RJ Ledesma » Roderick Paulate

Ultraelectromagnetic Bopped

RJ Ledesma — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 15:36:16 +0000

Because I just can’t help but write about the Eraserheads.

Whenever I listen to a ‘hit’ FM radio station, I feel like a musical Neanderthal. I am clueless as to what are those chart-topping songs that are piercing my eardrums. But I am even more clueless when it comes to the bands behind these hit songs. When I hear band names like Fall-Out Boy and My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco, I am unsure as to whether these are band names or movie titles or designer drugs.

Man, how I long for the prehistoric days of the eighties when my world was Rick Astley. During high school dances, I remember how the kikay cheerdancer gossip girl alpha-female with three-feet high hair and padded shoulders would squeal like gutted pigs and drag their siga little mustachioed boytoys with excessive hairgel and nighttime shades to the dance floor and wiggle to the walang kamatayang tracks of “Bizarre Love Triangle”, “The Promise” (NOT the prayer version, thank God), “Sahara Nights” and Mike Francis’ “Let Me In” (some songs are best left to the eighties). But when I asked these nubile young things to the dance floor when the DJs played “Never Gonna Give You Up” while doing my best Roderick Paulate-ized version of the Rick Astley spastic, arm blending dance shuffle, all I received was a sneer from those too-cool-for-school chickadees while the testosterone-addled sigas would take turns using my face to wipe the dance floor. Agh. High school memories repeat on me like bad Chinese food.

But much has changed since I was a sniveling Catholic schoolboy geek who was humiliated on the dance floor. I am no longer a Catholic schoolboy.

And my musical repertoire has broadened since then. Musical heathen that I was, I discovered Sting (Jessica Zafra’s ex-flame) and U2 only after I graduated college. But between Rick Astley and Sting, I was a nomad roaming the eskinitas of musical geek-dom. My carefully guarded mix tape (yes, mix tape, playlists only existed in Steve Jobs’ imagination) of early eighties Gary Valenciano songs, Kalapana, Fra Lippo Lippi, Swing Out Sister, and (deep breath) Jose Mari Chan (Don’t be a hypocrite, I know you can sing ‘Beautiful Girl’ from memory). I was even one of those willing few who relished listening to the Side A band regurgitate cover songs into highly processed cheese at the now defunct Music Hall on Annapolis Street, Greenhills. But God forbid I venture into the former Club Dredd on Edsa, a musical hangout where the regulars would be more than happy to devour me for protein and use my intestines for guitar strings.

Little did I know, if my balls were just an inch wider in circumference back in college, my college mix tape would have been altered irrevocably if I was exposed to the early ultraelectromagnetic music of Ely Buendia, Raimund Marasigan, Buddy Zabala and Marcus Adoro.

We could be sniveling geeks and enjoy the Erasherheads. We could be prissy kolehiyalas and enjoy the Eraserheads. We could be vice-addled basaguleros and enjoy the Eraserheads. Hell, we could be DOMS and enjoy the Eraserheads. And this is because the E-heads carved a laser sword of irreverence into the overly serious beast fighter that was nineties pop music. Manila sound hadn’t been rocked with this much irreverence since The Hotdog band went all bongga on us back in the seventies. The local music scene had mutated once again, and the Eraserheads were the atomic bomb.

Channeling d’late great Yoyoy Villame and d’original bastos Rico J. Puno, the Eraserheads churned out frenetic beats and playful ditties spoke to an entire generation that had grown up amidst the backdrop of ill-conceived coup attempts, natural disasters and a slew of Joey De Leon slash Rene Requiestas movies: From the astig to the baduy. From the cono to the jologs. From the sosyal to the kanto boy. The themes of their songs were as grounded as an electric shock. Our iskolars ng bayan were not just tarantado, they were the God-kings of katarantaduhan. (And how inelegantly perfect that Rico J. crooned ‘Ang Huling El Bimbo’ in their tribute album. Rico was probably the only singer who delivered the song with gravitas, which I hear goes very well with cheese).

