#PUNTOPlays 🎧 - Tagsibol 2023 🌺
Spring has sprung
Happy May!
Welcome to the last gasp of Midwest winter here in Ohio - an unexpectedly cold, cloudy, and rainy week that almost threatens to undo the beautiful spring weather we’ve been having here recently.
As we enter what is hopefully the last cold snap of this spring season, I’m excited to share my next seasonal playlist with you all — in anticipation of consistently sunny and gorgeous weather for the rest of the month.
✨ Introducing the #Tagsibol (Spring) Playlist! ✨
#Tagsibol is defined by the double-edged nature of spring. Winter blues eventually giving way into something much lighter - divine rays of light breaking through the general, mucky morasse of depression, anger, self-doubt and self-blame that happens to plague one during the winter months. The only way out is through.
In this playlist, I tried to chart a musical journey that reflects and traverses spring’s extremes - from the darkness of winter that’s still somehow hanging on at the end of March before gradually ushering in an emergence of light, fun, and play in April (and beyond).
Friendly reminder below:
As always, I also wanted to share some diasporic Pinoy bops from the playlist below. I highly encourage you to listen and support Filipino artists worldwide. Spread the love!
Upuan (Chair) – GLOC-9 ft. Jeazell Grutas
📍 Manila, Philippines
Listen. If you’re new to Pinoy rap, you’re sleeping on GLOC-9.
Francis M may be the King of Pinoy rap — but GLOC-9 (otherwise known as Aristotle Condenuevo Pollisco) gives him a serious run for his money. His songs often tackle social injustice, corruption, poverty, and the Filipino condition — and he is beloved by Filipinos from all different social classes (but especially working-class and low-income Pinoys) for his ability to speak truth to power in the Philippines.
Upuan is one of those classic songs that just take hold of you and don’t let go. When I first heard this song as a college kid in 2009, I was shookt by the absolute, masterful lyricism in Tagalog and the hard-hitting social punches GLOC-9 was throwing at corrupt politicians and wealthy Filipinos back home. Almost 15 years later, as a 30-something organizer/activist semi-weary of the state of the world, I’m still shooketh.
Especially when you have vivid bars depicting poverty in the slums of Manila like the below. (My English translations are in bold — but they do not capture the pure savagery of his social critique in Tagalog.)
Mawalang-galang lang po sa taong nakaupo
(I’m sorry to be rude to the one sitting down)
Alam niyo bang pangtakal ng bigas namin ay 'di puno?
(Do you know that our measuring cup for rice is never full?)
Ang dingding ng bahay namin ay pinagtagpi-tagping yero
(The walls of our house are just patched together with iron sheets)
Sa gabi ay sobrang init na tumutunaw ng yelo
(At night, it gets so hot here that even ice can melt)
Na 'di kayang bilhin upang ilagay sa inumin
(Ice we can’t afford to put into our drinks)
Pinakulong tubig sa lumang takuring uling-uling
(Boiled water that we get from a blackened old kettle)
Gamit ang panggatong na inanod lamang sa istero
(Firewood for cooking that we just dunk into the canal)
Na nagsisilbing kusina sa umaga'y aming banyo
(The canal that serves as our kitchen and in the morning also serves as our bathroom)
Ang aking inay na may kayamanang isang kaldero
(And my mother who has all the treasures of one cooking pot)
Na nagagamit lang 'pag ang aking ama ay sumuweldo
(The only time she uses it is whenever my father gets paid)
Pero kulang na kulang pa rin, ulam na tuyo't asin
(But it’s never enough — our food is always just dried fish and salt)
Ang singkuwenta pesos sa maghapo'y pagkakasiyahin
(We try to make 50 pesos last the whole day)
'Di ko alam kung talagang maraming harang
(I don’t know if there are just too many barriers)
O mataas lang ang bakod o nagbubulag-bulagan lamang po kayo
(If the walls are too high, or if you’re just pretending to be blind)
Kahit sa dami ng pera niyo
(No matter how much money you have)
Walang doktor na makapagpapalinaw ng mata niyo
(No doctor can ever make you see)
Torpedo – Eraserheads
📍 Manila, Philippines
An OPM (Original Pinoy Music) classic from the 1990s. The song is about a man (manchild?) who constantly finds himself unable to express his feelings for a woman. He’d rather sing about it than tell her directly. The term torpe has become popularized in the Philippines and often refers to a hopeless, immature man who fails to own up to his feelings. Don’t be torpe, men.
Happy listening!
