Music in The Heart of Manila - Center for Iberian and Latin American ...

Bonifacio (leader of the revolt against Spain), who organized the women’s sector in the
resistance movement, and her second husband, Julio Nakpil, who composed music for the
Revolution and was secretary of the command north of Manila. In the 1930s, Quiapo
was where espionage agents for Japan worked, using restaurants, refreshment bars,
massage parlors, bazaars, and hotels as fronts. (Andrade 60). In the 1950s, Plaza
Miranda, a concrete square in front of Quiapo Church, became the favorite venue for
political gatherings and disgruntled ideological airings, thereby becoming a symbol of the
Filipino’s political conscience.
Background to the rich tapestry of music
Quiapo bears many identities: “pulse of the nation,” “heart of Manila,” “hub of
the city,” “Manila’s downtown,” “crossroads of the nation,” “state of mind,” among
others. The district has grown to be a vibrantly pulsating center of everything—
commerce, worship, politics, folklore, popular culture, music. Contributing richly to this
was the settling of the Japanese in the area in the 1920s-1930s, the Indians in the 1940s,
and especially the Muslims in the 1970s.
Quiapo’s musical life is multi-dimensional, as notoriously varied as the goods
hawked Sa Ilalim ng Tulay (Under the Bridge). 2 To walk through its streets causes a
dizzying musical assault so powerful on the senses: boom-bass technopop, classical piano
music, Roman Catholic church bells, Malaysian videoke pop hits, the hymn to the Black
Nazarene, the muezzin’s periodic call to prayer, the streetvendor’s cries, the rush of nonstop
traffic, the blare of horns.
Today’s Quiapo may seem but a shabby, decrepit shadow of the grand old days of
gracious living and genteel music making among ilustrado (educated, elite) families
emergent in the area in the 1850s. Here sprouted most of Manila’s early theaters. Italian,
French, and Spanish opera companies made their homes here, in the process discovering
the innate musical gifts of the Filipinos. The Tagalog zarzuela played all over town.
Church music was on a level equal to that of the splendid repertoires of the great
Intramuros cathedrals. Vocal and instrumental groups were in great abundance. Quiapo
was home to a rousing network of composers, singers, band and orchestra players, music
teachers, impresarios, instrument makers and repairers, music merchants, conductors,
pianists, music publishers, opera costume designers, and even opera make-up artists.
What explains this interest in Quiapo? Two things: first is an overwhelming
awareness of urban heritage, which sadly is lacking in Philippine government policy,
resulting in the deterioration of a place due to the neglect of its citizens, and its incapacity
to reinvent itself. From a musicological standpoint, it was Quiapo, among all of Manila’s
suburbs (together with Intramuros), that offered promising results, due perhaps to its
centrality and cultural diversity. An awareness of the old Quiapo, its history, arts, and
culture, creates a basis not only for national pride but also pride in one’s city or town.
(Zialcita 23) Second is a more personal reason, and admittedly the impetus for the first.
My grandmother, Felipa Yupangco Castrillo, was an opera singer who trained and sang
in Quiapo. She studied under the noted tenor and maestro Victorino Carrion in the 1920s
2