The themes of their songs didn’t just reverberate among our generation, they registered on the Richter scale. And when it came to dishing out romance Pinoy-style, they captured our sentiments not in the language of Florante at Laura, but that of John en Marsha. For those of us whose love muscles has been dragged through broken softdrink bottles by scheming vixens, their song ‘O Pare Ko’ was our national anthem. True confessions now: who among you hasn’t warbled this song while in an almost drunken stupor at your neighborhood KTV after being basted by a girl whom you feverishly dedicated six months of your life to (Damn you kikay cheerdancer gossip girl alpha-female with three-feet high hair and padded shoulders)!? Songs like these gave lyrics to the pain of our cavity-filled love lives.

You could daresay that our favorite pencil ends unwittingly sired our current rock scene. After all, these state-bred university boys produced songs that crisscrossed musical genres – from Pinoy rock to alternative rock to pop music to reggae to synth rock. And all their love children owe a debt of gratitude to the band that had the temerity to turn Bahay Kubo into a pop rock song – from the alternative rock banks to the Pogi rockers to the novelty bands and even to the (God forgive them) acoustic acts.

Six years after the band went pudpod, our God-kings have found themselves living with Mongols, returning as pupils, gorging themselves on sandwiches, making cambio, escaping to a planet filled with garapatas, playing with squids, ushering in a new dawn and racing down Markus highway. Yet, despite their attempts to blend incestuously into a scene that they themselves had spawned, our fruitcake-crazy generation were still clamoring for their unique brand of kataranduhan to make a comeback. The tribute album just didn’t cut it. (Well, except maybe for Rico J.)

So on that muggy Saturday evening, thousands of brainwashed pencil ends converged in the Fort to hear the reunion of their favorite pop machines. As the indoctrinated streamed into the venue, many of us were still incredulous that the concert was actually going to take place. This comeback seemed to be as likely as the president stepping down in 2010. After all, the series of events leading up to this one-off affair was melodramatic enough to merit its own teleserye – from an ambiguous break up to conflicting schedules to Ely’s health problems to disappearing concert sponsors to the passing of Ely’s mom. How much more melodramatic could this concert get?

And then they came onstage. Wow. This was going to be rock and roll hanggang umaga.

What would be next? A Sharon-Gabby reunion movie?

Yeah, yeah, so some of us can choose to gripe –that the concert was riddled by technical gaffes or that the band failed to exchange witty banter or that they were merely going through the motions. But, like many of the E-headonists that evening, this reunion concert wasn’t really so much about the band, but more about how the songs of their band told the story of our generation. We’ve all got that primal Eraserheads song that punctuates some point in our mundane young adult lives. Our successes and our failures. Our break ups and our break downs. Our loves and our loves we’ve lost. These were our stories. And our stories converged one night with our story-tellers.

Towards the tail end of the band’s first set, Ely bopped his head so vigorously that his shades toppled from his face while he belted (who woulda thunk it?) ‘Shake Your Head’. His eyes appeared to dilate as he took in the thousands who continued to indulge in his kataranduhan six years after he himself had given it up. “Ang dami n’yo pala. (There’s so many of you)” Ely quipped. As the first set burst to a close, Ely dropped to his knees and slumped on his guitar. After an ominously long twenty minute intermission, Ely’s sister, Lally, swaggered onto the stage and read a hastily prepared message. Ely was rushed to the hospital. Ah, the melodrama of our teleserye lives. How utterly Pinoy. How utterly Eraserheads.

So we didn’t get to dance with Paraluman. We didn’t get to ogle our dirty magasins. We didn’t get to holler ‘letseng pag-ibig ‘to’. We didn’t even see the boys engage in a group hug. But so f&%$#@g what. We had the E-heads on stage, baby. We got our voices back, even if only for fourteen songs.

