Scout: 2017 January-February by Hinge Inquirer Publications

JANUA RY - FEBRUA RY 2017

NADIN E LUSTRE

mes me r ize

S C OU T M AG . P H

FREE M A GAZINE!

I S S U E NO . 2 4

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#SCOUTXNADINE

#SCOUTARTXDESIGN

F E AT U R E

radio djs

PORTFOLIO

pilipinas street plan

in this issue

FOOD

new year, new eats

MUSIC

no rome

F E AT U R E

burlesque

E S S AY

the kill list

FA S H I O N

broken social scene

O N T H E C O VE R

nadine lustre

say s k o a rdin g

e at

bo a rdin

SCENE

scout campus tours 2016

S PA C E

escolta

B A C K S T O RY

unsent letters

#SCOUTNEWBLOOD

say s k

w h a t ’s y o u r n e w y e a r ’s r e s o l u t i o n ? W W W . S C O U T M A G . P H

GROUP PUBLISHER

BEA J. LEDESMA

EDITOR IN CHIEF

ROMEO MORAN

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

Nimu Muallam

GRAPHIC ARTIST

Grace de Luna

EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS

Lex Celera Denise Fernandez

COPY EDITOR

Patricia Romualdez

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

Karla Bernardo, Sara Isabelle Pacia

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS

RJ Dimla, Andrea Lee, Alexis Lim, Anthony Marquez, Artu Nepomuceno, Joseph Pascual, Nico Pascual, Hub Pacheco, Patrick Segovia, JP Talapian

CONTRIBUTING VIDEOGRAPHERS

Nicco Santos, Two Fold Media

CONTRIBUTING STYLIST

Vince Crisostomo

CONTRIBUTING HAIR & MAKEUP ARTISTS

Nicole Ceballos, Sydney Helmsley Camille Villaruel, Pam Rhobes

INTERNS

Ivan Cocjin, Lianne Fondevilla, Julia Petalver, Desiree Pore, Yuuki Uchida

EDITORIAL CONSULTANT

Ria Francisco-Prieto

BOARD CHAIRPERSON

Alexandra Prieto-Romualdez

FINANCE ADVISER AND TREASURER

J. Ferdinand De Luzuriaga

LEGAL ADVISER

Atty. Rudyard Arbolado

VP/GROUP HR HEAD

Raymund Soberano

VP & CHIEF STRATEGY OFFICER

Imelda C. Alcantara

HR DIRECTOR - SHARED SERVICES

Chuchi A. Gracia

SENIOR HR MANAGER

Ma. Leonisa L. Gabrieles

HR SPECIALIST

Reynalyn S. Fernandez

EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT/ EDITORIAL CONTENT PLANNER

Jullia Pecayo

HEAD OF OPERATIONS AND BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT

Lurisa Ann Villanueva

SVP & GROUP SALES HEAD,

Felipe R. Olarte

AVP FOR SALES

Ma. Katrina Garcia-Dalusong

KEY ACCOUNTS SPECIALIST

Angelita Tan-Ibañez

SENIOR ACCOUNT EXECUTIVES

Thea Ordiales, Abby Ginaga, Ernest Sy

ACCOUNT EXECUTIVES

Charm Banzuelo, Andie Zuñiga, Liza Jison

SALES SUPPORT ASSISTANTS

Rechelle Endozo, Manilyn Ilumin

MARKETING & EVENTS MANAGER

Jellic Tapia

EVENTS SUPERVISOR

Bianca Dalumpines

BRAND MARKETING SUPERVISOR

Ina Rodriguez

EVENTS ASSISTANT

Merjorie May Young

BRAND ASSISTANT

Nicole Uson

MARKETING GRAPHIC ARTISTS

Janine Dela Cuesta, Roi De Castro

BUSINESS & DISTRIBUTION MANAGER

Rina Lareza

DISTRIBUTION SPECIALIST

Arnulfo Naron

LOGISTICS SUPERVISOR

Nancy Baybay

DISTRIBUTION ASSISTANT

Angela Carlos-Quiambao

SUBSCRIPTION ASSISTANT

Blue Infante

CIRCULATION ASSISTANT

Princess Martinez

PRODUCTION MANAGER

Jan Cariquitan

PRODUCTION ASSISTANT

Maricel Gavino

FINAL ART SUPERVISOR

Dennis Cruz

FINAL ART ASSISTANT

Kristine Paz

INQUIRER GROUP OF COMPANIES

“I just want to start living healthy and focus more on positive things.”

ANTHONY MARQUEZ No Kings On The Pavement (p.4)

“I’ll try to drink more water every day.”

VINCE CRISOSTOMO Stargirl (p.34)

“My new year’s resolution is to personally attack 2017 the way 2016 personally attacked me.”

“This 2017, I’ll make sure I won’t repeat the same mistakes from last year.”

“I want to make a conscious effort in 2017 to be more compassionate to friends and enemies and strangers alike.”

“To achieve a Kanye level of self-confidence (actually, we think half is more than enough.)”

JOSEPH PASCUAL Stargirl (p.34)

SARA ISABELLE PACIA The Hardest Count (p.22)

IVAN COCJIN Video, Flowers In The Attic

TRINA RAZON & RAYMOND DACONES Videos, Stargirl

@scout m a gp h s c o u t m a g p h@g m ail.c o m

4F Media Resource Plaza, Mola cor. Pasong Tirad Sts., Brgy. La Paz, Makati City

Le tte r fr o m th e E d i to r Please excuse me if it sounds like I’m tooting our horn a little too loud, but to hell with it, it needs to be said: our generation may very well go down as one of the most creative and most talented. Ever. It probably doesn’t help that I hold a deep-seated grudge against old people—perhaps a little unfairly—but I’m proud of the art and the magic the youth have created, and have yet to create. The evidence for our awesomeness is staggering, no matter what National Geographic-esque articles about millennials and their impact of their insane, mind boggling, and unfathomable way of life on civilization will tell you. (They’re not enigmas—the rest of you just haven’t caught up with the way we do things ‘round here yet.) The blessing of improved consumer-level technology has made it infinitely easier and more accessible to express ourselves more than ever, whether it’s through putting out visuals on the internet, making music in your bedroom (and getting some international acclaim for it), or gathering people in droves to clean up the messes our seniors have made. We’re getting really good at this, and I daresay that the amount of things we’re able to make, all of this, are getting our elders thoroughly shookt. And my most favorite crusty-old-people-were-shookt moment was, of course, when millennials made up a good chunk of the Marcos protests last November. Giving credit where it’s due by saying we were taught well by the previous generations that weren’t trying to twist the truth for whatever selfish reason they might have, but if anyone was afraid of where this country’s future was taking us, there’s no need to after #MarcosNotAHero. Sure, there are some wayward idiots who bafflingly fangirl over the hideous Sandreaux and goosestep for Duterte and Blengblong, but I believe they aren’t representative of the youth who are starting to become woke, one way or another. My second favorite shookt-old-people moment was when our cover girl (FINALLY, by the way, because this combo has been a year in the making; I kid you not) Nadine Lustre rattled the backwards-ass “moral sensibilities” of the MTRCB and ridiculously conservative Filipinos with boyfriend and Former Scout Cover Boy™ James Reid in their current starrer Till I Met You, all because their bodies kept telling them yes. They got as far as primetime Filipino TV would let them, and what’s the problem here? Was the show not art, was it not art that was truly representative of society today, was it not tastefully rendered? Is it because both of them don’t really look like they’re over the age of consent, on their best days? That their core audience, according to their network, are minor teens who apparently haven’t heard about the concept of sex? That young people can’t have sex? Which is it? That’s all horseshit—sex is just as much a work of art, an expression of oneself, mostly to another person, and I love seeing them squirm under its sheer power. She said it in no certain terms, but I feel like Nadine seems tired of all this shackling; I can sense that there’s a freer soul underneath the mainstream sheen foisted on her by the powers that be, waiting to really blossom after doing everything they had to do as Philippine celebrities. Making and putting out art that’s a real, genuine product of their own soul, as all artists are meant to do. It’s in this spirit of these moments that we’re celebrating all the fiery energy the new blood is bringing to the table. My only hope is that you walk away reading this issue inspired or, at the very least, hopeful that you’re part of a generation (if you are part of this generation) that’s got all the tools to really make some changes around here. And not the kind of change that comes about by killing former drug addicts, either. I mean, shining the spotlight on the youth is exactly what Scout as a whole is all about, but we thought we’d begin this year by reminding you once again, despite all the obstacles in our way, how awesome it is to be young and to create in 2017. (The less said about 2016, the better.) Take it away, everyone.

