Songs for Early Morning Physical Fitness from Yoyoy Villame and Masculados

Every morning, I look out the window and see people beginning their day with exercise in different ways: some are walking, some are running, others are dancing to Zumba, and many more are following their own fitness routines. Almost always, exercise is accompanied by music. Those who walk or run listen privately through their smartphones and earphones, while accompanying music for Zumba fills the air for everyone to hear.

When I think of exercise and music together, two Filipino novelty songs immediately come to mind: Mag-Exercise Tayo (Tagalog: Let's Exercise) by Yoyoy Villame and Titigas, Lalambot (Tagalog: Will Harden, Will Soften) by the all-male group Masculados. Both are catchy and seemingly wholesome in melody, but their underlying messages differ.

Cover of album that carries Mag-Exercise Tayo

Photo Credit: Vicor Music / Deezer

Mag-Exercise Tayo encourages listeners to do morning exercise as preparation for the challenges of a new day. In contrast, Titigas, Lalambot mentions bodily movements considered as exercise but can be interpreted as double entendre and sexual innuendo.

Lyric Video of Mag-Exercise Tayo

Video Credit: Vicor Music / YouTube

Villame's song was released in 1977, during the Bagong Lipunan (Tagalog: New Society) program under the Martial Law regime. According to some accounts, Mag-Exercise Tayo was used in government agencies and public schools as the official tune for morning exercise routines after the flag ceremony. Whether intentional or not, the song aligned with the program's goals of discipline and reform, and it was frequently played on the radio.

Cover of Masculados' Nakaka ..., the album that carries the song Titigas, Lalambot

Photo Credit: Universal Records / Tatak OPM

On the other hand, Masculados' song came out in 2004, at a time when all-female groups such as the Sex Bomb Girls and Viva Hot Babes were enjoying peak popularity. In that context, Titigas, Lalambot may be seen as an attempt to balance the stage by giving male performers their own humorous, sex-oriented anthem. Masculados itself is the masculine answer to those all-female groups.

Audio Credit: Universal Records / YouTube

Together, these songs remind us how exercise and music converge as part of daily ritual. Though they emerged from different times and contexts, both carry the same message: mornings feel lighter when begun with movement accompanied by music—and sometimes, humor.

Mag-Exercise Tayo is nearly half a century old, while Titigas, Lalambot will soon reach a quarter-century. Today, countless songs can serve the same purpose. Yet from past to present, one truth remains: exercise and music are inseparable partners, bringing energy and inspiration to each new day.

Thoughts on "Muro-Ami" (1999)

It has been a month since we watched the digitally restored and remastered version of the 1999 film  Muro-Ami. As the saying goes, "better late than never," but I still want to share the insights from the Marilou Diaz-Abaya film that struck me. These insights are the reason why I keep revisiting the film again and again.

Poster of the Digitally Restored and Remastered Version of Muro-Ami

Photo Credit: GMA Pictures

The lead character, Fredo (Cesar Montano), is the captain of the fishing boat Aurora. He carries the trauma of losing his family in a sea accident. He turned the sea — ironically the source of life — into the target of his revenge. He also exploited poor children to carry out the destructive fishing practice called muro-ami. The harvesting of resources was indiscriminate, entailing the destruction of coral reefs. For Fredo, this was his way of compensating for the wound left by nature.

The boat Aurora is like a prison in the middle of the sea. The children sleep in cramped quarters, eat leftovers, and face danger every day. The name "Aurora" is ironic — instead of light, it became a stage for darkness and enslavement.

One of the heaviest themes is about parents willingly offering their children to exploitative labor. Not because they want to, but because of extreme poverty. The film shows a cycle of desperation: survival at the cost of childhood.

Let's turn to the two “bald” figures in the film. Fredo is literally bald, a mark of his hardened, tough persona. Kalbo (Rebecca Lusterio) is a young girl who shaved her head to disguise herself as a boy and join the divers. Perhaps Kalbo's innocence allowed her to see that Fredo, whom she admired, carried a deeper wound in his heart. Fredo's fatherly instinct seemed to awaken because of this child.

Kalbo also subverted the superstition that "women are forbidden on boats." Her true identity was revealed when Fredo caught her washing women's underwear. Before this scene, we saw Susan (Amy Austria) boarding the boat to provide companionship for Fredo. But Fredo's need for Susan is beyond the physical: Susan was the best friend of Fredo’s late wife. Through Susan, the memory of his wife remained alive.

On the Aurora, water is a precious resource. The supply of drinking water is thin, so every drop matters. Fredo and his crew are surrounded by the sea, yet they cannot use seawater for their basic needs.

Fredo's iconic line, "Walang mag-aagahan hanggang walang nahuhuling isda!" ("No one eats breakfast until fish are caught!" is a heavy assertion of discipline and control. Food, which should be a basic right, was made conditional — dependent on obedience and productivity. Hunger became a psychological weapon to force the children to work without rest.

The film's setting spans Christmas to New Year. Dado (Pen Medina) asked his son Fredo to return home for the holidays, but Fredo refused: he preferred to chase the quota of 300 to 500 tubs of fish. His line — "Bakit natin hahabulin ang Pasko? Eh kapag naabot niyo naman ang inyong quota, kayo na mismo ang mag-uuwi ng Pasko sa bawat pamilya niyo!" (“Why chase Christmas? If you reach your quota, you’ll be the ones to bring Christmas home to your families!" — reveals twisted logic: Christmas is not a celebration but a reward tied to exploitation.

Botong (Jhong Hilario), Fredo's right-hand man, had his own dream: to leave the boat and work in Saudi Arabia. His desire echoes the diaspora dream of many Filipinos — risk-taking, hoping to find "greener pastures" in the desert. Botong also had flaws: he lusted after Susan and even stole from Fredo. His character shows the ambivalence of people in poverty — simultaneously dreaming and sinning.

I gathered these insights over time, watching Muro-Ami repeatedly in different formats: in theaters in 1999 and 2026, on DVD, and via streaming in between. The film remains one of my favorites because it tackles so many themes beyond the bounty of the sea and child labor. It is a tapestry of exploitation, trauma, and irony:

The sea as ally, enemy, and mirror of wounds. The boat Aurora as microcosm of society. Water and food as metaphors of scarcity and control. Christmas as a family celebration turned into a reward for labor. 

I will never tire of watching it, and I’m sure more insights will emerge in future viewings.

Official Movie Trailer: GMA Pictures / YouTube