Frens de la Musique
community
/ kə-ˈmyü-nə-tē / noun
A unified body of individuals: such as an interacting population of various kinds of individuals in a common location.
scene
/ sēn / noun
A sphere of activity.
show
/ shō / noun
To present as a public spectacle.
The band scene is where my favorite things surround me at the same time: music, live entertainment, laughter, and the kind of new person who stops feeling new by the end of the night. Right now, only one piece is missing from the center of that Venn diagram. I hope one day my son becomes perfectly comfortable standing there with me, experiencing these things as I introduce him to my world. Until then, the center remains open.
For years, Fête de la Musique was a staple of that experience. The word Fête literally means a celebration or a festival, and for the longest time, it was exactly that—a celebration of beautiful music. But over time, Fête grew into a massive "event." The sheer volume of the crowds became staggering. I reached a point where dealing with that level of claustrophobia and the overwhelming amount of people was no longer something I wanted to navigate as a spectator. I stepped away because the physical toll of just being on those grounds became too stressful.
So I drew a line: if I was ever going to subject myself to that many people again, it wouldn't be just to stand on the floor and endure the crowd. The energy required to be in that massive space can only be recharged if I am performing as well. The sheer energy of a crowd reacting to my songs is rejuvenating. Seriously, I think I shed my gray hair when I'm on the mic. The only way back into Fête for me is if I am on the stage, contributing to the collective energy of the room.
But when I packed up and moved to Laguna late last year, that equation was put to the absolute test...
The physical distance from the vibrant band scene I used to run with felt like a heavy isolation. And after another wasted weekend talking to ChatGPT, I could feel my social battery overcharging — so much that it lit a fire under me: find or create a scene here.
The initial search was bleak. The local Facebook groups were littered with sterile, transactional gig-economy posts: "LF: fvox... 700 tf" or "guitarist here, looking for gig." Don't get me wrong, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the transactional gig scene; it serves its purpose, and I’d gladly support their shows if they actually posted them. But they rarely did. In fact, when I posted one Saturday afternoon just looking for a live show to go watch, I didn't get a single response. It was a network centered entirely around "hire me," not "let's connect." It lacked the pulse I craved. I was running out of hope.
Then came a trip to Davao in February for a Budots show my friend Cheekie was covering. Cheekie is a brilliant writer and social media manager in Davao City, and before heading to the main event, she pulled me into a small gathering at The Green House Cinema for a secret screening of an Oscar-nominated movie. There, I met the owners, Bagsi and Melona, and a hilarious director named Nikko—all people heavily involved in the Davao film scene. Somehow, within hours, I convinced them to let me play my songs for them the very next day.
After that, we bounced to the Budots show with DJ Love, one of the pioneers of the genre and a son of Davao, at an industrial-chic bar down the street called Chiang Mai. There, the circle expanded into a whirlwind of local musicians, writers, visual artists, and even business owners. Everyone I met that night was so lovely, friendly, and fiercely supportive of each other. As I observed these new friends throughout the night, I felt a sharp stream of jealousy in my veins. This was the vibrant, organic community I was missing in my new home—the exact kind of environment I wanted my son to grow up around.
DJ Love, Pepper, Orkid, Cheekie, and myself having the time of our lives at Chiang Mai
📸 Cheekie Albay
Cheekie mentioned that when she moved to Davao over ten years ago, it barely existed. So I jokingly told her, "Ikaw pala nag tayo ng eksena dito eh haha," mostly to give her a little well-deserved credit, but it was also kind of true. And that's when the lightning struck: If the scene doesn't exist where you are, you have to build it.
I came back to Laguna excited and began working on Medyo Lang Folk Fest II. And just like the lightning that struck me in Davao, the Universe was just as quick to respond.
Returning to the same Facebook group, I searched instead of posting. I typed in "Original" and then I found Rowe. I messaged her about the show, to which she expressed excitement. We included her friend Jowi Bao to join the lineup with me and Vier Barreiro. I quickly found out Rowe was an artist of Zero Six Production, and as soon as I got to speak to her in person, I found out she also founded Estrelya Music. Both organizations are responsible for promoting and creating shows in the area.
Rowi playing at the Medyo Lang Folk Fest II
📸 Charlie Doom
Then, after posting the event on Facebook, Asha from Allied Arts Hub reached out, a group I had unwittingly already crossed paths with before at an All Out Industries event. The isolated lines were finally connecting. I didn’t have to write a symphony, I just had to find the orchestra.
Which brings us to right now. Fête de la Musique 2026 is officially happening, and the Laguna leg is taking over Z Restobar in Sta. Rosa on June 27, Saturday, starting early at 11:00 AM.
Estrelya Music has lined up a full-day celebration of raw South creativity. The floor is going to be packed with a diverse multi-genre onslaught, featuring a heavy roster of full bands, indie staples, and lyrical acoustic sets—including a slot for yours truly under Charlie Doom.
I am walking into that space with a profound sense of purpose. I'm no longer just looking to entertain a small, isolated group of friends. When I look toward that stage for next year, the goal is to be up there entertaining several groups of friends. A unified body of individuals interacting with other individuals in a common location, enjoying a presented public spectacle in a sphere of activity.
In building this community with the right people, I hope the future generations, my son's generation, get to enjoy this as much as I enjoyed my time before in my 20s.
