A Decade In Waves

On an Island in the Pacific Ocean, we all live peculiar lives. This body of music, that I made with the band To The Hill over a decade ago, explores mine during a tumultuous time. It was December 2013 in Guam when our band of best friends, my girlfriend, and her older brother, recorded our debut with Joay Cruz at his home in the village of Yoña. I had been working with Joe’s mom at Mainstreet Café in our islands’ capital and finally befriended him after being a fan of his music for some time. I’d often watch his indie band, Sex Karate, play at Old Traditions in Tumon while trying to get in on their crowd of the coolest hipsters and artsy skaters this place had to offer. I wanted a piece of the action. So we were in his room recording that at my ripe age of 22.

in Waves was the culmination of a lot of history between our band members. After forming post-rock bands or joining hardcore ones on this island as a teen, the dissolution of our first attempt at an ‘indie’ project (Technicolor Panic) is what left me with family. Regina, my girlfriend at the time, and her older brother Mario Oliva were now playing drums and lead guitar in our new venture that we named after the hill between our houses (as I lived across theirs). with my close friends Joss and JP, who were a part of the latter part of my life, joining us on SYNTHS AND BASS. Together, we wrote and recorded our debut. songs I would take with me when I eventually moved to San Francisco, California. I spent my time there working on these 4 tracks along with my TRIP EP I produced in the city- another story of crashing and burning (here’s the Zine about it).

*Our Classic lineup playing at Old Traditions before it closed.*

By 2015, I had returned from my stint on the West Coast with a freshly uncast leg I had broken trying to skate in the Bay Area. With me was the debut of TO The Hill, mixed and mastered by myself as I recovered and taught myself how to walk again. Coming back, I was just as heartbroken as I was physically, and eventually, the band was affected by it. Tensions grew, and before you knew it, JP was smashing his bass guitar inside Old Traditions at his final gig with us celebrating the release of IN Waves. He left the band after that night, and Rico Aflleje became our permanent bassist. Who grew up playing on this island alongside Joss and me. Between playing a broken-down school bus-turned-party or the countless club gigs were moments of endless glory. Fun times for sure. experiences that followed eventually led to our downfall, however.

Through our fair share of adversaries and adversity, we faced obstacles constantly. That’s the nature of doing it yourself. Wither it was from people that didn’t understand what we were doing or straight up being black listed by networks here (like the time they shit talked us on local morning AM radio for a post a fan made defending us from how we were treated at Guam live, so Mario had to call in and tell them live how we felt/or how KUAM never aired our Live Local Friday segment cause we made it as weird as possible for TV broadcast). On top of the usual scumbags that come out the jungle when your band is doing something worth while. All of which made things that much trippier. It’s mostly a blur these days.

Memories became reasons I’ve clung onto the good people who helped support us in those times, like the skate community and company I’ve kept at Long Live Clothing, who threw their faith unto D.I.Y. bands that deserved love but didn’t always receive it. Not to mention the creative arts scene for doing much the same in a time when original music wasn’t where the money was at. Most bands were relegating themselves to purgatory, opting to cover music in crusty bars for eternity. That is why this push forward forging our music was imperative. The collective output of these independent bands changed the environment for the better. The same could be said about the impact on my life as my efforts ultimately led me towards a career in public radio today (A review of our release in the local paper by Amanda Pampuro was the catalyst for my current situation). I would not be Bob Gnarly had it not been for all the great people I met during that era. When it was all said and done, the band did well with music critics as much as we did with the local misfits. We made a lot of friends. For that I’m happy.

*To The Hill at Dededo Skate Park shot by Monte Reavill. One of our final gigs.*

That wasn’t enough to sustain this band, though, as it turned out to be more of a monster than it ever needed to be. This is why it ended with Mario abruptly quitting the BAND WITH A WEEKLY GIG ON OUR HANDS. His sister and I being left to resolve our relationship, now strained over this road we took as artists and musicians. A path that led her and I to consummate our partnership in marriage by making music together as NVRDRMT. The rest of the band moved on with their lives. To this day, we still keep in touch.10 years later, I am transcribing all this as my wife is taking a family trip off-island with my brother-in-law Mario. and I have another day of working at NPR in the tropics tomorrow morning. Life is still just as wild, even though I try to be more chill nowadays. Which means I should be getting sleep soon. Weathering the storm wasn’t always easy, to be honest, but I’m glad I held on for this outcome. That is why the music we created as To The Hill, which was only available on Bandcamp, is now streaming on all platforms to celebrate.

Carving Out S.P.E.A.R.