I’ve often wondered how a certain song can reduce even the most callous of men to tears. If physical pain, that direct way of encouraging the tear ducts to produce water, can be endured, what chance can a little sound wave have? I find it hilarious that men turn to putty with just a phrase or a line of a song. I mean, give me a break! How can something that’s intended to tickle the eardrum be used as an excuse to burst into tears? I thought people who actually cry when listening to whatever music they listen to are being overly melodramatic. Or so I thought.
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A night out of town changed that. Specifically a night in Loboc town, home of the world renowned Loboc Children’s Choir. Our teambuilding facilitators, by some inspired move pulled a magic trick out of their somewhat bottomless hat and arranged a private audience with these little kids. Just when I was getting fed up with the sunrise-to-almost-midnight activities they subjected us to, they delivered a masterstroke which had me quivering in the palm of their capable hands.
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All my misgivings, all my resentments, melted in time with the magic that these little kids were doing to songs I have often heard and have always taken for granted. These were no primadonnas, in fact they would most definitely fit the profile of kids who sell ilang-ilang in the polluted streets of Manila. But that night, garbed in their simple filipiniana costumes, they held everyone’s heart in their hands. They tugged at our heartstrings willing us to silence, then to applause. They took us to heights with voices we never thought were capable of a wide range of emotions; voices that took us to the depths of despair then to the rarefied fields of exaltation.
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When the initial strains of the classic Sa Ugoy ng Duyan sounded, I was in near-panic. I have heard what they can do to simple songs and felt their effect on my emotions. Imagine what that song can do. I wanted to get out of there and be back for the next number, but I found that I couldn’t. It was as if they had control over my entire being, and I could only sit there, helpless.
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Almost everyone was wiping their own private tears when the choir finished with that number. And while I remained true to my masculine image, I had to hold my breath for almost the entire song, knowing that with each breath I expel, there’s the imminent danger of my breaking down like everyone else around me.
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After all the songs have been sung, everyone was standing up and applauding, as if brought to shore, awakened– from a seemingly unreal dream.