Out of Tune: The Loss of Spaces

Martin Celiz, Nicole Dela Cruz, and Lyle Surtida Ateneo Musicians Pool

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A farewell to Route 196, a farewell to gigs

an empty stage, a cold bench, a guitar gathering dust, a rolled-up gig poster. It was a farewell to the live events that Ateneo Musicians Pool (AMP) lived and played for. It’s a stark contrast from the thrumming in the air, screaming crowds of gig-goers sharing drinks, and the catharsis of being sardine-packed in a bar full of people who just wanted to rock out. “AMP needed the spontaneity in the interaction with the audience, the people who made up much of AMP’s culture, the improvisation that came along with the organization’s creativity, and the space to make all of that happen,” says Damon Dadap, a guitarist from the organization.

Live performances and events were the lifelines of the Philippines’ local music scene. When lockdown restrictions were placed, it was clear that events and gatherings were prohibited. Entertainment was not considered to be essential, so it was the first to close and probably will be one of the last to reopen.

It’s no big secret that AMP frequented certain live music venues before lockdowns ensued. Route 196 was our go-to gig spot, along with most homegrown Katipunan acts. Unfortunately, it announced that it was closing down permanently on August 23, 2020, due to the lockdown. Other venues like 123block and Mow’s closed down temporarily for similar reasons. AMP truly got the short end of the stick as the pandemic settled in. We lost the world we knew, loved, and lived in.

“Bigger than the sound!” Does it still ring true?

Though AMP’s motto tends to be passed around often as an inside joke, the circumstances of the lockdown pushed many members to reconsider whether they were still upholding our organization’s key values. AMP25’s President, Kaelen Reyes, says

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that “the organization was established to provide avenues for members to develop and excel in different competencies necessary to enter the local music scene.” AMP was often misunderstood as just an organization full of performers, but many of its members hoped to prove that so much effort, time, and energy go into the production of those live performances.

AMP24 and AMP25 wanted to ensure that we remained committed to AMP’s core identity and purpose as a music organization. Making this transition was not the dazzling venture one might hope for it to be, but there were a lot of little victories to be celebrated with our exploration of a new working environment.

The loss of organic spaces led to a need for structural changes accompanied by the utilization of online platforms. AMP24 and AMP25’s Executive Board members did what they could to ensure that systems were in place in order to better facilitate future projects. Online workspaces like Notion, Google Sheets, and even Discord were made to be visually appealing and organized. Archives and documents about the organization have been collated, and templates have been provided for future generations of members, both in the online and onsite setting. As observed with other student-led organizations, AMP addressed issues and the needs of affected members. The organization’s officers worked to create conducive spaces for creativity and social interaction amongst the members and empowered them to pursue their passions even in such a time of uncertainty.

Each department had its own share of struggles. Event promoters, photographers, and videographers went from covering live events to relying on social media engagement to maintain a presence online. Jerome Cortez, the current Fundraising Deputy, says that it has been difficult to promote merchandise since “they are meant to tie the physical items to experiences that people did not have, leading to a decrease in sales.” Jacob Tambunting, the on-site writing deputy, says that while writers did not really shift

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content-wise, they were no longer able to dramatize the events that AMP had without experiencing them for themselves.

“Live” performances turned into home-brewed music videos, with band members all recording their parts separately. It was a challenge since not all the members had the experience in home recording, not to mention the necessary equipment. “Lack of gear also was a problem since not everyone had the luxury to afford home recording equipment,” Luis Montales, a DJ and producer, comments. He also expressed his frustration and lack of motivation in creating music when there is no live audience to listen to it. “What was the point of making dance music,” he remarks, “when there is no one to dance to it?” It was a shared sentiment that we could have been doing more. Many of AMP’s musicians can also agree that there’s a certain connection between bandmates that simply cannot be replicated working online.

Despite all this, Rau Layug, AMP25’s sound engineering coordinator and member of the AMP band Lagooon, says that the transition “helped pick up skills [the musicians] wouldn’t have if everything was still in a face-to-face setup.” It became a necessity for AMP’s musicians to familiarize themselves with home recording since live gigs had become a thing of the past. Rau also says that the transition to the online setup has been beneficial to and highlighted the importance of sound engineers. They have been essential to the home recording processes of many AMP bands, and thus have been given the opportunity to hone and flex their skills, much like everyone else.

More than a bench

A centerpiece to AMP as an org had to be the AMP bench, situated across the Matteo Hall, in the middle of Sec B and C. The bench comprised three long, dark, dented tables with their edges pushed

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together, surrounded by long, wooden stools. It was more than just a hangout spot for us; it was a place for boisterous laughter, endless rounds of pusoy dos, and for people to sing and play music together. It was home. “I remember jamming [with other AMP musicians]. That was always such a good experience because even though I wasn’t close with people, the common language was music,” says Jigs Capinpuyan, a guitarist from the org.

