At the 2006 NU Rock Awards: (L-R) Ramon Zialcita, Joanna Ong, Howling Dave, Bob Magoo, Sleepy John

By Francis Acero

The first time I heard Ramon Zialcita I was a college freshman barely versed in the ways of the world. I had no musical preference whatsoever, and I pretty much ate up as much bubblegum pop as could be shoved down my gullible teenage throat. I was a mindless preppy happy to eat up the inane banter that passes for proper English in this social stratum.

Then I met this pretty girl who thought herself the next reincarnation of the Goddess of Pinoy Rock (I have a sneaking suspicion most girls in the nineties felt this way–admit it, even you had your own band) and was nothing but a loyal and avid listener of the only “real” radio station that paid her satisfactory supplication. Determined to impress her, I tuned in one day to see what the fuss was about. Ramon was on air.

The Doctor, as was his nom de guerre, had this accent that was somewhere between tipsy and wasted when he spoke, and tinged with enough authority that let the listener know that somehow he was in charge, that he knew the bull of which he spake and so on.

“You’re listening to Manila’s Rock Authority,” he would bellow, as if that was ever in doubt. In more ways than one, especially for those who grew up listening to him on LA 105.9, he was Manila’s Rock Authority.

Then, sometime in the late ’90s, DWLA 105.9 changed its format from a rock into a pop station, and Ramon’s voice vanished into thin air.

For many, many years, nothing was heard of him. On the airwaves, at least, Ramon was silent. He would book gigs for several bands and sometimes host large rock events like Pulp’s infamous SummerSlam series. There he would be known for dousing himself with Red Horse onstage to cool down after a rocking set.

After a while, even that gig was up. There would be an occasional column now and then for Pulp magazine, but even that was sporadic. Then in 2006, those who had kept in touch reported that Ramon was doing well and okay in Baguio, where he was holding fort over a country music station. Radio silence, as it were, had been broken.

We caught up with Ramon in Baguio as he was finishing off an article on Iron Maiden and his column for Pulp magazine.

PinoyCentric.com: You disappeared from the rock scene for a while. What was her name?

The Doctor: [Laughter] Thats a good one. When DWLA-FM 105.9 went off the air in late 2000, it was one of my lowest moments in life. I gave everything of myself to that radio station. I wanted to win, but it’s so damn hard when management doesn’t back you up.

When I joined the station in 1990, we were given all-out support by the late Anthony Aguirre. That guy was a winner. I was so sad when he passed away and his older brother Bobby took over and he hardly supported us. Do you know that he never even stepped foot inside his radio station?

I disappeared from the rock scene over the air, but I took the fight for Pinoy rock to the streets and on print. I still hosted rock shows, big and small; provided sound, light, and stages (Surd Audio) to rock events; marketed and booked bands for a rock joint (the New Prince of Wales Galleria); and wrote a column (Pulp magazine) so I was still very much visible.

Seriously. Everyone has a story about waking up and realizing that sober is better. How did you “wake up”?
In 2001 when my wife filed for divorce, I was totally shattered. My life became more of a mess and the only way I knew how to deal with the pain was to drink myself to oblivion. When alcohol didn’t work anymore, I would shift to other substances and mix them all up. I entered treatment in 2002, thanks to my dad. To make a long story short, I swore allegiance to the 12-step program of Alcoholics Anonymous. That fellowship of ex-drunks saved my soul from going to the gallows.

Alcoholism is a disease with no known cure, man. And after studying the disease concept, I told myself that the gig was up. I’m no longer dying one day at a time. I’m living on a 24-hour basis.

Is the Red Horse shower that you do while hosting gigs gone for good?
In the gigs I host in recovery, I no longer take a Red Horse shower. All this stinking thinking that I can do a better job onstage if I go on drunk or stoned is a lot of bull. I do it better clean and sober. I know where I am. I know what I’m saying. I’m no longer talking from where the sun don’t shine and the slur is gone.

I’m not saying I didn’t do it good under the influence of alcohol and drugs. I’m no hypocrite. I also enjoyed those times, but they were hazy and I wouldn’t remember everything that happened because I would go on a blackout. There is so much clarity when I do a show today.

You have your wife and children in Baguio, and you’re a rock jock from Cebu and Manila. How did you two hook up?
I met my wife in 1987 when I moved to Manila. She was studying in UST and a former classmate of hers in Brent Baguio who was a regular listener of mine (I was connected with DWRT-FM at the time) introduced us to each other. I also studied in an international school in Cebu so we really hit it off.

