Music Dance and the Martial Arts

  

It was a balmy Saturday afternoon in Tagbilaran City sometime in 1979.  The work area-cum-living room of my boarding house was cramped but spotless. You enter my living room through the main door of a 5 square meter storeroom then to another door going to the living room.  I purposely kept both doors open while making my sales reports to give me a wide vista of the pristine and sparkling waters of Tagbilaran Bay and Panglao Island.  Traversing perpendicular to the boarding house entrance was the promenade of the Knights of Columbus HQ that intersects Gallares St. and leads down to the beach about 70 meters from my boarding house.  On Saturdays like this I usually take a swim crossing Tagbilaran Bay towards the white sandy beach of Panglao Island, take a rest for about half an hour to recover from the 30 minute breaststroke and then swim back again to my starting point at the promenade.  But this Saturday afternoon was different.   I was about to wrap up my paper works and gear up for a swim, when I heard some familiar piano riffs in Deb Santos’s house just next door.

I scampered off my desk and went to Deb’s house to check who the piano player was.  The handsome diminutive fellow was Deb’s uncle Manoy Liloy Cabagnot the younger brother of my landlord Tatay Bandin.  I wasted no time requesting my favorite standards one after another to the delight and Manoy Liloy who obviously enjoyed playing for his newfound admirer and fan.  Excitedly I blurted out a barrage of favorite standards to play:  “Noy which key do you play Laura?...How about I’ll Take Manhattan?...or Satin Doll?, but before he could play more of my requests, Manoy Liloy stopped and turned around and said:  “Ok, Ok, I’ll play Stella by Starlight one more time for you, if you can hit my chin, tan-aw naku murag praktisado man ka. (You look to me like you’ve been working out.)  Sigi dong sumbaga ko diri. (Okay kid, punch me on the chin). 

“What? I don’t want to fight you Manoy, I just want to copy your piano chords”, I protested, a bit perplexed by this sudden intermission.  Is he serious? I asked myself. He was barely 5 feet 4 inches tall and already in his mid-sixties.  But I had no choice, but hesitantly complied with his challenge.  The first punched was intentionally calibrated, telegraphed!  Who would want to hurt an old man anyway? Manoy Liloy laughed and joked:  “You’re not punching me, you’re pinching me, now give me a real strong punch, but don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”  This time I threw a real good straight punch, but the wily manoy who I earlier thought was only adept at the keyboards toyed with me, locked my arms and spun me around like a ragged doll!   I threw the wildest punches and kicks in my arsenal, but they just “bounced” back and made me look more like a washed-up old man.  My only consolation was that nobody was there to witness the humiliation of a 26-year-old get beat up by a man old enough to be his father.

“You know what that was? Manoy Liloy asked me still dazed from  his swift maneuvers.

 “No, I don’t, what was that   ?” I snapped back.

“Eskrima!  Look, here’s the deal I teach you a few piano chords and you be my student and training partner in eskrima.”

That was the beginning of my first eskrima lesson at the reverse end of the methodology.  Contrary to tradition, I started first with the empty-hand techniques in eskrima.  But honestly, I was more interested with Manoy Liloy’s piano tips than his eskrima.   This former jail warden, who passed away a few years ago, once studied Doce Pares eskrima and piano under the tutelage of Sioux Cabase while they were still residing in Cebu City during the pre-war period.

 

Some years back in my hometown Cebu City, I’ve grown accustomed to close encounters with martial artists who at the same time were either professional musicians or amateurs who had natural talent and ear for music and song.  Manoy Liloy was just one of the few who I knew intimately.  Manoy Liloy was very sophisticated and avant garde in taste – certainly not your archetypal loudmouthed eskrimador.  His cool touch on the piano was as smooth and crisp as his eskrima. 