ROMEO

essay

no kings on the pavement

essay

LEX CELERA looks for the skater stripped of their ties to pop culture and fashion PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANTHONY MARQUEZ

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WHERE HAVE ALL THE SKATERS GONE? Where were they when I was growing up? My first contact with the world of skateboarding was through a screen: vague snippets of MTV, Rocket Power, and Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater (and it’s wonderful, wonderful soundtrack). I heard the mixed surfer-skater slang (“Woogidy woogidy woogidy”), and I saw the dizzying superhuman feats of spinning so many degrees–the sense of danger and bravery despite it all. I wasn’t fazed by the awe-inspiring tricks as much as I imagined myself replicating the very same move. Seeing a 40-foot drop to a spiralling tunnel, just to get out with no scars or scrapes or cuts or even a hand to the knee didn’t feel human. But it wasn’t; it was moving pictures through bright glass in a box. In the provincial suburban neighborhoods I grew up in, it was either skaters were not present, or that I didn’t pay attention to them enough for me to remember. Wherever I was, they weren’t. But I had a sense that they were there, somewhere. Every now and then I would search for scratches on the road only a skateboard could make. Essayist Sean Wilsey wrote, “In a paved landscape skateboarders are both dangerous and invisible, inhabitants of the interstices—rats, the city a series of tunnels and chutes, skaters perfectly adapted.” Between the pedestrians commuting in mass transit and the loud motorized vehicles dotting the roads time and time again, the skater is perhaps the city’s best intimate, and also its worst, violator. By rail, ramp, curb, or stair, if it can be explored by the board, it will. History paints skateboarding as a culture born out of outcasts and throwaways finding freedom in a plank bolted with two sets of wheels. And like with every culture that gets popular, skate culture has been dissected, commodified, and appropriated, and the culture’s way of dressing up has become another pool the fashion world can siphon into new trends. From Vogue’s “Skate Week” that includes styling tips for a I-haven’tshowered-or-had-a-real-meal-in-two-days look to Thrasher tees making its way to the backs of nonskating celebrities, the actions and reactions have left out the contradictions in skateboarding: how do you set boundaries and take control when a refusal for boundaries is what you’ve been known for? And so the Scout team went to Vitas Park in Tondo for some answers. A warm afternoon in the skate park filled with skaters does not provide any, as we found out, simply because it is not a place for deep conversation, for discourse. It’s a zone of flux. The skate park is sanctuary, sacrament, and arbiter to the skater whose only focus is to perform the next trick with selfsatisfactory success. When the trick is made, the next goal is set. And so on. There’s seldom any time and space to stay still. In other words, they don’t give a fuck. It’s a contact high, watching other people rip every surface their board touches with my very own eyes. When will the gaze linger? After all, for one to truly understand something, one must try it. n Check out the video and more photos of this story on Scoutmag.ph.

essay

“Sa grupo namin wala kaming leader. Having a leader. . .para kang tupa na sumusunod sa nagpapastol sa ‘yo. Damn, I nailed it!” JING, TONDO FUCKING KREW

Special thanks to JING and the rest of TONDO FUCKING CREW, EMA, and CZAR KRISTOFF.

food

your new favorite places Scouring the city for new 2017 haunts? We’ve found them for you, whether you’re looking for good, authentic barbecue or a place to discover coffee and literature By ROMEO MORAN and NICO PASCUAL (Buku-Buku) Photography by PATRICK SEGOVIA (Birdmen, Holy Smokes, The Yard, Tenant Manila) and NICO PASCUAL (Buku-Buku)

YOU CAN’T SAY “HOLY SMOKES!” WITHOUT SHOUTING WHAT: A one-of-a-kind smokehouse that’s for real, in a neighborhood that’s already full of them WHERE: Matilde cor. Jacobo St., Brgy. Poblacion, Makati COME FOR: Straight up, expertly-prepared fall-offthe-bone barbeque STAY FOR: Everything else on the menu, including Joe’s Brew local craft beer PLACE MAKES YOU FEEL: Like you’re eating legit ‘Murrican BBQ, also thanks to the blues music forever playing through the house speakers

The secret to Holy Smokes’ standout barbeque meats, according to owners Maisa Acosta and Juano Gutierrez, is twofold. First, it took them years to get the recipe right. Second, they’re the only ones in a neighborhood that’s already piling on the BBQ bandwagon that use local logs for their firewood—santol and caimito, specifically. How effective is it, you ask? Well, let’s just say that the meat was so soft, we couldn’t stop sneaking in bites well after our bellies were filled to bursting.

G OT A OOD SP

CUE RBE BA

HOW TO

The meat is so soft, you can cut it off the bone with a spoon.

ACCORDING TO HOLY SMOKES CO-OWNER JUANO GUTIERREZ

WATCH THE BARK. The bark is how the “skin” of the meat is charred after being cooked and smoked. The untrained eye may think that blackened meat is too burned, but it’s actually how it oxidizes thanks to all the spices added on to it. If your BBQ is a little black but doesn’t really smell burnt, it just has a good bark.

SMOKE RINGS AREN’T EVERYTHING. The smoke ring is how the meat looks crosssectioned; people want the outer layer of the meat to be pinker than the middle, creating sort of a ring. Juano says that myth has been debunked, and you don’t need to see a smoke ring to know you’re eating good barbecue.

Pro tip: Birdmen’s potato croquettes are underrated. You’re gonna want to get more; two isn’t enough.

THE MEN BEHIND BIRDMEN TEACH YOU HOW TO REBEL AGAINST THE CORPORATE WORLD Choy Calaquian, Paolo Derroca, and Hadley Mariano tried doing the 9-to-5 in a company thing, and it didn’t really work out for them. That’s fine, considering this generation is starting to get more and more disillusioned with the lifestyle. So they decided, after one failed venture, to start their own fried chicken place, Birdmen, and just go to town with it. “It’s really about the passion of doing something you want to do, and not waking up hating Monday mornings,” says Paolo. “We work, we do errands for the business during weekends, so it’s doing what you really want to. You’re not forced to do a routine you’re not satisfied with. We didn’t feel like taking the route that didn’t give us the satisfaction.” And they put up a restaurant because everybody loves food—it also doesn’t hurt that it’s also their passions. By the time you read this, Birdmen has already brought that Southern fried chicken flavor, a type of chicken Filipinos aren’t too familiar with, to the Yard Underground food park in Kapitolyo, Pasig, but also check your nearest food bazaar or Backyard Grill at the Park (#HingeBYG). Go find them wherever and whenever you end up in these parts. Zero regrets.

SCOUT.pdf

1/10/17

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Oh, go on. Experience the new camera system of the iPhone 7.

YMC

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HAVE YOU EVER WANTED A BEACH SPOT IN THE CITY? El Chapo’s lechon sisig tacos represent the best of the Fil-Mex fusion

Tenant’s cafe fare hits just the right spot

WHAT YOU NEED TO TRY AT THE YARD (IF YOU HAVEN’T HIT IT UP YET)

Food parks are now becoming a thing thanks to the young and scrappy culinary culture of the North. By our count, there are now at least four food parks in the UP and Ateneo turf alone. The latest one, the Yard along Xavierville Ave., is a bright, neon-lit temple to everything the youth would ever dream of eating at this time. And we mean everything: all cuisines are represented, from the common American, Japanese, and Mexican to more hipster choices like Hong Kong and German street food. You may be overwhelmed upon first setting foot in The Yard, and that’s okay. We rounded up the top five different picks you should try from the complex, in no particular order: ▪ The lechon sisig tacos from Mexican Filipino fusion stall El Chapo’s ▪ Gambas from Spanish place Asombroso ▪ The Ocean Avenue makirrito from neoJapanese brand Black Plate ▪ Doner rice from reliable German street food kiosk Berliner Grill ▪ And a selection of Hong Kong street food from Hong Kong Foodie, like scallop cake, crab claw, lobster ball, fried prawn, and pork isaw

FINALLY, THE SOUTH GETS THEIR OWN BOOK CAFÉ, TOO WHAT: Buku-Buku Kafé WHERE: SM Southmall, Las Piñas COME FOR: More books and zines than your usual coffee shop could ever throw at you AND: These works of literature are actually for sale AAAAND: Good food (Sisig. Nachos.) BUT REALLY STAY FOR: The opportunity to get your #feels out in writing, anonymously

Of course you did. You want the laid-back charm of El Union Coffee, but you can’t always be in San Juan. That’s why Tenant Manila sprouted up in the heart of Makati, for you—you who wanted to feel like you were somewhere that seemed like it belonged on the seaside. Or, at least, a place that almost forces you to chill within it. Tenant calls itself a “hub for expression through fashion, art, food, and design,” and we’re inclined to agree that they’re filling this role well. They’ve managed to do it all without ever looking like they’re forcing the issue; you can come in, get a cup of coffee or a nice tuna sandwich, and find your inspiration among the coffeetable books and magazines splayed out around the place. If you’re up for it, or if this is what you came for, you can go to the second floor and shop for new threads. And if you’re going to LU or Baler over the holidays, have we mentioned that they’ve got surfboards waiting for you?

The threads on the second floor aren’t necessarily beachwear

Buku-Buku’s food is made up of a wide range of different cuisines The installation made of books and zines is the main scene-stealer (spot us)

Buku-Buku’s Malay name was chosen by the owners to feel close to their dad, currently based in Kuala Lumpur

Photography Assistant YUL MARTIN (Patrick Segovia)

It feels like the North (read: Maginhawa) gets all the cafés and tea places with free books to read, but those days are done for now. But even though the café’s name means “books” in Malay, owner Jessica Santiago is quick to point out that BukuBuku is not your ordinary concept café. She, along with her family, turned the concept of a book café on its head by fashioning a new haven for creatives in the metro South. The written word can literally be found in every nook and cranny of the spacious and colorful café, from a “feels board” where guests can divulge their innermost secrets to wooden bookshelves filled with the latest local komiks and literary zines. Plus, most of those books, by writers and artists who draw, illustrate, and staple the books themselves, are for sale. Devouring pages and food has never looked so good.

