issue no. 5 :: august 26, 2001

Barbie we have heard on high

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By Kap Maceda Aguila
Publish Date: [Sunday, August 19, 2001]
http://www.philstar.com/htmtest/SpecialSections200108204608.htm

Who is this captivating pixie that stands in front of
us? What secrets do her eyes–both hopeful and
sad–hold? What would make her frown? What would make
her smile? And oh, how she smiles! We can never have
too much of that. Thanks–one more please.

This Barbie Almabis girl-woman clearly has us by the
heartstrings. It’s pretty much useless to resist. So
we can only listen and hope we don’t become any more
enchanted. But we’re just prolonging the inevitable
here.

She sits Indian-style on her chair and turns towards
me, this winsome waif.



With her long locks and that capoed guitar, Barbie
first gave us a glimpse into her soul via Hungry Young
Poets in ‘97. She was the firewoman. She was passion.
She was somewhere we couldn’t believe and dared not
imagine. We were hers for the taking, but she was
not–like a fruit just beyond our reach.

Those were good days. Those were hard days, too.

Bassist Ricci Gurango and Barbie locked horns, if only
artistically. Sure, there was a semblance of division
of labor. "Lyrics me, music him," says Barbie. "But we
were both dictators. Eh, dalawa lang naman kami." When
you’re in a band of three, there’s not much room for
two headstrong artists. The aftermath of this obvious
impossibility to work together were Ricci’s Mojofly
and Barbie’s Cradle.

While Ricci flexed his muscles and got down to a rock
‘n’ rollin’ heckuva good time with Mojofly,
Barbie—along with bassist Rommel dela Cruz and drummer
Franklin Benitez–started on an inward journey and
experimented with a stew of jazz, folk and rock.
Barbie’s Cradle scored big with three singles: The
Dance, Goodnyt and Tabing Ilog–the latter being the
theme song to an ABS-CBN weekend soap. The celebrity
grew as more people became aware that "pretty",
"talented" and "deep" were not mutually exclusive
terms. Barbie’s sweet kolehiyala look was matched by
her songwriting prowess and distinctive crooning that
is best appreciated when you’re hotwired to a CD
player. Barbie’s Cradle soon found itself perched in
the unique position of being cool to both the avowed
alternative and perfectly pop. On the side, Barbie’s
good looks even warranted a print ad for Human. As if
to underscore both cuteness and talent the trio
appeared on the Powerpuff Girls album.

While Barbie is chief songwriter, she maintains that
the band is something of a democracy, especially for
the second album (Songs From the Buffet Table,
released last year). "Dati, parang pintor daw ako
mag-isip. Pag pintor ka mag-isa ka lang. The first
album was more of me. But with the second album, it
began to shift. Now, we make sure that everybody’s
happy. I didn’t know before na masama pala loob nila
na it was always just my ideas," she reveals. How did
she take the revelation?

"Nung una na-offend ako. But later on, as we talked
about it more, I realized it was because they didn’t
speak up before and because it was how I used to work.
But we’re all willing to change. Barbie’s Cradle is
actually three lives put together. I can’t just live
my life and have them live their lives around mine."

What about the notion that the best bands are
dictatorships? Barbie shrugs: "I guess the important
thing is the relationship–I know what you want; I know
what you need. It should be give and take. It’s like
there are three cooks."

Won’t too many cooks spoil the broth?

"Tatlo lang naman kami," she smiles.

That Barbie now welcomes her bandmates to the creative
process is evident in Songs from the Buffet Table. The
charismatic Wendell Garcia replaces Franklin and
imbues a more upbeat feel to the material–even if the
lyrics aren’t exactly jumping for joy. "Wendell is so
awake and full of energy, even if my songs are
melancholic," she says.

Barbie is a little stumped when asked what Barbie’s
Cradle is about, but does offer her take on the second
album. "We had simple concerns–that the songs would be
playable live."

It’s easy to see though, that Barbie’s Cradle will
ever be about its namesake–not as much a vanity mirror
as it is a signed confession: Yes, it’s my story. Yes,
it’s my life. Yes, it’s me, Barbie Almabis.

Oh, how we love the hushed whispers in the bathroom.
Oh, how we love the skeletons in the closet–especially
if they’re not our own. There is guilty pleasure in
digging a spade into other people’s lives.

Barbie became a target of such indulgence from the
rumor mill. The magnifying glass had been trained on
her, and out came all sorts of stories–mainly about
her gender. She supposedly had a showbiz girlfriend,
and so on and so forth.

Barbie’s lyrics weren’t exactly dousing the fire,
either. Take Belinda Bye Bye’s admission: "You will be
my sinful secret, I can’t tell my kids about you.
Though I could never lie."

