Kundiman

In the late 1800s, just before independence from Spain was declared, a nationalistic fervor was approaching boiling point in the Philippines. This sentiment was manifested through the popular song form of the era – the kundiman, the traditional Filipino love song par excellence.

If you think about it, kundiman, a song of admiration and longing for a woman’s love, is naturally translatable to declarations of love to the mother country. And that precisely was what the composers of the time did. The kundiman branched out from love songs to nationalistic songs.

But this was done incognito.

This kundiman served to hide its true nature – a secret battle cry with strong anti-colonialist sentiment. It allowed Spain to continue thinking that Filipinos were just singing their miserable love songs. Some claim that there were guerilla battle codes and instructions embedded in the lyrics of the kundiman songs. One in particular stood out as the favorite among the revolutionaries of the time – Jocelynang Baliwag. Officially known as Musica del Legitimo Kundiman Procedente del Campo Insurecto, it is veiled as a love song for the beautiful Josefa ‘Pepita’ Tiongson of Baliwag, Bulacan. The first letters of each stanza spells out the woman’s nickname Pepita. Perhaps that’s some kind of a rosetta stone that allows the revolutionaries to crack a secret code (it is equally possible I’ve watched too many spy movies).

There are plenty of nationalistic kundimans that are still played today. Which brings me to the most popular kundiman of all time –  Bayan Ko (My Country). A classic kundiman in form and spirit, the music was written by Constancio de Guzman, with lyrics penned by National Artist Jose Corazon de Jesus, aka Huseng Batute.

Written in 1928 as a protest against American occupation, history shows Bayan Ko has been used time and time again whenever the country finds the need to defend herself from oppressors – foreign or otherwise. The song was also used against the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, who immediately banned it when he declared martial law in 1972. You can be incarcerated simply by singing it. It was not widely heard again until after the assassination of the  revolutionary Benigno Aquino, Jr. in 1986. When folksinger Freddie Aguilar belted Bayan Ko in a Manila rally, it woke up the complacent Filipinos into action.

Compositionally, the genius lies in the simplicity of the melody. It is one thing to write a clever and complicated tune but it takes a genius to craft a simple melody that feels natural and uncontrived yet rich in poignancy. This is the same reason we love Mozart – his music sounds simple and unpretentious yet you’ll find plenty of richness and perfection under the hood.

Our official national anthem Lupang Hinirang (aka Bayang Magiliw) was written by Julian Felipe in 1898. It was commissioned by Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo to be used during the declaration of independence in Kawit, Cavite the same year. Performed by the San Francisco de Malabon marching band, this original version was instrumental only. There were no lyrics.

Prior to this, there was another national anthem with lyrics that was officially declared by Andres Bonifacio and the Katipuneros. It was written by Julio Nakpil with the impossibly beautiful and heroic sounding title Marangal na Dalit ng Katagalugan (Sacred Hymn of the Tagalog Republic), Katagalugan referring to the whole archipelago, not just the Tagalog region. It is unclear why Aguinaldo rejected Nakpil’s composition and preferred Felipe’s. But I would dare speculate that Aguinaldo, who is widely believed to have ordered  the execution of Bonifacio and his siblings, was not a fan of the Katipunan leader who has gone “rogue” on him. He probably wanted to give the distinction to his buddy and fellow Caviteño Julian Felipe.

But that is not the issue that this blog is griping about. It is these:

Firstly, Felipe’s Lupang Hinirang is based on European national anthems such as Spain’s La Marcha Real or France’s La Marseillaise, or even Verdi’s Marcha Triunfal from the opera Aida. This reinforces the notion that we are a nation of copycats, always looking for western validation particularly when it comes to music. Filipinos already have the reputation of providing the best cover bands in the world, and we tend to patronize all kinds of music except our own. It’s a joke that our own anthem reflects that.

Secondly, our current national anthem sounds like, well European. Nothing wrong with that, but as long as we are being nationalistic, why not use our own art form? Kundiman art form is truly ours. Predating the Spaniards, its roots goes back to the indigenous art of the kumintang from the Batangas province. Kumintang is said to be a pantomime of song and dance and is similar to those of Javanese and Balinese theaters, a style that predates the Europeans’ by several hundred years.