WHAT: Tenant Manila WHERE: Kamagong St., almost cor. Guijo St., Brgy. San Antonio, Makati GO: Anytime on Tuesdays to Sundays, 12-9 pm (7 pm on Sundays) WHAT’S UP: It’s a café and apparel store in one MOST AWESOME THING YOU CAN BUY THERE: BRAND SPANKIN’ NEW SURFBOARDS BUT SECRETLY COME BECAUSE: It’s your new maybesecret place to chill

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brand new frequencies ROMEO MORAN gathered six of the best young radio DJs in one room and made them break down the artistry in filling dead spaces on air and figuring out the most creative ways to play other people’s music. PHOTOGRAPHY BY HUB PACHECO

A SHOW OF HANDS—in the age of Spotify, SoundCloud, torrents, and YouTube, does anyone still listen to the radio? If you’ve been hooking up to your aux in your car stereo all this time, then you might be surprised to find out that a lot of people still tune in. Radio, in some ways, is like print—stations and DJs have been told, over and over since the advent of television, that the medium is dying. They’ve been hearing this for years, but it didn’t really die when people said it was going to die. It’s really easy to take radio for granted when we conveniently have music on demand, but the format is still kicking, whether you switch between AM and FM, and it will continue to do so as long as the next generations still listen. We were curious about how the industry was adapting to new forms of media popping up all the time, so we rounded up six young DJs to pick their brains. If you’re always tuned in, you might be familiar with the names DJs Debbie Then, Katz Salao, Jam Alas, Stan Sy, Tino Faustino, and Renzo Magnaye, and they’ve got a lot to say about the business they love. (And if not, then we hope this gives you a reason to after you read it.)

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DEBBIE THEN MAGIC 89.9

RENZO MAGNAYE 99.5 PLAY FM

Decided to be a radio DJ after dad dared her to get her own radio show… at age eight

A third-generation radio DJ, he pretty much grew up in a radio station, and was probably born in one

I wanted to ask you what you thought the state of radio is right now. Why do you think the younger generation is still listening to you, even though they can easily download or stream music online? KATZ: Because I showed my boobs on Facebook and I was like, “I’m on Play FM.” (everyone laughs) TINO: Radio is an art form! No, I believe that everyone is looking for music, always looking for music. It’s just a lot easier to get that nowadays, but radio is the bedrock. It’s something that will always be there. The thing about radio is that there’s always a song playing at all times of the day. You can find one all the time. Like, for example, you don’t have internet, you don’t have music online, there’s always gonna be something playing for you on the radio. I think it’s the foundation, but I think it’s just getting a lot harder to promote music using the radio. It used to be where everyone discovered it, but now not so much—it’s just kinda like we reinforce what’s already popular. JAM: It just becomes a place where you vote for it. T: It becomes a place to, you know, talk about the music you enjoy with other people. DEBBIE: I think that radio sort of connects the listeners to the artist. Sure, you can look for all of this stuff online, but having someone group together and vote for a certain type of song or artist on a radio station, it makes you feel special that your efforts are being broadcasted. So I still feel it really does help in a sense, where you’re putting people together and giving them something to look forward to. J: My idea of it is twofold, and it’s very different. First it’s because the DJ aspect is something you can’t replicate on Spotify. It’s very different. For example, in the Philippines, the traffic is insane. The average daily commute is at least 45 minutes. T: What? J: For the country. Some people live in the same building. So it’s probably worse for a lot of people; you can get up to 45 minutes. Fine, you can spend three hours with your playlist or you could tune into a radio station and have

this person keep you company, and do their best to keep you entertained, tell you about the news, what happened, and it’s like having a friend in your car with you. It’s like not having to drive home alone. STAN: Yeah, at the end of the day, it’s relatable pa rin eh. It’s more relatable when you have someone who you can identify with. And when it comes to my story, I’ve really come to terms with it. I used to really quell all my interests, I tried to be a generic Jack who people could just relate to, but eventually I realized, no, I am a dork. I love wrestling, I love basketball, I’ll let it out there. If I wanna do wrestling catchphrases on air, I’ll fucking do it because that’s what people look for. They look for someone who represents them. And that’s what I always wanted—I wanted someone to look up to and be like, “Hey, that Chinoy kid is representing me.” I wanna be that Chinoy guy for that other Chinoy kid. That’s why I always make it a point to say that, you know what, I’m Chinese, and I grew up in a very strict background and shit, you know? J: I feel like it boils down to the fact that radio is free. Let’s face it, nobody has any money— RENZO: Not even the DJs. (everyone laughs) J: —that’s true! But yeah, you have to pay for Spotify, you have to pay for songs on iTunes with money or with your integrity when you download them from Limewire or something. T: (innocently) What’s Limewire? S: Hey, piracy is stealing. Stealing is against the law. J: Basta free siya, ‘yun, yay, radio is free! T: That’s one of the things radio has to contend with nowadays. While yes, it’s more personal in the sense that there’s someone talking to you, some people don’t want that because their personal experience comes with the music. And if I’m not gonna play the music you want to hear at that very moment, which is what everyone gets nowadays, instant satisfaction, then why would I listen to you? So that’s why I also think talk radio is getting really big nowadays, because the focus is becoming the stories that DJs can tell. But of course,

DJ “TINO” FAUSTINO

KATZ SALAO

All his life, people told him he should be on the radio because he spoke good English and his name was already “DJ”

Didn’t really know what she wanted in life, so she told everyone she was gonna be Miss Universe

99.5 PLAY FM

there’s also still that market who doesn’t wanna listen to those DJs who only have their stories to tell, and they just wanna listen to music. But that’s why I think radio is shifting in that direction. That’s why we have podcasts, that’s why we have conversational radio, that’s why we have talk radio. That’s where it’s going. J: I think it’s because we’re all really lonely, and we really like to pretend there are people we know are interesting again. K: Sometimes, I think it’s gonna stay because people like being greeted on air. I mean, they just like being acknowledged and made special. T: They see a news camera on the street, and they’re always like, “Hi mom!” You just want to see yourself there. “Mom, I’m on TV!” K: Yeah, as simple as, “Hey to the Uber driver!” You light up their day. I think that’s my favorite part of being on the radio. I have that power, and also, I wanna do it a lot, it’s not costing me a lot, but the returns are so great. D: And extra brownie points from your crushes when you greet your crush on the radio. K: We’ve been trying to greet Liza Soberano for the longest time. T: Yeah, we try to greet her every other week. Just in case she listens one day. J: We tried a thing, a retweet kind of thing, and it got over 500 retweets and she still hasn’t noticed us. I wanna ask you guys what you feel is the edge your generation of DJs have. What do you bring to the table? K: Whaaaat. I gotta go... (laughs) J: I think in terms of our market, we can probably relate to them more because we are our own market. So in terms of relatability, in terms of things you’re interested in, in terms of content and passions and things you care about, the series you watch, how often you’ve been on Twitter the past 20 minutes, it’s very, very similar to the people who are already listening to you.

99.5 PLAY FM

I feel like the turnover of topics, maybe it’s not because of our generation, but because of the various types of technology available to the people of our age. Our turnover of news, of topics, [is] quicker, plus at the same time, you can probably verify that story much quicker. You never have to talk about a rumor on air. Well, almost. You can usually verify. Maybe to help answer your question, are there any problems in the industry that you guys feel your generation is best equipped to deal with? S: Yeah, to take off from that point, this generation is more in tune with the idea of a personal brand. And when you say personal brand, it’s how you carry yourself not just outside, but online. And to give an example, most, if not all of us here are pretty vocal online about what we like, what we don’t like, our experiences, politics in particular, given the climate in our country right now, and it’s become really empowering for me to see, say, the likes of you guys, my friends, speaking out about this because it gives me the freedom to stray away from what I’ve been taught, which is you don’t tell anyone about your political views. You don’t tell anyone about what you really feel about something because you’re a public figure. I think that’s changing. We live in a time where whether or not you’re a public figure is no longer important; if you have a platform to say something, you go ahead and say it. Because you’re a public figure, you have influence, you have reach, and to a certain extent, you have clout. And if you don’t use that clout properly, you’re not really using it at all. I think that’s something the older generation is only coming to terms with. Either that, or they fail to understand that. And that, to me, is really disappointing, because they don’t realize the power they have at their disposal. R: Actually, I disagree with that. I think they really utilize the power of radio to inflict change upon their generation. I mean, we had like Radyo Veritas, we had everything [back then]...

“Talk radio is getting really big, because the focus is the stories that DJs can tell.”

Makeup by CAMILLE VILLARUEL. Styling by GRACE DE LUNA. Styling Assistant DESIREE PORE.

