SONGS DRUNKARDS SING

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

Since the day I explored the "spiritual world" and learned to go to those nightspots, karaoke bars, and beerhouses in my adult life, I've heard many songs, which would habitues with relish and mirth. 

They range from the old standards that evoke pleasant, sad or nostalgic memories to bouncy pop songs that tempt one to dance and release all the pent-up emotions and excess energy.

Frank Sinatra's My Way tops the list of all-time favorites of those denizens' bars. 

Although they regard My Way as a sort of national anthem for them, it is also associated with so many bar room brawls that one could imagine. 

All those bullet-riddled bodies, broken noses, lost teeth, and a never-ending enmity among warring groups bars have been triggered by this song, which is aptly called the "awit ng kamatayan" (song of death).

My Way is definitely the drunkards' way of paying tribute to themselves, as an assortment of misfits - forlorn lovers, cuckolded husbands, loafers, alcoholics, bums, the jobless and the lonely, and other losers in life - takes solace in singing a song that somehow defines their life as meaningful, although not necessarily successful.

Other people who simply get tired from the drudgery of daily living could find refuge in this song, as they quaff bottles or barrels of their favorite spirits. My Way has come a long way to emerge as the signature song for these habitues.

My Way has its flipside, which is the immortal Let Me Try Again, also a Frank Sinatra classic composed by Paul Anka, another great singer. 

If My Way is here, Let Me Try Again will be far behind, the poet Shelley would probably muse if he were alive today. 

But this song is less controversial unlike My Way. Still, drunkards love it for it gives them a sense of a second lease on life, and then, delivered the swan song.

For The Good Times is equally popular among bar room denizens. It heralds the ambivalent feeling of a man who is about to leave his partner. 

While the relationship is over, it conveys the message that the communications line is still open. They can still talk, so the song suggests. 

Filipino women seem to appreciate this ambivalence though.

Somewhere Down the Road is a relatively modern song that has attained a status of respectability among drunkards. 

Sang by the openly gay Barry Manilow, but written by a heterosexual (or straight) composer, this song offers hope for a relationship that has gone astray. 

It is the sentimental favorite of the lovers, in short.

The Filipinos' penchant for melodramatic is something that is somehow tempered by the song I've Got You Under My Skin, essentially a French idiom that has to find its way in American expressions. 

Drunkards like it for its bouncy and easy to reach notes. One does not have to be a good singer to sing it with justice.

The drunkards' typically morose temperament and appreciation for anything is reinforced by the melodramatic song Sinner or Saint, which is popular among the older alcoholics. 

It is the "awit ng dakila" (song of the martyr), as it reflects the willingness to accept a lover of his partner despite her shady past.

Pinoy drunkards do local songs. 

Dahil sa Iyo, Kapantay ay Langit, Saan Ka Man Naroroon, and Sapagkat Kami'y Tao Lamang are on the top of their list. But these are not all. 

Even non-Visayans have learned to sing songs like the Matud Nila and Usahay. They sing them with warmth, feeling, and deep emotions probably unparalleled in this world.

I have heard Tagalog, Ilocano, Kampangans, Survivor and singing these songs. And they emerge with flying colors.

Can anybody beat that?