Thirdly, and this is not a joke, the first ever lyrics of our official national anthem was in Spanish. How patriotic can you get when your national anthem uses the oppressors’ mother tongue? Whose harebrained idea was that? Apparently, it was one Jose Palma whose poem Filipinas was adopted as official lyrics in 1899. It gets worse. In the 1920s, the American colonial government ordered the lyrics to be translated from Spanish to English. In fact, there are more than one English versions. So, our national anthem consistently used foreign languages, while Tagalog was never once considered. I dread to research for a Japanese version for fear of actually finding one.

It wasn’t until the 1950s when President Magsaysay salvaged the situation by commissioning poets Julian Cruz Balmaceda and Ildefonso Santos for the official and current Tagalog version. And it was as late as 1998 with the Flag and Heraldic Code that the government declared “The National Anthem shall always be sung in the national language within or without the country”. It also specifies fine and imprisonment for violations (can we imprison Martin Nievera anyway for that horrendous version of Bayang Magiliw in a Pacquiao fight?).

Bayan Ko‘s composer Constancio de Guzman was very prolific and left behind numerous immortal kundiman and harana songs. He is himself a national treasure. The only thing of note Julian Felipe ever wrote was Bayang Magiliw, a foreign rip-off, commissioned by a friend who was a military president with blood on his hands.

Bayan Ko‘s melody and poetry never fails to stir the nationalist in our collective soul. There is no doubt that this kundiman song not only summoned our bravery but carried the Philippines towards her most triumphant moments in history.

This country rose from the shoulders of the revolutionaries. Undermanned though they may be, they have consistently fought anyone who dares to transgress the motherland.  It is only fitting that we use their chosen form of battle cry – the kundiman.

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Music Samples

Because of the popularity of Bayan Ko, it became difficult to find a dignified version worthy of a national anthem. Most of the versions you’ll encounter in the internet are overly orchestrated and heavily arranged, with the majority ranging from bad to horrific. I am not able to get hold of De Guzman’s original score but like much of the published sheet music in the 1920s, I suspect it was originally written for voice and piano. If any readers have information on the original score, please illuminate us in the comment section at the bottom.

This is Freddie Aguilar’s version (no relations) that spurred the People Power revolution in 1986 that toppled the Marcos regime:

My own tribute to the song from the album Tipanan – A Celebration of the Philippine Guitar. It is, I’m afraid, also heavily European-influenced in style and guitar technique:
Click here to listen to Bayan Ko – Music by Constancio de Guzman

Many older Filipinos know Sylvia La Torre as the grand dame of Philippine cinema and television. She is known as a comedian notably starring as Sebya with fellow comic Pugo (Mariano Contreras) in a series of popular films. She is also known as a co-host in the daily noon time show Oras ng Ligaya in the 1960s. Her long illustrious career also includes many recordings of American-infused Tagalog novelty songs.

But few people are aware that Sylvia La Torre was a conservatory-trained soprano who worked with the greatest composers of the kundiman genre. Ms. La Torre was so successful in crossing over to the popular genre – a feat few of us musicians can ever match – that it overshadowed her true love for and skill in kundiman singing.

In 2008, I was presented with an opportunity to produce a show featuring practitioners of kundiman art songs in a major venue in San Francisco. Immediately, I thought of Ms. La Torre. One could not get a bigger name than “Sebya” herself. She is in fact, one of the last surviving practitioners of the kundiman art song.

Armed with this purpose, my partner and fellow adventurer Fides Enriquez and I set about tracking down her whereabouts in the hope of convincing her to come out and perform for a big crowd in San Francisco. We were also interested to see if Ms. La Torre might consider appearing in our Harana documentary film.

Preliminary investigations yielded the fact that at 75 (at the time), she still had the singing chops and was practicing daily to keep her voicebox in great shape. This was very exciting piece of information!

We obtained a tip that a personal friend and acting liaison for Ms. La Torre was going to be at a big community event in Daly City. It was a long shot but we decided to brave the fog. To be invited to this event, I had to offer my services as a musician. I brought along singer Danny Harana to perform some harana and kundiman songs. We thought this might strengthen our case to Ms. La Torre’s friend.

To make a long story short, we met with the liaison and she was very excited about our idea. But we had to be vetted first before she would talk to Ms. La Torre. We needed to provide the scope of the project and discuss the business side of things, etc. After several weeks of going back and forth, we arrived at last to a very fine moment –  a date and location was set to meet with Ms. Sylvia La Torre!