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STAN SY (LAST HEARD ON) MELLOW 94.7

JAM ALAS MAGIC 89.9

Changed his mind from wanting to be a lawyer to wanting to be in radio after DJs gave a talk in his high school, giving up a lot of money

Only became a radio DJ when she was asked to hang out (not try out) at the Magic Junior Jock auditions

But that wasn’t personal branding, though. R: It wasn’t personal branding, but you know, they still used their clout, they still used their reach to influence a lot of people. S: But that’s different in the sense that they did it through traditional media. We are more in tune with non-traditional media. Like if I tweet, you know what, I’m hitting the streets tonight because of what’s going on, I don’t need to say who’s with me, but the fact that, say, Renzo Magnaye tweeted this out, he’s in the streets right now, check this guy out, he cares, he gives a shit. If I am a listener of Renzo, for example, that says a lot to me about how much he cares about what’s going on. K: And in my mind, he is a public figure, and yet he chooses to fight for this. J: To take a side. K: And I think we’re a little less afraid, and also more afraid to ruin our reputations. I don’t know. Before, I was so afraid to speak my mind and then I realized because I wanted to get somewhere–and it’s not that I’m anywhere right now—but it’s just that being more real to myself and having a personal brand of positivity and not agreeing when there’s injustice, and all those things, you kind of also have a responsibility to people who are tuned in to you. You don’t have to do it on your radio station, you know, and we don’t at all. R: Yeah. I think this is more in the context of social media than it is on radio. Just to answer the original question, what gives us an edge, I feel like we’re part of not only the generation that demands to be heard, just wants their opinion out there; we’re also part of the most self-aware generation we’ve had in a long time. We are now calling out our parents, we’re now calling out authority figures. J: Calling out your past self, even. R: Yeah. We’re telling ourselves that sometimes, it’s okay to be sad. And we’re not supposed to feel bad about that. I feel like this generation is so

drastically different from the one that came before, that listeners from our generation can tell the difference between someone who doesn’t know them, basically, compared to someone who’s just trying to do the things they’ve been doing for the longest time. K: I get it. If you’re a young DJ from our generation trying to relate to people and an older DJ trying to relate to this generation, you’ll know the difference. Like you’ll really see it. R: That’s why I think one of the best qualities you can have as a radio DJ is if you are self-aware, if you are meta enough, if you can look at society and culture from an outsider’s perspective and see it as something you can just manipulate, then you will do so well. I think the edge that we have, in the context of radio, is that we have a lot more access to other people’s stories. We have the reach of social media. We have more reach towards people that wanna share what they wanna say. Before, like the only way you can do that was to call up the station, once someone calls up, you can’t call up the station anymore because they’re already talking to someone. Now, we have social media, now we have a lot more stories to reach, we have a lot more conversations that we can have, and that provides for a lot more content than I guess what was available back in the day. Yeah, I think our reach is much bigger. Limited to just radio, radio’s reach is much smaller just because there are other avenues. But the stories radio can tell and the stories radio is able to tell, that’s where they’ve grown a lot, because of the power of social media and the internet. n

“The edge that we have is that we have a lot more access to other people’s stories, more reach towards people that wanna share what they wanna say.”

Check out the entire discussion on Scoutmag.ph.

16 portfolio

rebel streak We catch up with one of the biggest culprits of the art we see in the streets today, Pilipinas Street Plan By LEX CELERA Photos courtesy of PILIPINAS STREET PLAN

THERE’S A CERTAIN generosity found in street art. How, from just going through our daily commute, we catch a glimpse of something that’s so arresting and out of place that our routine is broken. Maybe that’s the beauty of finding art in the streets: it interrogates our comforts, from what we deem “normal” to the way we consume art. As the streets are turned into a wide, stretching canvas, street art is becoming more and more transparent to everyone that navigates the city. Pilipinas Street Plan, or PSP for short, is the result of these artists banding together to form a community that has not only taken their art to the streets, but brought the conversation about street art to a wider audience. Nemo Aguila, one of the core members of PSP, shares some insight about their collective, the scene and beyond. PSP is more than a decade old. What are the differences from before and now that you’ve noticed when it comes to your style, your processes of making art? We’ve noticed a transformation, an evolution when it comes to our style. We know what we want to do more. When it comes to skill, I feel like we know more about what we’re doing, because through the times that we’ve been doing our art individually or as a group, we’ve been honing our craft. But we still explore. Sometimes if you keep on doing the same thing, you might get sick of it or you might get bored of it and you won’t grow anymore. Are there any differences in the culture of street art? From the culture that we find ourselves in, I think it got bigger. The scope of what we do and our

audience also got bigger. There are so many people making art and graffiti in the streets. Everywhere you look there’s no chance that you won’t see any tags or stickers. Institutions, like galleries and commercial companies, are also taking notice. There are locals that are traveling outside of the country just to paint at the walls there and also to represent our country. In short, we can say that street art is becoming more accepted than before. One good thing in this culture is that there’s camaraderie. Everybody knows each other and everybody supports each other and each other’s groups. The scene is much more whole in that sense.

What are the memorable moments from PSP’s history? I think during the beginning when we first started out, how PSP came to be and how the members joined one by one. You were very lucky if you were invited to be a member. Also at the beginning we really didn’t have any idea about what we were doing. If we had any it would only be a little. What we did back then wasn’t really good because we worked on spray paint. We really started illegally, without asking permission, working at night when it’s dark. That was the thrill. Painting outside was like stealing.

How many members does PSP have currently? Where are they from? And how can you join? There are more or less 20 active members in PSP that continually work in the streets. We operate in different places, from Manila, Laguna, and Cavite, to Cebu, Tacloban, and even Dubai. On membership, we don’t base it on skills alone because there are a lot of people out there who are good. What usually happens is that we invite random or active people that we see that work in the streets, people who have potential. We invite them to our paint sessions, activities, events, and exhibitions for them to participate in. Then it becomes a usual thing. Eventually it happens when we see their initiative and willingness to step up in handling our projects. Because that’s where we can observe how serious they are, and how it’s not all about the hype or the popularity. This is passion. And we know making art in the streets is selfless. Currently we don’t have any new members, but PSP is still growing because we are not a crew. We are a community of individuals that work and share passions about street art.

What does PSP strive to attain? What do you want to share to people who see the art your group makes? What we strive as a group now is the same as when we started: to share to other people, to the masses, to the public, the art that we make in the streets that is so easy to see. The only thing you need to do is to open your eyes and go to the street. Another thing is to educate the students and other people about making art in the streets through talks and sessions that we hold in schools, universities, and in the streets. Graffiti and sticker art fade away after time. What do you think of the non-permanence of the art that you make? There’s nothing we can do about that. You know that it can be lost, it can be erased or painted over. The importance is that you put it there, that you made it at that spot. And you see other people see it, even if it was only one person. That is what’s important. Documentation helps, though. n

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18 music

flowers in the attic No Rome’s enigmatic nature allows him to have more fun with music in a little bit of obscurity By DENISE FERNANDEZ Photography by JP TALAPIAN

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“Ever ybody gets curious on how I want to do things and I never tell anyone the truth. Because if No Rome was explained thoroughly, then there’s nothing more to know. The journey’s over.” AT THE END of an hour-long conversation with shoegaze R&B musician Rome Gomez, more prominently recognized as No Rome, I asked him to name as many things that inspire him as he can. He leaned back onto his chair and mumbled various words from the top of his head. Colors. Death. Films. Family. Milkshakes. Friends. Strangers. Trains. Punk. Melancholy. Pineapples on pizza (“I love pineapples!”). No Rome, as well as his music, is exactly this—a collective of vivid imagery, emotions, and memories that he so convincingly translates into sound. If you stumble upon his Facebook page, he interestingly describes No Rome as “an art project” and a “personification of teen love, melancholy, and everything in between.” The photos that he uploads on the page, mostly of posters of upcoming gigs, are entirely in line with a certain aesthetic distinctly his own. Hailed as one of the best independent producers in the metro, Rome has gotten a lot of international press in the several years that he’s been active in the scene. The 22-year-old’s musical resume is impressive, with two criticallyacclaimed EPs and features on BBC Worldwide Music and MTV under his belt. He’s even working with record producer Ryan Hemsworth, who discovered him after listening to one of his songs on the internet. Despite Rome’s humble victories, the musician has frequently shied away from the press, having declined numerous offers for local magazine or newspaper features. “I don’t like doing press because my self-esteem is way off the ground,” he shares. “I don’t like it when people are taking pictures of me. I feel like I don’t look good and I’m not attractive enough for someone to stare at me on the fucking magazines.” “Be honest, then,” I tell him. “Why did you say yes to us?” Rome simply smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just the right time. Then I’ll probably go into hiding again for another two years,” he teases. Like his music, Rome himself, as an artist, is made up of multiple layers of complexity and influence that his audience tends to overlook. Peeling off all those layers, what really lies underneath? What makes No Rome tick?

Music runs in Rome’s blood. His father is an instrumentalist and songwriter; his mother is a former vocal coach. His other siblings are also musically inclined. Rome spent most of his childhood tinkering with equipment and instruments in his home, developing a natural talent for music and production. “I used to burn demo CDs and give them to my friends but nobody would listen to them. Ironically, I got bullied for doing music,” Rome says. “I was from a Filipino-Chinese school so a lot of people didn’t like that I was into music. They thought it was all just bullshit if you’re not making money out of it.”

