MANILA, Oct 23, (Agencies): In the bustling tricycle terminal of Manila, a driver named Edgar Soriano takes a break from his routine by slipping a coin into a karaoke machine, delivering an impromptu performance of his favorite song while awaiting passengers.

In the Philippines, the passion for karaoke knows no bounds. Regardless of the hour, people are eager to seize a microphone and let their voices soar. Karaoke machines have made their way into every nook and cranny, from modest village bars to upscale KTV establishments in the city. Many families either own their karaoke machines or rent them to liven up their gatherings.

The cost of a song, as low as five pesos (nine US cents), allows even those facing financial hardships to experience moments of pure joy. Edgar Soriano, a 53-year-old tricycle driver, can be found smiling as he passionately sings the lyrics of British musician Albert Hammond's "When I'm Gone" on a scorching weekday afternoon. He seems to know every word by heart.

At the terminal, where six karaoke machines coexist, drivers and passengers remain unfazed by the harmonious competition among the various tunes echoing through the speakers. "I always sing that song; it's my favorite," shares Soriano, dressed in a long-sleeved Jordan top and tracksuit pants.

Further down the line, street sweeper Bernardo Aguire, aged 67, confidently selects Frank Sinatra's iconic "My Way" from a well-worn folder of songs. He inserts a coin into the slot, opting for a bold choice in a country where the song has, allegedly, led to fatalities, attributed to poor renditions. Aguire, however, emerges unscathed, untroubled by the urban legends surrounding the song.

In the heart of Manila, Felomina Hernane, aged 52, owns an eatery where the karaoke machine hums to life at 8:00 a.m. and remains active until 10:00 p.m. or even later, seven days a week. Hernane acquired the machine as a means to attract customers, and it has proven to be a significant boon, contributing as much as 18,000 pesos to her monthly earnings. "It's been a tremendous help to my business," Hernane emphasizes, revealing how singing brings contentment to the tricycle drivers. "It entertains them," she adds, "offering a way to unwind after a long day of driving."

In bustling neighborhoods across Manila, tricycle drivers transport unassembled karaoke machines to stores. Here, these machines receive their finishing touches, complete with speakers, amplifiers, and televisions. Prices vary depending on the quality of the electronics, with basic models starting at approximately 19,000 pesos and premium versions reaching up to 46,000 pesos.

Alfred Condez, a 40-year-old employee at a store brimming with machines in various stages of assembly, passionately declares, "We love singing." He grabs a microphone and steps onto the sidewalk, testing the sound quality of an assembled machine. His resonant voice reverberates through the noisy streets, reinforcing his love for music.

November and December are the peak seasons for the karaoke assembly business, coinciding with Christmas and New Year celebrations when Filipinos engage in merrymaking. During these months, stores like Condez's sell up to ten machines daily.

The roots of karaoke culture in the Philippines trace back to the 1980s, as explained by Krina Cayabyab, a vocal instructor and associate professor at the University of the Philippines' music department. This affection for singing has deep historical ties to the nation's colonial past, influenced first by the Spanish and later by the Americans, whose musical influence became an integral part of Filipino culture. Cayabyab aptly describes this as "reproducing and borrowing" the music that the people have been exposed to.

For many Filipinos, singing remains one of the few affordable entertainment options available. In a modest district of Manila, children and young adults congregate outside a small store that hosts a high-demand karaoke machine. Honey Servito, a 24-year-old, shares, "My friends and I hang out here because it's boring at home. I'm not a singer, but when we have nothing better to do, we come here and sing. It helps alleviate stress and boredom."