The Highs and Lows of Life in a Filipino Cover Band
Filipino cover bands have become an ingrained part of bars worldwide, from Middle Eastern hotel lounges and luxury Pacific cruise liners, to upscale restaurants and salty pubs. Chancing upon one in a Beijing bar may no longer come as a surprise. But what is surprising, is that some of the musicians performing in these bands are extremely talented.
At the German brauhaus Drei Kronen 1308, band-in-residence Eroica take to the stage. Donning bright dresses, skyscraper-high heels, vests and caps (the latter two worn exclusively by bandleader, keytarist and former music professor Pol), the three singers wear warm smiles and dance expressively. The band welcome new customers and bid farewell to those leaving. ‘Happy birthday’ is sung three times (in Chinese).
It’s Saturday night and the Gongti bar is bustling. Friends chatter over sausages and sauerkraut, while a long table of guests sat in front of the slightly elevated stage down pint after pint. At one point, a man from the long table spontaneously jumps onto the stage and dances enthusiastically – if not rhythmically – to the beat. While this is a common and accepted occurrence, the band draw a line at guest singers, explains Yeng, who at 22 is the youngest vocalist of Eroica.
“We’re the only ones singing. There’s no problem with guest dancers as long as there’s no touching. Sometimes we’ll grab their hands [to dance]. There are strategies,” she says.
Eroica performs at DK1308
The crowd is largely subdued but appreciative, praising the band in person between sets. Pol tells us that their repertoire is quite limited but a quick glance at their catalog suggests otherwise. Hundreds of titles are listed under genres including RnB, Slow, Oldies (both Fast and Slow), Retro, Jazz, Rock, Foreign, plus more. As the night progresses they play ‘Love Me Like You Do’ and ‘Country Roads’ as well as a spirited version of ‘Xiao Pingguo’. They even perform a Spanish cover, requested by two Argentineans, who share their thanks afterwards (“Amazing. I was crying. Your Spanish is amazing! Gracias, gracias,” they say, taking one of the singer’s hands into their own). Generally, the band choose songs to suit their crowd.
“If I see young people, then I go for more popular songs, but when I see middle-aged people, it’s 80s songs,” Pol says. “Americans love blues. It’s quite easy to please Japanese or Chinese. The Chinese are happy people.”
The band members personally favor RnB but are open to everything. “Variety,” offers Jen, one of the three singers (and Pol’s wife), before Yeng adds: “If the people enjoy our songs, we are very happy.”
The ubiquity of Filipino cover bands may mean that their wide-ranging musical skills, and heartfelt performances of ‘Bette Davis Eyes,’ are taken for granted by (often) drunk patrons. But it is a lack of opportunity, rather than of talent, that forces musicians from the Philippines, the band explain as they sip warm milk and coffee between sets.
“In the Philippines there are no opportunities – you can’t earn as much money,” says Jen.
“I would earn 150 US dollars a month as a music professor [in the Philippines]” Pol continues. “I told myself I couldn’t do it any longer, so I decided to work abroad. This was in 1995.”
The Philippines has a population of about 100 million people, and while unemployment rates are relatively low, so are wages (when adjusted for purchasing power, an average salary in the Philippines is less than half that of China). So laboring abroad in low-skill, high-demand positions has become an attractive option for many, with roughly 12 million Filipinos living overseas.
Traditionally this has meant construction, hospitality and service staff, but there are also tens of thousands of Filipinos performing as singers and musicians every night, all around the world.
Their musicality seems innate, which may stem from the country’s deep-rooted culture of valuing family and community, says Yeng.
“I inherited my musical talent from my parents,” she says. (“Same in my family too!” chimes Tin, the fourth member of the band.) “Even when you’re a young child, you can sing and dance. I also play guitar, drums and keyboard – I play for my church band.”
Aside from Tin, all of the band’s members regularly attend church on Sundays. Adherence to religion in the Philippines (where over 90 percent of the country identifies as Christian) plays a major part in shaping the country’s music culture: “That’s where I started actually, at church,” Jen recalls.
From colonial times until now, Filipino music has also been influenced by the country’s exposure to many different cultures. Traditional Spanish instruments were popular in the past but, despite a current Spanish-influence revival, it is American pop culture, proliferated during the American occupation, which firmly cemented itself in Filipinos’ musical consciousness. More recently, Korean pop has dominated, explains Yeng.
“Videoke [karaoke] is everywhere in the Philippines. Outside houses there’s a machine. All you have to do is drop a coin in and then sing, with everybody around you watching.”
Eroica have been performing in Beijing, at DK1308, for a year, though Pol and Jen have performed together since 2003 in The Maldives, Japan, Malaysia and Singapore, among other countries. Then, last year, Pol recruited Yeng and Tin to the band. “I decided to add more singers, to make the performance alive,” Pol says.
Having never traveled overseas and only recently finishing her studies in hotel and restaurant management, Yeng was hesitant to join: “At first I ignored their message,” she laughs. “But I chose to follow my passion.”