It was here at Rome’s lowest point when Manila-based Number Line Records, the same label behind artists such as Similarobjects, Eyedress, Tarsius, and Outerhope, found his music and re-released the tracks online, which eventually led to No Rome’s international acclaim—all of this before he entered university. His growth as a musician, from the early dance pop tracks of his 2013 EP “Fantasy” (which also appropriately featured samples from the Korean drama Princess Hours) to critic favorite Hurry Home & Rest. It didn’t take long for Ryan Hemsworth to take notice of the young musician, eventually releasing the track Ain’t Coming Back on his digital collective, Secret Songs. “The way he works is crazy; there was one time he wanted to work with a bunch of underground artists, then the next month he’s gonna work with rappers,” Rome says of Ryan. “He just follows his mood. He’s a producer, not an artist, so he gets to do what he wants; he gets to work with who he wants and whatever he feels like.” Rome is meticulous in every way possible with his artistry, from choosing the people he collaborates with to songwriting and practically everything visual relating to his music. He doesn’t describe No Rome as an art project for nothing, taking the helm over all the promotions put out, like album design, gig posters, and art direction. Art is a vital part of No Rome, who has a highly stylistic aesthetic he’s grown to be recognized for. Rome’s own fundraiser held last August for his upcoming first album was an audio-visual art showcase that incorporated the use of lights, projectors, and videos all while the musicians performed—a spectacle for multiple senses. He doesn’t only let his music do the talking for him, but his vision as well. “I started off as being very visual to begin with,” Rome elaborates. “I’m making pop music. People usually generalize it into something dumb. They say it’s too simple, it’s dull and boring. So I thought, all right, I want to fuck around with pop music and make it complex, in terms of everything that I do is hands on. I wanted to show people that pop music can actually be made into something different.” The music of No Rome in itself is a juxtaposition of sorts, with Rome admitting that he wanted to make his work ironic—happy, pop beats paired with symbolic, heartbreaking lyrics. His track Blue Jeans is often mistaken for a song written for a girl, when it’s really about suicide and the hypocrisy of the music industry. But before the obscurity of everything, No Rome all boils down to the authenticity of the emotions presented in his music. Earnest and sincere in both sound and lyrics, Rome is only happy that his listeners get to interpret and relate to his creations in their own way. “On the whole ‘teen love, melancholy, and everything in between’ thing, I wanted to achieve the persona of those things through sound and especially graphics,” he says. “Even if you don’t read the lyrics, I want you to be able to feel it, like when you were in high school and trying to get away from your parents and you’re gonna

drink outside and it’s 5 p.m. You’re nervous but there’s also this thrill going on inside of you. I wanted to develop the characteristics of those things and put them all into sound.” Rome keeps mum on the new album he’s working on (in production for a long two years), due out early 2017. The 15-track record is a melting pot of various genres he is experimenting on, with soul, pop, gospel, and even rap influences on some songs. And because Rome never fails to marry visuals with his music, I question him about the images that influenced the upcoming record. “The whole thing is a car ride. It’s a road trip that starts from sunset to sunrise,” he says, admitting that he’s excited yet anxious to put it out. “There are songs that are perfect for midnight; for when you’re thinking at 3 a.m. There are songs [for when] you’re excited for the night to happen. There’s a song [for when] you can’t think because you’re drunk. There’s one for when you watch the sunset. It’s like an endless car ride. Everything I write about is an endless experience and cycle. When you get over it, something happens again.” Somewhere in the middle of my conversation with Rome, I try to get him to explain the entire project himself, to break down the elusiveness of it all, but he remains ambiguous all throughout. “Everybody gets curious on how I want to do things and I never tell anyone the truth. Because if No Rome was explained thoroughly then there’s nothing more to know. The journey’s over,” Rome explains. “If you hate my music, it’s all right. If you like it, then it’s all right. I think that’s how art is supposed to work. We’re so spoiled and used to having everything explained. I think it’s all up to you. I’d rather be dead than explain everything, because there’s nothing more to know.” And perhaps No Rome is indeed best kept as a secret intended for unearthing during late, sleepless nights or moments of ecstasy on road trips made with friends. By the end of the interview, I realize what is most admirable about the young artist is that he is nothing but authentic and truly passionate about the craft he’s in. Rome isn’t here to impress anyone and lives up to the punk rock philosophy (in his own words: “the art of not giving a fuck”) he’s so inspired by. Love him or hate him, Rome is a visionary strong enough to leave a mark transcending the local music industry. “I just want to be able to speak to people and be myself,” Rome says. “And I’ve done nothing but represent my friends and fellow artists. That’s what I want to do. I’m not going to bullshit. That’s why I want to build this scale of a movement because I wanted to put out people who deserve it. It’s the best way I can put out these honest people who really want to work hard for their art. If I can be a stepping stone, then let it be.” n

We produced a music video for No Rome’s single Blue Jeans. Check it out on Scoutmag.ph.

20 feature

As magical and spectacular a burlesque performance may be, the amount of time taken to prepare a routine includes time for exercise, putting on make up, and lots of time in front of the mirror perfecting oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s stage persona. Modern burlesque performances, categorized as Neo-burlesque, also incorporates elements of circus play, aerial silk, and cabaret. Local performances are not an exception.

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they call it burlesque An old art form making a resurgence worldwide finds its audience—and its performers–in Manila By LEX CELERA Photography by RJ DIMLA and YUUKI UCHIDA

EVEN BACKSTAGE it felt like they were already performing. It’s a few hours before the members of Burlesque PH perform their own version of the cult fim The Rocky Horror Picture Show, matterof-factly called The Rocky Horror Burlesque Show, and I’m not exactly in my element. Some of the performers are putting on elaborate, hyperfeminine make-up, wigs and all, while a few feet away, another is reciting her lines while strutting back and forth in her thick fur coat (her name was Sabrina Van der Schnaab.) The rest are in various states of undress. They were all stunning. “We don’t show nipples. It’s a practice we do because it’s supposed to be a tease only. We don’t go all the way,” The Star Ore, one of the performers, says when I ask how much skin they’re willing to share. “In the U.K. though, they go all the way,” she adds. For a word unfamiliar to our pop culture vocabulary, the image of burlesque is paired with the exotic dances at strip clubs and costumed song and dance performances akin to theater performances. But when the show started it wasn’t really about one of the two, or even both. It wasn’t even about what I, a member of the audience, thought. The stage belonged to the performers and it meant all the difference between who was in control. If there’s one rule to abide in burlesque shows, it’s that performers are allowed to touch members of the audience, but not the other way around. Not even their articles of clothing, which some of the performers conveniently drop right at your feet after a sultry dance number.

A few days later, at a studio in San Juan, a different troupe debuting this year, Matahari Entertainment, just finishes up a round of warm-ups to the tunes from movie Burlesque. It’s midnight, and despite the time and the sweat on their brows, they are smiling. A member of the troupe says that she enjoys playing with the audience-performer relationship in burlesque. “When I perform, I really enjoy teasing the audience. That’s what it’s about. Making them question, ‘Is she going to take it off? Waiiiit. Ugh. Yes, yes… nooo.’ You know?” She and the rest of her fellow troupe members live their respective lives outside in practice—some are single moms while most, if not all, have their own full-time jobs—but here, they are different people with different names. Aliases do not only conceal their outside identities, but also give a glimpse into their on-stage personalities, which are, more often than not, wildly different from who they are in public. Most importantly, it’s a name they chose themselves. “It’s people accepting and celebrating their bodies regardless of their size, shape, orientation, religious beliefs, political beliefs, dietary beliefs and so on,” The Star Ore says backstage. Later that night she belts out a mesmerizing performance of Sweet Transvestite. Soon the rest of the Burlesque PH troupe follow with a number that left me awestruck. For women and those in the LGBTQ+ spectrum, the burlesque stage is also the stage of empowerment, and these movements running along Manila are bound to make waves this year. Watch out, Manila. n Find out more about Burlesque PH at facebook.com/BurlesquePH and Matahari Entertainment at facebook.com/ManilaBurlesque

22 essay

the hardest count Twenty-six-year-old Philippine Daily Inquirer digital content editor SARA ISABELLE PACIA describes the harrowing task of recording everyone who’s perished in the first six months (and counting) of President Duterte’s bloody war on drugs ILLUSTRATION BY GRACE DE LUNA HER NAME WAS Althea Fhem Barbon, four years old. She lived in Guihulngan City, Negros Oriental, and went to school at Gucce Learning Center. On the night of August 31, Althea was on the back of a motorbike, seated behind her father, when she was killed by policemen–the kind she wanted to be when she grew up–who were hunting down her father, a carpenter and suspected drug pusher. The police behind the buy-bust operation said they had first bought P500 worth of “shabu” (methamphetamine hydrochloride) to prove their suspicions, that Alrick shot first in an attempt to flee, that they fired back only in retaliation. The policemen said they would not have shot if they had known Althea was hiding behind her father. “We regret a lot that [a child was killed] when she was not the target. Had we seen the child, we would not have pushed through with the operation. We would have cancelled it,” Supt. D’Artagnan Denila Katalbas Jr., Guihulngan police chief, had told the Philippine Daily Inquirer. “We, policemen, are humans,” he added. “We are not animals.” Her name was Althea Fhem Barbon, the youngest recorded casualty in the war on drugs being waged by President Duterte. Hers is the name at

the tip of my tongue in the middle of the night, whose story I want to share over and over again in reply to anyone who justifies the ongoing bloodbath as a sign of progress. Katalbas says the policemen who hunt down drug suspects are human. But so are the small-time pushers and dealers they deprive of a fair trial. They, too, are not animals, but in the flurry of curses and rewards for the most number of suspects killed, are they really counting? Her name was Althea Fhem Barbon. She was only in kindergarten.

