The sound of the early ‘70s has been stereotyped with shrill male falsettos, and the hypnotic blend of synths, trills, and beats. Though the voices of the students, along with other sectors, resounded on the streets with powerful verses and simple melodies during the First Quarter Storm, disco still prevailed on the airwaves.

Disco stood as some sort of sedative, hushing news about disappearing activists and civilians. People essentially were like Annie Batungbakal, as the Hotdog song goes: “Gabi-gabi na lang ay nasa disco. Mga problema n'ya ay kanyang nalilimutan.” The discotheque was a popular form of escapism, lyrics were mostly about having a good time, sex, and sleepless nights dancing.

Instead of succumbing to disco fever, what rose among the ranks of the dissenters was the vigor to challenge the status quo—including popular music. Probably that was the problem. As the late Teresita Gimenez-Maceda, UP professor emeritus, noticed, Filipino mainstream music was trying to make that Western sound their own, at the same time, devoid of any criticism of current affairs.

But away from the disco, those who held the picket lines, chanted their disdain and anger together, coined lyrics that empowered each other. Their songs encouraged protestors, giving soul and spirit to the movement that took the country by storm.

While the sounds of the city danced the nights away, protest music paralleled the life and struggles of the peasantry from the countryside–making sure that they were heard. These songs embraced a certain Filipino folk sound, reminiscent of indigenous instrumentals to combat the digital sound of mainstream music back then.

Since disco was a distraction, it was crucial for the mobs to rise above the noise. More importantly, the means of creating such music for the cause of the disenfranchised must be accessible. Unlike the complexities of producing disco music with all the expensive equipment, an acoustic sound with just the strums of a guitar, makeshift percussion, and the voices of their comrades highlight the collective nature of their cause.

One of the samples of such music is the album Philippines: Bangon! Songs like Ang Masa, Mendiola, and Manggagawa at Magbubukid remind the proletariat of their power, that there is no one messiah to spare them from dire conditions, but only them, standing up together. The album contained mostly songs shy of three minutes, as they had to be easy to learn to unite people into singing together.

The album is uncredited, owing to the collective nature of how such protest songs were sometimes spontaneously sung by a mob–clearly, the songs were not for anybody’s personal glory. Though the album contained songs from the First Quarter Storm, it was not until 1976 that the recording was finished since production had to be done underground.

Since music was one of the best ways to pique the ears of the people at that time, it easily captivated the ears of the FIlipino people. Poems denouncing the authoritarian regime suddenly became a rich material for patriotic songs. These tunes resounded beyond the days of the First Quarter Storm and set the tone for what protest music would be in the succeeding years.

Take for example Jess Santiago and Heber Bartolome, who were some of the prominent protest songwriters that continued to counter the apathy of the mainstream music industry during and after Martial Law. Their songs highlighted grotesque oppression–a stark contrast to Imelda Marcos’ delusion of propagating “beauty.”

Not only did the songs of the First Quarter Storm influence key protest music of the years to follow, but also broke into mainstream Pinoy music through songs that were alert to deepening social ills. Folk rock became a prominent sound, producing songs like Balita and Masdan Mo Ang Kapaligiran by ASIN and Anak by Freddie Aguilar.

While these songs were anything but revolutionary, it was a welcome departure from disco haven. The songs were a development within mainstream music, realizing their role and influence during the years of dictatorship and oppression. Leaking into the ‘80s, these songs have motivated millions of Filipinos to snap out of the disco high and eventually come forth into solidarity during the 1986 EDSA Revolution.

What started as a couple of chords strummed among the ranks of the protesters, eventually inspired the Filipino masses to organize against tyranny. Though they may appear peripheral to staging a revolution, protest songs provide the soul along with the chants reverberating on the streets.

If there is anything that would remind us of the power we hold when we organize and gather, it will be the songs that were borne out of the collective angst of the First Quarter Storm. ●