(Fifth in a series)

Fresh off the heady excitement of the Philippine International Jazz Festival (PI Jazzfest), which was revived in May after a six-year pause, and in which partners Jeannie Tiongco and Henry Katindig shared the stage with PI Jazz All Stars headliners and foreign jazz artists, the couple have returned to the dim lights of a cozy acoustic corner for two (sometimes three).

Playing together for nearly 25 years, Jeannie and Henry have perfected the jazz bar pianist-and-singer act—warm, lush, and vulnerable, without being in your face while commanding the right degree of attention from listeners that know to carry on hushed conversations because they are part of the musical setting.

This singular skill can only come from deep experience: Separately, Jeannie and Henry have performed with various musicians in as many venues here and abroad, but together they have bonded in ways to which longtime couples can only aspire. They read each other like a (song)book, with the occasional delightful curve balls thrown in; they have a finger on their listeners’ pulse, knowing when to show off their skills and when to hang back, such that their sound frames the room just so, providing a seductive soundtrack for their audience’s subplots as these unfold with the evening.

To be sure, genetics plays a part in this expertise. Both Jeannie and Henry are descended from two of the Philippines’ famous musical clans: Jeannie’s father is a third of the fabled Tiongco Brothers—the first Filipino entertainers to perform at the Sydney Opera House in Australia and the first Filipino group to perform at Aramco, the largest oil company in Saudi Arabia; Henry is the eldest son of Eddie Katindig—saxophonist and percussionist widely known as “Eddie K,” who had been a main draw in the jazz circuit in the ‘70s through the ‘90s—and kuya to US-based jazz pianist Tateng Katindig.

To thine own self be true

“Authenticity is what we’re always after,” says Jeannie, who has had no issue laboring in her famous father’s shadow.  “We perform not to impress, but because we love what we do.”

She has forged her own path, after all. Growing up, she remembers her father being away a lot on overseas engagements even as he made sure she received classical music training at 13, at the Philippine Women’s University. At 15, Jeannie jumped through the daily, weekly, and monthly singing hoops of “Student Canteen”—the country’s first noontime TV variety show that ran for 32 years (1958–1990) and which launched some notable pop recording careers—to eventually emerge as a “Student Canteener,” the competition’s coveted title.

By 1981, Jeannie was singing at the Bert Nievera Music Lounge, an intimate performance venue in Makati named after its owner, the celebrated Filipino balladeer. There, she would ultimately shift her musical focus from contemporary pop to jazz, encouraged by her predecessor and mentor, the artist Joannie Feliciano. There, too, she eventually developed vocal cord nodules, a condition her doctor attributed to exposure to second-hand smoke. (This was before the designated-smoking-zone era, when bars were perpetually shrouded in a smoky haze that accompanied banter and alcohol.)  

“The doctor suggested that I return to voice training as part of my therapy,” says Jeannie, who found her healer in singer and teacher Dianne Serrano, formerly with the famous preteen sibling singing group, the Nailclippers. For three years Jeannie observed the strict schedule and regimen laid out by Dianne, whom she credits with helping her discover and exploit her vocal dynamics.

“Singing is less about innate talent or genius than it is about a combination of technique and experience,” says Jeannie, leaning into the science. Her own vocal development continues to be significantly influenced by her listening history and the methods she uses. She recalls a night at Bert Nievera’s when a well-intentioned audience member approached her after a performance and offered a backhanded compliment: “What a wonderful voice! You sound like…” After she’d taken a moment, she vowed to make it her mission to search for her own sound, one unmistakably hers.

“I have learned a lot, especially in singing standards,” Jeannie says, citing a solid training ground starting in the late ‘80s well into the ‘90s—the best years, she adds, in terms of audience turnout and the public’s keen reception of jazz—with the likes of classical and jazz-pop pianist Joselito Pascual at Manila Hotel’s Tap Room, jazz masters Tony Velarde and Eli Saison at the Manila Garden’s Concourse lounge, and performing with the mother of many a Manila jazz singer, the late Annie Brazil.

