I have a good explanation for the lack of updates - two words actually - the first one sounds like 'hairy' and the second one rhymes with 'otter.' No, it didn't take me this long to read the book, I just wanted to make sure that I've already gotten wizardry out of my system because I didn't want to do a Pangs and spoil the book for my handful of visitors by revealing that someone dies in the story. Someone does die in the story, by the way.

As much as I often like to disassociate myself from the throng, I have to say that I am hopelessly in love with popular culture. It's funny, really. I don't think I can hate pop culture to the point of ignoring it completely (and I like to see anyone try). As a matter of fact, when I find myself disliking something sensationally steeped in pop, my defense mechanism will be to merely poke fun at it. I've developed a rather indiscriminate sense of humor that I can probably find funny things where most people won't (open head wounds, for example). I easily get annoyed at a lot of pop though, but I realize that I get annoyed more at the sort of elitism and condescension that some over-generalizing idiots display in newspapers, magazines, and especially internet forums. This condescension, more often than not, is a symptom that manifests itself most in the area of music, demonstrated by music critics so eager to knock anything that has the slightest hint of being popularly liked. Everybody's a critic though, and people can actually make a living out of writing unsolicited critiques, whether for music, film, literature, fashion, food, as well as some other forms of culture that are prone to criticism, like microbiology (this coliform culture is particularly soft to the palate, evoking escapist ideals in a post-Mussolini Italian setting, which, thanks to an open-ended resolution during the twilight of its rather drawn-out life cycle, is not such a bad thing if not for that fact that a family of paramecium from New York essentially displayed similar characteristics during last year's fall season... two stars though for the cute scientific name). The world is not without its share of self-appointed cognoscenti and literati, and I fear that by that last statement, I may have opened myself up to criticism that I'm criticizing myself (I'm criticizing critics after all).

Please humor me. 21st century internet usage, for those who bother to break it down, is really just about two things anyway: whining and pornography. Although I know that most of you would like more of the latter, this will be a whiny update (I won't be whining about pornography though). With that said, you can categorically say that the paragraph before this is a disclaimer of sorts.

With my CD player still going through the mechanical equivalent of epilepsy, I have been listening to the radio more and more. From what I read from this month's Blender, rock radio is in some kind of decline, although the local station (being NU107) is still one of the most prominent stations in the metro(s). Rock stations in the US have suffered a strong backlash from the turn-of-the-century rap-rock trend, which saw the demise of song melody as we knew it at the hands of jumpy, chestbeating Neanderthals (predominantly white) who growled gutturally over sludgy riffs that were often drowned out in effects anyway. I'm guilty of liking a few of those bands myself, but I somehow fell out of touch with the genre following the resulting deluge of bands that aped the more successful groups. The local deluge delivered less of a destructive impact, although one gets to wondering wherever those bands have gone now. It's somewhat a good thing that there are certain aspects of being Filipino that didn't get eliminated when these local bands bought into the rap-rock trend, because Filipinos, even with the prevalent macho culture, don't really make good chest-beaters. Lyricism is also something that these groups didn't have much of, given that they often tried to infuse their lyrics with homeboy lingo even if they can only bark out a succession of f-words to approximate that effect (but that's another story).

Filipinos, more passive than aggressive, do not make good chestbeaters because they're predominantly sensitive types (and beating one's chest hurts). You'd think it otherwise, but they make worse sensitive guys, especially sensitive guys who refuse to play plugged instruments. I've seen acoustic sets done properly, although most of them from the MTV unplugged series. Acoustic performances are intimate settings, where artists, stripped of electronic polish, are in essence laid bare and are thus more vulnerable to the audience. Probably the result of enterprising bars who found investing in a solid sound system unnecessary, the acoustic trend slowly grew a couple of years back, and true to its form, has been dying a slow, silent death. Given something of a 'live' feel, acoustic performers probably think that copping covers is something that they can always get away with. It's quite disconcerting that lately, acoustic cover versions have been figuring more and more into the regular countdowns and that entire albums have been going gold solely on the merit of revivals, remakes and rehashes (with some songs being so popular that some albums practically share tracklists). Rap-rock is an amalgamation of genres, while acoustic shouldn't even technically be one. I can't figure out which is worse between the two. Listening to rap-rock is like being put through a fraternity hazing on a daily basis, where taking and dishing out abuse is the prevalent way of belonging, while on the other hand, being subjected to acoustic music continually is like making out with the same person daily solely for the sake of making out - all that intimacy is going to get pretty pointless eventually.

I figure that it can be worse though, like acoustic rap rock, for one thing. I'm tempted to bash the novelty craze, but it's still a uniquely Filipino formula. It earns points for that and for the fact that it's unapologetic and often devoid of pretense. Other people may also frown on the influx of talent search types, but I don't have a problem about actual talent, except for some contestants, who define 'talent search' as searching for their talent while performing.