My name is Sara Isabelle Pacia, 26 years old, and I am the editor of the Inquirer’s “Kill List.” The Kill List is how the Inquirer seeks to tell the names and stories of the countless who, whether guilty of the crimes they died for or an unfortunate casualty, were never given their chance to defend their name.

Available in selected National Book Store branches. Personalization available at Glorietta 1 and Shangri-la Plaza Mall.

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24 essay

“The gravity of what I do hits hardest in the minutes right before sleep. Names after names come banging in until my eyes are wide open and breathing becomes a chore.” The list is accessible online, at inq.news/kill-list, and is updated twice a week. As of Nov. 24, 2016, the Inquirer has monitored 1,657 deaths since noon on June 30, exactly when President Duterte was sworn into office on an iron-fisted platform of change. Of that number, 902 were killed in police operations and 755 others killed by vigilantes, majority of whom wear hoods to hide their identities and ride motorcycles for a quick escape. On average, the Inquirer counts about 30 or so drug-related deaths a day. Every Monday and Thursday, I collate the reports given by reporters and correspondents on the field into a master list, segregating details such as time and place and possessions to find patterns and trends to highlight per update. The task of updating what has become a reference for human rights advocates and international agencies is one I consider a privilege and a burden. I am but one journalist doing my due diligence, but more than once it had been me who faced policymakers and those from the private sector asking about the current all-out war on drugs. To directly provide the public with information and give context to recent events has been enlightening and humbling, to say the least. But every update continues to be a teetering balancing act between detaching oneself to stay objective (as any journalist should be) and feeling too much in order to accurately convey the purpose of the list in the first place. Sometimes, I comb profile after profile on Facebook to find out more about the dead and the families they’ve left behind. I did this once, when the Inquirer wrote profiles on the SAF44, and I continue to do it today for some victims of the drug war. (It’s surprising what you can find with just a little stalking savvy.) Sometimes, too, I put myself in the shoes of the families left behind. What if it were my father or brother or friend who was killed? Every single day, I struggle between the journalist’s obsession with objectivity and detachment, and my own innate nature to speak up and share what I really, truly feel about all this bloodshed. To write this essay is part of this struggle: What if, by speaking up, I am compromising the Kill List’s integrity? Or, perhaps something worse (and infinitely more selfish): what if, by continuing to update the Kill List, I am only torturing myself for an audience that maybe no longer wishes to listen? I face only the names and stories given by our reporters and correspondents, and there are days when I am admittedly grateful that I get to do this in the comforts of the newsroom instead of out on the field late at night like many of my colleagues. But editing and contextualizing from afar the unprecedented execution of drug suspects has its own battles. The gravity of what I do hits hardest in the minutes right before sleep takes its hold. Instead of sheep jumping over a fence, names after names come barging in one after another until my eyes are wide open and breathing becomes a chore. When this happens, I ask myself over, and over, and over again: Is this job worth it? To put myself back to sleep, I recount the four passages of what should be every journalist’s Bible: the Society of Professional Journalists’ Code of Ethics. Am I seeking the truth and report it? Yes. A thousand times yes. Am I minimizing harm? Sensitive details are omitted to ensure that no copycats or sensationalists can use what is published to their benefit. Am I acting independently? All data collated are from’s own stories, and no other data can be added or subtracted to influence the numbers. Am I accountable and transparent? While the master document is not available to the public, I and the Inquirer have never shied away from disclosing our process in compiling the Kill List—even from Senate inquiries. Is this job worth it? It must be. It has to be.

Their names are “Unidentified suspected drug pushers #4 and #5.” This is how the Kill List labels two men from Quiapo, Manila, found dead at 3:20 a.m. on July 3 with a sign on their bodies saying, “Pusher.” They were the first case of extrajudicial killings monitored by the Inquirer and perhaps pioneers of the now infamous “cardboard justice,” or when the dead are found with placards labeling them drug pushers that should not be emulated. Today, the Philippine National Police is reporting that there are 3,370 drug personalities who are labeled “deaths under investigation”–DUI for short. These are the drug-related deaths being credited to masked gunmen who PNP Director General Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa says could either be hitmen paid by drug lords or even policemen covering up their own drug dealings. That number is much, much more than the 755 or the 1,657 the Kill List has tracked, proof that while the numbers the Inquirer is reporting is already alarming in itself, the truth is much, much more terrifying. Today, Suspects #4 and #5 are still unnamed. Since the Inquirer began updating the list, detractors have been quick to denounce it as a rootless campaign aimed at attacking the President without basis. One senator, in particular, even went on a media blitz denouncing the figures, saying past administrations had more deaths in a shorter span of time and media was just being selective. But I always hit back: When else in Philippine history did its President openly encourage the deaths of these pushers he deems as not human, and celebrate every death as a victory in his all-out war? When else in our recent history did police use “nanlaban” or “in self-defense” daily in their spot reports, or did finding a dead body or two in your neighborhood become increasingly common? (And to that senator, I implore him to get his facts straight. The higher figures that he has been presenting as proof of his defense are figures collating all kinds of deaths during the previous administration–not solely drug-related ones like the Kill List’s.) In writing this essay, the journalist in me is protesting the lack of objectivity. But no matter my duty to report only the truth to the public, I cannot deny forever the sadness and grief and anger at how the current administration would prefer to simplify an issue that is far from simple. I am a firm believer in the goodness of people, and I believe in three things: one, the drug problem is rooted in poverty. Two, it won’t go away no matter how many pushers the police kill off. And three, rehabilitation and institutional support should be what the administration is focused on. These three things, I wish I could shout to the world–or at least online. But at the end of the day, I know the best and most effective form of protest is in what I am currently doing–with facts and with information. To update the Kill List on a weekly basis is my own protest against the organized execution of drug suspects before their day in court. Doing this is my own way of shouting to the world that there are people who are looking into this and won’t look away from the bloodshed, no matter how absurd it gets (what’s next, the death penalty for mere drug possession?). And you know what? No matter how many times my heart breaks at every name I input, I can only pray that this task never gets easier because, while painful, this exact heartbreak is proof that this execution without fair trial is something that I nor anyone should get used to–as it should be. My name is Sara Isabelle Pacia, and don’t expect the Kill List to stop any time soon. n

Read the Inquirer Kill List, updated every Monday and Thursday, at http://inq.news/kill-list.

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26 fashion

broken social scene We round up a few everyday millennials from around the city, made them wear todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s up-and-coming youth brands, and see how the gears in their heads turn Photography by ARTU NEPOMUCENO Styling by GRACE DE LUNA

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“I just don’t want to immerse in all this negativity. Everyone’s so stuck in the past, but I think I am, too.” JOHN SAN JUAN, 19, MUSIC PRODUCER WEARING TOMORROW @TOMORROWLABEL

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“Change isn’t going to start from the government, but from the people. But you know how people are... they’ll look out for their own welfare first before others’.” NICHOLAS UY, 24, FOOTBALL PLAYER WEARING MEDISINA CLOTHING @MEDISINACLOTHING

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“I think [the Philippines is] starting to let go of our notion of what hiphop is supposed to be, and appreciate what our local hip-hop artists are putting out.” BEA TE, 22, DANCER WEARING WSH @WSH___13

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“Celebrating body positivity and self-love isn’t an open invitation to harmful or inappropriate comments. It’s not like people express or celebrate their sexuality for other people anyway.” NIKA DIZON, 19, ARTIST WEARING GIRL IN TRANSIT @GIRLINTRANSIT__

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“It’s a matter of perspective whether the future will be good or bad, but I think it will be bright as long as we fight for nothing but the truth, and to seek love and beauty.” ASSI ABOGADO, 17, STUDENT WEARING WEDNESDAY @NOTWITHSTANDINGUS

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“We’re too focused on images now. Even if you don’t enjoy a party, you want to be seen in photos having fun with friends you’re not even close with.” SAVANNAH RAMOS, 23, CREATIVE DIRECTOR WEARING PROGRESS @PROGRESSPH

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Photographer’s Assistant IGNACIO GADOR Stylist’s Assistants IVAN COCJIN and LEX CELERA Makeup by NICOLE CEBALLOS (for John, Nicholas, and Nika) and PAM RHOBES (for Savannah, Bea, and Assi)

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star girl With establishing her very own un-artificial artistic identity in everything she does—her movies, TV shows, the music she’s putting out, and all the art she wants to make—as her next big career move, Nadine Lustre can have her salad and eat it, too By KARLA BERNARDO Photography by JOSEPH PASCUAL Styling by VINCE CRISOSTOMO

