I remember a striking remark Aldus Santos once made about criticism during a webinar (eek) some time ago: "Your first impression of anything is shit." Also, how criticism is basically airing out your "endurances" to the public. I think these especially ring true for music and for all of the myths we make surrounding our favorite artists and albums. That's why we cringe (not abhor) at the music of our early teens or we meticulously churn out playlists for every friend, mood, Zodiac sign, etc.
But going back to this book...it's banger after banger. Admittedly, I'm not well-versed in Santos' critical work, but I did find out mid-read that he fronts The Purplechickens. (Stream Wala.) Growing up, I've always wanted to forge a path in music, having been exposed to band culture in my teen years. But I was more enamored with reading Pitchfork/The Guardian/Rolling Stone reviews of my musical heroes rather than emulating the very thing they do that I loved very much. (Wish I could be like Santos, basically.) Going off tangent here, but again “criticism is autobiographical.”
There’s so much wisdom from Santos in this collection of flash criticism. So many great and mind-tickling metaphors like literal ang taba ng utak niya. I was nodding and chuckling throughout the read because #relate. It also got me thinking about the (non)state of music criticism in the PH: where is it? It’s not as flourishing as film criticism or even taught in schools like literary criticism. Besides Flying Lugaw, I don’t know if I’m just too closed off, but this is something that has always been in the back of my mind made more prominent by Santos’ prudent treatises here.
Going out with a banger with Santos' advice on stanning our idols: “Find your saint, dog that saint for as long as you can, and give them hell.”
If I was one of those people who highlighted favorite passages in their books my copy would’ve been fluorescent by the time I ended it. I loved everything, and I wish I could write something like this someday. Phrases like: “Surrendering to Metal is volunteering for a pummeling”, or “Words are Vanilla: the first refuge of infants and the last of giants” on Jazz. Its wisdom towards a craft you’ve been doing for so long, written like a weary resignation, but with love and metaphors that just massages your brain in a good way. God I love it when I read a book that makes me feel cool just reading it.