Bluegrass @ Hard Rock Cafe Makati

This is a rambling account of  the band "Bluegrass"- the resident band at the Hard Rock Cafe at Makati. HRC is a 5 minute stroll from my apartment, making it a rather easy getaway on the weekend for someone single and bored. I tried it on one saturday night soon after arriving in the Philippines, and shortly after recovering from Covid, which was right thereafter. So, all in all, I think this was on week 3 on May 2022.  I walked up to the bar and seated myself at the counter, since I was by myself. There were tables, catering to larger groups. The house band came on at 9 pm- I had been waiting exactly 30 minutes, and had disposed of the bottle of the ubiquitous San Miguel Light- which came free with the 260 Peso cover charge. I ordered another, just as the familiar echo-laden intro started playing on the stage right in front of me. " Another Brick in Wall Part 1", to be precise. How many different settings had I listened to this tune in? The first time had been in 1990, I suspect. I had read through a newspaper article on the Pink Floyd- was it the Telegraph? It seems unlikely, but that was the English daily we used to receive at home at 4, Golmuri Road in Jamshedpur. So it probably was. The article had a picture of the band members, and I particularly remember it was not an inspiring picture. In particular, David Gilmour, who was actually quite good looking, looked rather overweight and avuncular in the photo. However, that aside, I remember being highly intrigued by the article. It referred to how the band was popular in the college scene in India- particularly kolkata. Lots of teenagers  and college kids were into the band- had some sort of association with intellectual kids- which at the time meant to me and my tribe of friends, quite pathetically I may add, people good at maths. One of the travails of growing up in a rustbelt industrial town in India, life wherein was staid but steady on the one hand. On another, though, quite full of delights that were hitherto not available in larger and more chic cities. But more on that later. The life in Jamshedpur might well resemble the sameness that has been portrayed so vividly in so many songs, particularly about suburban Canada. It is curious, but I have not heard songs about suburban sprawl and the psychological human motif that emanated from therein- except from Canadian rock groups. In particular I might mention Rush's "Subdivisions" and Arcade Fire's " The Suburbs", both tunes really speak to me emotionally and melodically. But I cannot help but think that these songs describe this mid to late teenage lifestyle in these locales with a hint of despair. When I remember my childhood, I see a similar environment, but feel a very different emotional feeling. Something far more blissful and uplifting. I can only assume this was because we were not as connected, and were able to live day to day in an absolute rather than on a relative basis

But where was I?

Ah, yes, the article in the paper. It is curious, but I actually remember that the article was heavily dedicated to Syd Barrett's intriguing lyrics. " Arnold Layne, had a strange hobby- Collecting clothes- moonshine- washing line- they suit him fine". Now, then. That's not a song you hear everyday.  Consider also another set of lyrics by Barrett that the article presented.

 "Fleas in Pamela gloves. Stressless Chest. .. 

  Chugging along with a funnel of steam.. 

  All the fives crock Henrietta- 

  She's mean , go get her..

  Gotta write her a letter".

 Syd Barrett would soon go insane ( literally) and leave the band forever- and when you read the lyrics it's not all that surprising- the signs were all there.

It also went on describe Roger Waters' songwriting, which  had so much depth, and amongst other things, it said, was about "recalcitrant pigs". Now, then. I do not think I could fathom having those two words adjacent to each other. It is enough to catch one's attention. Much later, I understood the meaning. On the album " Animals", there were a number of songs about Pigs. Which were really about men- that perhaps resembled pigs in one way or another.  

At the end of this article, I was nonplussed. I had to get my hands on some of this music. There was something delightfully insane about the whole thing. So, I dont recall how, but I was able get a hold a cassette tape titled " Pink Floyd Greatest hits".  It had some of the famous tunes from various albums and it was a good enough first taste. I recall liking some songs ( Another brick in the wall part 2, Learning to Fly, Wish you were here) but also disliking some songs ( Money, Time). When I reflect as to why, it occurs to me that the vocal style on the last 2 was more hard and rough-edged. It was Gilmour singing but not in his usual silky voice.

Soon after this period, which I think was the first quarter of 1990, my board exams ( O level equivalent) came and went. The results came as well, which were nothing to write home about. However, I had done well enough on my pre-board exams to land a seat in the "Science" stream for junior college or "plus 2" as it was called, within the same school. And this was a coveted seat as it was limited and you had to make the cut to get in. My plus 2 seat sorted, I looked forward very much to a family holiday to Nepal in May. The period after your 10th year is quite magical because you got a 3 month break for summer instead of the usual 2 months. That is a LOT of time. I used to listen to a lot of music when confined to my study- at the far corner of the house. I had all my text books handy which I had to memorise bits and pieces of. Random facts were floating in my adolescent head- diagrams and explanations of placenta, amoeba, paramecium, golgi bodies, Pamir and Armenian knots, Ganymede being the largest moon of Jupiter, Siraj Ud Daulah and battle of Plassey, Carolus Linnaeus, "Wherefore rejoice, what conquest brings he home" from Julius Caesar, Similar Triangles and Geometry riders- phew!

And I remember the music of the period both within my room and without.  From outside my window, which faced the outhouses and servants quarters in the back alleys of the british-era victorian style bungalow we lived in, I could hear with metronomic regularity a cheeseball of a tune from "Maine Pyar Kiya"- the movie that had released recently and shot Salman Khan (or Mohnish Behl?) to instant stardom. "Dil deewana--tara tara tara tara- Bin Sajna Ke- tara- tara- tara- tara- Maane na.aaa", every 15 minutes, on loop. Particularly surreal when you consider what was playing inside my room at the same time.

