Did you know that Airto Moreira and Flora Purim played at the Coconut Palace last Friday? I didn’t. Nobody told me. You’d think that of all the email I get from people I don’t know, at least one would tell me that Purim and Airto were performing in Manila. Instead I get letters from aliens claiming to be evil dictators or their accountants appealing to my greed to help them move their imaginary funds out of their countries, or press releases from politicians trumpeting their alleged achievements. (Suggestion to politicians: In the series Rome, no matter what you’ve done, you can try to redeem yourself by bravely baring your throat when the time comes, or stripping off your armor and walking into an opposing army. That’s the season 2, episode 6 recap, by the way.)
You’d think the posters for the Philippine Jazz Festival would have “Airto” and “Purim” in great big letters, but all we see are silhouettes of saxophonists and scatters, and I’m not into scat because I can’t help thinking they’re doing it because they’ve forgotten the lyrics.
You’d think that of all the billboards blighting the urban landscape at least one would say Airto would have a concert here, and by the way what happened to all those declarations post-typhoon Milenyo that billboards, being threats to public safety, would be taken down? The billboards are back up, in greater numbers, informing us that your grandmother, who if you looked again turned out to be Cliff Richard, is having a Valentine’s Day concert, and that if everyone used Botox, we’d have one vision, one nation, presumably because we wouldn’t be able to contort our faces in rage.
I did find out that Purim, Airto, and Diane Schuur were supposed to jam at the Ayala museum cafe Sunday night. I didn’t go.