The time-traveling Eddie Munji III

The totally organic, analogue sound of vinyl on a record player satisfies me like nothing else. How a needle transmits sound from the grooves contained in a round, black piece of vinyl is just amazing. I know, I know, there’s a little rock that’s connected to the turntable stylus-thing, this rock picks up the vibrations caused by the grooves on the vinyl, and electricity that courses through the player does the rest and amplifies the signal loud enough so we can hear it. But how did they ever figure any of that out? It’s remarkable how so many layers of sound fit into a groove that is less than a millimeter in width. Yeah, it’s old technology, but that’s what’s so cool about it. Today’s record players model their ancestors, and it seems their sound only gets better with every new innovation. It’s equally amazing how records, in all their functional simplicity, haven’t changed much. They’re round, black, and have little lines on them. Holding a record, you realize that in your hand is a piece of pressed history. And doesn’t it sound cooler to have a "vinyl collection" rather than "MP3 playlists"?

I’ve spent many an evening tripping out to lots of vinyl records with PG, a good friend and music enthusiast just like myself. We cover a good part of the spectrum on these musical journeys: from old school to new, R&B, funk, hip-hop, OPM, classics, standards, and so on. Almost all of the records he introduced to me stood out one way or another, but one in particular took the cake on one of those nights.

Imagine old Pinoy folk songs like Salidummay, Sarung Banggi, Doon Po Sa Amin, Pandangguhan and Bahay Kubo. These songs were originally performed using traditional Filipino instruments, maybe an acoustic guitar, or even a banduria for some. Now flip that and imagine a sweet, jazz-fusion interpretation of these traditional folk songs, complete with electric instruments, brass and string sections, and full percussion. That’s what Eddie Munji III did with his album "Pinoy Jazz Volume 1: A Filipino Jazz Album."

Produced by Jim Paredes (who also plays the nose flute on one of the songs) in 1978, Eddie Munji III’s versions of these Pinoy folk songs are nothing short of genius. There are no less than 20 musicians performing on this album, and getting them together to form one unifying sound is a feat that must be commended. I know it’s old, 1978 is more than a quarter of a century ago. But if you think about it, the original versions of the songs in this album date way before then. So back in 1978, it would have been out of the ordinary to re-do these old songs. Hearing them today, with that new (or not-so-new) twist, is like hearing two old songs put in one. You have the original flavor, along with that 1978 flavor, played in the context of "all-new discovery" in 2007. That’s a triple time warp of sound right there. And being captured and rediscovered with that unmistakable vinyl sound just tops it all off.

My turntable is on the fritz, so I can’t borrow PG’s Eddie Munji III record and listen to it. The bass line of Salidummay is stuck in my head, and there’s no way to get it out. Enter another friend (present on the same night I first heard the Eddie Munji III album), Chase, to the rescue. He found two CD copies of the "Pinoy Jazz" at SM North EDSA (of all places), bought them both on instinct, and gave one to me. Thanks, Chase! I would still like my own copy of this album on vinyl because nothing beats that analogue sound. But this does the job for now.

I’m not saying it’s official, but this album has got to be a piece of Pinoy music history. Not only does it immortalize our country’s folk songs, but it does it in such a groovy way, man – a reminder of the ’70s and the times in which it was produced. The sound and the feel of Eddie Munji III’s album replaces the common image of swaying traditional dancers with that of sassy, flower-power ladies boogying down all night. And you can tell, from the first track to the last, that this album is straight-up Pinoy. It’s got that distinct flavor that marks it as unmistakably homemade.

And that should be the clincher for this album. I have to go on and say that there is so much untapped musical talent in the Philippines; it’s in our blood. I’m not saying that we should give it a shot and try to reinterpret these folk songs today (although that would be pretty cool, too), all I’m saying is this: our people came up with those original songs ages ago, one of our own was able to flip them and give a whole new feel to them intended for the ’70s listeners, and here I am now, listening in awe and appreciation to what Mr. Munji recreated. It tells us something about this famous "Pinoy ingenuity" – that it exists, and that it’s in us to be ingenious, for lack of a better word, with the music that we make and, really, the lives that we live.

As an old maxim goes, "One must look to the past to be able to create the future." From the current standpoint, Eddie Munji III’s album looked to the past, created its own relative "future," and allowed another future (our present) to look on things as they were back then. This leaves us, our generation, to acknowledge and appreciate what all the players in the past have done. Doing so gives us further knowledge in moving forward ourselves.

I can’t help but marvel at how music time travels – crossing decades and generations. From the vinyl LPs that are a little slice of history, to my digitized copy of the "Pinoy Jazz" CD, little can be said about merely coming across the music of Eddie Munji III. I know that encountering this album isn’t coincidence because it tells a lot about how the past catches up with you – in this case, for the better. The respect I have for Pinoy musicians and musicality has been upped a notch, and to be quite honest, it feels good to pay these guys some respect. It makes you feel like stepping your own game up, in the name of all that’s Pinoy, and in recognition of what players back then started for us to continue.

So, to Eddie Munji III and all who played a role on that "Pinoy Jazz" album, if you ever read this, peace! Your music is alive now, and it will continue to be a constant reminder of Pinoy excellence.

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E-mail me at: enricomiguelsubido@yahoo.com.