The Society of Honor by Joe America

The Songs, Singers, Friends and Family That Have Been Part of My Life

By Karl M. Garcia

I have written about Philippine music before.

Of course, some readers pointed out that I had forgotten to mention their favorite band, singer, composer or musician.

Fair enough.

I plead guilty.

There are simply too many.

So let me give it another round.

This is not an attempt to produce a definitive list of the greatest Filipino musicians. That would be impossible. Music is personal. What becomes the soundtrack of one person’s life may barely register with another.

Instead, this is my own journey through music—through family, friends, schoolmates, neighbors, colleagues, church and the many artists whose work has accompanied my life.

And this time, I will try not to forget quite as many people.

Perhaps It Runs in the Family

My connection to music may have started before I even understood what music meant.

On my father’s side, my grandfather was a music teacher. So music was not simply something to listen to. It was something that could be taught, practiced and shared.

There is another interesting family connection. My grandfather’s grandnephew is Alejandro D. Consolacion II, a Filipino organist and composer whose career has been devoted particularly to organ, choral and sacred music.

On my mother’s side, there are also connections to Philippine entertainment.

My mother’s first cousin, Maricris Bermont, was part of the Philippine entertainment scene as an actress and singer.

And then there is my cousin Jim Paredes.

For generations of Filipinos, Jim has been inseparable from the APO Hiking Society, together with Danny Javier and Boboy Garovillo. APO became one of the defining groups in Philippine popular music and an important part of the development of Original Pilipino Music.

And the musical connection continues into another generation of our family.

My nephew G3 Misa has built his own career in music.

And now my son has joined the DLSU Chorale.

He joined only recently, but already he has given me another reason to be proud—and another reason to believe that perhaps music really does run in the family.

The DLSU Chorale is one of the performing groups of De La Salle University, under its Culture and Arts Office. It remains an active part of university life, performing at official events and concerts.

And in 2026, my son and his fellow chorale members had an especially memorable achievement: the DLSU Chorale placed second in the Sing, Tarlac, Sing! Choral Festival and Competition.

For someone who never survived more than a year of piano lessons, I find this development rather amusing.

Perhaps I stopped playing so that the next generation could continue singing.

And Then There Was Me

As for me, I am still following in the footsteps of my sister—as a church choir member.

That may be my most enduring musical role.

As children, my sister and I also took piano lessons together.

She continued.

I stopped in the first year.

She became the last woman standing in that particular musical adventure.

Oh well.

Not everyone is destined to become a pianist.

Some of us are apparently destined to sing in church choirs, listen enthusiastically and admire the people who actually persevered with their musical lessons.

But perhaps that is the point.

Music does not require all of us to become professional musicians.

It simply asks that we allow it into our lives.

And now, watching my son sing with the DLSU Chorale, I am beginning to appreciate the family musical tradition from the other side of the audience.

Friends Who Made Music

Then there are the friends.

I had high-school friends who became members of Kundirana.

And since I am a product of La Salle Green Hills, Kundirana is naturally part of that story.

Kundirana is the high-school music ministry of La Salle Green Hills. It was founded in 1971, and its name combines two traditional Filipino musical forms: kundiman and harana. It has become one of the country’s best-known school-based musical groups, with generations of members and alumni making their own marks in Philippine music and entertainment.

For me, however, Kundirana is not simply an institution or a name in Philippine music history.

It is connected to people I actually knew in school.

That makes it personal.

Then there is Paco Arespacochaga of INTRoVOYS.

Paco is a founding member of the band and its drummer. INTRoVOYS was formed in 1986 and became one of the recognizable names of the Philippine pop-rock scene.

Then there is Leslie “Wolf” Gemora of Wolfgang.

Wolfgang became one of the major names in Philippine rock, and Gemora was its founding and original drummer.

And then there is my nephew G3 Misa.

I have the pleasure of watching his musical journey up close.

He has moved through several bands and musical projects, including Violent Playground, Spinning Jenny, Mystery and Shanghaied, before becoming associated with INTRoVOYS. He has also pursued his own work as a singer-songwriter and recording artist.

So yes, when I say he jumped from one band to another, there is some history behind the joke.

Apparently, the family musical tradition continues.

Just not through piano lessons.

Neighbors and Memorable Encounters

Sometimes music enters our lives through family and friendship.

Sometimes it simply happens because of where life takes us.

I have had the pleasure of having Celeste Legaspi as a longtime neighbor.

Think about that.

One of the country’s distinguished singers and actresses was not simply a name on a record, television program or concert poster.

She was someone who lived nearby.

That is one of the wonderful things about the Philippines.

Our cultural icons can sometimes be much closer to us than we realize.

I also had the pleasure of meeting Leah Navarro on one particularly memorable occasion.

And I remember her not simply because of the encounter, but because of the music.

One song that comes immediately to mind is “Isang Mundo, Isang Awit.”

That title says something beautiful by itself: one world, one song.

It is the kind of Filipino song that belongs to a particular era but carries a message that does not really grow old.

I also had a memorable selfie with Carla Martinez.

Today, many people know Carla primarily as an actress. My own memory also includes her earlier connection with singing.

Sometimes a photograph captures more than a celebrity encounter.

It captures a moment in a person’s journey.

And Then There Was My Composer Boss

I also had a composer for a boss.

Dodjie Simon.

