The real Uncle Sean’s Band

It must have been sometime in the early ’90s when we ran into jazz guitarist Johnny Alegre outside La Salle Taft, at the mall and fast food center near the LRT station.

He was hyper as usual, and over a few beers at the fast food cafeteria he updated us on what went on in his jazz life since last we saw each other in the late ’70s, when he played for a string of bands, like Hourglass and Phase II, and later on moving on to Akasha.

We all knew how he did time with the UP Jazz Ensemble, although the aura he projected during performances had an aficionado muttering about the guy’s arrogance; ang yabang ni Johnny Alegre, the fan imitating the exaggerated scowl on Alegre’s face as the guitarist wrung out a note.

Of course Phase II had made popular the song In Love With You with the extended guitar solo by Joey Puyat, as well as that tune that began with the words, "So lonely… I’m shaking."

There was no doubting his songwriting elan, if not genius. Then of a sudden, word was out that he was forming an improvisational band with the name of Akasha, perhaps patterned after John McLaughlin’s Shakti, and inspired as well by Acacia Lane in Mandaluyong where the guy resided for most of his life, outside not inside.

We remember interviewing him in Mike Jamir’s apartment on Arayat St., Cubao for Jingle Magazine, and he was emphatic about making his point, banging the table intermittently and shaking up the poor cassette recorder.

At the fast food center at La Salle Taft he was again short of banging the table, at any rate his voice was rather loud as usual, such that we had to signal for him to tone down or at least speak out of the corner of his mouth.

He said he was about to set up another band, and this one was going to be called Uncle John’s Band, after the Grateful Dead song. He also mentioned how he went through a kind of epiphany in Boracay, when, after having ingested an inordinate amount of intoxicants, both natural and man-made, the irony of his existence dawned on him while lying on a beach.

This was years ago, and he was no Leonardo DiCaprio shouting, "I will not die today!"

And as flashforwards go, it is suddenly the year 2002, and buried under a pile of junk on the desk is the second album of a group called Ibo, which is led by Irishman Sean Power with the help of several local jazz musicians.

The CD is entitled Moon of Compassion and listed in the credits is Alegre, who plays guitar on just one song, My Socrates, which may in a nutshell provide the listener an inkling of the jazz that this real Uncle Sean’s Band is capable of playing.

Not that My Socrates is the standout cut in a CD filled with riveting and somewhat invigorating jazz; Moon of Compassion is not even easy listening, although one can relax and be on the brink of an epiphany with or without extraneous substances while it spins on the player.

Doing the vocal melody in My Socrates is "lounge regular" (as the press release says) Rowena Michael, no relation to George. Michael released a solo album a few years ago, composed mostly of love songs, if we’re not mistaken, and whose CD eventually ended up in the bargain bins, not that this should be taken against her.

But Rowena’s voice in My Socrates is not a bargain; she carries the melody through and lets the song soar to heights of vertigo, thanks also to Power’s compositional phrasing punctuated by fancy trombone work by Ronnie Marqueses. Michael has the lead vocal chores in one other song, Once.

Ibo though is an ensemble cast of musicians and singers, sort of like a Rolling Thunder Revue. Other singers are Judith Alegarbes of Parliament Syndicate, who takes along with her other members of the band, and Maria Cielo del Carmen.

Power’s choice of women to sing lead for his band can be likened to the golden age of fusion when it was not yet known as fusion, and singers like Flora Purim and Gayle Moran lorded it over the airwaves and turntables.

Alegarbes is lead vocalist for the carrier single, And I’m Amazed, which shows the band in more laid-back mode.

Ibo’s music itself has been described as "acid jazz" and "chill," something which would be ideal perhaps while nursing a light lager beer in a patio or verandah, whether in the city or the province really doesn’t matter.

Power even musters an inspired slide guitar Love is an Ocean, while the title cut celebrates some Tantric aspect of existence, as befits a musician who has found a second home in a foreign land.

Moon of Compassion is enough of an impressive, independent release to leave us wondering what Ibo’s debut, Love is Where We’re Going sounds like, whether or not Alegre played session guitar on that one too.

Ibo’s music is radio-friendly without being commercial, and deserves airplay on its own volition minus any intimations of payola.