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It was two days after Christmas, and the streets of Makati were relatively clear. The building where the studio was looked empty, and the elevator that took me to the top floor looked like it was still on vacation mode. Everyone was still on holiday, except for a few people on the eighth floor who were busy preparing for this cover shoot—a shoot that had to be rushed in order for the issue to make it to the printers. This was, after all, the new-year issue with one of the biggest (and busiest) stars of the last 12 months. This is a face you see on billboards, on television, on social media, on your favorite fast food joint’s posters, and even on coffee cups at the convenience store. Hers is a name that can only fail to ring any bells if you have been living under a rock. A multimedia triple-threat celebrity is what they call her, although for the rest of us that day at work, she is just Nadine. I enter the room expecting frenzy, a team of stylists and makeup artists surrounding a big chair, fussing over a star. Instead, I see one brightly lit corner and a girl doing her own makeup. She is sitting on her chair, hair up in rollers, mouth slightly open as she lightly puts on her mascara. If you did not know any better, you would have thought she was just a regular girl. Nadine actually plays the regular girl quite well. Her repertoire has thus far been composed of girls that represent the ordinary girl, the underdog. She has mastered the entire spectrum of regular girls—from nerdy, pimpled teen to struggling but quirky OFW, and even a hardworking young wife. In a showbiz landscape that downplays the good looks of the star as a major plot point of most narratives, it can be a little tiring. And it’s not just on the screen; it’s in real life, too. These days, just like a regular girl is a look most celebrities tend to put on. “Look at me, I have no makeup on and I make my own coffee! I’m so normal!” they all say. But it takes a certain type of persona to lend some credibility to this normalcy, especially for very famous personalities. Actresses can act on cue, sure, but with social media making everything so transparent and accessible, they cannot always put a front that audiences will lap up. And so it is kind of

disarming to actually see someone being—not acting like—a regular girl with no cameras rolling yet. This was no role, this whole putting her makeup on by herself, enjoying the playlist she created for her own amusement, chatting with people on the set while casually eating salad. This—this was real.

“I’ve always just wanted to be me,” Nadine muses about her career trajectory. “Because who else can I be?” Nadine’s first outfit is a big shirt with Mariah Carey on it, the image on the album cover of the famous singer’s chart-topper “Rainbow.” On one hand, it made total sense: both are women who had humble beginnings in the industry; they had great talent, but did not have overnight success. Instead, it would take many failed attempts and weak starts before they hit their stride. But on the other, they could not be more complete opposites. Mariah embodied the word diva—she reveled in being one. Nadine is no such thing. She is polite, and does not care much about what she looks like. She casually cleans up the small mess she made of her salad dressing. “Real” is a word thrown around often when it comes to Nadine. She is part of what is unarguably one of the most famous love teams in the country, JaDine. The other half of this tandem is James Reid, he of the famous abs and surprisingly good acting chops. They can sing, they can dance, they can command entire arenas; and coliseums all over the world. They can make both teenagers and lolas cry. But most importantly, they are #TeamReal: a couple in real life. But now that they have shattered the glass ceiling as far as the love team narrative is concerned—they’re now officially an item, yay—one wonders what lies ahead. After all, not many celebrities get past the whole masquerade of

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Get the official Scout shirt Nadineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wearing, plus a bunch of other legit merch, at Scoutmag.ph. And if you need more Nadine, you can download official Scout wallpapers for your phone also over on the site.

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“Just the other day, while in the kitchen, as in I was just cooking when suddenly I randomly had an idea for a short film. So I texted Direk Tonet [Jadaone], and told her, ‘Direk, I have an idea.’ She replied, ‘Game, tara!’ It’s just about finding the right time for it, I guess.”

are-they-or-are-they-not. And so many people, both fans and naysayers alike, have their eyes on the two, awaiting their every move. Some, of course, are quick to predict that their admission will mean the end, that their days as a kilig vehicle are now over since the “mystery” is gone. “Hindi naman nawawala ‘yun eh (It’ll never go away), it’s part of it. But we just don’t mind them. This is us, this is what we want to do.” And it is this utter lack of pretension that lets you convince yourself that she’s actually not a regular girl. An ordinary person will most likely feel offended, maybe post a status on Facebook, and make a big deal out of it. An ordinary artista will tweet about it cryptically and will let her fans take the cudgels, even when they have no idea what their idol is saying. But Nadine is neither. She looks at it from the point of view of someone who has gotten a glimpse of fame from the bottom of the ladder and now fully understands all the perils that come with exposure. She will acknowledge it, but let it slide. She knows how to draw the line, like a true class act. Which is hard to find these days, especially when everyone feeds on big fights and drama. But for Nadine, she is happy to let the drama stay in her fictional life. In real life, she is free to make a narrative of her own, one she can choose to steer in the directions she pleases, now that she has earned her spot as a bankable actress, and perhaps more significantly, a real artist.

“Okay, I’ve got to admit this: I only saw Romeo X Juliet for the first time a few weeks ago,” she shares. “The Leo and Claire Danes one?” I asked. “Yeah, ‘di ba!” she said candidly, after we talked about her film and communication background. “Actually, growing up, I wasn’t really that appreciative of movies,” she admitted. “It was only when I was taking the course in college that I grew to have an interest in it.” This discomfiture is refreshing especially coming from someone who seems to have gotten a good grasp of what show business is all about. She has been in four blockbuster films and two well-received teleseryes. Her schedule requires her to be in front of the camera almost every single day (soap shoots are M-W-F, commercial endorsements go in between). She can

project on cue, and she can do it well. She can muster enough vulnerability when the script requires her to walk away from the love of her life at the airport. She can project a serious librarian/teacher ready to chastise naughty millennials when the photographer requires her to. One can say she’s pretty much got the whole actress thing down pat. Nevertheless, she thinks she can still better appreciate the craft. “When I was in school, I realized that I want to be behind the camera din pala. I like editing, I like making videos.” For her, making movies seemed to be just as exciting as being in it. This is actually not surprising. If their Always travel video is an indication of her aesthetic, surely she has a lot more to offer. Aside from wanting to produce short films, she is also keen on creating new music. Her previous album, the eponymous “Nadine Lustre,” was a success (and is, undeniably, the most frequently replayed OPM album in my Spotify), but given its radio-friendly pop leanings—part and parcel with her branding then—she admits she now wants to explore music that really speaks to her. She names Up Dharma Down as her dream collaboration; and going by the steady stream of music blasting from her Bluetooth speakers during the shoot (Kygo, Banks, and Alina Baraz, to name a few) her taste nestles comfortably between dark R&B and smooth deep house, with a tinge of indie electronic. Quite the opposite direction from her previous endeavors, but very much in tune with her personal aesthetic—very Scorpio, if you ask me. Although Nadine admits that between her and James, it is the latter who is a better songwriter. “I tried to write, pero I can’t write as well as he does! He can write an entire album!” she says. “But for my album, I want to be handson with everything else. Although I want to experiment more, because I like so many styles of music.” And therein lies the humility that comes with admitting that there is still plenty of room to grow. To expand her horizons and pursue interests that can only deepen her understanding of their profession. There is a change of tone in her voice when she gets to talk about projects she wishes to engage in independently. “Independently” meaning a lot of things: 1) on her own, 2) with James, but outside film or TV, or 3) outside the confines of what management would normally have them do. She actually finds no qualms in initially being packaged as a particular kind of celebrity.

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But she has also reached that point in her life where she can now plot for herself the kind of creative pursuit that will give her a sense of fulfillment. She is fortunate, then, to be working with such talented, brilliant minds as directors—mentors—to guide her through. “Just the other day, while in the kitchen, as in I was just cooking when suddenly I randomly had an idea for a short film. So I texted Direk Tonet [Jadaone], and told her, ‘Direk, I have an idea.’ She replied, ‘Game, tara!’ It’s just about finding the right time for it, I guess.” It is easy to feel disillusioned in this industry, given the repeated formulas and run-of-the-mill plots. But Nadine has seen and done enough to understand that the audiences deserve more too. “I think it’s also what the audience wants, to be given something different. And I see nothing wrong with it,” she said when asked about the recent indie vs. mainstream discourse that has been going around. She has been both a spectator and a product, both viewer and actor. She understands the industry as an audience member and actor—and she realizes the value of giving them what works but also putting to the cultural forefront material that will engage the masses in a different way. It’s something she hopes to do one day, when the cosmos gives her the time and freedom to do so. She is, at the end of the day, an evolving creature. Both a piece of art and an artist. But Nadine is careful about where her passions will lead her. Every choice she has made up to this point has been about achieving that perfect, ideal popstar package. Now, she’s slowly shedding the manufactured sheen, but still maintaining her identity in the process. She still wants to travel the world, even though she’s been to at least three continents in the last 10 months. She wants to make films, she wants to produce her own music, she wants to find more stories to tell. The point is, now, at the top of her game, Nadine can choose.

“I’ve been through it all, I’ve done girl groups, love teams. There’s really a progression, and it’s like that, eventually you’ll have to establish yourself as your own person.”

