The 2006 Bleeding Ear Awards: Marc Abaya

Thursday, December 7, 2006

Irritator of the year – Marc Abaya

The Irritator of the year award is arguably the most prestigious award given by the Bleeding Ears. The Irritator of the year
award is given to any musical artist who has survived the most
malevolent flogging from critics and discerning listeners, only to
unbelievably continue churning out abysmal, albeit, successful
multi-platinum albums.

Make no mistake, the decision to give Marc Abaya this award is in no way easy. Marc and his current band Kjwan
have been universally acknowledged for their afflictive playlist, their
total failure to evolve and improve in any significant way and their
astonishing plummet in terms of musicianship. Nobody knows how anybody
could manage to come up with far worse material than “Daliri”, a track off their self-titled debut album they released back in 2004. But with the release of their track “Pintura” off their sophomore effort 2 Step marv, they somehow managed to overthrow even that reprehensible menace of a song within our collective hearts.

But why give the award to Marc Abaya and not to Kjwan as a whole?

Well let’s take a look at the chorus of their song Pintura:

Sino ka ba?
Ano ang iyong lihim?
Papaano kita mapapaibig
Mapapa sa’kin

Now lets take a look at how Marc Abaya sings it:

Shiiinohhh Kahhh bahhhh?
Hanooh ang yhooong liheiiiimmm?
Pahhaaappaaaaaanoohh khittaahhhh mapapaibeeeiggg
Mapapa Saaakeeeeeiiiinhhh? Bwah! HAh hah. Bwah! Hah Hah!

I can picture Marc sitting in the studio, smoking a cigarette,
contemplating on how he can make the riffs of their last radio hit
sound more like a Rage Against The Machine song so
that people can laugh at them more and how he can make his voice at
least 10% more annoying. “Success.” he says to himself, “I’ve composed
something that will go down in the annals of history as THE MOST
ANNOYING SONG EVER WRITTEN—but I must not stop here! I am too
inebriated with my own voice’s sexiness that I must insert more
“blaaaaughhhs!” and “Hahhhh-ha-haahhhhs” after the chorus to make it
more painfully unbearable.”

Lets also take a look at this conversation:

Marc: Mom I think I want to join an already popular rockband

Marc’s mom: [Oblivious, eating a cigarette]

Marc: Then when I’m famous enough, I think I’m going to form a sideband and call it Rage Against The Machine

Marc’s mom:…

Marc: …Wait that’s the name of the band we’re going to blatantly rip off. Wait I think I want to be an MTV VJ instead.

Marc’s mom: Get out of my house.

I rest my case.

I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing in this picture but I’m pretty sure it’s illegal

—
This post is part of a series: The 2006 Bleeding Ear awards. Part 1 of which can be found here and Part 2, here.

I hate you Mayne

Monday, December 4, 2006

First of all, I hate you for making me fall so deeply inlove with you again during your sojourn here in Manila. You've given me a far better time than what I originally expected. Really, all I was hoping for was for us to go out, argue over dinner, argue more inside my car until I realize my laptop is missing–at which point I will invariably cry or suffer a mild stroke; You'd then, in an ardently sensual manner, proceed to give me a comforting hug and I, in a manner that is not ardently sensual at all, will fondle your breasts. At that point I expect us to throw caution to the wind, have a wild make-out session and end up spending the night together in a hotel room. Or you spending the night in a hotel and me spending the night at the city jail, happily eating gruel with a bunch of convicted rapists, depending on how you'd react.

Well we did end up in a hotel room and no thanks to an assload of alcohol, it was a night filled with "technical difficulties" on my part, a lot of sweating, a lot of aplogies, and a lot of questions to the effect of "which went in which hole" but I will go ahead and say that that night, you've given me the single, most mind-blowing fuck I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

What's more amazing is we did the exact same thing roughly fifty times during your stay here and never did I, or ever will, get tired of it.

I hate you for looking nothing short of divine whenever we go out. Whether you're wearing those sassy stilettos with that overpriced Mango dress of yours which I love so much, or making heads turn (and quite possibly, dicks hard) with the way you fill a bikini at the beach, you never fail to do a number on my already critical-level self esteem and make me feel like trash. What with all my ratty Chucks and "vintage pieces" which, in reality, are nothing but shirts I bought from the Surplus Shop four years, a couple of laundry accidents involving bleach, and countless instances when I wiped semen off my tummy with them after I masturbate ago.

I hate you for showering me with truckloads of expensive gifts and still being able to love someone like me whose idea of a romantic dinner is getting you 500 pesos worth of mums and old roses, taking you to a cheap restaurant in Ortigas where the entrées cost a pathetic 150 pesos on average, THEN asking you to split the tab with me. And yes you can call me Douchebag Smith from now on.

I hate you for being able to love someone like me who wakes up beside you in the morning, hungover like a bitch, with pieces of barbecue and sand (don't ask) stuck between my teeth, my breath stinking like a Dencio's restroom after 12mn, and with luncheon meat from the night before crushed between my back and the matress; asking you questions like "Baby, did we have sex last night?" and getting answers like "Well we tried to have sex. But that last slammer fucked you up real bad. Don't you remember? after you went flaccid, you gave me this really long diatribe about how you think the government should summarily execute homeless people and about how badly you want to run a prostitution ring? Also, I think I heard you crying in the shower."

You see I hate you so much that I have no choice but to wait for you for two years and give you hell by marrying you.