“I will never forget that time when Mang Tony asked me to sing ‘It’s All Right with Me’,” Jeannie recalls. When they were done, the maestro quietly came up to her and said that was the last time she should do it: “Wag mo nang kakantahin yun, ha. Hindi ka nagsu-swing, parang ballad pa rin.” She took the candid assessment in stride, receiving its valuable lesson: Capturing the song’s essence is key, regardless of its musical structure. This means taking a song, sleeping on it and with it, and dreaming about it until you are one with it and it’s yours.

The power of two

The late ‘90s saw Jeannie and Henry collaborating more closely as pianist and singer. Up until then their paths had only occasionally intersected as fellow performers. Henry had devoted himself to band work as keyboardist and arranger right out of high school in 1977, and had since been busy touring with various bands or headlining solo shows across Asia, the Middle East, and the United States, as well as in international jazz festivals. He has played practically all music genres, including rock jazz in Olongapo with his father when the latter returned from a US engagement in the ‘90s. His last overseas performance was in Tokyo in 2000, and back home he found himself teaming up with Jeannie for gigs in hotels and bars.

In 2010 they were on stage for seven years with a full band—Henry Katindig and Friends—at the former Strumm’s in Makati, and until September 2023 they played at the Conrad for six years. These nights find them performing twice-weekly sets at a fine-dining restaurant and monthly at a trendy watering hole in Poblacion, Makati. In between, Henry arranges music for other artists and Jeannie sidelines as a vocal coach.

Henry says he has done them all—“Lahat nang genre ng music nagawa ko na”—but jazz is where he feels he can contribute new music with a fresh sound geared toward the younger set. This spirit of play is very much alive even in his arrangements for Jeannie’s setlist on any given night, whether they’re drawing from the Great American Songbook, bossa nova, or even modern pop and Original Pilipino Music.

A master of melody and mood, Henry fluently weaves between low-key accompaniment with choice chords and brilliant improvisation. He provides Jeannie a grounded body of sound so that she can build her voice—at once robust and delicate, characterized by complete control and pianissimo passages with crystalline clarity. When she sings you can understand every word she says, unlike other singers who trade intelligibility for volume and rapid phrasing. 

“I am not a scatter,” Jeannie admits, because she feels that since she doesn’t play a musical instrument, she can’t wield her voice as one. Not all jazz singers are necessarily scatters either; as artists their goal is to convey the song with meaning, making it special in some way to the listener.

Offstage, when the couple parse their lineup, the back-and-forth of musical ideas spills over into the domestic spaces of car or kitchen. (Part of this interview was in fact conducted online, while Jeannie was chopping up vegetables for lunch, with Henry chiming in between chores.) “There was a time bongga ang vibrato ko,” Jeannie says, laughing. “Henry made me listen to Brazilian singers in an effort to convince me to tone it down or remove it altogether, especially when we do bossa nova.”

Telling new stories

Together they have witnessed the shifting live jazz landscape without judgment. Sometimes they’re pleasantly surprised by audience requests for songs already on their play list; mostly they know that their younger listeners prefer relatable, uncomplicated ballads or standards that speak to their current states of being.

Individually they are also helping shape the next generation of jazz artists, even as they continue to hone their own musicianship in the hope of creating a follow-up to their all-original album released in 2011.

Jeannie reminds her students of the importance of finding their own and true voice especially in a music production regime dominated by vocal manipulation technology. “Walang mangyayari dito, tulad ng pangongopya ng boses,” she says. “I also don’t want to be nice for the sake of a smooth relationship. That’s never been known to do anyone favors.”

Henry has observed that many young musicians seem to be in a great rush. “There can be no shortcuts,” he says. “For one to reach any level of proficiency one must listen, learn, and play over and over again. ‘Yung iba parang nagmamadali—more interested in how they can pull off a dazzling display of virtuosity than in the foundational knowledge necessary to achieve it.

Hard to quarrel with the wisdom borne of at least 43 years in music between them.

Read more: All that Jazz: The music lives here