Stela Marie Eve Militante

It was perhaps one of the saddest tunes ever heard, a song so difficult to embrace.

Mang Greg, whose real name was Greg Chua, the beloved owner of a small CD shop in Cartimar Shopping Center in Recto, had passed away. His stall, a haven for music lovers and collectors, was far more than just a place to purchase records and CDs; it was a sanctuary where memories were made, where music wasn’t just heard but deeply felt.


For nearly nine years, Mang Greg’s shop stood as a testament to the enduring power of physical media. In an age where digital streaming reigns, his humble stall stood as a rare reminder of music’s raw and tangible form. 

In his store, albums weren’t just items on a shelf; they were bridges to the past, intimate objects that held stories, emotions, and experiences. It wasn’t just about playlists — it was about flipping through vinyl records, discovering forgotten gems, and savoring the joy of holding an album in your hands — an experience streaming couldn't replicate. 

Though the digital age threatened the existence of physical media, Mang Greg’s shop remained a constant in a shifting world. As more and more people gravitated toward the instant gratification of their phones or computers, his stall remained a place where music lovers could reconnect with the past, rediscover classics, and stumble upon new treasures that no algorithm could recommend. It was a space to experience music with a sense of wonder, the thrill of browsing vinyl racks, or the pleasure of unearthing an old CD from a well-loved collection.

But Mang Greg’s shop was more than a store; it was a community. It was a place where people came not just to shop, but to share stories, exchange recommendations, and bond over their mutual love for music. And Mang Greg wasn’t just a seller; he was a guide, a curator, more than that, a friend. His deep knowledge of music from the timeless classics of the ‘50s and ‘60s to the bold rock anthems of the ‘80s, made his shop a treasure trove of musical discovery. When you step into Mang Greg’s world, you aren’t just buying albums; you are on a journey through music history.

His motivation was never about profit. “Ang motibo ko dito, gusto ko masaya ang tao. Hindi profit ang hinahabol ko,” he once said, and those words embodied his true spirit. His joy came from sharing his passion for music and making others happy. Whether helping a customer find a rare album or suggesting a forgotten masterpiece, Mang Greg’s store was built on love — for music and for the people who shared that love.

A heartfelt goodbye

The news of Mang Greg’s passing on December 30, 2024, left a void in the hearts of many. As reported by Interaksyon, tributes poured in from patrons who cherished his presence in Cartimar. 

Michael Capuno, a regular customer, shared the sorrow he felt after discovering Mang Greg’s death. “RIP, Mang Greg,” he wrote on social media, sharing a photo of the CDs he had bought from his shop, now with a bittersweet memory attached.

Elijah Pareño, another customer, called Mang Greg the “heart of Cartimar, Recto,” praising him as “a role model for local record stores everywhere,” fondly remembering Mang Greg as a tastemaker who knew the preferences of every regular, always offering personalized recommendations. The sentiment was echoed by many others, like Christian Ray Sison, who admired Mang Greg for his tireless work ethic despite his age, and who saw him as proof that passion can fuel perseverance.

Even a vlogger, Sanitrix TV, dedicated a heartfelt post, recognizing Mang Greg’s contribution to Filipino music culture. He was hailed as a champion of the CD era, who continued to sell affordable music even as the world moved toward streaming.

Music’s unbroken rhythm

Mang Greg’s legacy isn’t defined solely by his shop; it is embedded in the lives he touched and the music he preserved. His passing marked the end of an era for Cartimar and the wider community of music lovers, but his spirit lives on. His shop may be gone, but his influence is still felt in every CD, vinyl, and cassette that continues to bring joy to those who seek it out.

One of the greatest tributes to Mang Greg was the short documentary entitled Recto Records by Jego Rafael, which spotlighted Mang Greg’s shop and captured his essence as more than a seller — he was a keeper of memories, a curator of culture, and a beloved figure in Manila’s music scene. Through this film, Mang Greg’s story is immortalized, and the unique experience of visiting his shop is shared with the world.

In a time when the future of physical media seems uncertain, Mang Greg’s story serves as a reminder that there is always a place for the tangible. The joy of flipping through records, the nostalgia of holding an album in your hands, and the excitement of discovering new music in unexpected corners of the world are experiences streaming platforms cannot replace.

Mang Greg believed in the power of music, not just as entertainment but as a cultural force that transcends time and technology. His passion, knowledge, and unwavering commitment to preserving music in its most authentic form will continue to inspire generations to come.

He may be gone, but the music he loved and the community he built will exist for good. Although his demise will probably play a melancholic melody, the legacy and memories he had will always dwell in every record, CD, and cassette that found a new home because of him.