This place never cease to amaze me...
- Junjun, opismeyt
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When it comes to my music, my ears get easily tired of songs that are overplayed on the radio or in the computer. That's why the mainstream ones never really appealed to me. Lately, my cravings shifted from chill-out electronica to 60's oldies and the reason for this shift was a single event that happened several weeks ago.
Early that evening, I came out of a store in Hidalgo where I found a stall that sells complete sets of hard-to-find animes in pirated format. Across the street, a familiar nostalgic music blared from someone's speakers and it stood out from the rest because it was from the oldies genre - the ones you most likely hear being played loudly by an elder neighbor on a lazy sunday morning.
I wouldn't really mind the music being played. In fact, I somehow appreciated that a vendor out there took the risk and sold cds that are most likely, nobody would appreciate. If not for the homebound jeep that stopped in front of me that evening, I would have crossed the street and check the stall out personally.
---
Two weeks ago, I brought Mami Athena's son and a fellow officemate to Quiapo since it was payday and they were interested to buy some animes and tv series which were being sold per season in some of the stores along Hidalgo.
The second time around, I heard the familiar and nostalgic oldies songs being played again across the street. This time, I excused myself from the kids who were busy looking for hard to find rock cds steps away from the spot where the Crooners were being played .
When I finally came across this stall, which is actually a make-shift table with a second hand TV and a cheap VCD player that plays the CD's, it doesn't look like that this is the kind of stall where the CDs being sold are the ones only my mom could be perfectly familiar with.
Complete albums of Patsy Cline, Matt Monro and Jerry Vale are all spread out as if, the entire stall came from the past to spread once again the almost-forgotten music, only very few people nowadays could appreciate. The pirated CDs of Louis Armstrong, Petula Clark and Ray Charles were being tried and tested by the owner, who's age is slightly older than the goods he sold in his stall. Not surprisingly, the buyers who crossed the street to checks the CDs he is selling are mostly folks who are decades older than me. There they are, haggling for a different kind of music, which actually sells like warm hotcakes for P25 pesos each.
---
Therefore, the last time I found myself within the area, I finally realized the value of what the humble oldies music makeshift stall at the corner of Jollibee offers to its customers.
It tries to bring back an age where music is more of a poem, a melody and a powerful voice rather than a song composed of some crappy, sappy lines or revived lyrics, which some careless, juvenile artists shamelessly lambasts with their own pathetic rendition just to claim they have a new album. And you know what, these albums they make eventually sells better over in that corner, where Fergalicious competes with Dooby Dooby Doo for the passerby's attention.
When I passed by the stall and brought some new cds, I asked the owner if I could spread the word and tell the internet of my findings. Despite his intial hesitation, he agreed with my proposal. He even allowed me to take pictures of his goods, in hopes that this too, would get more attention once I spread the word in cyberspace.
What worries me however is that, once another raid is conducted within the area, or if something really bad happens to that ancient guy who tries to reach out to new generations like me through the kind of music he sells, then that little corner of timelessness might be lost forever.
You see, the only reason why I started adding really old songs in my collection lately is because of a scene in my mind I want to create someday:
To see myself sitting in a wooden chair one quiet afternoon, beside the big gloomy window sipping my warm coffee while reading a poetry book in a coffeeshop, as ancient and obscure as the music of Jim Croce and Pat Boone being played on the stereo, while young and old people mindlessly pass by outside, failing to see the beauty and majesty of what the classics could ever be.
The thought of catching just a mere speck of the older times simply thrills the old soul residing within me.
- Junjun, opismeyt
---
When it comes to my music, my ears get easily tired of songs that are overplayed on the radio or in the computer. That's why the mainstream ones never really appealed to me. Lately, my cravings shifted from chill-out electronica to 60's oldies and the reason for this shift was a single event that happened several weeks ago.
Early that evening, I came out of a store in Hidalgo where I found a stall that sells complete sets of hard-to-find animes in pirated format. Across the street, a familiar nostalgic music blared from someone's speakers and it stood out from the rest because it was from the oldies genre - the ones you most likely hear being played loudly by an elder neighbor on a lazy sunday morning.
I wouldn't really mind the music being played. In fact, I somehow appreciated that a vendor out there took the risk and sold cds that are most likely, nobody would appreciate. If not for the homebound jeep that stopped in front of me that evening, I would have crossed the street and check the stall out personally.
---
Two weeks ago, I brought Mami Athena's son and a fellow officemate to Quiapo since it was payday and they were interested to buy some animes and tv series which were being sold per season in some of the stores along Hidalgo.
The second time around, I heard the familiar and nostalgic oldies songs being played again across the street. This time, I excused myself from the kids who were busy looking for hard to find rock cds steps away from the spot where the Crooners were being played .
When I finally came across this stall, which is actually a make-shift table with a second hand TV and a cheap VCD player that plays the CD's, it doesn't look like that this is the kind of stall where the CDs being sold are the ones only my mom could be perfectly familiar with.Complete albums of Patsy Cline, Matt Monro and Jerry Vale are all spread out as if, the entire stall came from the past to spread once again the almost-forgotten music, only very few people nowadays could appreciate. The pirated CDs of Louis Armstrong, Petula Clark and Ray Charles were being tried and tested by the owner, who's age is slightly older than the goods he sold in his stall. Not surprisingly, the buyers who crossed the street to checks the CDs he is selling are mostly folks who are decades older than me. There they are, haggling for a different kind of music, which actually sells like warm hotcakes for P25 pesos each.
---
Therefore, the last time I found myself within the area, I finally realized the value of what the humble oldies music makeshift stall at the corner of Jollibee offers to its customers.
It tries to bring back an age where music is more of a poem, a melody and a powerful voice rather than a song composed of some crappy, sappy lines or revived lyrics, which some careless, juvenile artists shamelessly lambasts with their own pathetic rendition just to claim they have a new album. And you know what, these albums they make eventually sells better over in that corner, where Fergalicious competes with Dooby Dooby Doo for the passerby's attention.
When I passed by the stall and brought some new cds, I asked the owner if I could spread the word and tell the internet of my findings. Despite his intial hesitation, he agreed with my proposal. He even allowed me to take pictures of his goods, in hopes that this too, would get more attention once I spread the word in cyberspace.
What worries me however is that, once another raid is conducted within the area, or if something really bad happens to that ancient guy who tries to reach out to new generations like me through the kind of music he sells, then that little corner of timelessness might be lost forever.
You see, the only reason why I started adding really old songs in my collection lately is because of a scene in my mind I want to create someday:To see myself sitting in a wooden chair one quiet afternoon, beside the big gloomy window sipping my warm coffee while reading a poetry book in a coffeeshop, as ancient and obscure as the music of Jim Croce and Pat Boone being played on the stereo, while young and old people mindlessly pass by outside, failing to see the beauty and majesty of what the classics could ever be.
The thought of catching just a mere speck of the older times simply thrills the old soul residing within me.
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