Ely, Raimund, Buddy and Marcus, we’re waiting for the next set.

Gave it Up

RJ Ledesma — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 08:48:22 +0000

I don't do no shuffle no more, luv.

Rick Astley is stuck in a time warp. And, believe me, I know how that’s like.

Never gonna give you...uhm...up!

: Rick, look! Look! My hair is as aerodynamic as yours!

When I was the favorite toilet plunger of every toughie, siga and topak during my high school days, I would scurry home after school and escape into my Rick Astley 12 inch dance remix while watching his Never Gonna Give You Up video until near-catatonia. Rick was my singing coach, my style icon and my dance instructor. Although Rick will never admit it, nor will he even be aware of it, he and I share a bond, a bond that is almost as deep as the one he shares with Roderick Paulate.

Roderickrolled

How could Rick and I not have a bond? The similarities that run between are uncanny. For example: his career hasn’t progressed since the eighties. Neither has mine. The only difference between us is that he is earning millions in royalties while I have fifteen thousand bottles of de-carbonated Royal Tru-Orange bottles languishing in my basement. Just like Rick, I have managed to maintain my youthful matinee-like features, and we will continue to be insufferably young-looking until some snooping kids find our aging portraits stashed in a time-lock vault. And, to top it all off, our initials both start off with the letter R. So, is that merely coincidence? Or fate? Or dementia? In the second part of our interview with Rick Astley, you be the judge.

HAIRLOOM

RJ Ledesma (a.k.a. a second-rate Roderick Paulate) My dear leader, let’s talk about your style, Before you came along, the only British fashion icon we could blatantly rip off our fashion sense from was Elton John.

Rick Astley (a.k.a. Roderick Paulate of the UK): Me? Style?

Yes! Don’t you realize how many times we wore down our Betamax tapes watching you in the Never Gonna Give You Up MTV? That trenchcoat, those RayBans, those pants that rode all the way up to your bellybutton, where do I even start? Let’s talk about the hair. How do you get your hair to look so aerodynamic all of the time?

It’s a wig! Its weaved from the finest horsehair in North America. (Laugher, followed by a swarm of DOMs badgering Rick on who is his hairpiece supplier) And, with this wig, you can actually be of better use when riding an airplane. It’s fantastic!

But Rick, there was one phase in your career where you actually grew out your hair! And my world and the rest of Pinoy preppy fashion-dom was shattered. Which demon possessed you?

Well, to be honest, I just wanted to try out something new, you know. Then I went back to the hairstyle I have right now.

Thank God, all the spray net I had hoarded did not go to waste. We noticed how dapper you always looked in all of your videos. After you wore a trenchcoat in your MTV, I could finally walk around in Manila in a trenchcoat and not be mistaken as an exhibitionist. You were the very first metrosexual man! I am sure that David Beckham considers you his spiritual descendant.

I was just going to say, David Beckham would probably sue me for that (Laughter). You know what’s funny? When Never Gonna Give You Up was released and it looked like the song was on its way to number one on the charts, the producers said, ‘My God, we’ve got to make a video of this if this song’s going to go to number one!’ But nobody told me what I was going to wear for the video. Nobody said ‘Oh, we’re going to style you this way or that way!’ And I brought a rain coat with me to the shoot because it was raining. When I turned up at the shoot, I had a on black turtleneck coat and that’s what I wore for the video. And you know what? Some little kid stole that raincoat off me in Northern Ireland.

Damn that little kid and the millions of pounds he will make by after auctioning off your trenchcoat on E-Bay.

DANCE FEVER

Rick, you redeemed our faith in the ability of white men to dance. Just how did you develop your dance moves? You know that one step two step to the side with the simultaneous arm flailing? Were your dance moves the result of Mexican jumping beans in your knickers? Or an uneven bone structure? Or leg injury?

I actually had strings attached to my arms and my legs, and there was a guy pulling my strings.