In our old neighborhood during the 1960’s, aspiring teenage hotshots and “fashionistas” wanted to move like, talk like, dress like, dance like and play the guitar like Sonny Umpad.  I was one of those “cool-wannabe like Sonny” a skinny 13-year-old who used to sneak behind Sonny hanging around with his guitar buddies at the El Gusto store just to get a glimpse at his Beatles and Gary Lewis covers.  Sonny already an icon in the eskrima world for his innovations in his Visayan Eskrima Corto Cadena system was one of the most sought after bass player in Cebu during the sixties.  Dubbed by former Bruce Lee disciple Jesse Glover as the “Bruce Lee with sticks”, Sonny was once a member of The Continentals band and did gigs together with the legendary Cebuano lead guitarist the late Teddy Vaňo[1].  Sonny who also played the keyboards was one of the most pre-eminent dancers in the San Francisco Bay Area Hustle Dance Club.   Sonny also handcrafted most of his collections of bolos and knives that were exquisitely accentuated by elaborate carvings of ethnic motif on the handles.

When Sonny left for the U.S. with three other brothers, I returned the favor by teaching the chords I ripped-off from him to his younger brother and one-time sparring partner Benjie.  I sort of played the role of surrogate big-brother to Benjie when all of his three brothers left for the U.S. ahead of him.   Benjie a bouncy percussionist and showman and one of the best dancers in our neighborhood studied kenpo when he went to the U.S in 1975.  I only learned last year that Benjie passed away a few years ago when I wrote a short note to Sonny via one of his students Victor Damian who visited me in Lapulapu City.  

Just recently Sonny died of brain tumor in August 24, 2006 in Alameda.   Up to the very end Sonny remained low-key - no flashy website, no email address, no glossy ads on Blackbelt magazine and never peddled his art like a cheap commodity, while at the same time opened his doors wide open to those seeking to enhance not only their martial arts but also their dance steps and their music.  

There were no Jingle chord books and karaoke machines back in the late 60’s and transcribing chords was a tedious time-consuming process as we had to cifra[2] the chord arrangements and licks by ear or “oido” straight out of the vinyl records.  The easiest option is to copy them from some confident and generous “axeman” like Sonny Umpad. Showing off your neat guitar chords and latest licks was a game of one-upmanship in the streets of Cebu City.  Whenever a rival guitar group came snooping around, we either stopped playing or dish out a few bawdy Bisaya novelty songs like Malipajun ang Takna or in most cases reinvent the chord voicing to confuse the mga kawatan ug tapoy (chord plagiarizers). In the process my guitar buddy Paul Melendez (multi-awarded composer of Marco Sison hit Make Believe) and I became chord savvy such that an ordinary EM7 can be altered into a finger-breaking EMajor9th[3] and eventually our repertoire transcended from Herman’s Hermit’s “Busy Line”, The Beatles “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” to Henry Mancini’s “Two for the Road” and Jobim’s “Corcovado”.   

Although, our guitar group never experienced anything nasty against other gangs, in other neighborhoods however, fights often break-out between two rival combos.  I remember a black-belt lead guitarist named Joel of The Harebells combo who tried to cajole either Paul or me to fill-in as rhythm guitarist for a one-year engagement in Saigon.  We didn’t grab the offer and gave the slot to another neighbor and one of my earlier guitar inspirations Junior “Soling” Rentuza.  After his Saigon stint Junior “Soling” had a new moniker - Junior “Saigon”. Junior Soling would later narrate to us their adventures in Saigon during the height of the Vietnam War and some of the “rumbles” Joel and the combo got embroiled with against unruly American G.I.s.

   

Ernie Martinez was one of the pioneers of Shorin-ryu in the country.  He studied under the tutelage of Latino Gonzalez and appeared in a cameo role in Roberto Gonzalez’s movie “Hari ng Karate”.  Ernie frequented our neighborhood not only to teach karate, but sans karaoke machines at that time, we were the only ones back then who could accompany his rendition of Blood Sweat and Tears songs like “Spinning Wheel”, “You’ve Made me so Very Happy”, “Lucretia McEvil” and other Motown hits.  Of all the “stambays” I’ve accompanied on guitar, until today no one can match the vocal range and power of the ala David Clayton Thomas[4] voice of the late Ernie Martinez. He never sang professionally but with his good looks, lean and tall physique, today he could have breezed through the top 4 in American Idol.   