With the intention of filming the encounter, we had in tow a film crew of 10 led by director Benito Bautista as we set out and drove 2 hours to our rendezvous with a legend.

The world simply stopped when Ms. La Torre entered the room. We felt we were in the presence of greatness. Even the film crew members who were not Filipinos were in awe. At 75, Ms. La Torre is vibrant, exuding the luminous elegance and giant personality that translated beautifully into the television sets of the past era.  Her signature comic timing intact, she is ready for a show.

It occurred to us that it is a travesty Ms. La Torre is seen less and less when in reality, she is very much ready for the limelight and adoration of millions of fans. Furthermore, not many Filipinos seem cognizant of the fact that she is a direct source of cultural wealth and information when it comes to the kundiman. She is a true master and among the last of a vanishing breed.

And I want to tell you that Ms. La Torre truly knows Filipino music when it comes to the correct forms and structures. In fact, she wondered aloud why we would want her in our harana film when she is in fact a kundiman singer, not a harana singer. I thought that’s fantastic! What’s unclear to us commonfolk is a difference between night and day to the masters (Read about the difference between harana and kundiman).

I had the honor and pleasure of accompanying Ms. La Torre in one of her signature songs – Sa Kabukiran. It was a blast! I was also impressed by the difference of her character behind and in front of the camera. Behind camera, she is a professional at work, very business-like, addressing Benito as ‘direk’. In front of it, she is once again the vivacious comedian of the noon time TV show “Oras ng Ligaya”. The switch was a little jarring. I believe this is called professionalism.

Now, Ms. La Torre and her husband/acting manager Dr. Celso Perez de Tagle are very sensitive to doling out permissions to publish any of her music or personal appearances. This is rightly so. And since we respect their wishes, I am sorry to say that I can show you neither the clip nor the sound bites from the film shoot. This will remain so until the Harana producers secure funding for licensing and both parties come to a mutual agreement to proceed. And more importantly, if the footage serves the narrative of the film.

As for the planned kundiman concert in San Francisco, it became apparent that funding for this project, which was from the San Francisco Arts Commission, was not sufficient to cover the licensing, talent fee plus expenses of Ms. La Torre’s entourage, and a host of other expenses necessary to present the show. It was indeed a learning process for myself and co-producer Fides Enriquez. Maybe it was a case of newbies with more ambition and good intent than wherewithal. Or perhaps the liason overestimated our capacity. Probably a combination of both.

But I have nothing but deep respect for Ms. La Torre’s decision. As a professional, she knows what she wants. Her legacy secured in the annals of Philippine music and cinema, there is no need to perform every time she is asked to. The world must be on her terms.

I also learned a lesson from Ms. La Torre – that whether people value your music or not, you must protect your product from copyright infringement. Even if it means obscurity to a newer generation of audience, you simply cannot publish without the owner’s permission. You will be hard-pressed to find film footage of Ms. La Torre in action on YouTube or anywhere else. When I mentioned that I found an old comedy footage of her performance on YouTube, they were alarmed. About a week later, it was gone.

Personally, the meeting turned out to be consequential for out of the ashes was born “Lalawigan – A Tagalog Song Cycle”, the show that replaced the original concept. An original composition, it is also intent on highlighting the kundiman (among other Filipino art forms) but in a more exploratory and contemporary direction.

It is not often that one has the opportunity to brush with greatness. Director Akira Kurosawa once said that the reward is not always in the result, but in the journey itself. We may not have been successful in presenting the original concept of a kundiman show, but meeting the grand dame herself, accompanying her in song, is definitely one for the books (or blogs).

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(Note: Samples below are truncated to 60 seconds to prevent copyright infringement.)

