As the saying goes, you’ve probably never heard of them. And if you get your music only through FM radio, you probably never will.
Just recently, this band sent their demo to Fresh Filter on Jam 88.3 (sadly, the last bulwark of local independent music). A DJ replied saying, “These songs’ lyrics are all pretty offensive. Pag-isipan ko muna ‘to but definitely ‘Taco Burrito’ malabo na.”
Other bands wouldn’t take this sitting down; many would protest and call this censorship. But the Oemons took it with pleasure. They laughed at the radio station’s remark. Truly, the band is a spawn of the underworld. What can we expect when they got their name from a bootleg copy of a Hentai DVD labeled (sic): “The Revengg of the Oemon Pant 2”?
And as demented as the band can get, I sat down to interview them at an ungodly hour one Wednesday morning — at 1 a.m. — after they had finished rehearsing for their album launch. I’ve known these guys from their days playing in Kublai’s Katipunan, a Mongolian restaurant which, in its dying days, tried to save itself by transforming into a music bar. (The restaurant couldn’t escape its fate. Now, the space that it used to haunt is occupied by a pizza parlor, a massage place, and a nail spa.)
“Parang dalawang generations na ng college kids pina-graduate namin, eh,” said Trian Lauang, their trombone player and front man.
Five-Piece
At one point in their 12-year history, the Oemons was composed of nine members. Now, only five remain — several of the original replaced — but they are, nonetheless, complete. Apart from Trian, the Oemons is made up of brothers Akim and Ino Grana on the drums and the bass respectively, Chris Favila on guitars, and Kong Jose on trumpet. The five of them measure average heights and sport such youthful looks that they can easily be mistaken for a college band. On their first band practice in 2004, Trian fell while fooling around, hit his forehead on a sliding glass door, broke it, and had the wound stitched. It is now a J-shaped scar.
Needless to say, the Oemons has been playing far longer than many of today’s bands have. Their first gig was at a cousin’s birthday party, their second was at the UP Fair. “Kumbaga ‘yung trajectory ng banda namin, taas agad, tapos bagsak agad, tapos gano’n na for the next 12 years,” said Trian with a great deal of self-deprecation.
“May mga gigs naman na minsan six months ang pagitan,” he added. “Minsan dalawang gigs lang sa isang taon.” It was strange for me to hear, knowing that they now usually play two or three gigs a month.
Online Obscenity
The Oemons owes social media the small popularity they enjoy today. Their brand online is one of obscenity, which, for them, is an honest reflection of their music. Their posters for their album launch show a woman in a blue bra, tattooed all over. Their album’s title: “Sex, Kebab, Rock & Roll.” Their call to action: We Pay, If You Come!
“It comes naturally for me kasi nagsastand-up comedy rin ako. Wala akong pakialam sa restraint,” he continued. “Freedom of expression ‘yan, eh. Lalo na may vehicle naman. You have the music, you have the band, edi all the more, do’n mo ilabas, ‘di ba? Eh nagkakataon lang na syempre gano’n din ang kanta mo, so dapat gano’n ka rin sa Facebook. Wala namang naooffend, eh, so far.” Apart from being one of Comedy Manila’s standups, Trian is a practicing lawyer, once serving as legal counsel for Deniece Cornejo, Claudine Barretto and Mike Arroyo.
Third-Wave Ska
Their sound is what they describe as “third-wave ska.” Think Travis Barker of Blink-182 playing for Goldfinger; it’s an in-your-face kind of happy, a noisy garage punk band with party people in their party hats, tooting their party horns as they party in the background. But their message is an assault on political correctness. Judging from their music’s hard-hitting honesty, being hypocritical is the last thing they want. They have embodied this attitude even in their live performances. Try as they might, they can never look clean onstage nor can they make gimmicks or papogi antics amateurs are all too prone to commit. On their 10th band anniversary, they rented out Black Kings Bar for a long set in which Trian got too drunk and started breaking bottles of Red Horse on the floor.
“Surprisingly wala pang nagsasabi sa aming ‘ang bano niyo.’ Kahit nakakasabay namin ang Jeepney Joyride at iba pang ska, okey naman sa kanila,” Trian said. “Mas nasa-skandalo lang yata sila do’n sa paraan ng paghawak ko sa trombone, parang natatakot silang masira. Mas do’n sila nasaskandalo kaysa sa actual playing.”
It can be said that after playing for a full 12 years, the Oemons has found their sound and, with that, their own corner of the local music scene. I can honestly say that I haven’t heard any other local bands who sound like them. Their songwriting process is one that is inextricably tied to their band’s personality. “Kaya rin kami gumagawa ng sarili naming mga kanta kasi tamad akong magpractice ng trombone,” said Trian. “Eh pag nagcocover kailangan kong aralin ‘yung kanta ng ibang tao. Kaya rin ako nagcocompo para kahit ano na lang gawin ko, tama.”
Sound Evolution
Reducing nine members down to five was a test on their musicality as well. When Trian realized that he was taking on the spot left by their original vocalist, he had to write songs with spaces for trombone solos. They shifted to taking their music seriously with the arrival of Ino and Akim and their songs, when the band was only two years old. When Kong left sometime a few years ago, their sound changed in lieu of a trumpeter; they each saw the need to adjust to maintain their brand of harmony minus the “high-pitched, happy sound” of the trumpet. When Kong came back early last year, they believe they learned something new and sounded better. Like one of their cunning and clever jokes, they posted online their recordings from 2009 to promote their upcoming album launch. Apart from the uneven volume levels, what was most noticeable was the sloppy playing of the horns, sounding like farts, blowing out of tune and out of time. They have come a long way from that.
“At least erpat namin, kahit religious siya, attitude niya parang ‘Tatanggapin ko kasi anak ko kayo. Tapos alam ko namang okay rin naman ‘yung music niyo… kahit papa’no,’” said the tattoo-clad Akim, doing his best impersonation of his father. “Reading between the lines siya, eh. Di lang naman sa lyrics agad. Bakit mo rerektahin, ‘di ba? Di ba pwedeng nagtitrip lang mga batang ‘to? Halata naman, ‘di ba? Kung maooffend ka, defensive ka lang masyado. Di naman lahat dapat clean, eh.”
Two nights later, I found myself at Route 196, watching Tonight We Sleep’s final gig. I passed by the old Kublai’s Katipunan on the way home and found no traces of college kids smoking or leaning onto the glass windows, wasted at its exit. It was nice to be reminded that some bands from my generation last 12 years, go through all these changes, and only come out more offensive than when they began.
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Get started on your Oemons journey by listening to their 2009 recordings here: https://continentrecords.bandcamp.com/album/man-mahilig. Once you’re significantly intrugued, follow the band on Facebook at
https://www.facebook.com/TheOemons/ and maybe even
buy their new album at one of their gigs this month (next one is at Route 196 on Friday, October 7, with Sindikato). You can blame us later.
Tweet the author @sarhentosilly.