Wow, you have something in common with many of our administration congressmen! Were there also choreographers behind the camera screaming at you, “Okay sunshine, step to the right! Now step to the right again! And then snap your fingers! Twirl those arms of yours! Twirl them harder, you git!”

I think it was just pure fear, to be honest with you. It was probably because all the cameras were trained on me and it was live tv. The director would shout, ‘Ok Rick, dance for us now!’. Then I told myself, I’ll make it up as I go along. So I just shuffled around a bit and see how they like it.

Wow, and people have been aping your fear-induced dance moves ever since.

Well then, people are crazy (Laughter).

At least it wasn’t as crazy as grabbing your crotch and singing in falsetto. You don’t know how many times that dance move sent me to our guidance counselor.

LIES MY WIKIPEDIA TOLD ME

According to your Wikipedia entry, you once changed your professional name to Ricardo Bocanegra as a tribute to your Mexican parents. So, do you plan to repackage yourself as a Latino singer?

I can categorically say that that is a myth!

So, you’re not Mexican?

I don’t think so. No.

Filipino?

No. I am probably more Viking than anything else.

That’s too bad, I thought you were going to be the British Julio Iglesias. All you need to do is just expose more chest hair. Hmmm, when you sing you have this really deep baritone voice. Are you sure you’re not black either?

Uhm..No.

Not even any of your body parts?

Well, obviously I’ve been influenced by a lot of great black American singers. It’s the kind of music that I grew up with. You know, for every great single out there, they often pinch things from other people. For me, I liked to pinch things from those great black American singers.

I never realized how much pinching was going on in the music scene. How do you develop a deep voice like yours? Were you born with it? Did you do vocal exercises? Did you do weight training for your testicles?

I used to smoke and drink a lot when I was about five years old. So, all you kids out there, start smoking and drinking as soon as you can!

Thank you Rick, I’ll make sure to pass that advice on to the participants of Little Big Star.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

Among all of your songs, is there any song that you’d probably want to choke on your own tongue before you sing it again?

Not really. It’s been such a long time since I’ve done something like this that it’s really just good memories for me now. It would’ve been different if I’d just been singing these songs continuously for the past fifteen years. Then I would’ve been bored out of my mind. But because I haven’t done this thing for the past fifteen years, it’s kind of nice to do it again.

Yes, I agree. Its always good to do Rick Astley again after fifteen years. Have you ever watched one of your old videos, and then after watching it, wanted to find the most painful way to shoot yourself?

Well, yeah. Looking back at those videos, there are some that are painful to watch. But I think that’s the same for most of us if you look back at your photo albums from twenty years ago. It’s just worse for me because millions of people can watch those videos on You Tube.

I know what you mean. It’s painful for me to see my old Royal Tru Orange videos and realize that I’ve been replaced by a transforming soda machine. But I keep on forgetting that this interview is not about me. So, how do you feel about your avid male listeners who have since become closet Rick Astley fans? You know them, the ones who will never admit that they still sing your songs in the shower but who still subscribe to your fashion sense. Do you want us to revoke their fan club membership?

You know I think I was one of those artists that all guys won’t admit kind of liked. You would put that record in the back of their collection, or they hide the tapes in the glove compartment of their car.

But by coming over here, you have effectively re-outed all of the Rick Astley fans. And, we are not only legion, but we also occupy positions of power. Have you ever noticed the hairstyle of our ex-President?

FORCED MIGRATION

Do you think you could visit us more often? Mike Francis and Earth, Wind and Fire visit our country on a regular basis, especially when they need to make their mortgage payments.

I’m really going to see how tomorrow night goes. I’d like to see first how the fans scream (Laughs). The frustrating things about doing a concert like this is that you come to Manila and you are looked after and driven around. You don’t really get to see the Philippines. So if I come again, I think we’ll do it right. The Philippines will be my last stop in a series of concerts so that I can see more of the country.

