My Movie Channel (formerly Blink Cinema) features Hollywood and award-winning international movies. Currently broadcast on SkyCable and Destiny Cable Channel 25.
Title:My Movie Channel music themes Client: Solar Entertainment Corporation Channel Head: Hanna Molina Creative Director: Cessy Sevilla Direction, Animation & Editing: The Acid House Original music and sound design: Reev Robledo
A dream come true! I’ve always wanted to be featured in Entrepreneur Magazine. I didn’t think it would happen so soon. Thanks to all the editors and staff for the superstar treatment. A shoutout goes out to writer Candace Quimpo, Rocel Junio and Eileen Ang of Entrepreneur. Dante Gagelonia for the “This is the guy you should talk to” endorsement. Photographer At Maculangan and make-up artist Tricia Miranda for making me look good. And Jeni and Nick of FED.
In light of Advocacy Journalism, KRUSADA focuses on the different causes of ABS-CBN’s veteran pool of news anchors every week. In their crusades, the journalists take on the most sensitive issues the country faces today.
Probe Profiles headed by veteran broadcast journalist Cheche Lazaro hits the airwaves with a weekly investigative profile of the hottest figures in the news.
Title: Probe Profiles music theme Client: Probe Productions Type: Music Theme URL: http://www.probetv.com
Original music and sound design.
Below are full audio versions of the opening theme, bumper gap and closing theme.
Project: Listahanan Radio Jingle Client: Department of Social Welfare and Development, National Housing Targeting Office Type: Radio Jingle Singers: Vida Curray-Panopio, Nesti Panopio Voice Over: Brian Tibayan
Hoops, silk, aerial stunts, dancing, storytelling, and poles(!) in a Filipino mythology setting. How’s that for a concept? When asked months ago if I’d want to work on the music and sound for Polecats Manila’s latest event, my answer was: Hell yeah. Haha.
Here are some snapshots and videos of Amihan, Indayog at Lahi (Breeze, Rhythm and Lineage), a joint project with Eskritoryo Pilipinas featuring Polecats Manila, Kontra Gapi, Lyceum Dance Troupe, and Kuya Bodjie at the Meralco Theater last November 3, 2013.
The launch of my first full-length novel, my birthday (the following day) and concert in one event. Like most people, I’ve always wondered how it would feel like to have your own book. I don’t have to wonder anymore.
Sept. 7, 2013
Forte Music Cafe
120 Maginhawa St. Teachers Village, Q.C.
With special guest performers: Homer Bravo Cabansag (classical guitar), Franco Maigue (classical guitar), Two Nickel Dime (acoustic duo), Kim Manalili (singer), Vida (singer).
What a great way to start a campaign. A few weeks before the launch of my novel Gitarista, Philippine Star columnist Luis Katigbak interviewed me for an article about self-publishing. I was featured among established authors Mina V. Esguerra (Fairy Tale Fail, Interim Goddess of Love, My Imaginary Ex) and Carl Joe Javier (Kobayashi Maru of Love). You can read the full article here.
A single note began its lonely wail and hushed the crowd to a reserved calm. In the darkness, it skirted down the stage, past the aisles, bouncing against the walls, touching the theater doors and back.
After its meek resonance dispersed in the air, a stroke of the hand introduced a haunting chord. It was a familiar melody that alienated only the naive and artless soul. It flirted with the emotions: a slow inflection, with occasional and surprising accents, eliciting tears and silent criticisms.
The glimmer of light shone first on his feet, his hands, then his face. They finally saw him. His eyes were closed and his reflexes had taken over. Oblivious to the sight of thousands of onlookers, he romanced his perfectly-carved instrument with maddening precision.
Earlier, a large raincloud hovered over the premises and threatened to drench the evening with a spring shower, but the last winds of the cold season had carried it far into the Valley of The Fallen. As the cloud’s tail dissipated in thin air, it revealed a crescent moon that squinted over the famed structure, an opera house built for the pleasure of kings and queens in the late 19th Century. For on this night, even the forces of nature paid homage to the masters of centuries old…and of present being.
They watched him play and felt mortal.
As he entered the final movement, he could no longer restrain it. That which had imprisoned him for 17 years had now set him free. Thump…thump…thump…He followed the beating of his heart and gave in to the pain and its grip on his life. He surrendered to the truth.
The guitar became an extension of his body and he played it as though it was the most natural thing to do. It was as instinctive as shielding one’s eyes from the glint of the noonday sun, scratching an itchy nose, or a newborn longing for its mother’s sustenance. Maestro, I am doing it!
Years of rote, months of mechanical learning, countless hours of discipline to retain muscle memory…even his priceless gift, that inborn brilliance, were now beyond his control. The madman he had never met now took over. And he let him.
At first, the bridge of his guitar creaked and warned him to take it slow. Gentle now, there is no rush, the voice reminded him. The pegs were turning loose and he could hear each string losing its proper timbre. He continued to play, skillfully gliding his hands through each measure, taking great effort in preserving the integrity of his guitar.
