“A decade ago, [the bands] Twisted Halo, Dicta License, and Fatal Posporos had a hard time booking gigs.” And that, Vin Dancel tells GMA News Online, is the story of why Admit One started. Little did Dancel and his colleague, Ene Lagunzad, who was then managing Dicta License, know that this would lead to what has become an institution. This was a word I heard from two musicians I interviewed at the last Admit One gig. Early on Friday, Nov. 25, at about two in the morning, Admit One ended 10 years of being one of the earliest independent production outfits. Dicta License, a rap-rock band, was the last to play, ending the night on a high note. Their drummer, Brian Makasiar, told us how they started: “We had a new manager at that time. And we were just starting. Wala pa kaming album noon. [Ene] said that we should have a regular gig. At that time, we were students and the gigs were on Wednesday nights, so we would play on a school night.”

Marie Jamora of Boldstar, one of the four bands that reunited for the final gig. Ren Aguila
The band was one of about 234 performers featured in Admit One gigs since 2001. The souvenir T-shirt, which lists all these, reads like a “Who's Who” of the independent music scene in Metro Manila. Some of these performers have achieved some success in the commercial scene. Imago, one of the bands that performed in the first part of the farewell gigs at Saguijo in Makati, had one radio hit that, for me, made listening to even the worst FM stations in Manila bearable. And around a few years back, I stopped changing channels when I first heard Julianne's “Grateful” on a music video channel. “It was about 2007 when my album came out,” she says, “and Admit One was the first to get me to play in Saguijo.” She credits the diverse Admit One community for “embracing me as an artist.”
It is this diversity that has enabled an electro-pop ensemble like the Techy Romantics to play at Admit One events, and for the first (and last) time, the progressive rock band Fuseboxx (see Karl de Mesa's piece). Their lead singer, Abby Clutario, admits that apart from the usual enthusiasm, it was a change to see “a larger volume [of people]... It's a well-produced gig, punung-puno [ng nanonood], and we enjoyed it as much as we have enjoyed playing as Fuseboxx for ten years as well.”
Then there are those who have been faithfully following Admit One for a long while now. One fan, an accountant from Olongapo City, says that even while he was studying at UP Baguio about six years ago, he would go down to Manila on the bus to catch a monthly Admit One gig. (The gigs were done weekly, but as people grew busier, it became a monthly event.) Independent director John Torres does not recall when he first went to an Admit One gig. But his interests both in music (he is also a musician) and film-making intersect: “When it came to telling my stories, pacing my stories in a certain rhythm, music has influenced my filmmaking so much that in my first film, I laid in a piece of music to determine how to edit the shots.”
'Let a thousand flowers bloom'
Admit One has left a profound legacy in the local music scene. Many independent music productions, including some that have been featured here, took off because of this. Vin Dancel says of this, “we were the pioneers of that whole thing—supporting original music, coming up with theme/concept nights, posters, zines, etc.” Quoting Mao Zedong, he adds, “back then, I was thinking, 'let a thousand flowers bloom!' And it did.” It had served its purpose, he said in remarks given at the close of Admit One. The independent production outfit has become a steady fixture in the music scene here in the metropolis, and I suspect in other urban centers as well.
Carlo Castano, a singer/songwriter who first performed with Admit One in 2010, says that this legacy shows that “you could put up a good quality show without commercial backers...They gave everyone a fighting chance.” This was whether it was a massive 40-band gig at UP's Bahay ng Alumni for student victims of drunk driving, or a fundraiser for indie denizen Mei Bastes (where I first learned that the production was ending), or a regular monthly gig at Saguijo, whose name is almost synonymous with Admit One. (Another note: the name came from the generic store-bought entry tickets that were sold at the gate both to allow access and to get a drink.)
Julianne puts it another way, “The legacy is that there will be people who will support your art, no matter how bad the industry gets. We will be able to stand by our art, to be ourselves, to speak what we are about." —KG, GMA News