Harana

Harana or Kundiman?

If you are one of the Filipinos having a hard time distinguishing between harana and kundiman music, don’t be ashamed – you are not alone! It is very easy to confuse the two.

It is common to hear people refer to ANY old Tagalog love song as kundiman or harana. Though I cringe every time, I often don’t bother to correct them because I’m in no mood to start a dissertation type of explanation. But a blog, now there’s the perfect soapbox to indulge.

So, herewith is my attempt to correct some fallacies. To Philippine music scholars out there, feel free to chip in at the Comments section below.

Harana

During a serenade, one can pretty much sing any love song he likes, even English ones, and still get away calling it a harana. But if you are going for a truly authentic harana experience like they did in old Philippines, you have to use a particluar set of songs specifically written for the endeavor. These songs were written by some of the better-known composers in the last 75 years such as Santiago Suarez, Constancio de Guzman and Antonio Molina, to name a few.

Harana music has its very own distinctive style and a clear stamp of authenticity. In musical terms, the rhythm is habanera which is in 2/4 time. Interestingly, none of the haranistas I met knew what a habanera was. That term is used mostly in western classical music. Instead, the haranistas refer to this rhythm as danza. To hear a sample of this rhythm, click here.

The arrangement is simple and straight forward. It always starts with an introduction of solo guitar, then verse 1 followed by verse 2, then a little bit of solo guitar in the middle, then back to verse 2 until the end. Occasionally, there are short exchanges between the guitar and voice in the middle, like they do here.

Another area to look for signs of authenticity is in the lyrics. True harana songs place the singer in the act of serenading such as when he implores “Dungawin mo hirang” (Look out the window, my beloved), “Natutulog ka na ba, sinta” (Are you asleep, my love) or “O Ilaw, sa gabing madilim” (Oh light, in a night so dark).

My favorite aspect of the harana lyrics is its use of pure, unadulterated and archaic Tagalog. They use words you and I will never hear in a daily conversation in Manila. Words such as idampulay (to offer or give), tanglaw (luminous or luminosity), or pagkagupiling (a light sleep). You will also never encounter even a hint of Spanish word – a characteristic shared by kundiman songs. Harana and kundiman may be the last refuge of the ancient Tagalog language.

Instrument-wise, the guitar is the most trusted companion. Though other instruments were known to be used such as the violin and banduria most recordings of harana from the 1940s to 1960s featured only a guitar (or two) accompanying the vocals.

There are many popular Filipino love songs that don’t meet these requirements but nevertheless were used in harana. Songs such as the popular Dahil Sa Iyo by Miguel Velarde, Jr. or Dahil Sa Isang Bulaklak by Leopoldo Silos. Stylistically, the haranistas never refer to them as harana, instead they just call them ‘love songs’.

Things to look for: when you hear the danza rhythm played on guitar combined with lyrics that place the haranista in the act, using archaic Tagalog, that’s a dead giveaway that you are listening to a true harana.

Kundiman

One of the main reasons kundiman is mistaken for a harana is because haranistas would oftentimes sing kundiman songs during a harana. See how easy it is to get confused? But make no mistake, harana and kundiman are stylistically different.

Whereas harana is in 2/4/ time, kundiman is in 3/4. The formula is verse 1 on minor key (e.g. C Minor) followed by verse 2 on parallel major key (C Major) midway through. This is intractable. Stray from this formula, and you no longer have a kundiman.

As mentioned, the language is also in archaic Tagalog but the theme subject is different from harana. Kundiman songs have a fatalistic woe-is-me streak to it. He is always heartbroken, very poor with nothing to offer other than his undying love, and willing to suffer, even die, to prove his love. In fact, the word kundiman is said to be the contraction of the phrase “kung hindi man” (if not, or if not meant to be).

If there is a single art form that captures the Filipino character, kundiman would be it for it is said that the Filipino’s humble nature and willingness to be trampled on is the main reason we allowed years of colonization and oppression from Spain, America and Japan. Even a fellow Filipino dictator was in on the flogging. Perhaps a controversial statement if not an exaggeration.

Whereas harana were sung exclusively by men, the history of recordings might give you the impression that kundiman were more often sang by women. This is attested to by recordings and accounts of luminaries such as Conching Rosal, Atang dela Rama and Sylvia la Torre. This is because it happened during the advent of recording in the early 1900s as well as the rise of the formalization of kundiman art form championed by Nicanor Abelardo, Bonifacio Abdon, et al. These composers were trained in the west and were very successful in integrating the operatic aria style into the kundiman. It is sung by a soprano and accompanied by full orchestra or the piano. This is the kundiman most of us know today (samples below).