In your Website, you say you’re on board for a country music station up in Baguio. I guess that’s in keeping with Baguio’s image as cowboy country. Do the other jocks come in ten-gallon hats too?
Yeah I joined DZWR-FM in late 2005. We’re better known as 99.9 Country. We play a mixture of folk, Southern rock, Americana, bluegrass, Southern gospel, and country music–from the roots to its branches. The jocks are mostly Baguio based, but I had four foreign DJs and a couple of cono kids when I took over programming in the first two quarters of 2006. Most of them quit when I resigned as program director because management wanted me to steer the format into the direction that I felt I couldn’t give justice to.

So, are you staying there for good or do you have other plans?
I don’t plan to live in Baguio all my life, man. I’m only here because of my three kids. I have two girls and one boy, and years of drinking have deprived me of their company. I had likewise deprived them of my company. Right now I’m making up for lost time.

What does your wife think?
My wife, who’s married again and living in the States, could care less about my plans. We hardly talk or have seen each other in the last six years we’ve been divorced. I don’t blame her. She’s been through hell for me. She just got tired and had to save herself because I was taking her down, man.

You’re still writing in Pulp. How do you stay on top of the scene?
Pulp keeps me in circulation down there in the Manila rock circuit. I’m still fortunate to host the biggest rock events because of them. I only do the big and provincial shows. I miss doing the club gigs because you can interact with your audience. I love to feel their pulse. They are Pinoy rock’s greatest treasures, and they shine through sober eyes.

Your old DZRJ cohorts, Bob Magoo and Howlin’ Dave, are making quite a comeback with their new station, which happens to be on your old frequency. Do you miss going on air with that format?
Howlin’ Dave is back rocking on Underground Radio 105.9, but Bob Magoo didn’t accept the invitation to join because the offer wasn’t worth his time. Both of them are coming fresh from a short-lived stint at DWRT-AM Rock 990 (the former 99 Rock in the 1980s). I went on the air between their slots a couple of times last year when I would be in Manila.

You’re one of those disc jockeys who make it a point to teach about your music. Does that translate into your personal life as well? What do your children listen to?
I share what I know to anyone who wants to learn. Experience is the greatest teacher and I’m living proof of that. These days I try to get the message across by walking my talk. My kids don’t really dig the music I listen to, and I try not to ram it down their throats. But sometimes I can’t help manipulating them once in a while. [Laughter]

You told me that you’ve also taken to teaching English to Koreans. Do they listen to your show too?
I teach South Koreans conversation group classes up here. I work mostly on their self-confidence first and the rest follows. They do listen to my show at times, but they aren’t fans of country music or rock.

I was in Busan, the second-largest city after Seoul in South Korea, in November 2007 and despite staging the Busan International Rock Festival yearly, their local rock scene is struggling. Most of our station’s listeners are the mountain folk (Igorots).

Several of my students have guested on my radio program just to spice up the airwaves. I had a Jap and South Korean once on my show, and it was a Sabbath Bloody Sabbath (with no bloodshed!)

There’s a story going around that you refused a lifetime achievement award for what you’ve done with local music. How true is that?
When DWNU-FM chose to present the rock jocks of DZRJ-AM “The Rock of Manila” the Lifetime Achievement Award, I went there to support the pioneers of what we stood and fought for. I only worked for DZRJ for a year when it made a brief comeback in 1988. Sure, I was a part of their history, but I am more identified with DWLA so I had no business walking up with the legendary rock jocks onstage to receive the plum. They are the legends, not me.

I’m only 38, man. I was lucky to have worked with the legends, but that doesn’t make you one. So why should I accept that award when I haven’t even reached legendary status. There is still so much rockin’ to do!

In a recent column, you seem to be ranting about how sucky the local live rock scene is in Baguio. What do you think can these guys do to improve their sound?
By listening to rock from the past so they know where it came from, and by doing that they can appreciate the rock of today.

What bands excite you now?
I really liked Reklamo, the champion of the World Battle of the Bands 2007. I also got turned on to Oremuz, who landed among the top three finishers. At the recent staging of the 4th Sunrise Festival, which I hosted up here, two bands caught my attention: Cold Rush from Baguio and Angeles-based 5 Against the Wall.

Based on their sound execution, I feel these groups have done their research unlike most of the rock outfits of this generation I’ve seen. Like what I mentioned in a previous column, it’s really upsetting because they are basically formed by what their influences are, and if they’ve got losers for influences, then they’re going to have a hard time overcoming that.

Where do you think local music is headed? Is that good or is that bad?
If this epidemic of evil continues, then Pinoy rock will definitely go to the dogs. I believed in the cause of Pinoy rock, and I fought the good fight to keep it alive. I just can’t freakin’ sit down and pretend this isn’t happening. The young guns have to work triple overtime to take it a notch or several notches higher above water.

Whether we agree with them or not, the future of Pinoy rock lies in their hands. Eventually, we have to hand them the torch.