THE MERE mention of the name Rico J. Puno brings back memories of love songs that have become a part of our lives, and those bygone days when music was still music.

Needless to say, the Filipino music industry counts Rico as one of its living legends, and no history of the industry will be complete without devoting a whole volume to his career.. He belongs to that golden era when singers not only regaled audiences with the power of their voices, but also bewitched them to join the journey into a world woven by the magic of song.

Inimitable style

I remember those years. Whenever my mom came home from the many diplomatic posts all over the world where my dad brought her, she'd always ask to watch a Rico J. Puno concert. Be it at the intimate lounge of the Admiral Hotel or at a much bigger venue like Folk Arts Theater, my mom always had a choice seat in the front row, the better to savor the musical artistry and inimitable style of this singer who served not just a feast for the ears but a banquet for the heart as well.

My mom was a real Rico J fan and she always rhapsodized about Rico everytime she got the opportunity. She'd cite his being a total performer-the way he put fresh nuances to his songs, the way he suggested new meanings to the lyrics of old-time favorites, even the way he moved onstage.

The first time I met Rico was when he guested in my radio program to promote an album, "Puno, Dahon, Atbp.," featuring a musical trio of which he was a member. Frankly, at that time, he didn't strike me as someone who'd make it big someday. For one, he was so thin he must have had fewer muscles in his body than hair on his head. For another, he was shy, thrifty with words. And his looks, well, the less said about it, the better.

Then he went solo. I had a friend who told me I should come to the big night of the National Press Club for the performance of this new singer named Rico J. Puno who was so good everybody was going gaga over him. I couldn't believe it, and my disbelief led me to go and see for myself. Indeed, the Rico I saw onstage was a pleasant surprise. He was so good to the point that he even looked handsome.

I witnessed Rico's phenomenal ascent to stardom. His unique rendition of the Streisand classic, "The Way We Were," became the anthem for undying love. His philosophical take in "Kapalaran" became words to which his legions of fans lived by. The inspirational messages in his "Ang Tao'y Marupok," "May Bukas Pa" and "Lupa" qualified them as religious hymns sung by church choirs nationwide. And the raw sexuality he displayed in "Macho Guapito" confirmed his being a sex symbol for his generation.

Through the years, I'd keep tab of the developments in Rico's career, especially because I consider him a personal friend. He'd promote his albums and major concerts in my TV programs, he'd give me tickets to his shows, and from time to time, I'd get news about what's going on with him from his manager Norma Japitana who's a dear family friend.

Last July 2, after quite a long while, I again got a chance to watch Rico perform. Giji Garcia had her birthday concert, "Gorgeous," at the Nightwatch of Hotel Rembrandt, and he was one of the guest performers along with Arthur and Rannie Raymundo with Toti Fuentes on the piano.

The concert was a success. I was very happy for Giji whose voice and projection scintillated that night. But I was a little disappointed with Rico J. Puno.

Rico began with a spiel that went something like this: "When I was still new in this business, whenever I performed, I'd start singing just a few lines and the crowd would already drown my voice with their thunderous applause. These days, I hope you'd also give me even just a little of that respect." The audience responded with laughs and enthusiastic applause.

What's wrong with that? For one, it wasn't the first time I heard Rico use that line. In fact, he has made a habit of opening his performances with those lines. This time, I didn't find it funny. I credit Rico with more wit, and I know he can come up with a new and more creative way of welcoming his audience.

For another, that opening spiel sounded like Rico was begging-even ordering-the audience to appreciate him. That didn't seem right. It wasn't right.

Then, Rico peppered his performance with jokes that did elicit some laughs but at the expense of decency and good taste. Yes, I know what Rico will say. He has made his blue jokes a part of his repertoire and people have come to expect them from him.

Now, I'm not a saint, much less a virgin. I've heard grosser sex jokes before. I've even told a few myself. But I insist a line has to be drawn somewhere.

Irreverent humor is an art form. Subtlety and good taste are its hallmarks. Insult is also an art form. But it should have class and sophistication. And in a live performance where the audience pays good money to be entertained, it's downright unfair and in utter bad taste to make people the object of cheap laughs.

I felt sorry for those who became helpless victims of Rico's vulgarity and crass sense of humor that night. They didn't know what hit them, much less how to react, when they suddenly found themselves at the receiving end of his sexist jibes. Even Giji, whose concert it was, wasn't spared. She put on a brave smile and reacted good-naturedly to Rico's attempts to be funny at her expense, but I sensed that it was just her poise and good manners shining through.

Perhaps, when Rico was much younger, it was cute whenever he dished out blue jokes to spice up his performances. But jokes like these aren't cute anymore when they come from someone who's no longer young. They come out more like malicious assaults of a dirty, old man.

Rico asserted that he has mellowed a lot through the years. I dare to disagree. In fact, he has become more brazen. His jokes before weren't this lewd and obscene. They used to be funny and harmless. Now, they may still be funny, but they're no longer harmless. They demean. They humiliate. They insult the sensibility.

My dear Rico, you are already an icon in the music industry. You don't need to resort to jokes about body parts, body functions and other body things just to insure ticket sales for your concerts. You don't have to make sex an ingredient of your performances just to make people come back for more. Believe me, your music is enough. That style, that presence, that voice-they're enough.

You made it big in this business with your voice-the voice that inspires and enthralls, the voice that sings of love and romance and the celebration of the human spirit. Definitely not the voice with which you spew out filth that you pass off as jokes designed to beg for a few laughs.

You've been around for 25 years now, Rico. Who knows, you could still be good for 25 years more. But this is not because you're funny. This is because you're good. This is not because of your jokes. This is because of your songs.

I miss the Rico who was naughty but not vulgar, mischievous but not coarse and crude, playful but never offensive. I miss the Rico who made me love more, live more and be more just by listening to him sing. I miss the Rico my mom adored.