However, there was a more basic form of kundiman that existed prior to that. They were songs the commonfolk could sing, and not operatic in style. This is the kundiman that existed long before the Abelardos and the Abdons. It uses just the guitar and voice and often sung by men. These were the kundimans sung by the haranistas during a harana.

It is based on the kumintang, a true indigenous (pre-colonial) style of song and pantomime that originated in the Tagalog region, probably Batangas. The guitar was later incorporated upon the arrival of Spain. The kumintang is a whole different subject that warrants an extensive research.

Things to look for: the kundiman is in 3/4 time, starting in minor key, switching to major key in the middle, uses archaic Tagalog, with the subject matter that revolves around being heartbroken.

Chances are, you probably won’t hear true harana or kundiman in our daily lives because they are not played (or seldom played) on the radio, television, internet or live performances. And if you hear one, chances are it is kundimanin (pseudo-kundiman) and treated more like cheap ditties rather than art form.

On top of distinguishing between the two genres, I also want us to make a clear distinction between authentic harana and kundiman. There are many versions out there, including some of my own recordings, that do not exactly meet these requirements. I am not saying that other versions are not valid, in fact, I encourage evolution and modern iteration of these genres as long as they are done well and they retain the spirit. I castigate them not for being inauthentic but for being truly horrific. But that’s another topic.

So, the next time you hear an old Tagalog song, try not to automatically categorize them as harana or kundiman. Chances are they are neither because true ones are hard to come by. But should you encounter one, you may now consider yourself armed with the knowledge to distinguish between the two.

Music Samples
(Note: To avoid copyright infringement, all music samples below are truncated to about 60 seconds)

Hear an example of a true harana song:
Kay Lungkot Nitong Hatinggabi (written by Santiago Suarez and sung by Ruben Tagalog from the album ‘Harana ni Ruben Tagalog’)

Hear an example of formalized kundiman as championed by Nicanor Abelardo, et al. This example uses a string orchestra accompanying a soprano:
Nasaan Ka Irog (written by Nicanor Abelardo, sung by Sylvia la Torre from the album ‘Kundiman’)

Hear an example of kundiman in its most basic form of guitar and male voice:
Bituing Walang Ningning (composer unknown, sung by the haranista Romeo Bergunio from the upcoming documentary film Harana)

There are several stages in the Philippine courtship tradition of harana (serenading).

During the filming of Harana the movie in late 2008, I had the opportunity to travel to remote provinces of the Philippines in search of master haranistas – the vanishing breed of expert singers skilled in the art of serenading.

Serenading was particularly popular in the Philippine provinces from early to mid 1900s, even as late as 1970s. Contrary to the common notion, serenading in rural Philippines was less about a man’s declaration of love and more about the simple desire to introduce himself to a woman in a gentlemanly fashion. The image of a lone singer/guitarist under the window at night (which I am guilty of perpetuating by using this cover for my first album The Art of Harana) probably happened more often in the movies than in real life. The truth is harana was indeed a bigger social event. It was a call for an evening soiree.

The most common instance that sets a harana in motion is the arrival of a woman from a big city (like Manila) who is in the province for a vacation. Like Pavlovian dogs, men were conditioned to organize and bring out their guitars upon getting a glimpse of a beautiful new arrival.

Another common notion is that any man interested in serenading can do the singing himself. We may be a nation of singers but not all singers are created equal. And since the success of the endeavor depends largely on the skill of the singer, men sought the services of master haranistas – the best in town.

These were the men we sought after for the Harana film. And I am happy to say that we found three very colorful characters who are amazing singers in their 60s and 70s. These men definitely have something that is rarely bestowed on typical singers – the gift of straight-to-the-heart communication, earnestness and sincerity in their songs. A poignancy borne only from their humble existence and shy nature. Oftentimes, the mere sight of these leathery-faced men singing beautiful melodies is enough to have the whole Harana film crew in bawling fits.

I learned a lot from these men. Not only of new songs but insights on the harana custom itself. I was fascinated to learn that there are several stages to the endeavor along with adherence to certain disciplines. Whenever I ask for a song, they would often ask back ” Ano ba sir, panawagan ba o pagtatapat?” (Sir, do you want Announcement or Proposal?). To which I reply “Ano po?” (I’m sorry, what?”)