You don’t really have to leave, you know. In fact, there are many high-ranking officials who are Rick Astley die-hards who can make sure you can never leave. Better yet, why don’t you just stick around here and make movies!

A movie? Really? Well, my wife’s a film producer so you never know.

See, there you have it! You know, aside from Barry Manilow, you have an insanely large fan following over here.

Ah, yes, me and Barry. We’re like this! (Rick intertwines his fingers. Rick, I would have thought twice before intertwining my fingers if one of those fingers represented Barry Manilow)

You could even run for public office in the Philippines and win! Pierce Brosnan actually won the mock elections for governor in the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao?

Does Pierce know that he won?

No, he probably doesn’t even know he was in the ballot. He probably doesn’t even know where Mindanao is.

Cool. Why don’t you vote for me for President, then. And if I win, I will come back and I will rule.

Given her current popularity ratings, I think you’ll be coming back sooner than you think.

SURRENDER

Rick, you said that you were never going to give it up, but then you gave it up. For about fifteen years. I thought we were going to be together forever? What happened to you? You had more hits than MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice combined! When you disappeared we were resigned to listening to New Kids on the Block. Where did you go?

To be honest, I just got sick of it. At that point, I had traveled around the world, and my wife and I had a daughter. And I realized there was more to life than to talk to people like you.

I get that a lot.

You know, I’m a very simple guy and I come from a very simple background, and I just want a very simple life, with lots and lots of money. Which is what I did.

If only we could be as simple as Rick Astley. So you like living in relative obscurity whenever you’re back in the UK?

I really, really value it because obviously I lived through being famous. I became famous to the point where when I went for holiday in South Africa, I ended up singing with the band in the hotel because they were playing my songs. So, eventually, I told myself that I was just going to go home, close the door for a while, and let it all go away. And it did. And you know, I’ve enjoyed that peace and quiet.

God knows you need that peace and quiet to prepare for world domination. So, we won’t be hearing any new Rick Astley songs for a while? Or even a 36 inch Together Forever Megadance mix?

No. I enjoy doing things like the concert because it’s something that I can just switch on. I can totally come back to the Philippines next week and just walk down the street and nobody would recognize me. And yet, I could still come over here and do a concert. So I get the best of both worlds.

(Heavy breathing) I’m sorry, Rick. I’m trying to suppress my tears. Thank you again for coming to the Philippines. Rick Astley, you have completed me. I brought a dinner knife, could you please etch your name across my chest.

POST-SCRIPT

Despite the interview, Rick Astley’s production team still allowed me to watch the concert as long as I was wearing the proper restraints. As I squeezed my way through the Drakkar Noir-smelling, Espadrille shoes-wearing crowd, I couldn’t help but notice the many young kids with a look on their faces that screamed, ‘Why did my parents drag me here!? I could be home right now watching Hannah Montana!’ And I just thought back, ‘The nerve of these brats! Don’t they know that they could have been conceived during a Rick Astley playlist?’

But before I could make these kids cry for help, the air in Araneta Center was emulsified by the strains of hauntingly familiar bubblegum pop. And my bladder emptied out in glee as a black-sounding man with an English accent belted out “Eeeefff theeehhhssss anneeeethiiiiiinnngg yooouuu neeeehhheeeedd!!!”. “Riiiiiicccckkk!!!” I wailed along with the thousands of middle-aged men who had forsaken any attempt to protect their masculinity. “We looooooooovvvvveeeeee yoooouuuuu!!!!”

But even as Rick squealed out one chart-topping hit after the other, the real treat of this one night only concert was still fidgeting in the front row, running his fingers back and forth his moussed up hair. As the groundswell of shrieking middle aged men reached scandal-level magnitude, Rick could no longer ignore their demands. He shushed his band, slung a guitar over his shoulder, and pointed squarely at the bespectacled gentleman with the form-fitting black shirt who seated near the stage. “Ok baby, you better come up.” he grinned, “Are you ready to sing Never Gonna Give It Up, Roderick?” And, from that moment onwards, this was the Roderick Paulate show.