Mustering his remaining strength, he began the last page of Albéniz’s obra maestra. Chord after chord, his fingers ran and jumped across the frets. He executed arpeggios, a series of melodic patterns, across the fretboard with ease and vibrance. His audience, mouths agape, patiently held their applause.
In that fleeting moment, everything ceased to be his. The young virtuoso painstakingly caressed his most valuable possession—his only possession—an inheritance from a past he never knew…a past he never wanted…a past that had brought him here.
Oh the pain! How can one detach himself from the sorrow? To have shared a thing so precious yet now meaningless to me? He fought the madman within him. No, you can not tell me what I must be! Maestro, help me please…
The bottom string suddenly snapped and whiplashed against his face. It drew a thin red line on his cheek that was quickly washed away by drops of sweat. The remaining strings stayed dangerously taut, he had to improvise but…
The guitar’s neck cracked and slowly detached itself from the body. Sweating profusely, the silent metronome in his head faltered, his hands turned numb, the cadence in his heart had ceased.
With trembling hands, he stroke the last chord with all his might and split the guitar’s wooden core in two halves. The crack echoed in the chamber only to be overpowered by the sound of simultaneous gasps. His arms were spread out, the wingspan of a giant bird of prey. In his left hand he held the headstock, strings in total disarray, while in his right, he loosely gripped what was left of the sounding board dangling above his knee.
Sweat ran across his forehead down to the tip of his nose. He could hear himself breathing, his chest beating rapidly as it rose and fell with each intake. Then he blacked out.
His chair flipped and sent his body sprawling to the floor. He lay there with lips twitching while the rest of his body was unable to move. He slowly opened his eyes and stared into a wash of faces filled with ghastly horror.
Who have I become?
The 1970s. The rise of cosmopolitan Manila.
Raised by a single mother in the province, guitar virtuoso Alejandro Sebastian is thrust into the classical music scene when he gets accepted into The Conservatory of Music at the country’s capital.
With the National Music Competitions for Young Artists (NAMCYA) a few months away, eccentric maestro Pablo Rocca trains his gifted protégé to become a guitar grandmaster while Dani, a free-spirited violinist, provides friendship and inspiration.
From Manila’s highbrow venues to its darkest corners, Alejandro’s musical journey leads him to unravel a hidden truth that will change all he has known and all he has ever wanted to become.
A bittersweet romance between truth and destiny, Gitarista is a young man’s search for the symphony of his life.
This historic novella takes place during the height of Manila’s urban progress in the 1970s. Buildings towered over paved roads, vehicles caused traffic jams, business districts were expanding and the music and arts scene was a burgeoning form of entertainment and a stark representation of the country’s national identity.
What better way to kick off summer than to do our part as earthkeepers? My environmentalist mother, Lydia Robledo together with husband and wife bird-watchers Arnel and Tintin Telesforo, ATS Director Zenet Maramara, her homeschoolers nephews and nieces, and Mr. Cecicilio Pedro of the Lamoiyan Corporation (makers of Hapee Toothpaste) traveled to the province of Cavinti, Laguna to plant some trees, see rare birds and breathe fresh air!
After a two-hour muddy tractor ride, we finally reached the Deaf Evangelistic Alliance Foundation (DEAF) community, one of the philanthropy outfits of Mr. Pedro, where 200 scholars live and study. Here are a few pictures.
One big prevailing word was etched in my mind while writing this: SUPERFICIAL and Esther’s song personifies that. If you read the lyrics, listen to the chord changes and how the melody is constructed, you can tell that I had so much fun writing it.
I call this the Disney song, in the tradition of those animations with big chorus ensembles and engaging orchestral music. Sort of an ode to composers Alan Menken and Howard Ashman. Not much thinking while writing this one. Just pure, unadulterated fun. Enjoy!
All this make-up on my face I would gladly wash away But I’ve got beauty to maintain Cause who would want to look plain?
Wash hair, soap skin Moisturizing cream Brush cheeks roses bloom Trim the nails, paint them too
Pluck brows, armpits Emphasize curvy hips Overweight at ninety five So they say but I’m . . .
Chorus 1: More than a face And just like any girl I’m trying to find my own place In this world where Man won’t see past superficial We’re only visual pleasure In this shallow earth Where beauty is a curse I’ll just be me
Tuck belly, raise chest Hide flaws under dress Let a little cleavage show But not too much, just enough Insecure yes I am How I live for compliments I’ve become what I hate Desperate . . . save me!
Chorus 2: I’m just a girl In a crowded marketplace But I’m not ashamed If I can’t compete And vie for their attention Or get their satisfaction `Cause though often compared Frankly I don’t care I’ll just be me
Bridge: Should I wax my legs Just to look my best Must I wear all this gold From head to toe I don’t know If I still know that . . .
Chorus 3: I’m just a girl Standing up for love and truth And proving my worth I’m representing every woman’s Need for affection Cause we are all but human Outside is what you see But inside I’ll always be A beauty queen