Pinoys as global musicians —Amsterdam (1)
Clearly, the crowd idolized them. As soon as I was seated at the band’s table, a bottle of VSOP cognac arrived, courtesy of a Japanese group.
Daily TribuneClearly, the crowd idolized them. As soon as I was seated at the band’s table, a bottle of VSOP cognac arrived, courtesy of a Japanese group.
(Author’s note. This is Part 1 of 2. As an adventurer who hitchhiked through Europe for three years, I met Pinoy global musicians everywhere. This is one of many of my stories. In Amsterdam, I ran into a Pinoy band by accident. When they discovered I was not a sailor but a drifter, they were intrigued. They invited me to their gig at a famous five-star strip joint frequented by high-end tourists in Ledseplein.)
There was Teddy, the leader of the band who played sax-flute-keyboard-bongos-percussion. He was the only one who read notes. The rest played by ear. There was Jerry, the bass guitarist; Teddy’s girlfriend Rose, singer-dancer; her older sister Tina, also a singer-dancer, and Jessie, the drummer with long hair. (Names are changed for privacy.)
Occasionally, Jessie and Teddy would stand up and wave to some guests coming in. Clearly, the crowd idolized them. As soon as I was seated at the band’s table, a bottle of VSOP cognac arrived, courtesy of a Japanese group. In ten minutes, I was drunk from three double shots, no chaser, on an empty stomach.
The show began with a striptease by a huge hulk of a Dutch woman. The crowd went into a rave. Then the Pinoy band played a mix of English and Dutch songs for an hour, after which a Dutch band took over. People stopped listening and started talking.
ME: How do you learn so many Dutch songs so fast, most of which are in the top 10 on radio right now?
TEDDY: It’s easy. All of us have radio-cassette tape recorders. When we identify a song, we record it, then pass it on to the others. Everyone has a personal copy of a target song we want to learn. I learn the sax part, the girls learn the vocals, and so on. We learn our cues. When we meet, we play the song only once, and we have a new song. No second try.
ME: Wow. That fast, huh?
JESSIE: We learn about five songs a week. It’s easy when you get the hang of it.
They played Dutch, German and English tunes. They played for a whole hour non-stop. After every song, the crowd would hoot and whistle. It was total pandemonium. Then, a subdued second-rate Dutch band took over. They were there just to give the main band a rest.
The crowd did not rave. They settled down to drink and talk. Rose and Tina, who were gyrating for a whole hour, did not feel tired. A pretty Dutch blonde came to join us. She was Jessie’s girlfriend who worked as a secretary at IBM.
ME: (Whispering to Jessie) Wow, nice girl.
JESSIE: A dime a dozen in all major cities. I have a secret to share. I have a baby in most major ports — Berlin, Paris, Rome, and here.
The band was such a rave, the Dutch women bowed at their feet, as if they were Elvis resurrected. These guys were having the time of their lives. Except of course Teddy, the boyfriend of Rose. He couldn’t make a move, otherwise he would be skinned alive by Rose. Tina was married, with two kids back home.
During the break, Teddy beckoned to me. We went backstage to smoke some weed, which was okay for the liberal Dutch society. Weed was not yet decriminalized in the US then.
TEDDY: I can’t play if I’m not high.
Over lunch the next day, Tina took my tattered ski jacket and started repairing it. Rose gave me a nice sweater. They took me in as if I were a long-lost friend. In just one day, they adopted me, asking a lot of questions about my adventures.
I talked non-stop about my days in the desert, the hospital in Cadiz, the Mondego kids. They were amazed at the kind of daring adventures I had on the road. Jessie said it was like a dream, what I was doing.
(Continued next week in Part 2)
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