Country Singer David Unlayao Is at Home in Nashville
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David Unlayao
David Unlayao (pronounced “on-lie-yow”) is the most famous Filipino country crooner to put misery to melody since Neal McCoy hit No. 1 twice with No Doubt About It and Wink in 1993. This year he was invited back to Spotify House after his first appearance in 2023 and is a familiar voice to followers of the nationwide radio program, Nights with Elaina, and on Nashville’s airwaves at 96.7 FM. Positively Filipino is featuring him today because his music is as bingeworthy as alcohol-free San Miguel 0,0. (Remembering to enter your birthdate by day, month, year on the brewer’s landing webpage is a sobriety test.)
Unlayao attributes country music’s obsession with liquor to its Nashville roots. “My dad called Nashville Vegas without the casinos because it’s fun down here. Pickup trucks, beer and country music. The cliches are true. People have a good time in Nashville.” He speaks with the authority of a parttime bartender on Music City’s Broadway strip.
Vancouver, Washington is his hometown. His mother is Mary Unlayao originally from Manila. She met his father, Jonathan Unlayao, who hails from Quezon City, while he was stationed at Naval Station Pearl Harbor. The first son grew up playing in a “dozen bands” often accompanied by younger brother, Christian, who lives with his wife in Portland, Oregon.
David with his mom Mary, his Dad Jonathan and Brother Christian
Sacrificing Comfort for Country
America is entering awards season with remembrances of “country summer.” Subscribers to the various streaming services enjoyed the cross-pollination between country and pop typified by a country LP from Beyoncé, chart-topping A Bar Song by African American country singer Shaboozey, and catchy Post Malone+Morgan Wallen collab I Had Some Help. About the time Luke Combs sang Fast Car with Tracey Chapman at the 2024 Grammys, Unlayao’s name two-stepped to the top of a Google search for the keyword combination “Filipino country singer.”
Country wasn’t his first love. LA-based Red Hot Chili Peppers drowned out the Nashville Sound until he got stung by a lightning bug from Down Under. “I discovered country in the two-thousand-tens through Keith Urban,” recalls Unlayao. “Looking back now, I remember my nanay singing Patsy Cline on karaoke and my mom playing Shania Twain and Faith Hill in our home.”
Unlayao moved to Nashville, Tennessee, away from the comfort of his immediate and extended family in the Pacific Northwest. “Thanks to social media, a singer-songwriter can make it anywhere, but it’s a huge help when you’re in a place where it’s easy to find people to write and create with. We call Nashville natives unicorns. Most people I meet moved here from other places. Everybody makes this place a melting pot of creative people.”
Unlayao’s band includes his longtime songwriting partner Elizabeth Katie, who left Manhattan to team up with him, and his other songwriting partner Ryan Brisotti. “They helped me produce my new EP.” The compilation is titled Seven Wonders and is due out in Fall 2024. “The songs are about my personal experiences of love and loss.”
His journey to the South was not just a transition from pop to country but an odyssey of determination wrought by hardship. In his turbulent twenties, he overcame substance addiction. While his father had a fruitful career in the Navy, Unlayao’s stint in the Air Force ended within months of his enlistment, albeit long enough to open his eyes to a civilian pathway.
“When I was in the military I liked to play music during my free time. I noticed that the other soldiers gathered around me whenever I sang a country tune. They started calling me ‘the Filipino Cowboy.’ That moniker stayed with me.”
Clearing His Mind in Music City, USA
Social media wasn’t entirely welcoming. While online platforms expanded his audience, the sharp side of the double-edged sword was disillusioning. “Last year, we put out a song that won a contest sponsored by a local gas station. The promotion led to my first taste of racist hate.” Putting their profanity in polite terms, he realizes, “The trolls were asking why is this Asian guy singing country music?”
That glimpse of anti-AAPI hate didn’t deter him. He resolved, “I’m not going to want them at my shows and listening to my music anyway. As we progress, we’re weeding out the bad folks and finding people who care about us. Most country fans are growing in the acceptance of other folks.
“Right now, I’m focused on my mental health. I have a song on my EP called Can’t Hurt. It’s about my depression and therapy. I’m working through a lot of the traumas from being a part of the first generation of my family to be born in the States.”
Nashville provides a safe harbor and what he calls his “chosen family” to support him on his way to stardom. In a region where lumpia is a rare fried treasure, he leans on the Filipino Diaspora for morale and fan support. “I miss my Filipino culture so much. I’ve always felt a lot of warmness from my Fil-Ams online and all over the world. I appreciate Positively Filipino for helping me connect with them even though we’re not in the same city.”
Pinoy Country
For argument’s sake, suppose country purists have reason to doubt Unlayao’s authenticity. Only a committed disciple would move to Nashville. Not that logistics would convince a gnome to shave. Talent confers more legitimacy than a ZIP Code. Truth is any country singer who’s worth his salt has a past teeming with failure, privation, and restlessness. Where someone comes from isn’t as relevant as what he’s been through.
Illeism is the exercise of referring to oneself in the third person. Some clinicians recommend this practice that enables patients to put distance between themselves and a worrisome diagnosis. In a similar way, Nashville gives Unlayao distance from his previous self for a creative as well as therapeutic purpose. His music revisits earlier disappointments with separation akin to someone who’s learned his lesson. Scars of wisdom are the service stripes of a country singer.
Some of Unlayao’s preoccupations, like missing home cooking, are universal and not distinctly country. I overdid the alcohol motif as a clue that his body of work touches all the country tropes, save bad women. The popularity of standup comic Jo Koy suggests sons are more amused by their Filipina mothers than abused by them. Unlayao adores his mother, and his girlfriend stands by her man.
As a Fil-Am from way out West, Unlayao adds a new dimension to country music. His pop chops provide access to generic vocals to convey numb acquiescence that follows a breakup. The Coast equips him with firsthand evidence to make the genre’s disdain for California superficiality more than a regional bias. Being a Californian, I hope he doesn’t devote much time to that cliché.
The trolls were asking why is this Asian guy singing country music?” That glimpse of anti-AAPI hate didn’t deter him.
Suspicion ought to surround a country voice that wasn’t formed from the raw clay of a Southern accent. If you listen to his voice without bias at least 20 minutes, you realize that he doesn’t have an imitation twang. And he talks downhome friendly without a drawl. Filipinos don’t have a reputation for coopting another community’s culture for monetary gain. He trained harder than any denizen of a honkytonk to temper a country voice all his own. I can’t say whether his voice sounds better in a pickup truck, but it projects vividly in a Japanese sedan.
Perhaps the so-called culture wars are steering the debate over who qualifies for country status. A society without diversity is homogenous. Nashville has a population close to 700,000. If that many people are the same, the Filipino Cowboy is the most interesting person to come to town since Elvis blew in from Tupelo, Mississippi.
Loretta Lynn once stated, “There’s power in being different.” The Coal Miner’s Daughter knew that giving a new voice a chance moves civilization forward.
Hear Unlayao’s music on popular streaming services. Opportunities to see him live are listed on Instagram @davidunlayao. His band wrapped up a six-state tour with a show in New York City. Tickets for future concerts are available on his website. He plays most weekends at Nashville’s 1230 Club. Anyone can buy him a drink as long as it’s whiskey or San Miguel on ice. He means the real McCoy, not the kind that tastes like it.
Anthony Maddela lives in Los Angeles and doesn’t think anything good can come from naming a boy Sue, but Johnny Cash knew the fable is a platinum metaphor for redemption
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