Many, many years ago, in headier, arguably happier, certainly in less than end times, us were as old or felt so old, when the apocalypse was not as peeking around the corner as it is now, I wrote a tiny piece about The Brockas that began with this bit of run-on blather: “The Brockas are… and that’s the point where you stop, the point where the futility of trying to break down what The Brockas are musically with any measure of sobriety hits you, sober being the last thing that comes to mind when you hear that freeform psychedelia they make, not to say that it sounds drunken and shambolic, not to say that it doesn’t either.” A few bands fit that whole “writing about music is like dancing for architecture” maxim quite like The Brockas, because words still trip on their own erudition in trying to nail the chaos they make.
Heretic, disruptive, invasive. Punk jazz, psych-fusion, noise disco, demento-folk, mutant kundiman, no wave pop.
Dancing about architecture, yeah.
Khavn Dela Cruz (known as Khavn), Lav Diaz, and Roxlee are the band’s current lineup— also the band’s OG lineup — and their “main egos” being Bembol Brocka, Pugot Brocka, and Akira Brocka, respectively. For all the changeling ferocity of their music, The Brockas have been ferociously consistent everywhere else: in their politics, sense of humor, embrace of the absurd, annihilation of form, logistic randomness, revolving door membership. At some point, The Brockas counted among their members Alexis Tioseco (Curly Joe Brocka), Kidlat Tahimik (Kulog Brocka), and even Khavn’s own children. Many other past members are out there in the wild. “Si Tae Brocka nasa Berlin,” Khavn says. “Si Adonis Brocka nasa Japan. ‘Yong panganaykong anak, si Ate Brocka.”
“Si Jim Jarmusch gustong maki-jam sa amin,” Khavn adds.
“Si Gael Garcia Bernal gusto din maki-jam. Gitarista din kasi siya,” says Diaz of the Magellan actor.
“Pwede siyang si Tambien Brocka,” says Khavn.
Everyone laughs, skeptical about the veracity of these claims.
But Khavn adds, “Everyone can be a Brocka. You can be a Brocka!”
The conversation is a part free-form ramble, part podcast banter, part drunken conversation, part jazz. It whiplashes and werewolfs as wildly and rabidly as their music tends to do, into various modes and tangents, shifting tones and registers, from drunk-as-fuck jokery to political snark to outright mythmaking to high-minded seriousness, but always interrupted by loud blasts of boisterous laughter. This piece probably should come with a laugh track.
Anyone who’s been to any of their gigs or listened to any of their records will be familiar with this mischievous ambivalence, this seesawing between a straight face and a snicker, this gnawing sense of not knowing if they’re dead serious or taking the piss or both. It’s precisely in the not knowing where their quintessence lies.
Nag-iiba ba ‘yong tugtog ‘pag nag-iiba‘yong members?
Khavn: Oo naman! Nag-ko-contribute lahatng sariling energy, ‘yong musikero, ‘yong audience…
Diaz: May aakyat na nobelista babasahin‘yong nobela niya; mga performance artist,may nagpapa-apoy. Ganda ng epekto, suma-sama ‘yong tao.
Pero paano nga nagsimula ang Brockas?
Khavn: Bangungot! Nagsimula sa bangungot ng bayang ito!
Diaz: Galing sa mga “Anak ni Brocka.” Nagka-kape kami sa bandang Morato one night. Inumaga ang kwentuhan. [Napag-isipan namin] “O, gawa tayo ng banda.” Tapunan ng pangalan. Ayun, “Anak Ni Brocka.” Tapos, The Brockas.
Khavn: Para siyang speculative na biro. Kasi si [Lino] Brocka nga queer. Pero what if closet macho pala siya? Marami siyang inanakan.
Diaz: Ang lalim ng layunin agad. Wala pang nagagawang album.
Khavn: ‘Yong unofficial-official first gig namin, 2004. Pero ‘yong totoo, 1969 pa kami.
Ano nangyari dun sa gap between 1969 and 2004?
Khavn: Missing years. Parang si Kristo.
Diaz: ‘Yong kasaysayan ng Brockas, parang Genesis sa Bible. The Big Fuck. You talk about Genesis, tungkol lang naman sa malaking titeng mundo yan e. Kung paano ginawa ang tao. ‘Yan din ang genesis ng Brockas.
Khavn: Meron kasing — medyo secret lang ‘to— kulto sa Sampaloc, Quezon, bagama’t hindi tanyag pero mas makapangyarihan ‘to kaysa El Shaddai. So nagpulong-pulong ‘yong mga shaman ng kultong ‘to, na hindi ko pwedeng bigkasin ang pangalan. This was around 1967, sabi nila kailangang lumikha ng isang super-band na magliligtas sa Pilipinas.
Diaz: Sampaloc, Quezon ‘yong isa sa mgabayan na walang magnanakaw.
Diaz: Pero hindi krimen sa kanila ‘yong nam-bubugbog ng asawa. Everything is a myth. Mula pa sa pagdating ni Magellan. Si Sara Duterte darating na, magdiwang tayo nang lulugmok ang bayan. ‘Yan ang pinagdiriwang natin: paglugmok ng bayan.
Read the full story and more in the Arts and Culture issue of Rolling Stone Philippines. Order a copy on Sari-Sari Shopping, or read the e-magazine here.
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