Conspirator 01/30/2007

MANILA, Philippines -- I remember that there was much debate among the Conspiracy Café people about whether to charge entrance fee at the gate or only at the “Music Room.” The place has a garden outside, where people who just want to talk hang around; and a small room inside, to where people who want to listen to the performers perform amble.

Eventually, proponents of the latter won out. The speakers aimed at the garden to enable the patrons there to hear the performances as well were taken out, and only the music room charged an entrance fee. It stood to reason: Only those patrons who chose to bathe in the waters of the musical, and magical, springs inside needed to pay for it. Listening to those glorious sounds was a privilege, and one that came at so small a price.

I recall this now with no small amusement. Because these concerns, which elicited much passionate discourse, were clearly lost on one of Conspiracy’s neighbors out back. Conspiracy is located on Visayas Avenue in Quezon City, a commercial area. But the neighborhood at the back of Visayas Avenue is residential. Unfortunately for Conspiracy, it happened to be in proximity with a resident, or residents -- a middle-aged couple -- who did not share its view about the fabulous worth of its musical offerings. Indeed a couple that believed that people shouldn’t have to pay to listen to these things, they have to be paid to do so. Despite Conspiracy’s heroic efforts to insulate its sound, some of it apparently continued to escape through to their ears.

That was the reason that patrons found a huge sign at Conspiracy last Tuesday night announcing that the place was being closed by order of City Hall. The neighbor, who apparently had some connections with City Hall, lodged a complaint, and City Hall ordered Conspiracy to cease and desist from spewing “noise pollution” (its term) into this planet. I am seriously suggesting that as the title for the next album of any of the artists involved with Conspiracy -- “Noise Pollution.” Isn’t it a grand (or as Gary Granada says, "gara") album title? Or title of a song?

Unfortunately, a couple of things were lined up for last Tuesday at Conspiracy. They were the book launching of Charlson Ong’s novel, “Banyaga: A Song of War,” published by Anvil; and a session with Session Road. City Hall, with its tremendous talent for making life miserable for taxpayers, issued the closure order at 4:45 p.m. with an almost gleeful view to making an appeal next to impossible. Petty tyrants may be petty, but they are, oh, so tyrannical. Happily, the Conspiracy people -- by dint of cajoling, badgering and pleading -- were able to make the next-to-impossible possible, and were able to bargain at least for the continuation of the book launching. Happily, too, Karina Bolasco, by dint of racking up a minor fortune in cell phone bills, managed to assure all and sundry the event was pushing through. A crowd of the usual suspects, writers, artists and poseurs came through. They came late, but they came -- and were game, singing themselves hoarse afterward. Now that, I grant, Conspiracy has to pay people to listen to.

The reason I am writing about all this is that for the strangest reason, the thing got blown out of proportion and landed on TV, radio and newspapers. I got to be interviewed a couple of times because my name kept cropping up as the owner of, or one of the partners in, Conspiracy. I’ve had to explain that though I am proud to be a “Conspirator,” I am nowhere near to owning it. Nobody is. Conspiracy is the brainchild of Gary Granada who conspired with fellow singers Noel Cabangon, Bayang Barrios, Cynthia Alexander, Joey Ayala and Cooky Chua to put it up. They invited other people to join the conspiracy, and last I looked, some 150 people had done so -- artists, NGO people, and plain lovers of music, however some might dispute the term. You can’t own more than five shares, at P15,000 per. I claim the princely sum of two shares. The place itself is rich only in goodwill, creativity and talent.

I’ve had to explain two other things as well. One, it is not true that the place was shut down for political reasons. Surprisingly, that one rumor flew off faster than a speeding bullet, Conspiracy’s attempt at mischievous humor finally catching up with itself. No, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo had nothing to do with it, Conspiracy being engaged only in dark plots to ensnare more patrons to survive the horrible business climate today under her. Two, it is not true that the place has been operating without a business permit. The only reason it does not have one physically in its hands is that City Hall refuses to release it in light of its neighbor’s complaint. But Conspiracy has been paying for that permit faithfully and on time.

In truth and in sum, the only reason Conspiracy was shut down last Tuesday was that a couple found the lush sounds Conspiracy was denying its garden patrons -- sounds that were seeping in their direction -- a diabolical distraction designed to disturb their disposition, and they lodged a protest against it. Happily, that has been settled, the closure lasting only 24 hours. An inspector from City Hall found the place to have reasonably complied with demands to mute its sound. Quite unhappily though, it may now offer only “acoustic music,” effectively ruling out explorations in jazz and ethnic music, which are heavily percussive. But you never know, maybe, some music lover-cum-philanthropist out there might want to offer to soundproof the place completely (which is costly) and make everybody happy.

I have my own reason to be happy at the tempest in the teacup, for which I must thank its raiser, or the complainant, profusely. It’s that I’ve just gotten all the ethical excuse I need to advertise Conspiracy shamelessly.

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