Eroica vocalists Tin, Yeng and Jen freshen up between sets
Eroica are tireless performers, working six nights a week, with Chinese New Year a sole holiday (“except for the [military] parade – we had that off”). At the end of each night, around 1am, the quartet go home to their shared house and cook dinner together.
“We eat and then we are chatting, chatting, chatting!” says Jen. “By then it’s probably 4 or 5am.”
During downtime the band enjoy shopping, watching movies, eating and socializing with other Filipinos in Beijing. But their busy schedule means there is limited time to explore, and it is uncertain how long the band will remain in the capital.
After a three-month probationary period, contracts with bars typically roll over every six months. “We have a contract but it ends [soon]. We still don’t know if they’re going to [continue to] hire us,” Jen explains. “[The notice period] is one month in advance. But we're still enjoying it here. Not all bands have this kind of opportunity,” Pol adds.
As long as the contract sticks, the show goes on. And while music is their passion, the band harbor other dreams. Apart from Pol, Eroica’s members come from distinctly non-musical professional backgrounds. Tin studied education, while Jen worked as a medical technologist. “Maybe after a few years we won’t want to sing anymore and will want to settle down, marry, and pursue our [studied] professions.”
For now, though, they are satisfied and hopeful. “We are very happy and getting better and better every day. I’m going to be honest with you, this group isn’t really that good,” Pol says humbly. “But we get the attention of the crowd when we sing, and that’s one of the best things about us.”
While the quality may vary between Beijing’s Filipino cover bands, Yeng describes their relationship as one of “friendly competition – we each have our own specialties.” As Eroica start their next set at DK1308, another band have taken to the stage just over a kilometer south, where the red neon sign of Maggie’s bar cuts through the shadows of Ritan Park.
Maggie's Band rehearsal, L-R: Robinson (vocals), Wowie (guitar)
Maggie’s isn’t the sort of place you just stumble upon. Nestled between embassies and downtown Beijing, the bar is, on any given night, home to scores of business – anybody and everybody looking for a good night. Regulars are warmly greeted and taken care of by the staff. Couples converse boisterously while men and women, often alone, line the circular bar, a mountain of liquor bottles shining from its center.
The soundtrack is provided by a six-piece Filipino band, called – rather unimaginatively – Maggie’s Band. It consists of Jimboi (band leader, keyboard), Jun (bass), Wowie (guitar), Weng (drums), Robinson (vocals) and Anne (vocals). The band have only been playing together for six months but if our visit on a Thursday night, (and later to a rehearsal session) is any indication, they are killing it. It helps that Jimboi, Weng and Wowie are old band mates from a prior set-up, and that – apart from Anne, who was enrolled in community college – the band members all have professional musical backgrounds.
“We’re the only full live Filipino band in Beijing, so there’s no pressure [to compete],” Anne tells us during rehearsal. “It’s our advantage,” Jimboi adds.
Indeed, it’s all business on stage, with the members clearly at one with their instruments (or in the case of Robinson and Anne, their voices). During a simple rehearsal of a new cover, ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, we are transported. It’s powerful stuff.
The exact number of Filipino bands in Beijing is unknown, but the owner and manager of Maggie’s, Garry, suggests it’s “about four or five.” Although none of the musicians I speak to can offer a more certain figure, Garry’s estimate seems conservative. But to his credit, he has been in the business for over 15 years, meaning he knows talent when he sees it.
“When I pick a band, I watch each person’s video carefully and give them strict rehearsals,” he says. “People don’t realize, but it’s quite difficult managing a band. [Maggie’s Band] are cooperative, respectful and have a good attitude, so they’re pretty good.”
Maggie's Band members, L-R: Jun (bass), Jimboi (keyboard)
The band members say they are enjoying Maggie’s and life in Beijing, although the environment has proved challenging at times (“It was very difficult to communicate with [Chinese] people early on. We use sign language and a calculator, always the calculator”).
“The weather has been quite different because in the Philippines there is no winter,” says Jimboi.
“I already have a RoboCop look: big jacket, pants and gloves. I’m prepared,” continues Weng, as everyone bursts into laughter.
This happens a lot. Despite their serious demeanor, the group constantly breaks into their mother tongue, giggle and crack inside jokes. So what about performing makes them happiest? “When the crowd is happy,” Anne shares. “When people give us compliments – or tips,” Jimboi offers (cue another eruption of laughter).
Taking a more serious tone, the conversation turns to home. Every member has left a partner or family back in the Philippines.
“It’s very hard to be separated from our families but we sacrifice ourselves because our salary is much better here,” Wowie says softly. “This time it’s not as hard to communicate with family because we have WeChat.”
“Back in 2000, all I could do was write letters,” adds Robinson. “It took a long time and sometimes they came late, weeks or months,”
As the band’s contract allows holidays twice a year, they all plan to make a trip home during the upcoming Chinese New Year. While visibly excited at the prospect, the band aren’t slacking. They, like Eroica, play six nights a week, beginning late (10.30pm or 10.45pm), with four sets apiece. A hard day’s night, then. But as Robinson is quick to point out: “The bottom line is, if you’re enjoying your work, you cannot feel tired.”
Photos by Holly Li
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