A TOAST THAT WEARS WELL: 50 Years of the Mabuhay Singers

D.M. Reyes The Mabuhay Singers were going to do the intermission for one of those big-time convocations that we have in Ateneo. A surprised senior colleague blurts out loud, My God, buhay pa ba ang Mabuhay Singers? The rest of us in the lounge just simply holler with much laughter. A dessert fork falls, an apple rolls, a polvoron crumbles before someone could swallow it, and everybody knows that this is the lunch hours wittiest chunk. It makes sense to ask out loud. After all, its been fifty years since our town fiestas first livened up to the rhythmic flourish of their Pandangguhan. And the old radio listeners Tia Dely is also gone, too ancient and gnarled for most head bangers to remember. Seven years old, I would sit under the upturned wooden cover of my Mothers sewing machine, listening to the Mabuhay Singers on lazy afternoons after the half-day shift. The radio would be playing while my Mother sewed yet another sundress for herself and for my baby sister. That was in 1975, more than thirty years ago, with strains of La Bella Filipina, Malinac Lay Labi, Antipolo, Kung Kitay Kapiling, Habang Buhay, Lahat ng Araw, Tingnan Natin, and Dalagang Pilipina playing on my childhoods imported Grundig radio. And for many years, the upbeat melody of Filipinas intrigued me as I listened hard to muster its lyrics. The Mabuhay Singers could be heard everywherefiestas, weddings, community celebrations, even as opening number for big-time beauty pageants like Binibining Pilipinas, or high societys haute couture happenings. So, indeed, buhay pa nga ba ang Mabuhay Singers? If you want proof, troop to the Philippine Information Agency Building in Visayas Avenue on a Wednesday evening. Without fail, youll run into a threesome group of lively old women (theyre all in their seventies now, each one boasts without care). But, bristling as the long-recorded voices that ring in fresh re-issues of their old albums, it takes little to prod this 50-year ensemble to go live. For the rest of the evening (they crooned, croaked, and crooned some more until the clock struck twelve) their music echoes with the incredible feeling of youth. Like the mythical Jacques Brel, the Mabuhay Singers are alive and well and raring to serenade us still. The present batch has seven members, with about half representing the pros. Raye Lucero, Cely Bautista, and Carmen Camacho form the veteran female trio. Peping de Guzman, perhaps the last Kudiman King standing, is still there, along with youthful recruits Marlon Marifosque, Jimmy Salonga, & Pol Chicano. All the time, the last three are also at work on their guitars, strumming the lilting, accomplished harmonies that serve as accompaniment to the groups repertoire. Mike Coroza, bemedalled Pinoy poet, has them as his star singers in his Sunday-night Harana ng Puso, aired over DWBR. But the group does its advanced taping on Wednesday nights. Mike said that I could drop by and when I walked in, Sonia M. Roco was there, too, cheering and watching over everyone like the quintessential mother hen. Mrs. Roco walks in and out, quietly rehearsing the one number that she had picked out for the episode. Shell be doing Galawgaw, and when its time for her to rehearse with the combo, the three ladies close ranks and smother her with some last-minute style coaching. Outside, the studio hallway holds a gaggle of Mrs. Rocos helpers and driver. Whether or not the stars come out, she brings herself to show up every Wednesday night as the groups tireless backer. Week after week, she hauls in their simple repast and lots of drinks to keep the singers

on their feet. Theres even sweet wine, served warm that night, and Carmen Camacho feels that a glass is all that she needs, to soothe her over-stretched vocal chords. The mood is inspiring and sweeps me along as I peak in and catch the group rehearsing their opening number. The soundproof studio feels warm, as the voices rise and blend in well-lined harmonies. The guitarists steal in with lilting phrases that fill the measures, where the breathless voices savor their pause. When it comes to keeping time and hitting the right notes, the three ladieskeepers of the musical harmonies and stylesare such strict taskmasters. Their ears are sharp, and they would halt the number and insist on redoing a phrase until everybody gets it rightnote, tempo, passacaglia, improviso, and what not. For this episode, they have chosen a kuratsa from Bohol, which they would sing without snags in the native language. Their training, one finds out, did not come from music school. Except for Raye Lucero who took courses at the UP Conservatory of Music, each one draws purely from memory. After all, theres the discipline of their 50-year singing engagement. Perhaps, theyre the last fortunate ensemble to receive sustained vocal coaching from the great music maestro, Leopoldo Silos. For the longest time, Silos was their conductor, arranger, and orchestra master. He doted on them, pouring in all that he knew about Philippine folk music and scoring the fine harmonization for their repertoires 2, 3, or 4-part folk choruseseach voice a resonant territory meant for just one or two to sing. But Polding Silos has since moved to the United States and the Mabuhay Singers feel orphaned, yearning for their lost master. It seems, too, that they have lost contact with him, dying to hear about just any rare performance that Mr. Silos has directed or scored abroad. Amazingly, their minds are an archive of the blendings for which they keep no notations. As they rehearse, you could feel the three girls working back, trying to recall how Silos lined up the voicings, bringing them back as each remembers the lines, working anew where they buckle or falter, until the piece is close to how they recorded it once. They listen raptly to the male members, while delivering their tenor, baritone, and bass bars. And sometimes, the guys are not so lucky, so they get a reprimand for scoring the pieces shoddily. They would run the lines repeatedly, and relying on ear work (that flair for oido which tells the gifted from the tin-eared), they would repeat and polish as Master Silos scored, played, and recorded the pieces. And remarkable how three guitars are all they have to duplicate what an orchestra of piano, violins, cellos, flutes, brass, and basses had done inside the studio during the peak of their radio days. Carmen Camacho pours me a glass of warm wine and we both take a sip and savor it for its sweetness. Shes grateful that theres something on hand to soothe her sore throat. Through Mike, Ive done some sleuthing and am aghast to find out that, from each taping, the Singers collect a take home that could hardly cover their taxi fare, as the meter ticks forth and back. And it seems like none of the members stay in QC proper. Carmen pulls out a trove of pictures and clippings from their heyday gigs. You really dressed up then, I compliment her and suddenly, Im curious to know more about their resplendent outfits and the fashion czar who dresses them up. We pay for our own costumes, Carmen smiles, pointing to pictures of their various evening wear and elaborate ternos. She says that a friend cuts the patterns. Then, the three ladies would