Other well known eskrimadors in Cebu were professional musicians like the late Filemon Momoy Caňete the patriarch of San Miguel Eskrima  who wrote songs for recording artists like Rosalie Robles.  Momoy also composed and recorded Cebuano songs for balladeer Stax Hugete such as Ako, Gugmang Bakakon and Ako Magpabilin Lang. 

A true-blue Cebuano musician/martial artists and eskrima protege of Filemon Caňete is Mario Jadraque who composed a total of 270 songs.  Mario is a multi-awarded musician having won third prize in the Metro Cebu Popular music festival on January 18, 2002 for his song Gikan sa Damgo Magpahilayo.  Rosalie Robles recorded most of his songs such as Kung Mahanaw Na and Ayaw Pagpahilayo.  His first recording was the song Unta.   Mario made a total 9 recordings to date and has collaborated in the past with famous singers like Pilita Corrales and Imelda Papin.  Aside from teaching eskrima in his spare time and serving as Vice-President of Lapunti Arnis de Abanico, Mario is a full-time music teacher at the Salonga Music School in Cebu City.

Many of the “fighters” I’ve met, if they weren’t virtuoso instrumentalists or singers were also fine dancers such as Sergio Arcel of Balintawak Eskrima and Johnny F. Chiuten, Jr. founder of Pronus Supinus and principal innovator of Lapunti Arnis de Abanico.  Johnny in his heyday was once the “consort king” during fiesta celebrations in the province of Cebu because of his talent in ballroom dancing.  Johnny taught ballroom dancing to young college girls at the old Blue Danube Dance Studio, much to the chagrin of his mother who eventually “exiled” him to Xavier University in Cagayan de Oro to finish his high school.

During high school I also had the opportunity to exchange karate lessons and guitar transcriptions with a classmate and one of the best karatekas I’ve ever known Anthony “Nitnit” Cabagnot.  Nitnit was a fabulous dancer and sang with a natural raspy voice. Nitnit a relative of Manoy Liloy Cabagnot was also a regular dancer of a local Saturday noontime TV Show Soiree at the old ABS-CBN Studio near our school.  Because of my early background in Western boxing and seeing my elder brothers easily beat up blackbelt karatistas in street boxing matches, I’ve always had this condescending attitude towards karatekas and other Oriental martial artists, until I witnessed Nitnit dispatch two “intruders” single-handedly just outside the perimeter of our campus.  I was only fourteen then and getting a “front seat view” of this fracas involving Nitnit became the turning point in my initiation into Shorin-ryu Karatedo. Nitnit who was about two to three years older than me was my first karate mentor in a training schedule that took place inside our classroom after dismissal.  In between katas we had our guitar sessions playing the popular tunes by The Bee Gees, Hollies, Herman’s Hermits, Gary Lewis and The Beatles. Nitnit died of natural causes in 1971.  The demise of my high school “big brother” was a devastating personal loss.

One of those who sparred with us in the seventies was a young amateur boxing prodigy named Rudy Jagdon a former Asian Games gold medalist who also gave us some classy lessons in dancing the hustle.  At that time, there were a few boxers who moonlighted as singers like former Philippine featherweight champion Nene Jun.  Today, boxing sensation and national hero Manny Pacquiao is still reaping royalties from his recordings on top of the mega dollars from his last two fights.  Manny like a typical Bisaya[5] plays the guitar and is very passionate about music.

I guess its only fitting to mention two of my biggest influences in combatives and music - my father Celso Macachor a World War II veteran and former PC officer and my uncle Dr. Jesus Macachor.  My father taught me how to play any song in any genre in the Key of C.  A modish city-slicker, he had such a polished cosmopolitan taste in music and gave me a better understanding of chord progression. His passion and love for Brazilian Bossa Nova and Samba has influenced all of us in the family.  He was also my first boxing teacher, and explained to us the nuances and mechanics of the left hooks (his favorite punch) of Floyd Patterson, Sugar Ray Robinson, Sonny Liston, Joe Louis, Francisco Balug and many other boxing heroes.  