The industry hasn't been as profitable as it was. Piracy, among other causes, has really put the music business in such a decline that innovation has become more and more of a costly investment. Record companies have been turning to pop rock artists to fill their entire rock catalog, given that it is indeed a more accessible form of the genre that will ideally translate to better sales. Even as a sub-genre, I think that pop rock is still a large enough field for artists to explore and find new ground in. After all, the Eraserheads did champion intelligent pop rock and became trailblazers of some sort in the process. We have them to thank or blame for the current crop of bands, whether for influence or for precedence (they did get record companies to notice the local rock scene in the first place).

Listening to the radio, one will invariably hear the high pitched whines of some saccharine band about unresolved high school issues or being lonely and impotent or some other pitiable case. This is a good example of neo-narcissism, by the way. Where narcissism used to entail having someone go on about how great they are, neo-narcissism means having someone go on about how awful and pathetic they are. The songs sound like updates to a teenage blog set to music, which shouldn't be so bad if actual teenagers were involved as well as actual music. The case is neither, more often than not, and like aspartame, it leaves a certain bad taste in the eardrums.

Then again, neo-narcissists are not so bad when one gets to meet the neo-machos. Ten to one, when the prefix 'neo' becomes affixed to some respectable word, it serves the function of negating said respect, as it usually means taking a proven good thing, needlessly updating it, and calling the resulting watered-down version Junior. Having the term neo attached to a movie, on the other hand, will mean that said movie will know kung fu and air guitar (I neo-respect those kinds of movies). Anyway, neo-machos play a version of sensitive rock called pogirock. Sensitive rock is usually about telling the world about being painfully cut, while pogirock is usually about telling the world about being beautifully scarred. In this regard, it's very much like neo-narcissism and quite possibly qualifies as neo-chestbeating where scarring often results but in cute heart-shaped formations discolored with warm tinges of red and pink. Incidentally, listening to a pogirock chorus feels like being cut from the inside with a blunt pizza cutter with globs of leftover cheese. This inexplicably causes female ovaries to get bunched up and males to grow ovaries. It is a scientific fact that rockstars do not smile, pogirockstars, however, are not content with merely not smiling - they have to do it with meaning, with half-closed eyes staring into nothingness and pursed lips that convey an overall sense of forlorn existentialism and tense sphincters that can benefit from a little reflexology. For one reason or another, only the pogirock frontman can do the look properly, and his bandmates' attempts are at best neo-constipated.

Deplorable is a word that means lamentable, and I had to consult a thesaurus to confirm this because I am. It is also a word that can also be used to describe the local (pop) rock scene at the moment, if only for the lack of anything interesting and intelligent. The artists that critics have long been singing praises about have gone on to writing dollish commercial jingles. Supergroups have sprouted left and right like monocots, and the best known ones can only come up with neo-nationalistic outbursts that fall short of all intentions except that of underscoring a messianic complex (it's scary to think that it's probably a not so uncommon trait - talking without the walking). Up-and-comers have been turning up mostly interchangeable songs and song parts, probably under the impression that the happy major scale strum-along is the be-all and end-all of Pinoy pop rock (like recipes to staid sandwich spreads). With the current international revival of 80s/new wave elements, one can easily expect the next batch of local artists to want in on this trend, with some bands already given something of a head start, singing tunes with a sour Manchester by way of Malolos pseudo-accent. Critics, of course, have lauded these developments. They could be looking in the wrong places, however. A good number of unsigned artists show more musical merit than signed ones, except that with very limited exposure, they usually have but small followings. The good thing about all this though is that recording has become more and more a do-it-yourself affair. I've seen many excellent independently produced releases displayed in Tower Records, cheaply priced but with usually more interesting packaging (obviously done with a more hands-on approach that major labels probably wouldn't bother spending additional resources on). Some record companies have also assumed the role of distributorship (for a percentage in sales, i assume), resulting in a mutually beneficial relationship between artist and label - label takes less risks and artist gets more exposure.

I can only guess as to what is going to happen to rock or pop rock or pop music or music in general, although I still remain hopeful that identity will still play a big part in their gradual development. While I do not intend for my update to go beyond music (in fact a sub-genre at that), I realize that I may be crossing over into dreaded areas best left covered by self-help books (the kind that my dad loves to buy but reads only the first chapters of). I just believe that conformity isn't necessarily a bad thing as long as one gets to keep an honest understanding of one's individuality. Pinoy pop rock doesn't always have to deviate from the expectations of the sub-genre, but that doesn't mean that it always has to sound the same or that it always has to be about the same tired things.

With that, I also realize that I went past my intentions because all I really wanted to do was whine about my current circumstantial listenings. I won't stop, however, because I can still whine about other things, starting with some streptococci that I had the privilege of not encountering (noting that they can cause nasty vaginitis). Note to you, clueless strain of spherical bacteria: spheres are not the new spirals, and no self-respecting microorganism would be caught disinfected sporting a spherical membrane, especially when being scientifically prodded in a Victorian petri-dish. I swear, bacteria wouldn't know culture even if their own single-celled bodies comprised it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -