In the glam room before Barbie Almalbis’ shoot, I asked the singer-songwriter about her appearance on When We Danced, a photo book by nightlife photographer Eddie Boy Escudero whose images chronicle Manila’s hedonistic rave scene of the ‘90s. The book features images of wide-eyed dancers alongside now-prominent figures in Philippine culture — many from the music scene, then just fresh-faced dreamers passing time in the night.
In Almalblis’ photo, she sports a black and white trucker hat; her arms are spread open to her sides as if to point to her oversized shirt of the English electronic music band Depeche Mode. “It was at a Halloween party,” Almalbis recounts, “That was my tamad outfit. I was dressed as one of my friends.”
Almalbis rose to prominence in 1996 as the vocalist and lead guitarist of the folk-inspired Hungry Young Poets, as well as Barbie’s Cradle in 1998. Despite its brief two-year run, Hungry Young Poets — composed of Almalbis, bassist Ricci Gurango, and drummer Franklin Benitez — became a highly influential band of the ‘90s Philippine alternative rock scene, emerging alongside Eraserheads, Rivermaya, and Parokya ni Edgar. With their raw energy and defiance, these bands embodied an unapologetic “rakista” spirit that, by some accounts, defined the irreverence of this era.
Photo by Eddie Boy Escudero
Photo by Jake Verzosa
But Almalbis insists this rakista persona isn’t that deep. “We just liked music,” she said in the latest episode of Rolling Stone Philippines’ The Rolling Stone Interview. “Of course, nag-party din kami pero hindi naging central ‘yun sa music making namin.”
Almalbis has been pursuing her solo career since 2005 and her fifth studio album, Not That Girl, marks her latest milestone — a journey we explore in the latest episode of The Rolling Stone Interview. We’ve compiled excerpts from Almalbis’ interview, where she reflects on her diverse inspirations as a singer-songwriter and guitarist — from religion and friendship to art — and how music remains deeply interwoven in her life and career. For the full interview, visit Rolling Stone Philippines’ YouTube channel.
Gear Acquisition Syndrome
“I was a pedal head for a few years. It started with my brother and my bandmate, Karel [Honasan]. I started with Boss pedals. When I started gigging in ’96, I had two, then it became three, then five. Around 2006, I was like, ‘Karel, I’m so bored with my guitar sound. Is there anything out there?’ I didn’t know there was an entire world of pedal heads. He told me, “Check mo yung mga Moog pedals or Electro-Harmonix.” Then I started going to the internet and it was like an endless vortex. Everyday I’d wake up, the first thing I’d do is go to the forums to see what new pedal is out there. It lasted for four or five years. It was addicting. [They call it] GAS or gear acquisition syndrome. A part of it, honestly, is shopping addiction. Because there’s that boost of dopamine. I had to end this cycle of buying new pedals, because I always ended up with the same one — like the Boss Blues Driver, which I’ve had since either 2002 or 2003. It’s one of my most dependable ones.”
“Then there’s another pedal that came into my life in 2017 or 2018. Napaka-important siya sa akin. It’s a pedal called a Zoia. It’s a computer and modular system. You know those things with the rack with the wall and cables? So it’s all of that condensed into a pedal. You can build anything you can think of. There’s a community online of people who use it and if I build something, I can upload it and you can download it. So, that ended my GAS.”
Friendship is Underrated
“Baka hindi naman pwede na lahat na sobrang love mo ay kailangan i-relationship? Pwede ba love lang? … It’s so important to me now. We can be lonely because we feel like the only way to have a deep relationship is romance. But I feel like we have so many chances of finding real friends. That part of our heart that’s longing for that. We need friends. We need people who love us deeply.”
Art Beyond Utility
“There’s something about art being used in a context that is utilitarian — meaning, ‘Hey, let’s write a song because we want to do it for this purpose. But it doesn’t matter. Basta nagawa mo at nasabi mo yung message.’ Everything else is secondary. That’s why you see some movies and think, ‘Why is it bad?’ Because it only served one purpose, [and] it neglected the other side.”
“In terms of being a Christian and worship [music], I find that all those aspects, not just the words — although that’s at the center and very important — but the notes, the colors, the cropping… Everything can be worship to God. You can make an instrumental song and it can be worship as well. Matanggal lang ang divide na this is purposeful and this is art. Yung backdrop natin na may Bible verse diyan. Okay lang, kahit ano, basta may art. [Because] God bothered to make all different flowers, He bothered to make all these beautiful things that don’t have His name on it. It’s like everything in creation is worship to Him. He cares about colors, He cares about notes.”
The “Alternative” in Alternative Rock
“I just did it. It’s not something you do on purpose. If you do it on purpose, it’d be weird. Like, “Oh, I’m alternative!” No! You just do it. I was in college, but I loved writing songs so in accounting class, I’d be writing songs. So maybe that’s a bit alternative. [Laughs] Maybe it would seem like I did some rebellious things, but I wasn’t really trying to rebel. I was just trying to follow my interests. If it was a bit different from people at the time, maybe that’s why.”
Being a “Rakista”
“Before, kailangan medyo rebelde ka to fight for what you really want. You’d have to haggle with the label to get the song you want. So, being a rakista, I think, is that: It’s fighting for the music you believe in. Sa akin, ‘yon yung meaning niya. Ngayon, nakikita ko, everybody is doing that. And I’m so happy as a music fan kasi nakikita ko ang scene. People are just doing music they love, and they feel supported to do it. Those rakistas are now the label heads, right? So you feel like they’re on your side now as an artist. I’m sure there are still struggles, and ewan ko na kung ano yung mga bagong struggles ngayon, but back then, it was like that. They had more control. So, you have to stick it out. You have to fight or find another way to really persist.”
Photography by Jake Verzosa
