Hector and Alex - A slice of life
Just amazed on how fortunate life has been thus far. On the off-note of a meeting with the CEO of our company and the management team of the upcoming MAYDAY carnival I found myself alone in a bar- a bit of respite from the demands of this existence. Sometimes I feel that my default state of mind is this solitude pondering.
I made quick friends with two Filipino musicians who were playing a melancholy 2 piece. After playing Depeche mode's "Somebody" and U2's
"with or without you", I found myself one out of the three people who were applauding in the dive. Carlsberg seemed the best option as Dewars was conspicuously absent and Jacks seemed out of my budget for the day. A couple of jugs later, I found myself having a rather indepth discussion on the intricacies of touring and the woes of the musical professional.
Hector and Alex, guitar/vox and keys, 42 and 36 years of age. Both from the same province of phillipines with a passion for music that belied their awesome ability. To even say that most Filipinos are talented musicians is an understatement - yet to truly have a conversation with a band that has excelled past their peers, found each other's company prevailing against that of social ties and even gone so far as to be spotted and placed in a residency abroad (here) is insightful.
Alex in particular proved to be an interesting character. An accountant by trade who bespoke the technological backwardness of the industry in his homeland - they were still using large planners to do complex financial calculations and a single mistake along the line would result in severe scolding by the relevant employer, not to mention re-doing the entire calculation on a fresh sheet. He had a very amused look on his face when he related the amount of instruction he had to give his successor before finally chasing his dream of being a full time musician.
I related some of my own tales - those of my Divine9 days with heady adventures with the boys and various chemicals, females and the unfathomable bar phenomenon (where you keep going back to one despite being sick of it). And the two were thoroughly amused. I bought the second jug at this stage and Alex regaled on how he was trying to live a straight life by telling a crooked cop in his home village that he did not want to deliver any more 'parcels' for him anymore. The cop asked him to do one last favour by transporting a package to his friends to which our soft hearted friend conceded. He was greeted by an array of uniformly fat and baton-happy law enforcers that promptly found drugs and stolen goods on him.
Alex continued to graphically describe how he was shamed and beaten to a pulp in the station. He wasnt read any rights nor allowed to plead his case. The only thing that saved him was that he was laughingly given a phonecall to his mother, but our friend dialled up his uncle. A colonel in the Filipino military.
I could only picture a stereotypical moustached character in camouflage at this point as he recalled how his uncle strode into the station demanding his release. But before then, he had a fairly pained look on his face. His uncle struck him repeatedly, but was crying as he screamed "Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you ruin your life?"
The cops were probably dumbfounded at this point as three truckloads of soldiers pulled up, fresh back from a campaign of fighting Muslim rebels in a nearby province. One of whom hopped off the tailgate and asked Alex's uncle: "Should I tear these soft bellied police apart? We are trained for the jungle and they wont stand a chance". His uncle turned to the cop that set his nephew up and gravely held his chin: "If you harass my nephew again, I will skin you alive and feed you to the dogs". Obviously the uncle left with Alex and soldiers in tow, but I was taken aback by the sincere depiction of what was a life changing experience for him.
I shared what I could including silly tales like how I broke into Chad's house to have a go with Janey and the like, but it served only to lighten the atmosphere already.
Hector spoke of his 21 year old daughter and I was shocked that he had her at 20. Amazing.
I left for home slightly after, rather contented with the slice of life I was enriched by.
I made quick friends with two Filipino musicians who were playing a melancholy 2 piece. After playing Depeche mode's "Somebody" and U2's
"with or without you", I found myself one out of the three people who were applauding in the dive. Carlsberg seemed the best option as Dewars was conspicuously absent and Jacks seemed out of my budget for the day. A couple of jugs later, I found myself having a rather indepth discussion on the intricacies of touring and the woes of the musical professional.
Hector and Alex, guitar/vox and keys, 42 and 36 years of age. Both from the same province of phillipines with a passion for music that belied their awesome ability. To even say that most Filipinos are talented musicians is an understatement - yet to truly have a conversation with a band that has excelled past their peers, found each other's company prevailing against that of social ties and even gone so far as to be spotted and placed in a residency abroad (here) is insightful.
Alex in particular proved to be an interesting character. An accountant by trade who bespoke the technological backwardness of the industry in his homeland - they were still using large planners to do complex financial calculations and a single mistake along the line would result in severe scolding by the relevant employer, not to mention re-doing the entire calculation on a fresh sheet. He had a very amused look on his face when he related the amount of instruction he had to give his successor before finally chasing his dream of being a full time musician.
I related some of my own tales - those of my Divine9 days with heady adventures with the boys and various chemicals, females and the unfathomable bar phenomenon (where you keep going back to one despite being sick of it). And the two were thoroughly amused. I bought the second jug at this stage and Alex regaled on how he was trying to live a straight life by telling a crooked cop in his home village that he did not want to deliver any more 'parcels' for him anymore. The cop asked him to do one last favour by transporting a package to his friends to which our soft hearted friend conceded. He was greeted by an array of uniformly fat and baton-happy law enforcers that promptly found drugs and stolen goods on him.
Alex continued to graphically describe how he was shamed and beaten to a pulp in the station. He wasnt read any rights nor allowed to plead his case. The only thing that saved him was that he was laughingly given a phonecall to his mother, but our friend dialled up his uncle. A colonel in the Filipino military.
I could only picture a stereotypical moustached character in camouflage at this point as he recalled how his uncle strode into the station demanding his release. But before then, he had a fairly pained look on his face. His uncle struck him repeatedly, but was crying as he screamed "Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you ruin your life?"
The cops were probably dumbfounded at this point as three truckloads of soldiers pulled up, fresh back from a campaign of fighting Muslim rebels in a nearby province. One of whom hopped off the tailgate and asked Alex's uncle: "Should I tear these soft bellied police apart? We are trained for the jungle and they wont stand a chance". His uncle turned to the cop that set his nephew up and gravely held his chin: "If you harass my nephew again, I will skin you alive and feed you to the dogs". Obviously the uncle left with Alex and soldiers in tow, but I was taken aback by the sincere depiction of what was a life changing experience for him.
I shared what I could including silly tales like how I broke into Chad's house to have a go with Janey and the like, but it served only to lighten the atmosphere already.
Hector spoke of his 21 year old daughter and I was shocked that he had her at 20. Amazing.
I left for home slightly after, rather contented with the slice of life I was enriched by.