That is not something everyone can put on a résumé.

And there is one particular song of his that deserves to be mentioned because it is easy to confuse with another famous song with exactly the same title.

I am talking about Dodjie Simon’s “Ikaw Lamang,” the song recorded by Janno Gibbs and Jaya.

This is not the “Ikaw Lamang” associated with Ogie Alcasid and Gary Valenciano.

Same title.

Different song.

Different composer.

Different musical history.

For me, however, the most important fact about Dodjie Simon is not simply the song.

He was my boss.

That makes the connection personal.

Having a composer as your boss is an interesting experience when you already have a lifelong appreciation for music.

It reminds you that behind every song people remember are people who actually have to create it.

The singer may receive the applause.

But somewhere behind that performance is the composer, lyricist, arranger, musician, producer, recording engineer and all the other people who make the music possible.

The Names I Still Haven’t Mentioned

And now comes the difficult part.

The musicians I have not mentioned.

The bands I forgot.

The singers someone will surely remind me I should have included.

The composers whose songs I have enjoyed but whose names I may not immediately remember.

The session musicians.

The choir members.

The arrangers.

The producers.

The instrumentalists.

The teachers.

The people playing in bars and small venues.

The church musicians.

The independent artists.

The garage bands.

The people writing songs in bedrooms and recording them on computers.

And the people who never became famous but nevertheless made somebody’s day better.

I cannot name everyone.

And perhaps that is actually a good thing.

Because Philippine music is much larger than the names that make the headlines.

More Than Entertainment

Music is also more than entertainment.

It is part of the creative life of the country.

It creates work for performers, composers, songwriters, arrangers, producers, recording engineers, studios, venues, promoters, educators and many others.

It creates intellectual property.

It creates audiences.

It creates livelihoods.

But its greatest contribution may be something that cannot easily be measured:

cultural identity.

A Filipino song can carry a piece of the Philippines wherever it is heard.

A song can cross generations.

It can cross social classes.

It can cross geography.

And sometimes it can cross national borders.

The Soundtrack of Our Lives

There is a tendency to divide Philippine music into categories—kundiman, folk, classical, Manila Sound, OPM, rock, alternative, hip-hop, R&B, P-pop and everything in between.

But music is more than genre.

It is memory.

A song can take us back to a particular year.

A particular person.

A particular place.

A particular journey home.

It can remind us of school.

Of first love.

Of heartbreak.

Of family gatherings.

Of Sunday Mass.

Of graduation.

Of a long drive.

Of an old friend.

Of someone who is no longer with us.

That is why music has extraordinary power.

It preserves things that statistics cannot.

It preserves things that photographs sometimes cannot.

And sometimes it preserves things that we did not even realize were important until years later.

A nation does not remember only through monuments and official anniversaries.

It remembers through stories.

And it remembers through songs.

From Kundirana to OPM and Beyond

The Philippine musical landscape has changed enormously.

There are traditions that go back generations, followed by waves of popular music that continually reinvent what it means to sound Filipino.

Kundiman and harana belong to an older musical heritage.

The Manila Sound helped define another era.

OPM gave Filipino original music a powerful identity.

Rock and alternative music expanded the possibilities.

Hip-hop brought another generation of voices.

And P-pop is now opening another chapter, with Filipino artists reaching audiences through digital platforms and participating in an increasingly interconnected Asian and global music industry.

But the new does not necessarily erase the old.

It builds on it.

A young Filipino musician can grow up listening to Filipino classics, Western pop, rock, hip-hop, K-pop and local independent artists—and then create something that belongs entirely to his or her own generation.

That is how musical cultures remain alive.

They evolve.

They borrow.

They adapt.

They remember.

And they create again.

My Own Small Place in All This

My own role is modest.

I am not a professional musician.

I did not survive piano lessons.

I am still a church choir member, following the path my sister took much more seriously than I did.

But music has remained with me.

It has been an inspiration.

An uplifter.

A companion.

And perhaps most importantly, a stress reliever.

There are days when nothing seems to work.

The news is exhausting.

Politics is frustrating.

Work is demanding.

Life becomes complicated.

Then a song comes on.

And for a few minutes, everything changes.

That is the magic of music.

It does not necessarily solve the problem.

It simply gives us enough strength to face it again.

And perhaps that is why seeing my son now become part of a university chorale means more to me than just another extracurricular achievement.

It feels like a continuation.

My grandfather taught music.

My sister persevered with the piano.

I found my way into a church choir.

My nephew pursued music professionally.

And now my son is singing with the DLSU Chorale.

The music keeps going.

To All Those I Forgot

So, to all the bands, singers, composers and musicians I failed to mention in my first essay:

My apologies.

And to those I still haven’t mentioned in this second round:

Please understand that the omission is not a judgment.

There are simply too many of you.

And perhaps that is the greatest compliment I can give Philippine music.

We have too many stories.

Too many voices.

Too many songs.

Too many musicians.

Too many memories.

Too much talent.

One essay cannot possibly contain all of it.

So let me make the disclaimer clear:

This is not the list.

It is simply my list of memories.

And there will probably be another round.

Because when it comes to Philippine music, there is always another song.

There is always another singer.

There is always another band.

And there is always another story behind the music.

As for me, I will keep listening.

Because music has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.

And, piano lessons notwithstanding, I have no intention of stopping now.