pay for the fabric, accessories, and all. Each one is her own modista, as they stitch together the clothes themselves. It seems like art is all for these ladies and I find it simply astounding that they would gamely spend their last coin to dress up. But beauty and dignity surely go together. Please take note that, for all their marvelous singing, not a single member now boasts of being a millionaire. Never mind, Carmen chuckles, we get to keep the gowns, anyway. She says it with no bitterness. In all of this, how can one not be won over by the dignity of artists whose pure love for their music is the ballast that allows them to soar on wings of song, whether on stage or inside the lowly studio. Heres more to rue about: these days, the Mabuhay Singers collect no royalties because they received outright fees then, for every record that they cut. Raye Lucero shares with me quite excitedly that, the next day, they are showing up in Malacaang Palace to receive a Presidential distinction. Thrilled as they are, no one in the group seems to know what big-time citation theyre getting. Basta may award, Raye chuckles, a little apologetic, too, as Mike ribs her about wanting to be invited to the Palace. Late in the night, Cely Bautista is still at work, keeping a record of the songs that they have sequenced for next Sundays airing. But she is the one who tells me that among their most unforgettable performances was to sing in Long Island for the opening of the JFK Airport. Oh, we did just about eight songs. But people stopped and put their hands together in applause. All those coming in had a beautiful smile on their face. We also had some of our kababayan flying in. I caught one or two of them, with tears on their eyes, touched by familiar tunes from the homeland. Last November, the Mabuhay Singers marked their 50th anniversary as a singing ensemble. Sonia Roco was deadset about celebrating. She raised the curtains for the group to hold a 2-day concert at Phil-Am Life Theater. Sure, the Mabuhay Singers would belt out all their most-requested songs. But Mike Coroza also poured in good work, writing up the tribute script. He cleverly wove into it history, personal anecdotes, Balagtas-style poetry, and aspects of our Pinoy music history to accord its past and present members the most fitting homage. In upbeat fashion, Mrs. Roco delivered the lyrical annotations and the Mabuhay Singers gave a riveting two-hour concert, earning applause that gradually grew louder and louder still, as the night wore on. Some were feeling a bit edgy; anxious whether these 70-something troupers would be able to hold out their breath and save their formidable musical line-up. But they sang, joke, and swayed gamely. And from balitaw to danza, from balse to the hard-hitting kundiman, the Mabuhay Singers enthralled their crowd, inspiring them, in turn, to honor the group with a standing ovation. History tells us that Don Manoling Villar once had it on impulse for his companys Tres Rosas and Lovers Trio to sing together. Their combined voices proved to be a good idea, disproving the natural gusto of stars to prevail and to let their majestic voice dominate in group performances. The ensemble featured an all star cast, but each one had the natural gift to blend, seeking his or her own level of choral harmony, and coming together to produce beautiful music, as it were. So, do we have ten thousand reasons for saying, Long live the Mabuhay Singers? One thing sure is that theyre bequeathing to our recording history an impressive bulk of Philippine folk songs. Smug as someone willing to bet all his millions, Mike Coroza tallies the groups discography to be at least a thousand songs in the folk idiom. Through these albums, the

Mabuhay Singers have also set the trend for popularizing our melodious folk repertoire. Who can ever forget the New Yorker from Tondo who used to frown upon these folk songs, thinking them tacky and downright out of place? But the Mabuhay Singers were the first to regard them as a sweet wellspring for drinking in our heritage. Yet another point is that, through their repertoire, they have broadened the style of our folk songs to accommodate harmonization and choral stylization. All gusto, they have performed our folk dittiessongs that were sometimes looked down or cast on the wayside, at a time when the taste for Broadway hits, torch songs, and American rock and roll tended to downplay anything proudly Pinoy. And along the way, they have let our folk music ring clear, timeless in the voices of their youth. Resonant and unfading, the Mabuhay Singers have given us back our proud sense of being Filipino, though our fiestas, harana, and pilgrimages to Antipolo may disappear. So, in a toast that should wear well, go spin those shining silver discs, and under the blue skies, clink our glasses, raise our voices, and say Mabuhay!