Destination Unknown

I was listening to Dizzy Gillespie’s Bahiana a while
before writing this review (which isn’t about this album, in case you wonder if
the title was a typo). While AMG only gave it a 4/5, Rolling Stones’ opinion of
it was far more favorable (hint: Rolling Stones don’t use decimal numbers).
Nonetheless, they both concur that Dizzy Gillespie knows what Brazilian music
is all about. Despite being classified under Bossa Nova, all of Bahiana’s
works are originals. On top of that, there weren’t any abused techniques
and predictable rhythm patterns. The instruments are anything but clichéd -
these days how often do you hear of Bossa Nova songs that actually use flute
and trumpet, either unabated or muted? The end product sounded so fresh that it
not only would make Jobim, but also Brazilian fusion movement forefronts,
smile. With few hints to Jobim, Bitches Brew Miles Davis and Return to
Forever, Bahiana sounds nowhere like the predictable Bossa Nova songs
that have been inundating the radios and records store these days. In fact, Bahiana
actually sounded like a progress, despite being a 30-year-old one.

To be honest, Bahiana startled me. Not merely because
it was a fantastic, albeit underexposed, work, but also because it momentarily
cast my hope for Bossa Nova under a new (positive) light. I was completely
weary of Bossa Nova before I delve into this album. During my listen to Bahiana,
I felt that Bossa Nova was actually communicating something: that care has
actually been taken to develop music under this genre. I actually felt that
Bossa Nova doesn’t use set (tired) conventions to make their songs sound akin
to powdered juice drink, where I just add water and they’re ready to serve.

But allow me to look at my wrist as we review another local
Bossa Nova album. Time check: reality.

Anyone who has been making rounds to the local records
stores these days will probably see, even from afar, a whole section where CD’s
with fashion-magazine-like casing get piled. Ignorant people might assume these
to be the newest Hed Kandi, but anyone who is updated knows that they’re just
another batch of "new" Bossa Nova oeuvres. Now if you look closely, you’ll see
pictures of a girl that looks straight ahead, not at he. At Brazil, that
would’ve been the proverbial Ipaneman babe, but on our local shores, that’s
Raffi Quijano.

Few things first: does every local Bossa Nova artists also
need to have an exotic name? Sitti isn’t exactly common in National Statistics
Office (where printing a birth certificate costs $5. Joy). The same holds true
to Agot, and now, Raffi. What makes Raffi Quijano an unintentionally funny name
is how both her first and surname have as much syllabications with Sitti
Navarro’s. They even rhyme. Now I know names may not be a matter of personal
choice/preference, but I’d be damned if, in terms of popularity, that won’t
make Raffi be obscured under Sitti’s shadow. Trying the same genre doesn’t help
either. After all, Sitti came first!

Anyone who’s followed my reviews so far knows that my
biggest issue with recent Bossa Nova songs is their lack of creativity.
This applies in both cases of either reviving Bossa Nova standards or, in a
term I use to denote converting a song to this genre, "Bossanizing" other
genre-favorites. Instead of innovating, the artists are so content on resting
on Jobim’s laurels - which, by the way, isn’t theirs - opting to create music
in exactly his same formula without even actually understanding how it is used.
So when I heard that Manila Blend is just a collection of Raffi "Bossanizing" Original
Philippines Music, I thought "Wow, Awesome". Sardonically.

Consisting of songs that mostly speak of hopeless romance,
Manila Blend would quickly receive condemnation from those who enjoy cryptic
and angsty lyrics (they’re what seem to be so popular these days, what with
Hale polluting the airwaves). Many part of the lyrics made me blush at how
embarrassingly cheesy they are.

So what do you know? I’m only human, and Manila Blend
turned out to be a guilty pleasure! Pick yourself up from the floor; I didn’t
expect that you’d fall off from your seat.

How did that happen? For one, I really liked the
arrangements. One of the instruments that have become severely underutilized,
not only for Bossa Nova, but also for other OPM in general, is the piano. When
was the last time anyone’s attended any gig that had such behemoth enhancing
the music? Speaking as someone who’s had personal experiences with piano, I can
say that it’s definitely one of the best instruments ever made. Why? Because it
serves many purpose. It can be the bass, be the rhythmic section, be the
harmonic section, or be ALL at the same time. So when I heard piano in the
Manila Blend’s carrier track Friend of Mine, I thought it made big difference
to the typical Pinoy Bossa Nova. That’s why I ended up liking that song.

Unfortunately, the presence of piano would remain few in the
remaining of the albums. But even then, I still admit to liking many of the
songs. It would be remiss if I don’t commend the remaining instruments used for
this album. In a stark contrast to Raffi Quijano’s usually subdued voice, the
guitars and the drums are loud and lively, very effectively supplying a happy
atmosphere. Also, many of the songs covered here are supposed to be for acoustic
music, and truthfully, acoustic music isn’t far and different to Bossa Nova. So
in actuality, the conversion doesn’t take much effort. Call it a clever ploy,
but in this case I think it actually works.

And yet, many factors bog down the album. The English tracks
sound a lot more natural than the Filipino ones. Being that the latter are
mostly sentimental, something doesn’t sound quite right about trying to get all
sad and pensive while hearing that rhythmical "puck" made from tapping the
sides of a drum. The mood doesn’t gel together very nicely. Bossa Nova is,
after all, patterned after West Coast, Cool Jazz.

But by far, Manila Blend’s most disappointing aspect
is how it doesn’t sound so fundamentally different from her peers (Sitti, Agot,
etc.). Sure, some of the arrangements are better, and the piano is much
appreciated, but overall it still employs the same formula that, only in half a
year, is already tired. While I appreciate the baby-steps kind of progression
made for Manila Blend, I have to ask: how much longer will casual listeners put up with this kind of sameness? Isn’t it about time to create a
new approach to Bossa Nova music? It might not hurt to change the rhythms too:
that constant "puck" can be put to rest. It’s starting to grate on my ears.

Once again, I say that Raffi Quijano’s Manila Blend is
worthy of listen. I ended up liking it in spite of myself. On the other hand, I
think it’s about time the artists take cue from the Bahiana example, and
actually try to make their songs original and different from Jobim. After all,
the audience could use a little bit of variety.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 2nd, 2006 at 5:50 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.