for a Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) gig billed as “Fiesta ng Musikang Pilipino” with late great bassist Dondi Ledesma, drummer Wendell Garcia, and the Manila Philharmonic Orchestra (MPO) when I crashed the proceedings to interview JDLC — to the consternation of the resident whip-cracker at the Jupiter Makati studio. I pressed on, despite being evil-eyed by the dragon lady.
I asked Pepe was it true that he was on acid when he wrote Himig Natin.
“Bakit? Lahat naman noon naka-drugs ah (laughs),” he shared. “May naka-Cortal pa nga eh.”
“Di ka naman namigay eh,” Wally told Pepe.
“Meron pa n’un naka-United American Tiki-Tiki,” Mike added with a chuckle.
So, what was the crowd’s reaction upon hearing Himig Natin for the first time?
“Sumakay naman ’yung mga tao. Since sila din lumulutang, naintindihan din nila kami,” said Pepe with a grin.
A few Pink Elephants, a toilet, stoned concertgoers, a song of hope for a country under a black cloud of authoritarian rule — all these elements were present during Pinoy Rock’s Year Zero.
When asked to describe the prevailing music scene during the early years of Juan de la Cruz, Pepe said, “Malungkot, madugo (laughs).” He expounded, “Medyo mahirap dahil wala kaming kasabay noon eh. Kaya pinakiramdaman naming kung ano ’yung dapat naming ilabas na musika. Noon, martial law, di namin alam kung magugustuhan ng bayan ’yung mga kanta namin — pati na syempre ’yung Punong Pamilya (laughs).”
But Juan de la Cruz opened the floodgates to every homegrown musician’s mind. From then on, it wasn’t baduy anymore to sing in our native tongue, to sing about the Filipino experience — from going to Divisoria to imagining the Great Pinoy Antiquities. In fact, it became much, much hipper to do so. Others pursued the same muse; a whole scene was established with the likes of Anakbayan, Maria Cafra, Sampaguita, Asin, Petrified Anthem, and Judas, among others. (To be followed later on by Dinosaur, The Jerks, The Dawn, Razorback, Wolfgang... the list is endless.) Original mind-altering Pinoy rock and folk music blossomed forth. It was our own birth of the cool.
We all need a sort of rebirth right now. (Have you listened to local radio recently?)
Joey “Pepe” Smith paid his dues: he went through drug busts, death of friends, despondency, a nearly fatal car crash, disastrous concerts, health scares, confrontation with Cristy Per Minute. He also spent time in the slammer.
Lore has it that in prison Pepe would play a ragtag guitar with two strings and make the inmates cry. When he was released, a kind soul gave him an electric guitar. A white one, symbolic of redemption. Smith started playing again. He became the brand ambassador of our favorite beer. A couple of years back, Pepe even starred in a movie that was screened at festivals in Berlin and Tokyo. The man was sailing above the clouds (not a drug metaphor, by the way). Well, until the rock ‘n’ roll rollercoaster inevitably came crashing down again.
We realize now as we contemplate the passing of a Pinoy Rock legend how our heroes go through hell and back just to bestow upon us a hymn of our own: something that will make our hair stand on end and lift our spirits; something to sing while riding the jeepney (Beep Beep), getting caught in a sudden downpour (Rock & Roll Sa Ulan) or — if you are a, uh, “baker” — when dicking around with magic flour (Nadapa sa Arina). A cache of songs to stay with us through good times, bad times.
Wika nga ni Pepe: “Upang tayo’s magsama-sama sa langit ng pag-asa.”
Lourd de Veyra:
Tatlong engkwentro kay Pepe (although mas marami pa talaga):
This was sometime in the ‘90s. Somewhere in a quiet corner of Broadway Centrum, I interviewed him for a magazine. Our topic was, uhm, mind-altering substances and consciousness-expansion. He proved to be a smart conversationalist, and was rather knowledgeable on the more arcane areas of the topic. Asked him, “What is the one drug you will never, ever touch?” His answer: “Talampunay.”
During the second Juan de la Cruz reunion sa World Trade Center. Nag jam ako sa spoken word part ng Nadapa sa Harina. Duet dapat namin ni Pepe. Nag ensayo pa kami and all. Pero nung actual performance nawala na lang siya sa stage. Hindi mahanap. Ang tsismis, hinahanap daw ang pustiso sa kotse. (Binigyan ko rin siya ng CD copy ng then newly reissued Speed, Glue and Shinki records na ilang dekada na niya hindi nadidinig. Nawala din niya.)
Nakasabay namin siya sa isang production dati. Pagdating namin sa dressing room, may mahabang katawan na naka-curl up sa isang tabi. Si Pepe. Tulog na tulog. Biro pa namin, malamang pinasundo nang maaga ng organizer. Pinapanood lang namin si Pepeng matulog while waiting for our turn. Habang si Dodong Cruz ng The Youth, nasa isang sulok lang nakatitig sa akin. After a couple of hours, ginising na rin si Pepe. He stretched, put on a pair of cowboy boots, cowboy hat, tingin sa salamin, smile sa amin, tugtog.