To put it plainly, the AMP bench was our second home. We’d drop off our bags beside the bench so we wouldn’t have to carry them around campus. We’d eat all our meals here, and the seats were always lined with the same familiar faces, fellow AMP members that would happily greet anyone as they arrived home from class. Even the longest of days often felt bearable, if only because at the end of the day, we’d come home to play mahjong and tongits as the sun would set on the campus.

This physical closeness was what held AMP together as not just an organization, but a family. “I feel like the pandemic hit harder on organizations like AMP because [they have] such a strong tambay culture,” says John Luke Montecillo, a former Vice President for Member Development for AMP. “That being taken away from us had shaken up the entire culture we had. We appreciated the company of one another [and] our events; we wanted to keep that sense of community within the organization [moving forward].”

The loss of our beloved bench and the chance to see all our friends in person definitely took a toll on AMP. At the same time, however, older members are still doing their best to make the newcomers feel at home, even without having taken a seat at our original physical tambayan. We still share music and laughs, study together, and even play video games over Discord calls every night, because this has been the closest we could get to the normalcy of being together onsite.

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Tuning up, tuning in

There is a feeling of yearning somewhat in these closing moments of the pandemic, particularly because of how it has affected the impact of AMP on the local music scene. What could have been nights out enjoying at bars and music venues, discovering new artists and making friends at gigs were instead spent watching online gigs from our own homes, hopelessly trying to replicate the excitement of an in-person concert. Despite these losses, AMP is determined to progress past this series of unfortunate events and to come out of the struggle with new learnings and exciting prospects for the future.

Moving forward, we hope to continue to better navigate the online setting and apply what we had learned from those initial days of adapting. Having begun to find its footing in the online setting amidst all the difficulties, AMP is building its online presence as well as dedicated to utilizing any media to be able to speak out.

Perhaps a positive outcome of the challenges brought about by the new normal is that there is now a greater hunger for experimentation when it comes to AMP’s different creative outputs. Luis summarizes the organization’s new approach best by saying, “Playing it safe never appealed to me” (see Montales’ and

Fernandez’s EPs).

The quarantine has awakened a fearlessness among its members—a fearlessness that we hope carries on with the newer generations of AMP. In their isolation, the organization’s members have been free to do whatever they want and, on the cusp of being able to reintroduce themselves back into the world, an apparently popular sentiment perhaps only usually accepted within the context of seclusion seems to be leaking out: AMP wants to get weird.

Members like Kat Batara and Elle Escareal of the Design Department hope that the organization continues to foster a supportive environment that gets its people comfortable enough

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to go down this exciting route. ‘Weird’ could mean musicians and visual artists alike exploring novel concepts. It could mean hosting a concert in the videogame Roblox. All this is a sign that AMP is committed to the pursuit of freedom and creativity of expression, in hopes of becoming a celebrated music organization, not just another Atenean club.

Efforts to broaden AMP’s reach have been identified as equipping its members with more opportunities and internal capacity to express themselves with music. Collaborations with partner organizations are seen as a way to spread this message. Live interviews with artists and the creation of more live events are planned with the intent to revitalize the love of music and to imbue more life back into the organization, to again help members remember the outgoing and passionate beast it once was before the pandemic.

Again, aside from the focus on music, it is also in the opinion of many members that the organization should seek to be more vocal about social and political issues in the country. Good music always has a message to convey and AMP would like very much for all of its members to be heard.

In short, AMP wants to reignite that innovative passion within its members. The organization longs to get back face-to-face and once again experience artistic expression live. Listening and watching from screens and earphones was the best the organization could do in such trying times, but the general consensus of AMP and its members would probably be that they would much rather have been able to enjoy themselves with one another.

We can’t wait to get back to our scheduled programming of playing cards and singing songs at the bench. Showing up to gigs, singing along to our favorite bands, lyrics belting out through a blown-out speaker, a pounding bassline thumping through our bones. It’s only a matter of time.

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Kieran Leung. Camp Unity Sign-Ups Poster. Digital Illustration

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AHJU$$I (Luis Montales). Truth Has An Expiration Date. Extended Play (EP). From https://open.spotify.com/album/5ZEdyyftg6ZxgVRb8NAj 2c?si=DwlrvQCGQ1KgkOQu45VSVg.

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Hazylazy (Jason Fernandez). The Resentment Segment. Extended Play (EP). From https://open.spotify.com/album/0Zj1U9FxvcaiK4C5gTLymF .

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