Curtain Calls
To quote Parokya ni Edgar’s Chito Miranda, it’s very difficult to disband so they won’t. Two of the biggest acts the past decade, Bamboo and Sugarfree, have decided to call it quits. And Chito’s right, it isn’t easy. Everyone’s asking why? And no one’s really giving answers. But really, did anyone expect them to? After all, it’s complicated.
Of course, none of it was entirely unexpected to those who’ve been monitoring the music scene. Just a few months back, Bamboo announced they were going on a hiatus and rumors that Ebe Dancel was going to record a solo album were prevalent. Perhaps it’s also because both bands’ last albums aren’t exactly their best — and the record-buying public (those of you who still do buy) didn’t think so, either. But one shouldn’t despair. The two bands have given us enough music to still enjoy and now go back to listen to.
For their debut LP, Sa Wakas, alone, Sugarfree certainly gave us more than Tanya Markova could ever hope to give. Songs that meant something, that came from a genuine place and didn’t play to the crowd needlessly except to offer up a genuine truth about love and loss. As a trio, they came with a sound that sounded if their hearts were full and the release was nothing less than cathartic for both the band and audience alike. To cite a single song in particular, Burnout will endure as one of the most painfully honest albeit sweetly-sung paeans to all-consuming heartache. If you consider other tracks on that album such as Mariposa and Unang Araw among others you’d be right in declaring this as one of best local albums ever made.
Broken bamboo: Bamboo, during more cohesive times. Bamboo, on the other hand, kick-started the whole thing with their hit single, Noypi, crafting a pop hit that used the vernacular (just as the Eraserheads’ did in the ’90s) and making it an anthem that resonated from Makati to Malabon. For this reviewer though, it was their follow-up album that clearly declared that Bamboo was capable of not only excellent musicianship but also a dynamic range of styles. To these ears, their ballad Much Has Been Said laid rest to the oft-repeated quip (which I think I first heard from either Igan D’ Bayan or Luis Katigbak although both have denied being its creator) that “Rivermaya needed a better frontman just as bad as Bamboo needed a better songwriter.” Admittedly funny and containing a grain of truth, the quip was an over-simplification. In Bamboo’s case, they penned an R&B ballad way ahead but in the league of John Legend that proved that the boys could indeed write not just pop hits but great songs. The sensitivity of Manalac’s vocal and lyrics was never hysterical, histrionic, or lugubrious — again, it was just plain honest. At the song’s coda, starting with a major chord, he sings: “Let’s start over again, this time let’s do it right…” Both music and words in harmony and the result was not a clever show of chops but a mood. To tip it a little further, Manalac sings a few lines from Lisa Loeb’s ’90s hit Stay that just achieves perfect pop resonance albeit adding a bit of ambiguity to the song’s resolution.
Both bands have called it a day but instead of asking why or assigning blame maybe it’s best just to be grateful to the music they already gave us.
