GENERAL SANTOS CITY (MindaNews / 5 August) — It was 7 p.m. on a Sunday, and the city was settling into its familiar evening rhythm.
The sky had dimmed to charcoal, streetlamps flickered to life, and tricycles buzzed through the wide lanes around the Oval Plaza. Joggers looped around the track.
Along the sidewalks, vendors sold street food beside newer stalls—pop-up cafés serving lattes out of the backs of cars.
But near one quiet curb—just beside a small mobile café—the usual sounds of the city were interrupted by something unexpected: a voice through a mic, and fingers strumming an acoustic guitar.
It wasn’t coming from a stage, a bar, or a church service. It was coming from the street.
Three young men stood in front of a small speaker, a microphone, and an open guitar bag—an unspoken invitation for tips.
They weren’t there by arrangement or request. They just showed up and played.
They were busking.
“We were inspired by the busking community in Bonifacio Global City, where performers are supported and recognized—not just as buskers, but as full-fledged artists and singer-songwriters,” said Jerwyn Catolico, one of the performers. “But here in GenSan, street busking like this hasn’t really happened yet. So we decided to try.”
Their group, calling themselves The Busk Bloc GenSan, said the idea was to create space for open, unfiltered performances in a city where most live music is limited to malls, bars, or city-sanctioned events.
A new kind of noise
Street busking—public performances in open areas for voluntary tips—is common in cities like Taguig, Cebu, and Baguio. But in General Santos City, it’s a rare sight.
Live music here typically happens on planned stages: inside malls, at local restaurants, or during festivals and events organized by the LGU or sponsors.
Most performers are formally booked and provided with permits and equipment.
This time, there was none of that: no stage, no spotlight, no promotions. Just a speaker, a mic, and music shared with anyone passing by.
According to the group, they coordinated informally with Milkyway Café, a pop-up stall beside them, which welcomed the idea and allowed them to play nearby.
But there was no official clearance.
“Hindi po, but we’re open to coordinating officially with the LGU if needed. We just wanted to try and see what would happen,” said Carl Arzaga, when asked whether they had secured permission from city authorities.
A set that turned into a session
For over an hour, The Busk Bloc GenSan performed mellow OPM tracks and soft pop covers.
The sound from their speaker rose above the plaza’s buzz—past tricycles weaving through, voices gathered around pop-up stalls, and joggers circling the Oval.
At first, few stopped to listen. Then a crowd slowly began to form—some lingered by the café, others pulled out their phones to record, and a few dropped coins or bills into the guitar bag.
Midway through the set, the performance turned into an open mic. Friends and strangers joined in, one by one, taking the mic and singing their own tunes.
“At first, we were scared people would just pass by or even laugh at us,” said Charlie Palalisan, another member of the group. “But the support we received exceeded our expectations. Strangers actually jammed with us. It was such a validating experience.”
“We felt unsure at first,” added Catolico. “But with the support of our friends—and the three of us cheering each other on—we pushed through.”
No rules—yet
As of writing, there are no widely publicized city ordinances in General Santos that specifically address small-scale street performances.
Large events and gatherings typically require permits, but whether informal acoustic busking needs the same approval remains unclear.
Still, the performers insist they meant no harm.
They said the performance wasn’t about earning money, but about trying something new in a public space and gauging the city’s response.
It was also their soft launch as a group hoping to carve space for more public artistic expression.
“We’re planning to make it a weekly thing. We hope this grows into a regular platform for local artists to freely express and share their craft with the community,” said Arzaga.
The start of something
Whether street busking in GenSan becomes a weekly staple or fades after one night, The Busk Bloc GenSan’s debut made a quiet impression.
For a few moments on a Sunday night, the sidewalk was not just a path—it became a platform.
A space for voices, instruments, and stories usually heard only behind closed doors or under event spotlights.
In a city known for boxing champions, sardine factories, and tuna festivals, the three friends made space for something different.
No stage required. (Guia Rebollido / MindaNews)