So herewith are the different stages of harana as they did in the province of Cavite:

Panawagan (Calling out or Announcement)
As the term suggests, it is the stage where men are outside the window announcing their presence. It comes with a specific set of songs. These songs often place them in the act of serenading from the outside, politely imploring the woman to open the window. Examples of these songs are Dungawin Mo Hirang (Open the Window, Beloved), Natutulog Ka Na Ba, Sinta? (Are you Asleep, My Love?), Sa Gitna ng Dilim (In the Midst of Darkness) and Kay Lungkot Nitong Hatinggabi (How Sad This Midnight Is) to name a few.

One of my favorite titles is Umaga na Pala, Sinta (I Just Realized It Is Morning Now, My Love). It implies that the poor soul has been singing the whole night without the woman opening the window. Talk about tenacity.

Pagtatapat (Proposal)
Panawagan (1st base) is deemed successful if the woman opens the window and you are invited inside the house (2nd base). Once situated in the living room, under the watchful eyes of the parents, another round of singing ensues. It calls for another subset of songs called Pagtatapat or Proposal. This is the stage where men unabashedly declare their admiration for the woman’s beauty and presumed virtues.

Examples of these songs are Ibig Kong Magtapat Sa Iyo Paraluman, (I wish to Propose to You, My Muse), Lihim Na Pagibig (My Secret Love) and Kung Ika’y May Alinlangan (If You Ever Doubt Me).

Panagutan (Response)
I was surprised to learn that after two or three Pagtatapat songs, the lady being serenaded is encouraged to respond through, well, a song. In fact, one haranista told me that in his province, women who were known to sing well tend to get serenaded more often.

The haranistas in Maragondon, Cavite introduced me to an elder lady known for her singing during serenades. When I asked her which song she would respond with, she said “It depends. If I like the fellow, there are some songs for that. If I am not that interested or if I am unsure, it’s a whole different set of songs”.

If she is unsure, she may choose to sing Constancio de Guzman’s Ang Tangi Kong Pagibig (My Only True Love), a song where the first line declares “Ang tangi kong pagibig ay minsan lamang” (True love for me is rare). Very poetic, not to mention diplomatic.

If the answer is affirmative, she cited the song Maala-ala Mo Kaya by the same composer, a joyous song that declares O kay sarap mabuhay, lalo na’t may lambingan (Oh how sweet it is to live, more so in the presence of love and affection).

The haranistas, in turn, have a song handy depending on the lady’s response. If unrequited, the haranista could choose a song titled Kay Hirap Mawalay sa Piling (How Painful to be Away from You), Ako’y Isa Na Ngayong Sawi (I am Now Brokenhearted), Pusong Wasak (Shredded Heart) and my favorite Laot Ng Dusa (Open Sea of Suffering).

If victorious, he would simply join the woman in singing say, the Maala-ala Mo Kaya song which was actually written as a duet between lovers.

The singing apparently would go on late into the night. It was not lost to me that harana probably had that quality of enjoyment one might feel in a karaoke setting. In fact, I dare suggest that harana singing could be the prototype of the now famous (or infamous) karaoke where a group of friends take turns singing well into the night. But I digress.

Pamaalam (Farewell)
No one ever gets a home run in a harana (if you know what I mean). First of all the parents are right there with you in the living room, making sure the kabataan behaves. Philippines back then was even more conservative in behavior especially in the province. Shyness is considered a virtue, no touching is allowed, and abrupt and rude behavior was not tolerated.

The night ends using another set of songs called Pamaalam. The style of these songs are a little different, mostly happy with a faster tempo. Interestingly, where most of harana songs are in 4/4, Pamaalam songs tend to be in 3/4 tempo and sounds more like folk songs than love songs. Songs with titles like Winawakasan Ko (I Hereby End It) and Bakit Di Kita Maiwan (Why Do I Find it Hard to Leave You) are good examples. The haranistas then disappear into the night.

You see, everything they did that night was cloaked under the songs, which is more powerful and probably a whole lot of fun. It’s full of pent-up feelings that society dictated cannot be expressed outwardly. But if you sing it, not only is it acceptable but quite elegant and meaningful. It also follows a tradition handed down from generation to generation. In fact, if you ask your lola (grandma), chances are your mother or father is a harana baby – born and flowered through a seed called the harana.

To see and hear the haranistas, please view the Harana movie trailer:

The Difference Between Harana and Kundiman

The Different Stages of Harana (Serenading)