IN THE MIX BY MIC DIAZ
Three decades since its first event shook a community hall on Temple Street in what is now known as Historic Filipinotown, Lokalpinoysila roared back to life for its 30th anniversary celebration at Kusina Filipina in Eagle Rock, Los Angeles on October 24 and 25. What began in the mid-1990s as a DIY gathering of Filipino-American musicians has now become a living testament to the resilience, creativity, and kinship of a scene that refuses to fade quietly into nostalgia. The energy in the air was the same one that sparked a generation of dreamers who once photocopied flyers, hauled their own speakers, and played for the love of music and belonging.
For Le-van De Guzman, the founder and quiet architect behind Lokalpinoysila, this milestone is both surreal and deeply personal. Back in the early days, he and his friends formed bands like A-1 (later Milk!), Sisa’s Veil, and Angkan ng Ipugaw—artists who found themselves yearning for a space that reflected their voice as Fil-Am creatives in Los Angeles. “At the time, I wanted it to sound like Lollapalooza,” Le-van recalls. “But more importantly, I wanted to give the scene its own identity. So we called it Lokalpinoy. It sounded cooler than just saying ‘Filipino-American music scene’—that felt baduy,” he laughs.
The first Lokalpinoysila show in 1995 at FACLA on Temple Street was pure grit and community. “Everything was DIY,” he says. “We designed the flyers, provided the P.A., even sold our own sandwiches and sodas. Around 150 people showed up and there was a mosh pit—I remember thinking, this is cool, parang Club Dredd lang sa Pinas.” That night marked the beginning of something bigger than anyone realized: a homegrown movement uniting Filipino musicians who didn’t fit into mainstream pop circles, but carried stories worth amplifying.
Fast-forward to 2025, and that same fire burned bright at Kusina Filipina in Eagle Rock. The two-night lineup featured a cross-generational mix: Something Came Up, Acid Rain, New Day in August, Zipcode, and Calratz opened the first night with a punch of pop-punk, grunge, and alternative nostalgia, while Day Two spotlighted Swimming Pools and Movie Stars, Mayday, Armstalk, Fights Without Loss, and Count2Ten, capped by a highly anticipated reunion performance from Sisa’s Veil—the band that helped start it all, still drenched in their signature new-wave sound. What made the night even more special was a surprise appearance by Barnard Carter, the original drummer of Sisa’s Veil, who flew in from New York to join his bandmates on their final song. The restaurant-turned-rock-haven became a time capsule and a bridge where veterans shared the stage with newcomers who grew up idolizing them.
Carter’s return felt like a scene straight out of the ’90s. “Back in the day, bands like Sisa’s Veil covered songs by The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, and other new wave icons,” he recalled. The band’s members first met at Los Angeles City College (LACC), where they started playing covers before writing their own songs and blending them into their sets. “The underground scene was more simple back then,” he said. “People just wanted to play.” Looking around at the new P.A. system, and packed crowd, he smiled and added, “It feels great to come back to Lokalpinoysila and see my old bandmates and people who used to go to the shows. I used to drop my drumstick every time I played—it became my trademark.” For Carter, the anniversary was a reminder to keep dreams alive: “Keep on rocking, keep doing what you love. Look back and cherish the good days, but always look forward and keep at it. Hopefully someday we see Fil-Am bands getting bigger venues and getting signed.”
For drummer Michael Abad, who has been part of Lokalpinoysila since the early days through bands like Sisa’s Veil and New Day in August, the night was more than a gig—it was a homecoming. “It builds a sense of community,” he says. “It’s an avenue for local artists to congregate and showcase their talents. It’s a perfect example of people from different backgrounds and musical tastes finding common ground.” Abad admits the local scene has changed—venues are fewer and opportunities can be scarce—but he sees hope in how the old and new bands share the same stage. “It was good to see a combination of OG bands and newcomers. We need the newcomers to carry the torch of Fil-Am music in Los Angeles.”
When asked how Filipino musicians can reach wider audiences, Abad doesn’t hesitate: “We should showcase our talents more in non-Pinoy venues. The music is there—we just need to branch out.” His work with projects like No Sisig, No Rakenrol (with Zosimo Quibilan and Allan Santa Cruz) and Indie in the Valley (with Monty Rili) are efforts toward that goal. “We have to push more original music, not just covers. Filipinos are natural storytellers, but we need to make our stories universal—longing, family, struggle, hope. The world responds to honesty and authenticity.” He also emphasizes professionalism and community: “We need to build a stronger creative network. Look at Britpop or the Seattle grunge movement—it wasn’t one artist, it was a scene. Filipino musicians have that raw talent and camaraderie. We just need to be louder and more cohesive.”
That sense of unity was palpable across both nights. Jojo Zipagan, lead singer of Zipcode, captured the spirit succinctly: “Lokalpinoysila serves as a link to unite the local music scene and the Filipino community together.” For him, every band—from rock to hardcore—shares a single goal: “To give and entertain the Filipino community. Music is a universal language.” Looking ahead, Zipagan dreams of seeing more Filipino music scenes sprouting not just in L.A., but across America—and one day breaking into the mainstream. “Someone to represent the Filipino music scene and be heard throughout the world,” he says. His band plans to release two more albums while continuing to play shows that bridge generations of listeners.
Meanwhile, Richard Del Rosario, frontman of New Day in August, reflected on the night’s deeper emotional pull: “It’s nice to play old songs that we created back then. The nostalgia, the camaraderie—it reminds us of when everything was just starting in the eksena. I hope our set inspired younger bands the way we were inspired back then.”
For Le-van, Lokalpinoysila has always been about giving space to the underground, independent, and unknown. “Anything that falls under alternative, hip-hop, electronic, or loud music—basta no mainstream karaoke pop stuff,” he says with a grin. “Nothing against it, but they already have their own scene.” Over the years, he’s watched countless bands and promoters come and go—from Gagestreet Production, Red Garage and Ellenwood Productions to Cali Vibes Records and the Tambaycore crew—but the thread of passion has remained the same. “We’ve always been number one supporters of the Lokalpinoy scene. We feature local bands as openers for touring big-name acts.”
Still, he remains realistic. “If lokal bands break out, good. If not, oh well,” he shrugs with a smile. “But I wish more Fil-Am fans would support and appreciate these bands. Like, a Parokya ni Edgar show will be sold out, and the crowd will enjoy watching the local opener like Zipcode—but that’s it. You won’t see them again at a smaller gig. Supporters of the scene are usually friends, families, other bands, and a few of the others.”
Yet, for all its grit and modesty, Lokalpinoysila continues to hold meaning far beyond the noise. It stands as living proof that a community—when united by creativity and love of craft—can shape its own cultural identity. It’s the same heartbeat that pulsed through that first FACLA gig in ’95, now echoing through Eagle Rock’s Kusina Filipina thirty years later.
And maybe that’s the point. Lokalpinoysila doesn’t chase fame or formulas. It thrives on shared stories, sweat, and sound. It’s about giving Filipino-American artists a place to belong, to experiment, and to be heard—loudly, proudly, and on their own terms. As the amps cooled and the last chords of Sisa’s Veil faded into applause, you could feel the circle complete itself—past and present, elders and newcomers, all bound by one thing: love of music and love of community.
Thirty years later, Lokalpinoysila remains what it has always been—pure, raw, and profoundly ours.