by PRIME SARMIENTO

JAL TAGUIBAO has a very simple way of telling just when a song can be called a hit. “When your song is being played in jeepneys,” he says, “that’s when it’s gone big time.

Taguibao should know. As the bass player of the popular pop-rock trio Sugarfree, he has shared in the success of chart-toppers such as “Mariposa (Butterfly),” “Telepono (Telephone),” and “Hari ng Sablay (King of Mishaps).” His five-year-old band has sold thousands of CDs, with its second venture, the album “Dramachine,” even turning gold.

Taguibao and the rest of Sugarfree are among the many artists who are keeping the cash registers ringing for the local recording industry, which has never really had any problems with finding and cultivating musical talents. Unfortunately, since the 1980s, it has been having the opposite experience when it comes to marketing songs — and making money.

“It’s not the way it used to be when a musician just gives a single to the radio DJ, (who) then plays that song on air,” says Karin Araneta, an independent record producer who has also managed bands like Eraserheads and Mojofly. “(And then if) listeners like your song, they will always call the DJ and request for that song. Continuous airplay will make that song popular. Now, it’s different because there are other media aside from radio.”

For sure, these new avenues have been a boon to talents who may otherwise have had a harder time being noticed. A case in point is 15-year-old Charice Pempengco, whose YouTube birit performance has earned her spots in at least four popular shows abroad — plus a contract with Star Records. Some artists, meanwhile, offer free downloads of selected songs from their websites as a way of enticing listeners to try their music.

But the rise of digital media has also given consumers a myriad of options, making it more difficult for any recording executive to market a song. While it’s easy to get any form of exposure, given the many choices available, the flipside is that it has become harder to choose which venue will encourage the most number of listeners not only to listen, but to actually buy an album. And in a country where household budgets are perennially tight, that could be quite a challenge, which is partly why the recording industry has found itself struggling to keep afloat.

“Everybody spreads their money really thin,” says Araneta. “If I’m a fan and I want my favorite band’s song to prosper, where do I spend my money? Do I text radio stations? But which radio station? Do I make a request at ASAP or MYX?”

Record companies also know there are already many music lovers like corporate executive Justine Castellon who simply surf the Net whenever they feel a hankering for their favorite type of tunes. A classical music aficionado, Castellon says she bypasses the radio and CD player and goes straight to her laptop, which she uses to download songs. She then slaps on her earplugs, and listens to the soothing tunes while she works.

“I can’t concentrate on what I’m working on if I’m not listening to music,” she says. But that music has to be something that she likes, which is why she hasn’t been tuning in to any local FM station for years. Explains Castellon: “If I like a certain song, I want to listen to it the whole day. But with radio, sometimes you like what’s on, but it’s soon followed by something you don’t like.”

STILL, UNLIKE what an ‘80s song claimed, video did not kill the radio star — at least not in the Philippines. Neither did the Net. True, radio is no longer the first destination of a producer trying to make a hit, but it remains a major means of promoting a certain type of song or genre. By its sheer reach, nothing beats radio in the Philippines. And unlike downloading many songs from the Internet, listening to radio is still free.

Radio is such a powerful marketing tool that people will resort to any means — some of which are unethical — to get the much coveted airplay. The more unscrupulous ones still hand out payola or bribes to some DJs and radio station managers, say industry insiders. But there are also musicians or record company executives who create an artificial demand for a song by pretending they are fans and calling or texting radio stations to ask the DJ to play whatever song they are pushing at the moment over and over again. Says one industry observer who declines to be named: “Everyone does it. In some major recording studios, members of the staff call up the radio station or text a song request whenever they have time.”

The local recording industry actually grew in tandem with radio. An article published on the Philippine Association of the Record Industry (PARI) website puts the start of the Philippine recording industry in 1913. That was the year, says the article’s writer, historian Danny Yson, that two U.S.-based recording companies, Victor Talking Machine Company and Columbia Records, set up offices here and began recording Filipino talents. Victor and Columbia also put up their own radio stations to promote the songs they churned out and to persuade listeners to buy the records.

The first recorded songs — in 78 rpm, eight-inch single — were the then very popular zarzuela solos and duets. Stage performers Victorino Carrion and Maria Carpena were among the first local recording artists. Zarzuela would later give way to other types of songs, and vinyl records, which would be joined by cassette tapes, would be replaced by CDs. Other forms of entertainment, such as nightclubs and television, would also help in promoting songs. But radio has stood the test of time. As late as the 1990s, it was still doing its fair share of boosting record (read: CD) sales, which by then were estimated to be hitting over P400 million.

Indeed, the local recording industry has also proved resilient. Unlike their counterparts in the Philippine film industry, which seems to be in its death throes, several record companies here have managed to survive almost a century of political upheavals and economic ups and downs. That can only be because the industry has yet to lose access to the music lover’s pockets, even if the contents of these keep on getting smaller each day.