my so called music career

We had this party over at 1000 N La Salle and we were playing Rockband. Someone was already holding the lead guitar, the bass guitar and the drums. The mic was just laying on the floor.

Someone picked up the mic and gave it to me since I was the person nearest to the mic who wasn’t eating.

I had the strangest feeling of Déjà vu and my mind went blank for a minute.

Let’s flashback to 2001, when Arn was still Arnold, when he sported a bald look and when he was still of great physique.

It was our friend’s party and we decided to form a temporary band and play her favorite songs. One played the guitar since he had guitar lessons back in grade school. One played the drums since his brother had a set and one played bass since he thought it was really cool. I had no idea how to play any of the instruments and so guess who got the mic.

It was my childhood dream to play for a band especially since I grew up loving alternative and grunge music, mostly Nirvana and Guns N Roses

We practiced for weeks, memorizing chords, beats and we played well during the party. We had so much fun that we decided to play on. We held bi-monthly practices, took individual trainings and played in our other friends’ parties. We released an “album” which sold 8 copies. The band was named “The Arnold Band” which started as a joke until it stuck.

Life was happy. Despite all the usual college challenges, band life for me was extremely happy and satisfying. For me, I started out my site and named it ArnoldRocks to chronicle my band life, our gigs and any bit of news.

After a few years, we decided to take it to the next step and play semi-professionally (semi since it was still an on a side thing and we played more for experience than for money). We changed the name of the band. We played in small unknown places near Paranaque for free as opening acts. It was great, but something was off. Something was wrong and yet no one in the band minded, except for me. One day we had an audition and some talent manager pointed out our problem. That same problem we all knew but refused to talk about. Our lead guitarist was already great since day one. Our drummer received lessons from his older brother and was fast developing. Our bassist has shown steady improvement throughout those months. The spotlight was on the lead singer.

He sucked.

He was fat.

He didn’t have any stage presence.

He wasn’t talented and wasn’t even good looking.

The band was held back by this guy. I stood there quietly as I heard more and more criticisms but I wasn’t listening anymore. I just remember nodding and giving out fake smiles and laughs. See, I knew about this after our first few practices. While they all grew into great musicians, I was showing no improvements. I had little practice. I couldn’t afford voice lessons. By the time I did, it didn’t matter anymore.

It wasn’t my personal failure that really hurt. It was the thought that I let my friends down that felt excruciating.

After that audition, we went to our old practice room but no one sang anymore. I was outside, smoking near a drainage ditch. They were my band mates, but as agreed since we first formed, we were friends first, band mates second, businessmen third. They defended me and told me the band will only have me as the front man. I was too hurt and ashamed to go on. I left the band against their wishes.

To quote a phrase from my journal entry at that time: “No one must walk away from their childhood dream. No one.”

Years passed and the band eventually got their new singer but eventually disbanded once they graduated from college.


Head back to 2008 when “Arnold” evolved into “Arn”, grew even fatter and now sports a menacing long hair and goatee. Imagine the feeling of holding a mic again, with your drummer behind you, lead guitarist to your right and bassist on the left. I know Rockband was just a game but it sure opened old wounds.

It took a minute before that blank stare on my face turned into a big smile

Things change. Time heals all wounds. I’ve already accepted what happened to my so called music career. It didn’t matter to me anymore that people used to boo me for having a singing voice like a drowning cat. I still have my greatest fan. I sing for her and my songs make her smile. She told me she listens to the songs I recorded for her and how it made her happy.

So maybe Jaye has an unusual interest for the sound of drowning cats. Who knows?

But for me, she was all that mattered.