Keeping the show going: How the new normal altered the life of an alternative music artist
For alternative musician Tusa Montes, producing music in the “new normal” means filming for hours on end, creating tracks and editing videos to be played before a crowd — now reduced to tiny, framed faces.
“Recording is time-consuming. It is a tedious process. And sometimes nakakapagod,” laments the artist.
“When you’re playing, you’re just jamming and you’re not thinking about anything. But, you know, once you’re in front of a camera and hit the record button, mas nakaka-conscious na, and it really becomes a different element altogether,” Montes adds.
As the long-haul COVID-19 pandemic placed the local music scene on a crushing standstill, artists and musicians are left with no choice but to traverse the uncharted territory of the virtual world just to make ends meet.
“The gig scene now, whether we like it or not, is happening online. And not everybody is comfortable with that. Actually, just to do anything online is a little more exhausting compared to just going to the venue and perform[ing],” Montes admits.
Montes is a member of Brigada, the premiere Afro-Brazilian percussion ensemble in the Philippines, who has been around for almost 16 years. She also plays for acoustic fusion band Anahata — named after the Indian heart chakra — for about seven years.
But even with such ample experience in the music industry, she still struggles to continue being active and keep the show going — a situation that many local musicians find themselves in.
Producing music in isolation
Before the lockdown, Montes used to perform and teach in various projects, concerts, and festivals within and outside the country. Now, she could only play her music inside the confines of her room and make do with what she has.
“I do have to modify a lot of things like if I want to showcase a traditional kulintang ensemble, I can’t do that because besides the fact that I don’t have a complete set of instruments, the players can’t come together and meet face to face,” says the percussionist.
Montes recalls how it took her almost three weeks to collaborate with other musicians and produce a single video for a percussion festival organized by the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP).
“It would have been easier if magkita-kita na lang kami in one space, either a studio or somebody’s house and just film it,” she shares. “I remember one of the musicians there was telling me, ‘Can I just submit it tomorrow because I’m really tired today?’”
Due to her limited resources, Montes resorts to technology to produce a quality performance that is close to a live gig. “There’s a bunch of apps that I’m using to improve the sound and enhance it a bit na it’s almost the same quality as recording in a professional studio,” she says.
But she could not deny that “nakaka-miss ‘yung engagement, nakaka-miss ‘yung interaction, when you’re actually jamming with a person [and] looking at him or her face to face. Iba pa rin ‘yung pakiramdam.”
“We’re really just trying our best to replicate that [live performance], but it’s not as close to being on-site and jamming,” the musician adds with such sentimentality in her tone.
This ineluctable shift to cater and meet the demands of online gigs is a common tune for most artists in the local music scene, according to Montes.
“I’ve heard some stories, how even the top session musicians, you know, that they’re used to playing the songs that they play. [Pero] pagdating sa ganitong virtual setup na ginagawa natin, nagkakamali pa rin sila. And it can really be very exhausting,” says the artist.
Making ends meet
Montes harks back to the last time she interacted with a live audience in March this year when she performed at a coffee shop in Paco Park, Manila. Even though the encounter was short-lived, she says that “it was fun to finally play with actual people.”
However, this experience won’t be happening anytime soon for many artists as music spaces and gig locations have been forced to shut their doors amid the pandemic. Quarantine restrictions have rendered local music venues silent and unoccupied.
Route 196 in Quezon City is just one of the many local music spots which has announced its closure for good. “I used to play there, we used to play there together. Brigada did a couple of gigs there. And unfortunately, they had to shut down,” Montes conveys.
For the alternative and independent scene, bidding farewell to local performing spaces not only means losing regular gigs, but also parting with their homes where many of them first honed their craft of performing.
“I think the good thing about these places is like somehow, from the most famous local act of the night to the up-and-coming [young artists], mafe-feel mo na equal and intimate ‘yung engagement,” Montes says.
Montes considers herself lucky for maintaining a teaching post in UP Diliman College of Music which pays her regularly. Unfortunately, many artists, whose bread and butter is performing full-time, had to temporarily leave their instruments behind and venture into other sources of income.
“Most of my musician friends now are thinking of [and] are doing alternatives. Some people are even selling their gear na, sad to say, like their instrument or whatever because halos di naman din nagagamit ngayon,” Montes discloses.
Since the creative industry is the last thing on the minds of the government in such precarious times, according to Montes, local musicians have to endure the weight of gaining less income just to get by.
Hopeful tune ahead
“I think, even after the lockdown, somehow the future will be okay,” Montes says of the local music scene’s situation post-pandemic.
Of course, the future will not be as bright as before, notes the musician, but she remains optimistic. “I think the music will continue to play no matter what. I mean, the music is always gonna be there,” she believes.
Deprived of any physical interaction, Montes could not help but fret over her situation at certain moments, asking herself point blank, “What else am I going to do?” And sometimes the only thing that makes sense for her is practicing or playing her music.
Montes says the same of other musicians who are mostly unemployed, but still keep producing content online. “So, I think somehow everything will fall into place at some point. I’m hopeful in that sense,” states the percussionist.
For now, Montes is working with ethnomusicologist and performing artist Grace Nono, whose work focuses on traditional Filipino chanting, in developing programs that would allow local musicians to teach their music via Zoom.
But even though live streaming and online gigging benefit artists in terms of audience engagement as social media reaches the international scene, Montes still clings to the sliver of hope that someday, she could return and perform in her beloved music venues brimming with noise and thriving with immeasurable energy from gig-goers.
“Just being there in the crowd. That kind of intimacy. I think people are hungry for that now,” affirms the artist.
“I’m hoping this new normal is temporary,” Montes adds.
This article was originally written in June 2021 for a J111 Feature Writing class under Prof. Rachel Khan.
