My home of NU Rock

Hey. You shaved,” Trish the DJ tells me as I enter the booth the day before NU107’s closing. I’d had a full beard for about a year, you see, and now I was clean-shaven.

“Yeah. I don’t know why. I woke up this morning and I felt I had to do something, anything. You ever feel that? “

“Oh, you mean like this?” I look to the left corner and see Jay, another DJ, seated, leaning forward on his office chair, getting his back tattooed.

This is why I love NU 107.

* * *

The Let’s Fun Crew (and their boss): Diego Castillo, Atom Henares and the author

I’d been part of NU before it was even born. My mother, in her teens, was a big fan of radio stations like 99.5 RT and she would befriend many of the DJs. Before they got married, she told my father, Atom Henares, that it was her dream to own a radio station. For six years nothing was mentioned. Then one day he came to her and said that he was ready. She contacted one of her DJ friends, Mike Pedero, and the two built NU107. I remember my father telling me that we were going to have a radio station, and I was quite excited despite being a seven-year-old whose knowledge of music was limited to Menudo. At that age I’d eat anything up without care for labels or genres. We’d listen to the test broadcasts and I instantly had my favorites, among them Sting’s Englishman in New York and R.E.M.’s It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine). One day Cris Cruise, the station manager, finally went on the air. These were his words:

“NU107 is DWNU FM at 107.5 Megahertz in Makati. A member of the KBP, this is NU107. We are signing on.”

One of my favorite early memories of NU107 was singing along with my dad and my four-year-old sister Cristalle along to her favorite song, The Boomtown Rats’ I Don’t Like Mondays. She’d perk up whenever she’d hear the opening piano roll, getting ready to “shoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoooot… the whole day down!” We had a radio station, and for a seven-year-old that was the coolest thing in the world. Come to think of it, at the age of 30 I still think it’s the coolest thing in the world.

As I got older I rebelled, buying cassette tapes of pop acts instead. But my love for rock returned in high school. I’m a bit ashamed to admit this, but it was Soul Asylum and 4 Non-Blondes who turned me back onto rock. At the time NU was focusing more on classic rock, but I managed to convince my dad to close in on the new stuff. Soon after NU started playing music by Pearl Jam, Nirvana, The Gin Blossoms, Eraserheads and Rivermaya on a regular basis. At 13 I was helping program a radio station.

The summer after freshman year I started working at NU. I answered phones, took down requests, jotted down votes for the countdown. I’d hack into the playlist program and change the names of songs, turning The Breed’s Black Mercedes Benz into Charlie is a Piggy. Everyone hated me, and I remember that one of the DJs, Roxy, had to sit me down and give me a piece of her mind.

My life as a young hacker, breaking into the playlist program. Photo by EDDIE BOY ESCUDERO

The people from that batch of NU — Claire, Cris, Francis, Roxy, Janet, Charlie, Wicket, Marcelline, Camille and Myrene — were the ones closest to me. In a sense, they raised me. Going to my first prom I didn’t look to my parents to get dressed up, I went straight to the lovely ladies of NU. I’d visit Myrene every day to tell her stories about the high school teacher I was stalking, and Wicket scanned her photo and enlarged it for me (I was a weird kid). I even confessed my love to someone once in NU. She was a DJ I’d gotten very close to and would visit every day. Thing is, she was always with her best friend. One day I thought, “Screw this. I’m confessing, even if her best friend’s around.” And so I did it — a major confession by an 18-year-old in the DJ booth in between commercial breaks and a 40-minute “rockathon.” I was rejected, only to find out later that she was actually in a relationship with the aforementioned best friend. Who was a girl.

And then there were the shows. Zach and Joey never failed to make me laugh with their on-air antics. Francis Reyes gave the band I managed, Ciudad, the thrill of our lives when he played us on “In The Raw.” Myrene changed my life forever with her radio show, “Not Radio.” I remember tuning in because I wanted to hear the new Pearl Jam. Instead I found a wealth of new, different music by bands like the Pixies, Sleater-Kinney, Guided by Voices and Pavement. Until now I call Myrene my unofficial mother. I dedicated my first movie to her and Diego Castillo, thanking them for making me who I am today.

Speaking of Diego, we soon had our own radio show as well, the aptly titled “Let’s Fun.” It was supposed to be a music show, but it ended up being the most insane thing on public radio. We staged a fake interview with Silverchair, where we’d ask Daniel Johns questions like “Are you into young boys?” and then play recordings of him saying “Yes.” We called up Gami Ogenta’s G Spot, asking the operator if this was all a scam. She answered “Hindi naman siguro, sir.” Sure enough a few months later it was exposed as such. We played songs with titles like Premature Ejaculation, Hermaphrodite, Gay Bar, I Like Bukkakke and Detachable Penis. We had a contest where listeners had to guess whether the singer had a penis or no penis. Our co-host Mikey taped the security guard at his call center having phone sex, and we played it on-air for everyone to hear.

