Ang ating bayan mahal ng kalikasan
Palaging may araw, maghapon ang kuwentuhan
Sa aking panahon, may formalin na ang gulay
Mangidnap ng tao, parang hanapbuhay
Mayron kaming Xerex, gigisingin ka sa sex
Morale nami'y babang baba , nang re rape pati bata
Chorus:
Ito ang bayan ko ngayon
Ito ang aking (aming) panahon
Kung maaalala mo (nyo ) kami
Ito ang aking (aming) panahon
Sikat ang Pinatubo , umalis mga Kano
Ngunit ang isip namin , G.I. Joe pa rin
Pagkatapos magaral, takbo ay Amerika,
Tingin namin sa Bayan ay walang pag asa
Salitang "pagkakaisa" ay narinig na namin
Ngunit di alam ang gagawin at ano'ng ibig sabihin
Sa aking panahon, uso ang mag Saudi
Pauwi ay mayro'ng TV, may blue seal ang barkada
May ilang linggo, magbebenta na ulit
Pinayaman ibang bayan, pamilya'y iiwanan
Kung marami sanang maka Diyos sa gubyerno
At hindi na Diyos ang pera, baka mayro'ng pagasa
Known for his sticky-sweet love songs that defined a generation, Rey Valera, 56, has created a song that would personify his artistry into that of a rock star.
"Sa Aking Panahon," never heard on radio, is Valera's take on his generation and what it did or didn't do to help progress the country into an emerging economic nation and shape the sensibility of its citizens.
Singing the song in his recent concerts accompanied only by his acoustic guitar, Valera invests in it his down-to-earth awareness of what he should have done but didn't do—as an artist or simply as a Filipino.
But in this one-on-one interview with Philippine Entertainment Portal (PEP), Valera does not justify nor defend himself. Instead, he explores possibilities, like what if he just retires and plants camoteng kahoy in Mindoro?
"I like it there," he says of Mindoro. "May dagat, may ferry boat. Ayoko ng eroplano. Kung gusto mong makawala, 'di lumayo ka na...Mindoro dahil hindi naman napaka layo na hindi mo na ma-reach."
But growing camoteng kahoy is still in the near future, as the singer-songwriter still has to acquire the land he would plant to it. He also has plans to export these root crops in the future.
In the meantime, Valera will remain an entertainer. Recently, he has cut his forever shoulder-length hair into a bob so that he now resembles Latino singer Marc Anthony, husband of Jennifer Lopez.
"Kahawig nga raw ako ni Marc Anthony," he says with a laugh.
He also admits that he is "not classic gwapo, survivor lang," and explains how he has managed to endure, even defy trends and time.
"When I was starting, Rico J. was the biggest singer," he recalls. "Basil Valdes was then starting to get big. He had [composer George] Canseco behind him. Canseco's lyrics are matamis, mala-kundiman ang dating ng melody. I positioned myself to be alanganin. And I didn't rely on my vocals. I leaned on my songwriting instead."
The haunting melodies of songs like "Kung Tayo'y Magkakalayo," "Pangako," "Sinasamba Kita," "Kung Kailangan Mo Ako," "Maging Sino Ka Man," to name a few, and the in-your-face lyrics of songs like "Ayoko Na Sa 'Yo," "Mr. DJ," "Kung Maputi Na Ang Buhok Ko," Ako Si Superman," "Sorry Na, Pwede Ba," among others, hit the masa in the face.
"I did this because I was trying to avoid being like the others," says Valera. h
The uniqueness in being the ordinary guy and singer of lilting ballads with street slang lyrics created for Valera his route to OPM stardom in the late 1970s into the early 1980s. With the emergence of Viva Entertainment Corporation in the 1980s which embraced music and movies, some of Valera's songs found their way into the big screen and perhaps, pop immortality.
"I salute Vic del Rosario for his music savvy," says Valera of the record and movie mogul who discovered him. "He knows what makes a hit, what doesn't. Alam n'ya ang diskarte."
Valera, however, traces his roots in rock, Electric Hair, "a never-heard rock band" where he was the vocalist and bass player for seven years. But after one Japan gig with the band, Valera quit and unlocked his baul of original songs.
"I actually had three songs hidden then," Valera recalls, "but they were for the choir in church."
He didn't know how to read nor write notes, he admits, and it took a lot of guts for him to submit the first song he had written for then 12-year-old Sharon Cuneta. The song, "Mr. DJ," which evoked the pining of a teenybopper in love for the first time, was a colossal hit for both the singer and the songwriter.
But even at the height of his popularity, Valera was never into big money, he claims.
"I got paid fried chicken and buko juice for one show," he recalls.
The money, however, hasn't stopped rolling in. Most of his songs have been acquired by ABS-CBN as theme songs for their teleseryes.
"I think I'm more popular now than I was before," he says with candor. "Yung iba kong kantang hindi nag-hit, nire-revive tapos, sumisikat ngayon."
He couldn't ask for more, and he doesn't want anything more, not even to become a rock star even if he can do a mean falsetto as the late Freddie Mercury. All Valera wants to do is plant camoteng kahoy.