Uldarico “Poldeng” Llanos one of the oldest living practitioners of Eskrima de Campo was a former college classmate of my late father and both of them took their active duty training in Camp Floridablanca in the early 1950’s.  When Ned Nepangue and I interviewed him for a forthcoming book, ‘noy Poldeng reminisced that “Celso was a good boxer, he took on all comers in Floridablanca.” 

During martial law, I fondly remember one of his practical jokes while we were having dinner:

“I’ve just been summoned to the DND (Dept. of National Defense), he told all of us with a sullen look on his face.

 “What for?” all of us barked in apprehension.

 “For unexplained poverty!” 

My father epitomized the good old values of duty, bravery, integrity and discipline of his generation - an officer and a gentleman, suave dancer and jazz aficionado.

Tio Jessie a retired neuro-surgeon is a renaissance man who made the biggest impact on me while I was growing up.  He played the accordion, piano, guitar, he could tap dance, mimic a wide range of voices from Elvis, Bobby Darin to Frank Sinatra.  Tio Jessie who once dabbled in sculpture and pencil drawing also augmented what we have learned from our dad and taught us how to punch in combinations.  A natural athlete, I have no doubt he would have been a champion prizefighter if only he pursued boxing instead of a medical profession.  He’s also an avid golfer who averages in the low eighties and recently wrote a book on his favorite sport entitled: Golf Lessons, Not for Monkeys, all these gifts and talent from a man who doesn’t make a big deal out of being the first Cebuano topnotcher in the medical board exams.  

The amalgamation of music and the combative arts is not rare in some individuals and organizations and it cuts across all borders.  For a broad cross-section of martial disciplines and music genre it’s as inseparable as champagne and caviar. Even during the era of the pike and shot warfare drum and bugle corps played music while soldiers fall from the hail of bullets and canon fire. In Capoeira a Brazilian martial art, music sets the rhythm, the style of play, and the energy of a game.    

Van Halen vocalist David Lee Roth showed off his dexterous karate high kicks in the 1984 classic MTV “Jump”.   The legendary Bruce Lee was once cha-cha champion of Hong Kong in 1958.  Drum beat was an essential tool in Bruce Lee’s training regimen and music an integral part of his life that he even picked the songs “Look Around” by Sergio Mendes and “When I Die” by Blood, Sweat and Tears to be played in his funeral.  

Until today, I’m still in awe at these exceptionally skilled martial artists and fighters who at the same time were passionate in their love of music and dance.  I will not attempt to analyze the phenomenon that draws martial artists to music or musicians to the martial arts; I’d rather pass on that burden to the readers.   I’m just one lucky dude to have met and known some these talented musician / warriors in my lifetime, and I will always treasure the memory and the martial and musical legacy of those who are already gone, many still at the prime of their lives when they left like Ernie Martinez, Nitnit Cabagnot, Sonny Umpad, Benjie Umpad, Manoy Liloy Cabagnot and my dad Celso.   See you later.  

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[1] Teddy Vano made several gigs and recordings with jazz keyboardist Boy Katindig

[2] common lingo amongst Cebuano musicians derived from Spanish meaning to cipher

[3] John Mayer’s 2002 hit song “No Such Thing” from the “Room for Squares” album starts with alternating Emaj & Emaj9 riff

[4] Lead vocalist of late ‘60’s jazz-rock group Blood, Sweat and Tears.  They set a trend in pop and rock with a new and distinct jazz inspired bouncy horn-section.  Other bands soon followed the trail like Chicago, Chase, Ballin’jack, Ides of March, Earth, Wind & Fire and Tower of Power.

[5] Manny  traces his roots to Pinamungajan west of Cebu province roughly 20 kilometers from Balamban where most of the eskrima pioneers in the U.S. like Jack Santos, Telesporo Subingsubing, Felix Goc-ong, Lucky Lucaylucay and Juanito Lacoste  came from and 10 kms  away from Ibo, Toledo the birthplace of Jose Caballero of De Campo 1-2-3 Orihinal