As kids we usually detest the sound of our father belting it out to the tune of Matt Monro or Tom Jones. We unearth copious cassette tapes of the same artists and other oldies superstar in our parents' old cabinets. To their bygone era, these figures were luminaries. Their music defined decades.
To the normal contemporary young adult who is not baduy (or at least that's what they think they are), listening to It's Not Unusual or My Way is the closest thing to hell. Just a single line from oldies songs are so revolting that we normally change the radio dial so fast as if it were a Coke cap.
But what I think made this generation unappreciative of the oldies are right in the very heart of Pinoy pop culture. The phenomenon that redefined Pinoys. A foreigner can easily identify us with this -- the Karaoke or more recently, the videoke. Everyone just loves to hold that mic and if the song requires, dance like it's the last night on Earth. The power to shine and be the next Pinoy Pop Superstar (with the irritating squeal) can be so addictive, the videoke gimmick can be likened to a druggie's version of pot session.
Though there are already KTVs and sing-along bars just about everywhere, the masa would prefer the hulog-hulog portion -- a videoke slot machine -- 5 pesos and you can attempt to outshine everybody with Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On. But just you wait until that pot-bellied drunkard got hold of the mic and let loose his balladeer side. You've just heard the most abominable version of the famous My Way or Bridge Over Troubled Water.
For me, hearing the street-versions of the old songs make me hate them. But in the end, you can't really deprive these people of the cheapest sort of escapism.
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