Chickoy Pura:
Peyaps — he was my idol. The first time I saw him, I wanted to be like him. I wanted to play the drums while singing. I tried to imitate his rock poses. But one thing that will never be imitated is that voice. His was a very unique voice. He was a guy who wore his heart on his sleeve. Everybody knows his story: the ultimate juvenile even in his old age. He could be very defiant. I remember in his every performance he would end the show with: “Say no to drugs, give them all to me. Goodnight and f*ck you all.”
I just miss my friend.
Rest well, Peyaps.
Kevin Roy:
I can’t recall a singular moment that’s fondest to me. Pepe and I shared brief but always happy moments. It’ll always be the way I remember him.
Boy Vinzon:
I feel the loss. One and only talaga. Loveable pa. So unpretentious even as he is the real rockstar. He used to kiss me every time he would see me. May gift pa siya sa akin na cap na “Serve the People” ang nakasulat — because that’s what I do daw. Sad tayo kasi akala natin hindi man siya mamamatay kahit kalian.
Louie Talan:
We were on a flight to the UAE for a gig, and he was my seatmate. He spent half the flight telling me why the Spitfire is the greatest fighter plane of all time. Pepe was passionate about aircraft, and his knowledge on the subject was encyclopedic. Amazing person he was, really. I forgot to mention that, during the whole trip, he was flying a Spitfire on his iPad. You will be missed, Captain Joseph Smith! — Photo by Aleck Pulido
Lav Diaz:
Patsi-patsi, tagni-tagni at reta-retaso, kumbaga, ambon, hamog, alimuom, usok at pagsabog ng bulkan at amplifiers ang mga alaala ko kay Pepe Smith, mula sa unang pagkarinig ko ng Himig Natin, strange but true, sa araw mismo na nalaman kong martial law na — naglalakad ako patungo sa eskwela, at sabay sa sobrang ingay ng patugtog ng isang nadadaanan kong bahay ng isang bluesy song pero Pinoy ang lyrics; ang ganda, kakaiba, pinanindigan ako ng balahibo, hayup ang bokals, gitara, tiyempo, samakatuwid ay labis na epiphany ang inabot ko, at nalaman ko later na kanta pala ng Juan de la Cruz Band.
Fast forward, nang nasa Jingle na ako, may tugtugan sina Pepe at Anak Bayan sa Trinity at isa ako sa naatasang kumober ng mga kaganapan. Chaos, man, chaos, pero cool kapagdaka. Sabi ng babaeng emcee: “Mga kaibigan, si Pepe Smith at ang Anak Bayan!” Masigabong sigawan, tilian at kalampagan pero halos tertiminits na ang lead guitar ni Jun Lupito at walang-hanggang hampas ni Edmond Fortuno sa mayor niyang tambol, wala pa ring Peyaps. Yunnamanpala’y sumobra na ang toma at kung anu-ano pang kemikal ang nalunok at di na magising at makatayo ang bida. Binuhusan ng tubig, tinampal-tampal, minura-mura nila at namin, hanghang sobra kalahati na ng mga tao ang nangagsiwokawt, at bumaliktad na ang mag mesa at upuan at ang dami nang nabasag na mga bote sa sobrang galit ng mundo, at umabot na kay Allah ang galit ng mga rakenrolers, nang bigla kamong lumitaw ang dalawang lalaki, akay si Pepe, na halos gising na rin. Kumapit sa Pepe sa mikropono for his dear life, at fiftenminits pa yata siyang kumakapit dun bago namutawi ang ‘Tila umuulan nang malakas..!? ’At nabuhay muli ang naghihingalo nang Holy Trinity.
Fast forward, years later, inintrodyus niya ang The Brockas sa Fete de la Musique :”Mga kaibigan, ang bandang papalit sa Juan de la Cruz Band!” Ibinulong ko sa kanya later, “Tol, filmmakers kami, hindi banda.” Sabi niya, “Pareho lang ‘yun!”
Fast forward, magka-eksena kami sa pelikulang Singing in Graveyards at ako kunwari ang galit niyang manedyer. Pagkatapos ng eksena, sabi niya, “Ang kulit natin.”
Fast forward, magkakasama kami sa Venice Filmfest, nasa Minkumpetisyon ang Ang Babaeng Humayo at nasa Kritikseksyon ang Singing in Gaveyards, at nagpalitrato kami nang nagpalitrato, at nagkuwentuhan kami nang nagkuwentuhan at wala akong maintindihan at alam kong wala rin siyang maintindihan.
Fast forward, may music store na raw siya sa Lilac St. sa Marikina. Dinalaw ko, wala siya. May sakit raw.
Kanina lang, gusto kong pakinggan ang Himig Natin, pero hindi ko pa kaya. Mas nauuna ang mga luha.
