Seated at the center of Route 196’s tiny stage, the singer-songwriter
began tuning his guitar and in between this meticulous ceremony, he asked the
few remaining people if they were already tired or if they were still OK.
It’s almost 3 a.m.
Perhaps, he meant to tell it to himself. He came from a long
gig at a different venue also in Quezon City.
But regardless, he managed to give the intimate crowd a heartfelt
show. He was a natural named Bullet Dumas.
He sings—and talks
Dumas told the few ones—around 20 or so of them—who waited
for him that they can sit on the floor if they felt like it.
“Ako ang (mag)-cool down ng gabi ninyo (I will cool down your night),” said the closing act
of “The Rest is Noise 14” live gig last September 10 at Route 196. It was
staged by Vandals on the Wall, one of the leading producers in the local indie
music scene today.
And then right after performing his first song “Ikaw,” he sought
the comments of the audience if he came too loud for them. “Hindi ba crispy (ang tunog)?”
“Crisp!” someone from the crowd kindly corrected.
“Crispy. Masarap kasi
e!” he answered heartily eliciting laughter from everyone. That was just the first of many witty and
funny adlibs thrown all throughout his performance.
He also explained each song, whether who it was written for,
or why the lyrics were written as such. And that all that he played were
different from the ones played at his earlier gig.
In another honest instance, the artist asked everyone if
they had a pair of scissors. One of his tuning pegs was damaged from overuse that
he wanted to just cut off the guitar string.
Obviously frustrated by the dilemma, Dumas kept apologizing
despite noting, “Sabi nila, hindi daw
dapat mag-sorry (ang artist) sa stage (They say, artists shouldn’t be
saying sorry while on stage).
“Sorry.”
His avid listeners who regularly follow his gigs would know
that this was the usual Dumas: an engaging kind of talkative.
He always had a way with words, which was even more evident
in his songwriting.
Slow set
With a set of slow songs in mind for the gathering deep into
the night, Dumas played a beautiful medley of three songs beginning with “Awit
at Liriko,” a micro-song about pretty much what the title was.
The second titled “Pahinang Ito” was something personal for
it was written for his late mother. He put on the shoe of a friend who saw her
friend’s name in the obituary.
It was about loss but the requiem was nothing but tragic. He
sang how one obituary can be ordinary to most but for that friend, the fonts
were so beautiful. Just like the beautiful soul that was now lost.
“These songs usually take long to finish and oftentimes
result in numerous versions before it is good to go. I tend to let the songs
‘ripen’ by themselves. I critique my work a lot that’s why my music writing
takes a lot of time,” he expressed in an artist biography written by the
Francis “Brew” Reyes, Filipino music legend.
In the same story, he admitted that “love—or the lack of it”
was also a favorite theme in his songs. Just like that song where he hummed “La la la la” in the beginning only to be
replaced by “Malala na” in the end.
Different folk
Google published articles about him online and many have
likened him to some of the Philippines’ most distinguished folk artists namely
Joey Ayala, Gary Granada, and Cynthia Alexander.
But Dumas’ folk was progressive and contemporary. In an
article posted at manila.coconuts.co,
his style was described to be filled with “nice guitar chops, unusual time
measurements, different vocal phrasings, and random tunings.”
And although his set for The
Rest is Noise 14 was described as slow, his unique sound—produced by only
two machines: his vocal chords and acoustic guitar—still came through.
Even Coldplay’s “The Scientist” was stripped of its originality
and became distinctly Dumas: raw.
This was even obvious in “Two Thirds Sensible,” which was
erratic just like his other upbeat and fast songs. It was actually a deviation from
the previously played songs because according to him, he could not remember
playing his original choice.
“Nasira ‘yong slow
set ko. Nagpapaka-Johnoy Danao pa naman ako (My slow set was ruined. Just
when I’m trying to be Johnoy Danao)!”
(Danao is fellow acoustic artist and good friend of his.
Together with Ebe Dancel, a mainstream singer-songwriter, the trio is
collectively known as 3D.)
But he had to make do. It did not matter what song, no one
complained.
Still the humbled performer, he looked everyone in the eye
and said his thanks before firing away like speeding bullet.
(Photos are mine and taken using Fujifilm X-E1)
