A nostalgic, first-person chronicle across different eras of one of the country’s most iconic and enduring live music venues
I picked my head up from the floor, as the staff were tidying up, hazily coming to realize that I had likely passed out and spent most of the night having people step over my wreckage. Fortunately, the staff didn’t seem to mind; I had a full pitcher of ice-cold water waiting for me as I regained consciousness—a kind gesture to help me come back to my senses and recover enough to get myself home.
I’m not sure who I was there to see that night. My memories from the aughts are usually anecdotal and frequently incoherent. Because I had disappeared from eye level, I remember seeing a text from my date, who was not amused that I blew her off. I would’ve told her the truth, but I was more concerned about missing a set from Kat Agarrado. Or was it Karl Roy?
Hometown
Born and raised on the side of San Andres Bukid, just over a block away from Kamagong Street and San Antonio Village in Makati, I always considered myself an honorary citizen of Binay country. As such, Saguijo was one of my go-to spots for catching the vibrant live music scene of the 2000s, fondly recalled by those old farts who lived through it as the “OPM Renaissance.”
On any given day, you could catch local rockstars like Raymund Marasigan, Pepe Smith, or Ian Tayao performing with whichever band they were working with at the time. But more often, you’d stumble upon up-and-coming musicians honing their craft just before they became household names or fixtures on Myx.
It was such an intimate vibe that you could eavesdrop on Jett Pangan of The Dawn and Diego Castillo of Sandwich working their charm on the ladies, smoke with Gina Alajar and Alessandra De Rossi in the parking lot, or trade contraband with Pinoy rock luminaries who shall remain unnamed—sometimes all in one night.
The 2010s and the Live Music Hiatus
I barely had enough money for a couple of beers in Saguijo when I was in my 20s. So when I could finally afford a meal there, I recall being seated on the floor at the foot of the band as Autotelic played their hits, gorging on my burger and fries as I enjoyed this next wave of Pinoy bands.
However, like many scenesters and alcoholics of the 2010s, I was lured by the sights and haunts of Poblacion. It felt like, as more people reveled in Poblacion’s trendy spots and diversifying culinary scene, the more difficult it became to find spots where you could simply find a seat, order a drink, and enjoy live music that wasn’t from a cover band.
Midlife Visits
Fortunately, the pandemic seemed to make people miss bands. And as the 2020s forged past the absurdity of social distancing, I began seeing gig schedules on my timeline once again. Eventually, I would find my way back to Saguijo, enticed by a lineup that featured S.O.S. (formerly She’s Only Sixteen) and a reunion set by Techy Romantics. Within the first minute of “7 Years,” everyone in that room was transported back to whatever quarter-life crisis, angst, and unrequited delusions they had in their 20s. I would soon discover the joys of bird.—a sound the kids describe as “vibecore infused with shoegaze and dreampop textures.” I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I kinda get it. I’ve also become fond of Raymund Marasigan’s new outfit, Party Pace, a delightful subgenre the band describes as “a genre-defying mix of dreampop, post-rock, and hip-hop.”
The local music scene is thriving. Also, the kids don’t drink anymore.
