Music review: Salinawit ni Pete Lacaba, as sung by Tres Marias Filipinas

It's a worthwhile, laudable, perhaps even valiant idea -- the thought of undertaking a credible translation of old standards, jazz tunes, songs from Broadway musicals, and Tin Pan Alley warhorses from English to Tagalog.

What makes the undertaking doubly valuable is the fact that Tagalog is an inherently sweeter and more visceral tongue than English. Tagalog seems capable of more nuances of feeling than a language such as English, which is perhaps more precise for the transmission of facts, knowledge, and abstract thoughts. For whispering sweet nothings in a beloved's ear or hurling curses, profanity and epithets in a foe's face, nothing gets the job done quite like Tagalog. And while there are certainly languages as equally musical as Tagalog, there is none more so.

Noteworthy, therefore, is wordsmith Pete Lacaba's Herculean pet project, Salinawit, which aims to do just that – take venerable songs originally sung in English and render them in Tagalog. Apparently, almost a hundred-odd tunes have been translated thus far; I have seen a ring-bound clearbook of collated Salinawit lyrics, and figure that this collection would likely be available for purchase at the occasional Salinawit gig.

When it works, translation into Tagalog serves to treble an already beautiful standard's charm.

One of my personal Salinawit faves is the Tagalog iteration of the jazzy torch blues, "You Don't Know Me." Sung as "Di Mo Nakita," this song's cri de coeur rings that much more piquantly, and an already durog-puso lament resonates as wrist-slashingly saddening tune.

There are occasional flashes of lightly etched humor, such as the line, "Pa-holding-hands-holding-hands pa." As calamansi in wasabi makes the horseradish seem that much more explosive to the palate, the unexpected chuckle elicited by this line only serves to highlight the bone-deep sadness of the existential lament.

One must take issue with a few of the translations, however, such as the opening line, "Tall and tan and young and lovely" from the hit song "The  Girl From Ipanema." It's rendered as "kayumanggi at balingkinitan,"  which actually means "brown-skinned and slim," hardly an accurate representation of either literal meaning or intended sentiment. Might I suggest "kayumanggi at yummyng-yummy" perhaps?

The three Marias

After attending a Salinawit gig three Thursdays ago at Conspiracy Bar, that Visayas Avenue hangout and watering hole for the cognoscenti, I must say I enjoyed and applauded practically all of Tito Pete Lacaba's Salinawit tunes.



As a jazz guitarist, standard songs from the 1930s to the 1950s have long been my stock-in-trade, and are especially resonant with me. Solely as exercises in word craft, I was already sold on the idea coming in. Hearing Salinawit sung by as exceptional a trio of  songstresses as the Tres Marias Filipinas – Lolita Carbon of seminal Pinoy folk-rock band  Asin, Cookie Chua of seminal '90s rock band Color It Red, and Bayang Barrios of Joey Ayala's Bagong Lumad of jangly-socially-conscious-alterna-folk-tibak-rock fame – ensured I was as happy as a Salinawitted-clam that night.

To the Tres Marias Filipinas' credit, there was none of the at-times-subtle-sometimes-blatant catty one-upmanship of the birit-fest that has become almost endemic whenever three women share a stage. As all these women have matured into masterly musicianship, they have likely taken to heart the truism that each of us has our own individual, equally beautiful song to share with the world, and hence, competition amongst musicians is as insubstantial and devoid of value as a mute academic.

All three Marias each had their own special something to share with the rapt audience that night: Bayang had her crystal clear timbre and impeccable vocal technique; Cookie, her burnished honeyed-whiskey tone and otherworldly way with a phrase; and Lolita, her scotch & soda rasp, luminous tone and heart-rending blues inflections.

Tagalog is particularly effective at expressing cries of longing. The most effective Salinawit tunes of the evening were therefore, to my ears,  the torch songs, especially those sung by Lolita Carbon, whose Aretha Franklin-informed vocal curlicues are drenched in and draw from the deep wellspring of The Blues.

To hear Lolita Carbon deliver "I'll Never Fall In Love Again" (rendered as "Ayoko Nang Umibig Pa") is to be struck dumb at the awe-inspiring alchemy that is Salinawit, and to become an avid lifelong fan of Pete Lacaba, and perhaps even to become a lifelong advocate of Tagalog's beauty, with its extraordinary range of nuances of feeling.

Particularly beautiful was "Imagine," rendered as "Isipin Mo." An immortal anthem already forever near and dear to my heart struck even closer to home sung in our Mother Tongue.

"Perhaps Love" was also rendered even more beautiful and moving as "Marahil Ang Pag-Ibig." Sung in English, this song sometimes seems in danger of collapsing under the weight of its own arch sentimentality. Sung in Tagalog, these sentiments ring just right.

Memorable and moving too was "Yesterday," rendered as "Kahapon Lang." Again, Tagalog is particularly great at expressing yearning.

To a longtime Pinoy jazz musician and aficionado, most of the songs in the Salinawit set list are as familiar to me as both sides of my hand. To hear these old friends sung in the tongue of Inang Bayan surfaces hitherto unnoticed facets, rendering already precious musical gems priceless, and bringing to the table new layers of significance, meaning, and flavor previously hinted at but largely left unsavored.

Recast in the mother tongue, one falls even deeper in love with these longtime intimates, and deeper in love with the tongue of Inang Bayan.

For this we owe Pete Lacaba an immeasurable debt of gratitude. And for giving full-throated voice to this, the wonder that is Salinawit, we owe the Tres Marias Filipinas – Lolita Carbon, Cookie Chua, and Bayang Barrios – our love and devotion. – YA/hs, GMA News