Jay getting a back tattoo done the day before NU closes

NU107 was about the people — these great, crazy characters who thought outside the box and were doing what they loved for a minimum amount of pay. It was also about the music. It is an absolute gift to be a kid growing up in the unreal world that is the Philippine rock scene. I remember coming from Cadet Army Training at 16 and then interviewing Parokya ni Edgar. In the halls of Strata 200 I met Raimund Marasigan for the first time and I was too star-struck to have a conversation with him. Binky Lampano would make fun of me for being the kid hanging around the station. I sang along to Lisa Loeb for most of my high school sophomore year. A few months later I was standing three feet away from her in the NU booth. The Philippine rock scene was going through the most major changes it had ever gone through, and I found myself right smack in the middle of it.

If there was anything that measured my relationship with NU, it was the Rock Awards. I was merely a guest at the first one in 1994, held in the very tiny Music Hall in Anapolis. In 2000, I became the writer. In the years after I’d co-write, present and serve as production assistant. In 2007, I suddenly found myself in the role of director. The years that followed I was co-producer, until this year, where I finally got my most enjoyable role — performer. It was for the pre-show, yes, but why complain?

Twenty-three years isn’t easy to fit into 2,000 words, and I don’t want to trivialize things that meant the world to me.

For the longest time people were asking me to take over. But I wanted to prove I could make my own career first. Early this year I finally decided to officially join the station as creative director. I helped Francis program songs, worked on a new logo with Inksurge, and launched a new DJ search called Jockoff. But it was too late. A few months later, NU107 would be changing formats.

You only get a Home of New Rock once in a lifetime. What NU107 did can never be duplicated, not even by NU itself if it ever comes back. We’re too different these days, with our iPods, Internet radio and downloading. There was a time, however, when there was a common culture between all of us, when everyone from the teenage Povedan on her way to school to the taxi driver who grew up on the Juan de la Cruz band would listen to “Zach and Joey” in the morning or press the “redial” button incessantly to 6360099, trying to get our request through. There was a time when we’d sit in front of the radio, fingers ready to press “REC,” waiting for that new Gin Blossoms song to play on air. It almost feels apt that NU died when it did, because it came with the death of our generation’s radio culture.

NU 107 pioneers, 1987: Doy Vea, Mike Pedero, Cris Hermosisima, John Gregory, Gerry Dris, Tom Lupton, Gerry Why, Atom Henares, Mark Noodle

The final week of NU107 was the most touching and powerful thing I’ve ever heard on the airwaves. The current roster of DJs — Trish, Joystick Jay, Roanna, Cyrus the Virus, Shannen, April, Evee, Kim, Francis Brew and, of course, Pontri—was one of the strongest we’ve ever had and they all said their goodbyes. A number of NU alumni returned, like Charlie Y, Dylan, Andy Banandy, Roxy and Myrene. Captain Eddie said goodbye to The Crossroads after 17 years. “Ballad of The Times” held a massive New Wave party captured drunkenly on the webcam. Gang Badoy and Rock Ed Radio, the show that proved FM radio could make a difference, bid a fond farewell. Two tearful reunion episodes of “Zach and Joey” were aired. Since Joey is based in the States, it was the first time the two had spoken in years, and it felt like eavesdropping as the two caught up with each other. Bands and artists like Up Dharma Down, Greyhoundz, Out of Body Special, Sugar Free’s Ebe Dancel, Pochoy Labog, Archipelago, Chicosci, Sponge Cola, Twisted Halo and the Itchyworms all came to play. Some people said that all that was lacking were Zesto and some cheap pastries and it would be a wake. To me, it was more like a reunion.

NU’s last day brought in the most important part of NU107 — the listeners. When I arrived, I had to wade through a sea of people, all of them thankful for what NU brought them and sad that it had to go away. Many major rockstars came to pay tribute, but the biggest stars that day were the jocks. On the way to the booth people were asking for autographs and pictures with their favorite DJs — those who took them through the music, those who introduced them to their favorite bands. I never left the booth, but I heard thousands of people stood outside, singing along one last time to their favorite songs, lighting candles and celebrating the place that gave them such great music. It was like Empire Records, except a lot better. And real, of course.

Each DJ said his or her last goodbye, until finally Cris Cruise, who was the station manager from the very beginning went on to do the final sign off.

“It’s a minute before 12. NU107 is DWNU FM at 107.5 Megahertz in Pasig. Once the loudest and proudest member of the KBP. This has been NU107, the Philippines‘ one and only home of new rock. This is NU107, we are signing off.”

People outside started screaming, some were cheering. Behind me I could hear Andy repeat “Oh my God. Oh my God. This is it.” Francis went “Wooh!” It finally dawned on me. NU107 was now history, and I started crying.

A major chapter of my life, one that lasted 23 years, had finally come to an end. On the way home I listened to the 107.5 frequency for 30 minutes. I hoped that Francis would suddenly come in saying that this was all a joke, or that U2 would start playing, broadcasting from a phantom transmission, but there was nothing. Only the deafening sound of hiss, static and silence.