The recent passing of three beloved icons from Philippine entertainment has stirred a wave of nostalgia and reflection among fans from different generations. Their music, performances, and personal stories have left an indelible mark on Filipino culture.
In this column, I look back at how Pilita Corrales, Nora Aunor, and Hajji Alejandro shaped my memories — and perhaps yours, too — through their extraordinary talent and timeless contributions to our musical heritage.
The first was Pilita Corrales, the mestiza goddess from Cebu. She was an icon, recording dozens of albums and becoming the first Filipino to hit the top of the charts in a foreign country — Australia. My Lolo Ompong was a big fan of her local television show back in the 1960s, as were millions of her countrymen. When I came of age in the 1980s, her daughter, Jackie Lou, was rising as an award-winning actress — and I remember Pilita’s signature “backflip” way of performing. I was certainly intrigued, as were all the TV hosts of that era, including one in particular. On Sunday nights, my siblings and I would watch it with my parents: Seeing Stars with Joe Quirino.
The second was the Superstar, Nora Aunor. I have more specific memories of her because our beloved house helper, Apo Cion, was a big fan of the young lady from Bicol. I remember her room was filled with local magazines from that era, all with Nora on the covers. The best memory I have is when Apo Cion took me to Roxas Boulevard, to the RPN 9 studios, which carried Nora’s show. I remember standing in line, sitting in the cavernous studio, and watching the Superstar perform. Her voice was unique, reminiscent of Karen Carpenter’s, and she stood tall. A couple of years later, I watched Minsa’y Isang Gamu-Gamo, the story of a family living outside what was then Clark Air Base, and how Nora’s brother was killed by American snipers, who mistakenly believed he was a pig. Nora’s devastating line — “My brother is not a pig!!!” — left a lasting impact. It’s available in HD on YouTube, and I suppose that was when I became a Noranian.
The third was the original “Kilabot ng Kolehiyala,” Hajji Alejandro. It was around 1978 when I first noticed him. He had joined, and won, a song contest with the iconic Kay Ganda ng Ating Musika. It was impossible not to hear it, as both FM and AM radio played it constantly — a celebration of our Filipino music scene. One of my uncles, Papa Tony, got a copy of Hajji’s debut album, which was momentous for me. Hajji translated English songs into local hits. One standout was Lou Rawls’ “You’ll Never Know,” which was spectacular. There was also Panakip Butas and the timeless Nakapagtataka. We played that album until the grooves were worn out. Decades later, Hajji’s daughter revived Nakapagtataka into a major hit.
All three legends passed away in the week before Easter, and it was shock followed by shock. I’m writing this in the hope that one child, perhaps from my pre-teen years in the 1970s, will go to Spotify and discover the music of these three. I know I’ve been listening to their songs, remembering their legendary moments, over and over again.
