Drummer Jazz Nicolas and bassist Kelvin Yu arrive late, fresh from a screening of The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Nicolas wears his fright wig of a hairdo proud, like a charlatan straight from a James Whale movie, while a dapper Yu sports a pageboy haircut. They immediately tell off bespectacled frontman Jugs Jugueta, who hails the horror film the best movie of 2005, "Chief, it’s a great movie, but we wouldn’t go that far and say it’s the best of 2005." Jugueta kills to disagree, and the conversation swells into a debate about plot concerns and comparisons to other exorcism movies. The venue becomes alive. Loud. Itchyworms loud.
Onstage, the band is nothing short of explosive. Decked out in aviator sunglasses, corporate neckties, and sneakers, the Worms look like Franzed-up music geniuses, just three baths shy from handsome bands like Hale and Cueshe (bands who the Worms proudly share their genre with). Behind the mike, Jugueta is an Ely Buendia manqué, lost in the universe of the song, strumming nonchalantly as if punch drunk. Yu keeps his stance simple – cradling his bass as one would do a gym bag, his staccato bass lines creeping in deliciously. Singson, he of glam-rock leanings, keeps his legs spread out and his melodic riffs on the ready. Nicolas, on the other hand, hits the skins with studied aplomb, while cooing barbershop quintet harmonies simultaneously. They’re Olympic-level musicians that hark back thoughts of the four-headed monster that was The Who. Imagine chord progressions that could rival Brian Wilson’s, and odd time signature changes that leave you agog, as they swerve from Viennese Waltz to trash metal to fandango mid-song.
It’s been two months since the band launched their sophomore effort, Noontime Show, an ambitious if not dangerous idea of a concept album. Done in the same spirit as The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and the Eraserheads’ Fruitcake, their album sports a conceptual theme that ribbon-ties all things to a pocketable epic – marketing-wise, a proposition that’s dicey, given that most OPM concept albums in the past have failed commercially. From ingenious comedy skits that seamlessly segue songs to a twelve-minute medley to end all twelve-minute medleys, Noontime Show is a concept that reeks of ambition. But the risks don’t even end there: whereas Fruitcake fed us a spoonful of absurdity, NTS stuffs hand grenades into our collective mouths. In a culture where three out of 10 chart-toppers scream, "We’re Pinoys! We’re awesome!", the Worms choose the brazen road and unflinchingly tell us, "Man, we Pinoys suck."
Says Yu with a crease in his brow, "We made this album because we were very much upset about some aspects of our being Pinoy." I ask if all of them are of the activist bent. Jugueta snaps back a heartbeat after, "No. None of us are activists. Truth is, naawa pa nga ako sa mga aktibista, because their sunburns are usually all for naught. Walang nakikinig sa kanila." Nicolas cuts straight to the point, "We’re not a political band. We’re more concerned about our culture rather than our politics."
Token soft-spoken one Singson chimes in, "We’ve been bombarded with noontime shows ever since, every lunchtime of our lives. And we Pinoys have become so desensitized with it, that we don’t know that we’re being fed trash every day." Nicolas adds, in between sips of iced tea, "Those noontime show hosts…[Think of] the power that they have in their hands, the power to be heard by millions every day. The sad part is they’re sending the wrong message to the masses."
On the two months that their album has been on the shelves, have the showbiz people heard of their missives and taken offense in it? Yu says, "We were actually surprised to discover that more than half of these artistas know that their shows are crap and [are] half-embarrassed about it. But in the end, they still do it for the money."
It figures then that it is with this discontent that the Worms soldiered on with their juggernaut of a project. Singson points out that NTS is, among other things, a satire – a thinly veiled attack on all the things that they’re unhappy about in our entertainment industry. Heads will roll, indeed, with their scathing commentaries about artista-worship on "Wala Nang Puwedeng Magmahal Sa ‘Yo (Stalker Song)", or shameless product placements on the seminal track "Beer".
Yu and Jugueta, both self-confessed movie buffs, further the argument, "Man, just look at our movies. Our [brand of] comedy is still stuck in the ‘20s. A guy with two eggs on each eye and a hotdog in his mouth. A chase scene that’s fast forwarded. Ano ‘yan? Yung jokes natin nasa era pa rin ng Three Stooges."
When asked what they would do if five million pesos were to be handed to them on the condition that they star in their own noontime show and be artistas themselves, Yu takes me aback and says, "Why not?" The band launch into a collective howl. Singson slinks back into a serious tone and clarifies, "Money is important. You need money to put food on the table. We’d work for money anytime." Yu finishes the thought for Singson, "But if we can better our culture at the same time that we’re earning tons of money, eh di panalo lahat."