MUSICALLY INCLINED. Crowds line Makati Avenue cor. Kalayaan Avenue for Fête de la Musique. Photo by Miguel R. Santiago

Much like provincial festivals or insufferable Manila traffic, OPM is a cultural fixture that’s been ingrained into the Filipino psyche. The chances that there’s a Filipino alive today who’s unfamiliar with the term are slim.

Yet there are many whose experience of OPM goes no further than grainy videos on Myx or vaguely familiar ballads. Much to the chagrin of many local musicians, this has resulted in a widespread misunderstanding of local music that is both boxed-up and highly fragmented.

Peel away what has settled on the surface, however, and there thrives a host of talented artists whose sound runs counter to the orthodox ideas of OPM. They may diverge from convention, but these artists have equal claim to the Filipino music sphere.

Simple as do, re, mi

Original Pilipino Music, or OPM, is the umbrella genre under which all music produced by Filipino artists falls—a no-brainer definition. But to those with meager experience of local music, being able to expand the acronym doesn’t elucidate the subtext it carries. In this case, OPM is mistakenly restricted to two qualifying features: sound and language.

For the simple reason that it’s the vernacular, Filipino has always been the favored language for lyrics. On the other hand, the idea that rock and ballad is the be-all and end-all of OPM was born out of the shifts in popular music over the years.

Easy listening was solidified as a trademark of OPM some 40 years ago, when artists like the Apo Hiking Society and even Freddie Aguilar were at the forefront of the industry. Though their hits still grace our airwaves today, bands like Eraserheads and Razorback didn’t take long to turn the tables of mainstream sound. By the time the ‘90s pulled in, rock had become OPM’s new identifier.

The offbeats

While these simplistic notions sit comfortably on the surface of many a Filipino’s consciousness, there exist multitudes of artists who don’t fit the bill. Playing the likes of blues or ska, and oftentimes not in Filipino, they are well aware that they’re alienated from the prevalent understanding of OPM, but it’s love of the music and the simple joy of playing that overpowers this fact.

“You go first to the fundamentals, and you present to people as you are,” says senior psychology major Mike Shimamoto of Where’s The Sheep?, a Christian contemporary band. “If there’s a market that loves what you do, then it’s natural that they gravitate towards you.”

Though often able to draw a modest following, most of them have come to terms with the fact that their music isn’t mainstream material.

“We sort of accepted that it’s very likely that what we play might not be as lucrative as what other people play,” says sophomore creative writing major Jam Pascual, front man of blues/hard rock band Imelda. “It just comes with the territory of doing what you want.”

The it factor is relative

In the case of much of today’s popular OPM, marketability makes the music. The ability to appeal to the masses is often what makes or breaks artists’ chances of penetrating the mainstream. As Roberto Seña, vocalist of indie/post-punk band She’s Only Sixteen says, “The thing with music is that if you really want it to be popular, you have to tap into some sort of pop sensibility.”

However, one should not be so quick to spurn mainstream artists for selling out. “[It’s] partly the fault of the record labels because it’s not necessarily musicians running the labels so much as it is businessmen,” says Pascual. “If I were a businessman, for example, and I was doing something about the music industry to make profit, and there was a tried and tested formula, why would I change it?”

The concept is no stranger to the Ateneo Musician’s Pool (AMP); the org thus supports its members in attempts to deviate from the norms of popular music. Senior management major and Ateneo Musicians’ Pool (AMP) Internals Vice President Mare Collantes points out that “there’s always going to be a stereotype, but there’s no way to break it unless pinakita mo na iba ka nga (you show that you are different).”

Getting into the groove

Estranged from the limelight, these musicians are posed the challenge of finding their niche in the system. Sophomore psychology major Miguel Feria of Imelda admits that though they’ve had a number of gigs since the band’s conception last year, he’s yet to feel like their music truly matters to their audience, which is mainly composed of their friends.

Even in the confines of the Ateneo, artists meet obstacles in the form of misjudgments of their music. Collantes says that they’ve had trouble getting school gigs in the past because AMP is thoughtlessly dismissed as “noisy.”

Other bands are more fortunate. Jazz funk band Extrapolation played at last year’s Fête de la Musique, a festival that brings together artists of different genres—from Latin to electronica—in venues all within walking distance of each other.

“It was the greatest musical experience I’ve ever had in my life,” says senior psychology major Serge Gabriel, Extrapolation’s drummer. “For the first time in my life I was like, ‘Oh my God, we’re playing this kind of music and people are standing up and clapping.’”

Fine-tuning

While conforming to the standards of marketability for the sake of shedding obscurity is clearly not an option, some artists remain optimistic about the mainstream industry.

“I’d like to think there’s potential for any kind of music [to become popular],” says Gabriel. “That’s what happened for Rez [Toledo], right, of Somedaydream? Surprisingly enough, when you have a lot of friends and they watch [you play] and they actually enjoy it, they bring another friend, or two, or three, or family.”

For others, the belief is that the music is not what needs tweaking, but the mindset of the audience.

“It’s not really the genre,” says Pascual. “The type of people who wouldn’t be part of our following is the type of people who don’t go out of their way to find new music.”

Truly good music, whether it resides under spotlights or in the covert bars littering our metropolis, has the capacity to transcend audiences. Seeking it out—tearing down preconceptions and the dividing walls of genre—falls into the hands of willing listeners.

Editor’s Note: Jam Pascual and Mare Collantes are both members of The GUIDON. They work under the Inquiry and Photos staffs, respectively.