Much to the dismay of the members of the Rick Astley dance troupe, our idol did nary a shuffle to any of his songs that evening. However, Roderick more than made up for Rick’s lack of kinetic energy onstage. Kuya Dick not only shuffled, he jiggled and jangled, he bounded and rebounded, he even ka-ramboled and whirlygigged. Roderick whirlygigged so hard that night that ABS-CBN management contemplated for a moment reviving Tonight With Dick and Carmi. And as Roderick hypnotically gyrated onstage while belting out in his best faux English accent, one of my most cherised Rick Astley urban myths was de-bunked. The only reason I thought Rick Astley was a great dancer was because I thought Roderick was merely swiping Rick’s moves. But after seeing the star of Petrang Kabayo, Kumander Gringa and Hee-Man:Master of None dance circles around the Rickster, I realized at that moment that all those moves were all homegrown Kuya Dick. Man, we were all Roderickrolled.

When Rick Astley conquers the world, Kuya Dick, you will be his stand-in. And I will be your alalay.

If you want to watch Rick Astley’s original Never Gonna Give You Up video on YouTube, visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu_moia-oVI. If you want to watch Kuya Dick giving it up with Manong Rick, visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLq_T-3z9co.

(Originally published on August 27, 2008 in the Philippine Star)

Together for Never

RJ Ledesma — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 04:16:28 +0000

We'll be together forever Rick!

I am sorry, Jessica Zafra, but you will not conquer the world. Because the world already has an owner. And the person holding the absolute deed of sale is Rick Astley.

Michael Jackson, we love you and you taught all of us growing up in the eighties how to beat it, but you held on to your crotch too much. And I had the feeling that you might want to hold on to my crotch, too. And Prince, or whatever unpronounceable symbol you call yourself now, we are still dumbstruck by your ability to charm the lingerie of Madonna, Kim Basinger and Carmen Electra, but we still can’t figure you or your raspberry beret out. But, Rick, Rick, Rick, Aaaaaahhh Rick!! You were our music of the eighties. We couldn’t all wear sequined gloves or do the moonwalk or star in Purple Rain. But we could all wear a trenchcoat, don a pair of Rayban shades, twirl our arms like a blender and sway from side to side. We could do you, Rick. And we mean that in the most heterosexual sense of the word.

Rick Astley’s first salvo towards global domination came in the late eighties as he form of fourteen hit singles and six hit albums. Once he had us under his baritone-induced synthpop music-infused spell, we knew that we were never going to give him up. For the musically sacrilgeous out there, they may blaspheme by claiming that Rick’s songs were assembly-line music: shameless iterations of the same song with different lyrics slapped on to give them a semblance of variety. But Rick remains unfazed. Mainly because Rick agrees. His producers, the recording “hit factory” of Stock, Aitken and Waterman, (the same producers as Kylie Minogue and Bananarama) merely photocopied a formula that Motown had done several decades before and churned out regurgitated songs until they were as worn out as the debates on charter change. But for those of us who are in the know, we know that Rick’s songs were not mere synthesized pop and bubblegum lyrics. Rick’s songs were indoctrination.

For those among us who have the lyrics of every Rick Astely song cauterized into our neurons, we know better than to be misled by propaganda about our future world leader. Rick Astley has not been spending his tranquil days gliding down the River Thames in a canoe built from money. Rick Astley has not changed his name to Ricardo Bocanegra and gone to Mexico hoping to crush the career of Ricky Martin. Rick Astley has not swiped the identity or Roderick Paulate. Rick Astley has merely been biding his time. Rick Astley has made us all bitin for a reason.

But Rick has finally returned to destabilize the globe. Seriously.

