Rhythm in the key of STOMP

A jumble of plastic barrels, metal dustbins, and various flotsam and jetsam hanging from scaffolding are arranged in wasteland splendor on the stage. A hunky version of Bob Marley wielding a broomstick enters from the right side. He eyes the audience with disdain, shakes his head, and starts swishing the dust and tapping the side of the broom in a gentle staccato on the floor. The rhythm has begun. More sweepers enter the stage, all dressed in ragged outfits that matched the cacophony on the set. They came in a variety of shapes and sizes: a dark and muscular amazon, a pale gum-popping wild child of a girl, tall and burly “hey Joe" types, a funny round man with spindly legs who would provide comic relief at every turn. There were eight in all, and for one a half hours, they created a magical experience of sound that left an appreciative audience clamoring for more. Yes, more of those little sketches that seemed to have no rhyme or reason at first, but in the end turned out to be clever pieces of music complete with intro, refrain, and fade-outs. No improvisations for this tone-savvy bunch, with exceptional motor skills to boot. They displayed uncanny discipline, amazing choreography, and a sense of song that would put to shame any poseur band out there trying to pass off repetitive tinkering with Jew’s harps and rainsticks as music.

From the parade of broomsticks, they went on to form a row of flickering lighters and then clowned around with trashcan lids turned into cymbals. They banged on metal cans, kitchen sinks with water in them, and huge tire tubes strapped to the waist. Secured by harnesses, they hung from mid-air while creating a symphony of sound by tapping on the found objects attached to the scaffolding high up the stage. No material escaped their attention. A song could be composed from a sprinkling of sand on the floor, paper and plastic bags scrounged from a sack of trash, even pieces of newspaper crumpled in measured sequence. A cough here, a guttural rumbling there, and a solo percussion performance that used hands, legs and feet proved that you don’t even need instruments to create music; all you need is your body. Soon the audience was caught up in the action, gamely responding as group leader Nigel Clarke mimed instructions for a clapping spree. As a respite from the frenetic drumming, the resident clown made up silly antics, at one point dropping his shorts to reveal a Casper the friendly ghost underpants that asked the audience to SCREAM in bold letters when he thrust his butt out. Of course, they couldn’t end the performance without the stomping highlight of full-size steel barrels strapped to their feet, as most of us have seen them in cinema ads. This was all too brief, but the rousing finale with all eight stompers scrambling up and down the stage set, banging on the motley assortment of materials in deafening unison more than made up for the disappointment. It ended the way it started, fading out to the figure of mister hunky dreadlocks swishing his broomstick across an empty stage, signaling the end of a remarkable eight-show run. Instead of taking a bow, each one came out with a beer can in hand – “one more for you Manila" – and snapped them open in a staccato encore before finishing off with a cheery “Tagay!" – GMA News STOMP performed at the Cultural Center of the Philippines from Oct. 18 to Oct. 23. For the STOMP schedule of performances, click here. All photos courtesy of Lunchbox Productions