NU 107

A little history for a while: I bought my first music appliance during HS. It was a basic Sony Walkman - AM, FM, tape player with reverse. During that time, CD players were in the vogue and well, I’m the sad awkward guy making mix tapes during the weekends with my PC and a stereo with a line-in input and record function. For a commuter who was (and is still being) plagued by idiot collegialas who are always so damn noisy and the aptly-called idiot tube, that Walkman (and subsequently, digital audio players) was a lifesaver. And that little puppy’s FM radio was locked to NU 107.

NU 107. That radio station that started as Atom Henares’ way of courting Vicky Belo (of all persons!) introduced me to a wealth of local and foreign ear candy. A Murder of Crows (and subsequently, Paramita). Hungry Young Poets (and by chain reaction, Barbie’s Cradle and Mojofly), Cynthia Alexander. Sugarfree. Imago.  Radioactive Sago Project. Wolfgang. Razoback. Up Dharma Down. There were a lot of others; I think it’s safe to say NU 107 trained my music palette.

On the seventh day (of November 2010) the god of rock said, ‘Ok, fuck this shit, I’m tired. Where’s my beer’ and decided to call it a day. But that doesn’t mean rock dies. There’s a shitload off cliches that’s already been said by others but it all sums up to rock living on in all of us. Fuck the so-called masa radio. Fuck those sheep whose bleats sounds like ‘baaaah-by / baaaaaah-by / oooooh’ and ‘tweeehh-neeehh-one’. There’s more to music than what is being shoveled down our throats by the money-crazed -and-blinded media.

Now, it’s the end of an era. Maybe it’s the start of a new one where people actively search what’s new, discover, find the really good stuff. I really hope so. Because WHEN (when, not if, you bitches) the time comes when the god of rock decides to get his ass back to work, it better be intro’d by a long kick-ass rock improv number, a ton of fireworks and barrels of beer.

Rock on NU 107. You will be missed but you will always live in us.