Inside my room, in background, on my JVC tape recorder, I continuously played my tapes. Until now it had been Wham, Pet shop boys, London boys, Bangles and Modern Talking. But now I was beginning to listen to Pink Floyd. And that May, on the streets of Kathmandu, I had made three important purchases.  The first was a Floyd album called " A nice pair"- which I later realized was not an album at all. The first side was a selection of songs from the album " Piper at the Gates of Dawn" and the second side was a selection from " A Saucerful of Secrets"- both Barrett-era albums replete with his whimsical-nonsensical nursery rhymes set to electric guitars and drums. ( the only way I had at my disposal in those years of blissful disconnectedness was to figure this out was to chance upon a copy of “saucerful” from a friend and realising that many of the songs in the “Nice Pair” were the same). The second was a "Greatest Hits" album by the Doors. After the Floyd experience, I was sold on buying greatest hits tapes of band I wanted to check out as an initiation. ( I was not all that impressed with the Doors based on that tape).  The third, and perhaps the most significant purchase, was a Casio keyboard- quite small and tinny sounding, with some random preset rhythm tunes. It was but a toy for a child, not a real musical instrument. But it started an innocuous journey of tinkering with keys and melodies on my own which not only opened myself to a musical universe hitherto unexplored, but also revealed early on the inherent autodidact in me. Something that would serve me well over the next few decades.

Coming back to Bluegrass. 

It was a 7 piece band. Guitar, Bass, Keyboards, Drums and 3 lead vocalists - 2 male and 1 female. The voices in particular were simply amazing. Each had dynamic range to die for, and also the tonal qualities were so varied across the three that together the band could cover a delectably wide range of 70s/80s/90s rock material. Most members were in their forties, and it showed from their music, all of which I could resonate with. Sharon, the female vocalist was always brilliant, but particularly divine when she covered Annie Wilson ( Heart) - that became addictive for me. I watched them for the next 2 Saturdays- ordered a burger, had some beer or Jack Daniels with Diet Coke and heard the band- which always played three sets of 45 mins each. At 1 am, the show got over, I had around 3-4 drinks in me, and I hobbled back to my apartment a decidedly happy egg.

Pretty soon the waitress at the bar suggested that I sign up for BFF- which is a loyalty card that offers a discount for frequent visitors- and it had a few other restaurants where it could also be availed. I agreed, working out many of the other restaurants were also in the vicinity so it was likely I would visit them sooner ot later. 

During the July-August period it got difficult to find a seat at HRC on saturday evenings, my preferred date to visit. The crowds increased and there was a real party each evening with folks dancing near the stage ( which was only slightly elevated) - the best part was that even the waiters and waitresses would jive their way to you bringing your san miguel light - with band bellowing an exquisite rendition of “dont stop believing” by Journey in the background. On a side note, I particularly noticed how in Makati people, mostly women, often broke into a refrain right out of  nowhere- in the middle of a serious conversation, or while crossing a road - it mattered not. I found this endearing and also unique is some ways. I had seen others do this elsewhere but it seemed almost endemic here.

It has also to be said that HRC was one of the rare music bars which were not also pick up joints- the one or two others I had been to were less about the music and more about the business of the night. As you can often behold in the far east in such cities- visuals of octogenarian white men accompanied by a petite 24 year old filipina women. This is almost as much an eye-sore as a Manila (or Mumbai ) slum. But everyone seems to be having a jolly good time and important bills are being paid- so no one cares.

Frankie Rosales was the guitar man- an absolute show stopper if there ever was one. Shaved skinhead look and sporting a random black T-shirt, jingly things around his waist and neck- and armed with the familiar mahogany coloured beast- the mighty Les Paul- which he could really make sing.   Some of his soloing on this instrument was  extraordinary - he did this routine with interchanging his right and left hand during a solo, followed by using his left hand to play notes from both above and below the fretboard in quick repeated succession. When it was done during an especially fast solo run like , for example, during the rendition of “Highway Star “ by Deep Purple, this truly became a gimmick and a half-people seemed to be here just for this! It was metaphorically similar to MS Dhoni’s helicopter shot.

The female singer , Sharon, was married to Frankie- I think. The drummer was probably the most cheerful member of the band- always smiling and noticing me and waving even when in the middle of a groove- which he could perform with random precision. The bass player was solid also- and he came to his own during their rendition of “ Zombie” by the Cranberries, where there were a series of solos by drums, keyboards and bass. His bass solo was quite memorable. The keyboard man was exactly as you might imagine- Jorge, a bespectacled self-effacing quiet gent standing at the back of the stage next to the drummer with a rack of two keyboards ( a random Roland and a humdrum Korg). The perfect foil to Frankie- He was simply amazing in the sheer array of sounds he could pull out from his patently basic rig. And he could play too- his multitasking on “Separate Ways” by Journey was remarkable.

But what stood out for me was their vocal sound. 3 lead vocals and 4 backing vocals ( it is no stereotype that all filipinos can sing). They put this arsenal to great use  during their rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody”- all the orchestral multi- part harmonies were invoked and the effect was simply mesmerising. I had not heard a live performance of this classic tune from a band without an orchestra sound that full and warm, ever.

I don't know when I will leave Manila for good, but when I do, I will miss Bluegrass more than anything else.