Karaoke at the Batasan; Da Art of Nonoy Marcelo

Today I found myself at the basement of the House of Representatives at the Batasan Pambansa complex, researching at its archives. It was shortly after lunch -- siesta time in the old days -- and the atmosphere was unsurprisingly languid. Then, I could hear from the next room through an open door, a male voice belt out the opening words of the Bee Gees song Holiday:

Ooh you're a holiday....such a holiday...

The voice was clear, pitch-perfect, and alone. Yet by the second stanza (It's something I think worthwhile...), other voices were joining in. They were less vibrant than the leader's, yet the harmonization was quite good, proficient enough for me to second-guess whether I was actually hearing an open radio. The librarian at the archives was not joining in, but she bore a faint smile that I sensed was knowing.

By the time they reached the infamous coda (Ti ti ti ti ti ti, ti ti ti ti ti, ti ti), the troubadours were at full strength. As a kid, that part of Holiday made me laugh silly, and I actually wanted to join in. That I did not is proof positive how much soul has died in me, or how much sense has grown in me.

Sometime later, the leader attempted to spark something new, singing the first verse of Celeste Legaspi's Mamang Sorbetero. Nobody joined him, and he lapsed into silence for a few minutes until he suddenly burst out with that song's coda (La la la la la, la la la la la...). I heard laughter, and figured he'd go for the sols next. Perhaps Cuando Caliente El Sol...

Afterwards, I dropped by one of my old haunts, the Vargas Museum at U.P. It currently features (until August 23) an exhibition of the works of the the late Nonoy Marcelo. I was hardly a devotee of the great Filipino cartoonist, but what struck me was how unique his voice was, and how we may never see the likes of him again. You may not always agree with his viewpoint (and cringe at his occasional lapses into xenophobic stereotypes), yet I admire how able he was to go for the emotional jugular and crystallize impolitic yet honest reactions.

What is also striking, viewing his earlier, pre-martial law works, is how drastic was the evolution of his tone. The clean-cut Tisoy, his first popular character, soon gave way to Metro Aide Aling Otik, then finally, to bleak bleak Ikabod and his fellow sewer inhabitants from Dagalandia. I was reminded of George Carlin, who grew his hair and shed his suits to become a godfather of counter-culture. Ikabod is a defiantly ugly strip (Erap in mouse form is especially hideous), and you can't help but contrast it with that other popular social satire on the funnies, Pugad Baboy, which visually strives to be pleasant, or at least, endearing.

One interesting panel featured on the exhibit is a 1960s vintage spoof Marcelo had drawn, of what was then the most popular newspaper comic, Larry Alcala's Kalabog and Bosyo. I remember when Alcala died in 2002, I received this text message saying that despite a diligent search, they could not find Mr. Alcala's body.