Enter one world under Rick with the infernal weapon of Rickrolling. A phenomenon that was conceived on the internet, rickrolling is the Astley at his most subversive: it begins when one clicks on an innocuous weblink that appears to be relevant to a topic of interest, like “the disclosure of Iran’s Nuclear Plan” or “A Video of Paris Hilton and Busta Rhymes making out” or “A Memorandum of Agreement on Ancestral Domain”. But, in a classic bait and switch tactic that would make our administration officials green with envy, the link drags you instead to the 1987 music video of “Never Gonna Give You Up”. Once you are hypnotically drawn in to the image of the Astley decked out in his khaki-colored trench coat doing his signature shuffle, then you know that you have been incorrigibly Rickrolled or, better yet, you are Rick Astley-fied: You will finally give it up, and become his arm-twirling minion for life.

Rickrolling has even gone live action: large scale events have been Rick Astley-fied beyond recognition. It has been used to stage protests, disrupt basketball games, and replace artificial birth control. As of April 2008, SurveyUSA indicated that more than eighteen million Americans have been rickrolled. So move over Richard Gere, move over Bono, move over Ely Pamatong, Rick Astley is the ‘It’ Man for anti-establishment. And he can sort of dance, too. We are waiting rather impatiently for Gen. Esperon to rickroll the Supreme Court.

But before the iron rule of the New Rick World Order, you must make concessions to your loyalists in Manila. The Philippines must be your beachhead, Mr. Astley. Make no mistake about it. We have taken Keith Martin. We will soon take David Pomeranz. And maybe even Tony Hadley. You, my dear leader, are next.

So, in behalf of your advance scout patrol, we were ecstatic that you paid an ocular visit to Manila. And, despite suffering from jetlag, sleep deprivation, several thousand gin tonics and a guest appearance on a noontime variety show, thank you for rendezvousing with us in your quote unquote press conference to secretly telegraph your next steps towards world domination. Of course, I would have wanted to interview you privately so that I could drool and scream much as my testosterone would permit me. Unfortunately, your three hundred pound bodyguard who was gingerly holding on to my low-hanging body parts convinced me otherwise.

LET’S PARTY LIKE ITS 1988!

RJ (a.k.a. Rick Astley forever Philippines fan club Makati chapter president): Rick, how do you find the Philippines, a place where you are revered as a patron saint in far flung karaokes and sing-along houses?

Rick Astley (a.k.a. The Eighties are alive in my heart and in my bank account): Right this very second, this is not what I would call enjoyable to be honest (Laughs. Of course we all laugh along because Rick Astley is laughing). But, you know, we did do some shopping, and I was shooting a .45 caliber pistol yesterday morning. That’s what I call fun.

Oh Mr. Astley, that’s what all the big eighties icons tell me they find out that I’ll be interviewing them. By the by, do you realize that that is also something that we have in common besides our sex appeal? That we are both eighties icons?

(Dumbfounded silence)

That’s the same reaction I get as well. Also, do you realize that you are the best British entertainment industry expert since Simon Cowell?

(Laughs with an agenda). SINCE Simon Cowell!? Ok, ok. Uhm, no I didn’t realize that. I apologize profusely.

Well, it was really a toss up between you and Mr. Bean. I understand that you will be flying off to Indonesia then to Singapore for the 2008 Singfest singing festival. But don’t you realize that you have more salivating fans in the Philippines than in both of those countries combined!

You know what, I will take any salivation they’ve got. I don’t take many salivation tours anyway.

LET’S DO THE TIME WARP

When I told my officemates ‘Rick Astely is coming to Manila for a concert!’ I could hear middle-aged, highly made up women shriek with glee, but my younger female officemates merely sneered. ‘Who is Rick Astley?’ Would you like me to make sure that these women experience an excruciating death?

Are you asking me do I like mature women?

Well, not really. But you are Rick Astley. You can say draw any conclusion you want.