It was two days after Christmas, and the streets of Makati were relatively clear. Everyone was still on holiday, but not this girl with a smiling Mariah on her chest. In between the takes, someone on the set quips, “We should be playing Mimi!” but everyone else knew it was no longer necessary. Nadine is Nadine: not-so-elusive a chanteuse, but freer, more relaxed, happy. She belongs no more to the public than to herself. After the shoot, I found myself with her in the same elevator. She held the door for me and we had a small chat about a book I gave her. “Aww, thank you! I think I really need this,” she said, before giving me a quick beso. It was a short book about love and hate, something she probably knows a little too well, given the cutthroat industry she is in. Eight months before, she was a girl I was watching on stage at their concert in Araneta. A few hours ago, she was a person on my Instagram feed whose candid photos I heart. After alighting the elevator, she is still that. But therein lay the difference between the diva on the shirt and the young lady wearing it: Nadine needed no myth or illusions surrounding her, required no glitz or glamour to affirm her worth. She can share her love story like a friend, she can admit her shortcomings openly, she can become the stand-in for the every-woman seeking for happiness in all her shows and still have us root for her. She is still very much a regular girl. Except that at the same time, she isn’t. And aren’t we all luckier for it? n

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Makeup by NADINE LUSTRE Hair by SYDNEY HELMSLEY Styling Assistant PAULO DEOFERIO All shoes from PARISIAN

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sitting with the cool kids FEEL LIKE you missed out on this year’s awesome Scout Campus Tour run? Well, you pretty much did if you didn’t hit us up. We brought over all the fun to the metro’s biggest universities, as we teamed up with the coolest college orgs of UP, Ateneo, DLSU, and UST and invited the hottest young acts around for some quality live music. We also got Krispy Kreme, Havaianas, and Dermclinic to party it up with us during all of our school visits (no, seriously, who doesn’t want free donuts, cute school color photos, and on-fleek skin?). And of course, no party would be complete without the games we brought straight from the Summer Camp. See you next year, fam--for now, live vicariously through these photos. Visit Scoutmag.ph and follow @scoutmagph on Instagram to get deets on the next campus tours.

Photography by PATRICK SEGOVIA and ANDREA LEE

PRESENTS

SCOUT CAMPUS TOUR the best reason to get up for school

COMING SOON # S C O U T C a m p u s To u r

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fresh off

the block Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re calling it: Escolta is the place to be for creatives and history buffs alike By LEX CELERA Photography by ALEXIS LIM

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THERE HAVE BEEN BETTER DAYS ON THE STREET OF ESCOLTA. For a street less than a kilometer in length, Escolta—in Binondo, a few minutes’ walk away from the Carriedo LRT station—may be one of the few streets in Manila deeply steeped in such cultural history. Escolta was the place to be back in its pre-World War II heyday. It’s a street of many of the country’s firsts: the first shopping mall, the first elevator, the first movie house, and so on. The buildings fronting the street were once the tallest in the country, and were prime examples of what buildings looked like from decades back: art deco, beaux-arts, and neoclassical architecture. Historically significant, yes, but the importance of Escolta today is another thing entirely. The dust has settled on the rooftops and walls of the buildings. What was left of the glamour of Manila’s Queen of Streets during the ′40s and ′50s, as it was called during that time, had slowly seeped out. But movements from the past few years have put Escolta back on the map. Social media had a big part of it; from bulleted lists of go-to places in Manila to stories of El Hogar and the Manila Metropolitan Theater calling for action, there’s been a collective awakening on the part of the digital-savvy youth. The city once invisible to our consciousness has now entered the fray, all thanks to a community made up of artists, heritage conservationists, and people interested in our collective past who have made the initiative to revive Escolta. “The movement is basically composed of Escolta Commercial Association, Inc. (ECAI, the organization of building owners in the Escolta neighborhood), the 98B (artists), the Heritage Conservation Society and ICOMOS Philippines (represented by Architect Dominic Galicia), and us, the youth volunteers,” explains Stephen Pamorada, a heritage conservation volunteer who has given tours of Escolta in the past. “There used to be the Heritage Conservation Society-Youth, out of which evolved a group that now focuses on the Escolta, called the Escolta Volunteer Arm.” What personally drew Stephen to Escolta was a fascination for history and a respect for his neighborhood, himself a resident of Binondo. “These structures and places hold decades and of memories and layers of stories that are continuously being told and have yet to be told. And here we also continue to make stories at present.” The formed community today, the day we’re visiting, is gearing up for the Escolta Block Party, a celebration of heritage and community where sections of the street will be closed off to give way to live music, vendors, and revelry. It is a party, after all.

Opposite page: The staircase inside the First United Building, where The HUB and the 98B COLLABoratory are located. Top: The Regina Building, a four-storey building designed by Andres Luna de San Pedro, son of Juan Luna.

Escolta circa the 1950s. During that period, businesses in Escolta were already moving to newer pastures, like Makati.

46 space The Escolta Block Party last Nov. 26, 2016 took Escolta’s new blood to the streets for an afternoon.

It Started On A Saturday 2012 was the year the artist-led initiative Mark Salvatus founded 98B COLLABoratory in Cubao, but July of the same year they moved to the Mezzanine floor of the First United Building in Escolta. If Escolta was to be revived, so to speak, it would have most likely been done by the hand of artists. And so they did. Artist and 98B member Marika Constantino calls the move an opportunity that presented itself at the right place and the right time. Although 98B is not into heritage preservation per se, the ways Escolta has flourished has been made possible by art. “We’re still in the realm of contemporary art but then indirectly, we touch on the narratives of the street. We’re treating Escolta as our background, as our backdrop for our projects.” One of their projects, the Escolta Saturday Market, became a hotbed for creative labels to showcase their projects as well as for vintage item-seekers to spot a sweet find. Today, the Escolta Saturday Market has been changed to a daily space rented out by the same eclectic vibe as before, known as The HUB. The vendors range from heritage memorabilia to fashion-forward fare. Currently beside it is Fred’s Revolucion, a bar that houses a wide selection of local and foreign beers and another personality in itself. Beyond The HUB, 98B’s pursuits in art have led to other projects, such as the Pan/// Project Space, which showcases art right on the ground floor of the Panspico Building, where the building’s old store front used to be. “For you to have something art-related, it doesn’t always have to be in a museum or art gallery,” Marika explains. “It can actually exist through a small gathering, a talk, or even a meal among creatives. That’s the kind of notion we want to promote.” This juxtaposition of a rising creative community operating between the walls of decades-old buildings is interesting to say the least. Is there beauty to be found beyond the street’s vintage charm? When asked about the allure of Escolta to creatives, Marika points out the street’s rich history and architectural landmarks as fresh perspectives for the modern artist. “It’s impossible for creatives not to be inspired or be motivated by the things that you see, by the stories that you hear, the details that you’re confronted with every time you walk. Every time I come here [in Escolta], there’s always something new.”

Before SM, Rustan’s, and Robinson’s, the go-to department store was Heacock’s, located on the corner of Calle Escolta and Calle David.

The First United Building was once the tallest building in Manila when it was built in 1928.

“Escolta is lined with visions of great artists that were made real.”

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A still from Viva Viva Escolta, which is part of Janus Victoria’s “Pares” trilogy of films.

El Hogar was once one of the most iconic structures seen in Escolta. It was built by Spanish conde Don Antonio Melian and is said to be his wedding gift to his wife Margarita Zobel de Ayala.

New People, Same Old Street Viva Viva Escolta, a 2016 QCinema short, is a story of the departed seeking peace while wandering the neighborhood of Escolta. Beyond its plot, the charm of the film relies on its sense of place, plotting the narrative in key landmarks in the streets framed through the camera using Dutch tilts. “The slanted angle helped establish Escolta as an otherworldly place,” explains Janus Victoria, director of Viva Viva Escolta. And otherworldly it is. Viva Viva Escolta was shown during the block party at the First United Building Community Museum. Inside are documents of the personal history of the family that owned the building, but in the same space are clippings of stories made about Escolta from the past decade or so. On another, art that has Escolta as its focal point. Layers and layers of the past and the present paint a picture of a nonlinear historical perspective—one that doesn’t view the past as a throwaway relic, but also as a foundation for the present. This is what makes the movement of Escolta palpable and real. “Escolta is lined with visions of great artists that were made real,” Janus answers, when asked what drew her to the street. “Recently I heard an official from Manila City Hall react negatively to protests against the tearing down of Rizal Stadium. In a nutshell, he said culture is not enough reason to combat the economics of things. But there is such a thing as pride of a place. Thankfully, Escolta still has a lot of it. Those buildings tell me just how far we can go. These structures are reminders to aspire more as Filipinos. How do you put a price tag to that?” Janus adds, “One also needs a different perspective to believe that it can achieve its new goal today: not to revive the past, but to find new purpose and meaning.” Outside the film screening is the block party, where I see a few familiar faces and I hear loud, beautiful music permeating the air like settling dust. I have only been visiting Escolta for a few weeks now, but I expect to come back. People have always come and go in the streets of Manila, but the buildings remain, and so does its carried history. There have been better days in the street of Escolta, Manila’s Queen of Streets. Things don’t always stay the same, and that usually means decay. These days, it means progress. n More photos of our trip on Scoutmag.ph.

48 back story

in secret Anonymous writers share the most intimate notes that they never got to send

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