Every Song’s A Bonus: Ebe Dancel On 25 Years In Music

Ebe Dancel can trace his life in song — from a child secretly copying how his brothers played piano in Tuguegarao, to the becoming the frontman of one of the most beloved bands in OPM history, and now, a solo artist celebrating 25 years of music.

“Kung magiging technical tayo (Technically), our first show was [on] August 28, 1999, in Baguio,” he recalls. “But kung talagang day one, na nagseryoso ako maging musikero (the real day one, when I chose to do music seriously), was the day we decided to form Sugarfree.”

It was never supposed to be a career. Dancel was simply following the pull of melody and meaning. But those choices would eventually lead to Sa Wakas (2003), Dramachine (2004), Tala-Arawan (2006) and Mornings And Airports (2009) — records that would turn everyday heartbreak into poetry, and Sugarfree into a household name. This rich and relatable songwriting would be carried over to the equally compelling records he would subsequently make as a solo artist.

On November 15, he’ll celebrate those 25 years with a special anniversary concert at the New Frontier Theater, joined by the Manila String Machine. It’s a show that feels both full circle and forward-looking — a reminder that while he’s long been a fixture in Filipino music, Dancel’s story is still unfolding.

The First Notes

Music came naturally in the Dancel household. “My older brothers borrowed a portable keyboard from a neighbor,” he says. “I wasn’t allowed to touch it, kasi destructive ako eh (because I was destructive). Pinapanood ko sila, tapos tinatandaan ko kung saan nakalapat ‘yung mga daliri nila (I would watch them and remember where they placed their fingers). Pag-alis nila, papasok ako sa room, tapos kinokopya ko lang (Whenever they left, I would enter the room and just copy how they played).”

From there, he found the guitar, then songhits — those now-defunct magazine-style compilations of lyrics and chords. “’Yung chord chart ng songhits. Wala na yatang songhits ngayon, kasi everything’s online na (I learned from the chord chart on songhits. I don’t think they still exist, because everything’s online),” he says, laughing.

His first taste of performance came during a family reunion talent show. “The winner would get 20 pesos,” he recalls. “I learned how to sing ‘Reaching Out’ by Gary V. That was the first song I ever performed in public… and I guess they let me win kasi wala akong ibang alam gawin (because I couldn’t do anything else).”

The young Dancel absorbed whatever music reached him — The Carpenters, Kenny Rogers, The Beatles — and learned by trying to play along. “Kung ano ‘yung lumabas na kanta [on the radio], inaaral ko ‘yung chords (I learned the chords of every song that came on the radio),” he says. “[I was like,] ‘Ah, okay, this is how this chord works,’ [and] ‘This is how this chord pattern works.’”

Finding His Voice

In college, he began writing lyrics in a blue logbook. “Kung anong pumasok sa utak ko, sinusulat ko (I wrote down anything that entered my mind),” he says. Those rough lines eventually became songs like “Hintay” and “Alan’s Song,” which appeared on Sugarfree’s debut album.

“I wanted so much to sound like Popsicle,” he admits, referring to the Swedish indie band whose cheerful melodies masked heartbreak. “Ang ganda nung contrast ng masayang melodies saka malungkot na lyrics (I appreciated the contrast of happy melodies with sad lyrics). It was very jarring and I really… loved it.”

When Sa Wakas came together, Sugarfree slowly found their sound. “We were trying to sound like Popsicle,” Dancel says. “But somehow, nag-evolve ‘yung tunog (our sound evolved) because there were also other members of the band involved, with their own preference — ‘yung skill set na dala rin nila sa grupo (that they brought to the group).”

That mix of earnest lyricism and bright, singable melodies became Sugarfree’s calling card — emotional without being indulgent, confessional without self-pity.

Songs That Outlive You

Most Filipinos who grew up in the 2000s have a Sugarfree song that marks a moment in their life: from the first heartbreak to the long drive home after graduation. But in recent years, one song in particular has found new life — “Burnout.”

“I didn’t even lift a finger,” Dancel says. “Then all of a sudden, tina-tag na ako (I was being tagged), and then nag-gain ng traction ‘yung kanta (the song gained traction). Someone said it all started with TikTok… tapos hinahanap na nila sa (and then people searched it on) Spotify.”

He smiles when recalling how young fans have discovered his music: “I had a show in Bicol last month, and most of them were teenagers: 14-, 15-, 16-year-olds. When I played ‘Burnout,’ they really sang along.”

The phenomenon still humbles him. “If the song crosses over to the next generation, then I know that I’ve done a good thing,” he says.

Starting Over

When Sugarfree disbanded in 2011, Dancel found himself at a crossroads. “The label gave me three months,” he recalls. “And I was physically, mentally, very exhausted.”

Then came a spark. “I started writing songs — just getting over that hump [of] writing the first song during [my] ‘reborn’ state. Once I did, tuloy-tuloy na (the songs kept coming).”

His 2012 solo debut, Dalawang Mukha Ng Pag-Ibig, was a revelation — stripped down, deeply personal, and quietly defiant. “To this day, that’s the album that I’m proudest of,” he affirms.

And although he now performs under his own name, Dancel remains a band guy at heart. “I have regular session players. One of them, (bassist) Roger Alcantara, was my first recruit. Fourteen years na kaming magkasama (We’ve been together for 14 years) — that’s longer than my previous band.”

“When we perform, I make sure na hindi nawawala ‘yung personal flavor nila (their personal flavor remains),” he adds. “I really want them to retain their individuality while sounding like a cohesive unit.”

Refining the Craft

With age, his songwriting has taken on new weight. “I produce less songs these days because I’m more careful about the words I use,” he reveals. “Back then we were all young and had a very different idea of what love meant. Now we’re much older.”

Still, he continues to write — slowly, deliberately, purposefully. “My goal is to write one song, which I’ve already done,” he says. “I just wanted to prove to myself that I could still do it.”

That “senior musicians” he looks up to, like his producer and manager Rico Blanco and Ely Buendia, are still writing and releasing songs “is very inspiring” to Dancel. “But really, the only person you need to prove yourself to is really just yourself,” he shares.

Strings and Stories

For Dancel, playing with an orchestra fits his music like a glove. “My songs have a lot of free space to explore,” he explains. “The chords are never complicated. There’s a lot of drama created with the contrast of the lyrics and the melody. That an orchestra can come in any time and just further elevate the performance — that’s why I still insist on doing shows with orchestras.”

His upcoming 25th anniversary show reunites him with the Manila String Machine, who joined him for his 20th anniversary show on February 29, 2020 — just two weeks before the world shut down. “[For] this one, I believe the venue is nicer,” says Dancel. “We basically have the same team, pero may (but with an) upgrade. Now, all we have to do is improve on the show. We’re adding more songs.” He teases further, “[There] might be a special guest. We’ll see.”

Gratitude and Grace

Dancel never expected to last this long. “When we made our first demo, my ultimate goal was to play at ‘70s Bistro, Freedom Bar, and Mayric’s. Nung nagawa namin ‘yun, feeling ko parang (When we accomplished that, I felt), ‘All right, maybe we can give up now,’” he says, laughing.

“But music has given me such an extraordinary life,” he concludes. “It’s taken me places. Some of my best friends are musicians. The way I approach things now, every song is a bonus. Every show, here or out of town, big or small — it’s all just one bonus after the other. I’m really, really lucky, I’ll tell you that.”