Well obviously young kids out there wouldn’t know how I am. Because, why would they? There’s been a thousand and one artists since I first came with out with a record. But to be honest, its not really about that. It’s really about a walk down memory lane. I’m just having a good time over here, its not about me trying to reinvent myself. Its just a bit fun if you know what I mean.

I can still make sure that these women die an excruciating death, you know? Now, let’s talk about the men in your life. Does it frighten you that thousands of straight, slightly balding men with thirty-six inch waistlines have a man-crush on you?

Yes, yes, I’m told, I’m told. But I’m very comfortable with my sexuality.

Ok, so that means I don’t have to take my hand off your lap.

A PLATE OF MOJO

How hard was it to be a sex symbol back in the eighties? Were women throwing their underwear at you?

To be honest with you, I haven’t had much underwear thrown at me over the last year during concerts than I ever did in the eighties.

So those were probably your fans from way back when. .

No, no. Those were the men.

(Raucous laughter from the press folk). Ok, you can return my underwear now. Fifteen years from your first hit, I would like to know how it feels to be a sex symbol from the eighties who has been transplanted into the two thousands? Are there still women who throw their underwear at you? Do you throw their underwear back at them?

To be honest, this whole thing about being a sexy symbol, I never really got into that. I don’t really see that. I used to sing, I did what I did. I never really expected to be called a sex symbol.

I know what you mean. To be honest, I haven’t gotten over the fact that nobody thinks I’m a sex symbol from the eighties.

52 PICK UP

So, did being Rick Astley help you get the women. Did you like go up to women and say, ‘Hey. I’m Rick Astley, check out the hair. So do you wanna stay together forever, luv?”

To be honest, I’ve never been one of those guys who used that to get women. I’ve been with the same woman now for nineteen years.

Let me shake your hand vigorously!! That is an answer my wife would approve of! But prior to shacking up with your girlfriend, did you ever use your songs as pick up lines, like “Hey my little crumpet, do you wanna dance with me? Hey fish and chips, my arms keep missing you? Hey my little kidney pie, do you want to give it up?”

I didn’t but I can tell that you did.

(Laughter) You know you have a very deep baritone voice much like the popular soul singer who is the bane of population control advocates worldwide, Barry White. So, tell me, have you ever played your own songs while making out with a woman?

I sing to my girlfriend sometimes, but that’s about it. I don’t sing ‘I’m Never Gonna Give You Up?’

Do you sing Together Forever? Don’t Say Goodbye? My Arms Keep Missing You?

I’m not telling you what song (Laughs mockingly).

Ah, then it must be Cry for Help. So tell me the truth, how many women have you actually made out with while listening to your own songs?

Rick Astley: Sure thing. (Familiar pop chords fill the press room, causing screeches of delight among those who grew up in the eighties, giving a nosebleed to those who were born in the nineties. Rick gamely pushes aside his chair and quickly dons on a pair of Ray Ban shades and a trenchoat) “Nevah gonna geeeevvvv yoooouu up, nevah gonna let yooooouuu daaaahhhhwwwnn..”

RJ: Damn, I’ve been rickrolled by Ricky Astley. I can die happy now.

CARMI, LISTEN TO THIS!

And the question of this interview that is of any consequence: Have you ever heard of the great Roderick Paulate?

Yes, yes. I’ve heard of him.

Really!? I could hear Kuya Dick squealing for glee in the distance knowing that you are aware of his existence. He is the Rick Astley of the Philippines of the Philippines.

I’ll tell you what. If he’s coming tomorrow, he’s coming onstage with me to do the rest of the show.

(Thunderous applause from the Roderick Paulate fan club) That is so generous of you! And it must be such an honor for you to be called the Roderick Paulate of the United Kingdom.

Next column: You can never Rick enough: the second part of the Rick Astley interview and a post-script of the concert.

(Originally published in Philippine Star, August 20, 2008)