We tell her that it’s terribly tempting to do a
content analysis of her lyrics. We ask her about the
song. "Sabi ko na nga ba," she grins. "There’s a
significance lang but we don’t really talk about it.
It’s basically about letting go of things that are bad
for you."

We ask how much of the words on the liner notes are
based on personal experience.

"One hundred percent," she reveals. "Lahat ng issues
na nilalabanan ko like depression are there. Actually,
the songs are so specific. I read somewhere that the
more specific you write, the deeper it hits people and
the more universal it becomes."

But despite her very personal lyrics, Barbie says she
doesn’t mind the interpretations. "You don’t ask a
painter about his painting, di ba?" True, but aren’t
words always much clearer, especially if only a thin
veneer separates the obvious from the metaphors?

"Yung binili mo naman hindi yung buhay nung artist,
but the music," she replies.

Wendell says, "What’s important is how relevant it is
to you."

Barbie speaks up, "From my point of view, I’m not
hiding. It’s like a thin veil –how I use nursery
rhymes. It’s so see-through, I’m not hiding at all."

Does she mind all this peering into her soul?

"It’s okay. You can’t hide. The thing you can control
is you make yourself clean, so you don’t need to hide
anything. I don’t care if you put a flashlight over me
because I have nothing to hide."

Barbie shares that the interim spent writing songs for
the second album were among her darkest moments. "Like
a lot of people, I’m a self-diagnosed manic
depressive. Bi-polar. Ang saya-saya ko tapos
babagsak," she confesses.

"I was about to become a Christian, or Born-Again. I’d
see things and I’d go crazy. I couldn’t sleep the
whole day and I’d see things and hear voices. It was
so weird because it was like I was on drugs but I was
not. Parang praning."

It was during these moments of confusion that she
snipped off her locks. Wendell remembers, "We had a
rehearsal. Then she came down like that. Uka-uka pa!
Parang hagdan."

That was when Barbie decided to turn to God to get her
out of the deep funk she found herself in. "It was
when I started crying out to Jesus and started reading
the Bible. I was living in sin. I had relationships
that were bad. Ang daming mga mali sa buhay ko na
ginagawa ko. There were lies. It’s very personal, but
when I started reading the Bible, I realized why there
was so much sadness in my life," she relates. "Ang
dami ko palang ginagawa that I was not supposed to.
Yung laws ni God, parang law of gravity. Whether you
believe them or not, they apply to you. You’d still
fall from a building if you jumped–whether you believe
it or not."

With that clarity came salvation. "As I started to
eradicate the things that were wrong in my life, it
started to get brighter and brighter."

But what about the image of the troubled artist? Don’t
artists thrive on misery? Doesn’t the musician wear
his badge of pain proudly? Angst makes beautiful music
doesn’t it?

"For me it’s a big misconception," Barbie says, "that
you’re happy when you’re sad because you get to write.
It was a big step to find out that I don’t have to be
sad to write. Mas okay magsulat ng things that are
good. And they’re not less artistic, either. If you
think about it, God is our Creator. Everything comes
from Him. Now you’re connected to Him–the source of
all creation."

The sun is returning; the weatherman is here.

When we ask if she goes on dates, Barbie chirps, "No.
Kissed dating goodbye." "Yeah!" band co-manager
Corinne Ching claps. What’s this all about? "When one
is a dating, the first thought is that if the date
would make a good partner–not ‘I’m gonna love this
person in a pure way,’" Barbie continues. "It’s like
you pretend to be something you’re not. It’s not
natural."

"Ano yan? Best foot forward?" Rommel arrives in a
huff.

We ask Rommel if he believes in dating. "Kailangan eh!
But I’m celibate."

By choice? "Hindi naman," he smiles and we laugh.
"Celestine prophecy."

Wendell, for his part, says he already has a special
someone.

When the bough breaks the cradle won’t fall.

It’s a packed Padi’s Point Mindave that greets
Barbie’s Cradle. The band’s one-set appearance is
launched with Belinda Bye Bye. Barbie wears a Che
Guevarra shirt and looks like a frail boy with her
short haircut. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters
tonight except Barbie, Rommel and Wendell. Never mind
that the sound system goes a little awry. Never mind
that Barbie’s effects box conks out.

Barbie is electric. She has us all in the palm of her
hand. She dances with her guitar. We see nothing else.
We shut everything out.

When she sings Goodnyt, the change in lyrics is
apparent.

"Goodbye to the sun. Goodnight. All pain will be gone…
FOR GOOD." Substituting "for good" for "for a while"
is only one change. She later recites a mantra in the
end, in her soothing voice as defiantly calm as it
could be: "Goodbye beer, goodbye same…"

There’s no cryptic message for us here. The sentiments
are pretty clear. We only need to see through the thin
veil this beautiful girl drapes over her heart.