Sylvia la Torre’s recording output include kundimans, balitaws, folk songs, dances and novelty songs. Some samples below:

Kundiman Art Song
Nasaan Ka Irog (Music by Nicanor Abelardo, Lyrics by José Corazon de Jesus)
Ibong Sawi (Music by Juan Buncamino, Lyrics byJosé Corazon de Jesus)

Balitaw
Sa Kabukiran (Music by Manuel Velez)
Ako’y Kampupot (Music by Manuel Velez, Lyrics by D. Santiago)

Novelty Songs
Pampahimbing (Music by O. Pales, Lyrics by Levi Celerio)
Anak ni Waray (Music by Juan Silos, Jr, Lyrics by Levi Celerio)

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Relevant links:
Harana Documentary Film (currently in production)
Lalawigan – A Tagalog Song Cycle

One of the defining moments in the direction of my musical career happened, of all places, in Portugal. It was the first time I encountered fado performed live in a cafe in Lisbon in the late ’90s. Sipping port in a smoky room, I found myself completely transfixed by this strange but familiar music. I loved everything about the performance – the Portuguese guitars, the virtuosity and the pained look of the female singer dressed in all black, like she was mourning.

I had no idea what she was suffering from but whatever it was, it was a compelling expression of it. I found myself inspired.

It reminded me of kundiman, the traditional Philippine art song of yearning and unrequited love. Although fado and kundiman are different in style, they both are singing about passionate longings – the Portuguese for their loved ones who perished in the sea during a voyage, and the Filipinos about their unrequited love, who were very poor and had nothing to offer except their undying devotion.

Now, I don’t consider myself an extensive kundiman practitioner (I only play some of them in my recordings arranged for solo guitar). I am more interested in attempting to get Filipinos to appreciate and respect it today much in the same way the Portuguese love their fado and who are very proud of it.

Both the Portuguese fado and Filipino kundiman are traditional art songs that demand very high level of skills and musicianship. And both art forms are tied to their national identities.

Yet fado is known around the world and its practitioners have evolved which resulted not only in the preservation of a traditional art form but a thriving modern iteration, while kundiman is largely forgotten and remains a relic of the past, with no presence at all in the mainstream media, not even in the Philippines. As to why that is, or if you disagree, feel free to offer your thoughts in the Comments section below.

One thing for sure, it has to start at the local level. The world music market is not going to suddenly pick up on it if there is no thriving scene and widespread movement in the mother land. Local artists have to lead the way in practicing, respecting, popularizing and redefining the genre.

Fado intrigued me because even though these songs are centuries old, it evolved into something that is very much alive today, music that a modern singer would choose to perform or a contemporary composer writing it. It is also a medium that measures the greatness of an artist. The great Amalia Rodrigues comes to mind.

Fado practitioners are also unafraid to modify it to suit their modern taste, to push the boundary or to create something loosely based on it. Now this idea of iterating a traditional art form into something new intrigued me.

I had this grand idea of doing that to the kundiman, and to other Philippine art forms like harana, for that matter. In fact, all my recordings reflect this – they are not exactly your grandma’s kundiman and harana. My most ambitious attempt is writing Lalawigan – A Tagalog Song Cycle. Among the twelve-song collection, I wrote a modern harana, an inverted kundiman, a take on the virtuosity of kutyapi players, and used archaic Tagalog. All with a very modern sound (see video below).

Successful or not, I love that I can do this. It is a creative framework that resonates, inspires and is meaningful to me. Best of all, it is a chance to arrive at a new iteration.

Thinking back to that moment in a Lisbon cafe, the irony is not lost on me – that I needed to go to a foreign land to truly appreciate my own country’s art. As a very eloquent friend and supporter of my musical endeavors Dennis Normandy wrote:

“I traveled the world in search of my muse only to find her waiting at home”.

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For more information on Fado and Kundiman, see below:

About Fado (from Wikipedia)
Listen to Amalia Rodrigues (fado)
Listen to Madredeus (modern iteration or loosely based on fado)
Listen to Sylvia la Torre (Nasaan Ka Irog, a formalized kundiman sung by Sylvia La Torre)

Listen to a modern iterations of harana and kundiman from LALAWIGAN – A Tagalog Song Cycle:

• (0:59 – 2:07) Sa Talipapa is a modern take on a kundiman and kundimanin (sung by Kristine Sinajon, mezzo-soprano)
• (2:08 – 2:52) Harana ni Isagani is a modern harana composition. This footage only includes the instrumental section but you can hear the harana rhythm behind contemporary harmonies.
• (3:53 – 4:56) Didang is a song that attempts to push the boundary of what a kundiman can be. The tempo is free-flowing with harmonies not usually utilized in kundiman. The dramatic element is amped up. Although it is still a love song, it is a longing that peers into the darkness of a human soul.