Reality's intrusions on the Eraserheads have been severe. Squabbling had led to their break-up and dampened hopes of a reunion. When the reunion concert did materialize, questions arose about the legality of their sponsorship deal. When that was resolved, Ely Buendia's mother died days before the concert. The heart attack survivor looked dangerously gaunt tonight, and when he dropped his Raybans mid-set, a tired set of eyes were revealed. His body gave out, the concert was cut short, and the fans staggered out profusely concerned over Ely's health and bewildered by the unexpected drama that interrupted what had been an otherworldly evening.
Yet during the one hour the Eraserheads had been onstage, all the backstories stopped to matter to the fans who were there. It was a transformative show. A countdown timer had people chanting, as if it were New Year's Eve, the seconds before the E-heads would be together again at long last. A drumburst from the darkened stage let us know that they were there and when the familiar chords to Alapaap broke through, we all felt tearjerky. The songs rolled out like old intimates welcomed back into our lives after years of absence. From my vantage point in the middle of the Patrons section, I captured some videos on my old point-and-shoot. What the official DVD release will not be able to capture is Ely's voice remixed with the voices of countless fans singing along -- in low intensity during less familiar lyrics, in full throated throttle during the choruses. The Eraserheads seemed to realize this, and at moments, Mr. Buendia would lay back, content with accompanying the fans who were doing the singing for him. This was our reunion concert too.
My friends noticed Marcus stepping over some cues. The energy level onstage was not that high, save for Raimund, who reminded me of a another concert, 70 years ago at Carnegie Hall by the Benny Goodman Orchestra, where drummer Gene Krupa hyperventilated on his beats to spur on his lethargic bandmates in what was to become a historic and legendary jazz concert. The flaws barely mattered. Perfection was not demanded of them from us. The weight gain of old comrades is never an impediment to the renewal of friendships.
Fifteen songs, then it was over. Before it was announced that the concert would not continue, my friends were counting off the songs yet unheard and guessing at which would find its way into the second set. Magasin? Spoliarium? Para sa Masa? Pare Ko? Ang Huling El Bimbo? They got lost on their way to the reunion, and we were deprived of the certainty of seeing them again in live color. We can experience only in our minds how that second set would have played with our nostalgia -- the emotional tour through valleys and peaks that would have built up to a crescendo, finally summing up with El Bimbo (the rumored last song).
Had the concert ended as intended, a full circle would have been completed for the fans, and presumably the Eraserheads. Instead, that lost second set would linger on the collective imagination, and there will be a clamor for the band to complete that set as if it were the antidote to some vague malignant spell. I really hope nobody felt cheated over tonight -- it was a solid one hour (I had heard that there was only to be one long set), and the outpour of good feeling was enough to sustain several concerts.
Yet I really don't know if that set would ever be completed, or if the Eraserheads will ever perform together again. My reflexively grim nature is prepared to accept that it might not happen again, no matter what evidence to the contrary there may be, and if that does happen, the mystery of that second set will be a lasting source of fascination and the stuff from which legends are born. I hope that if the E-heads perform together again, they do so knowing that the experience will be fun for them -- never mind the fans -- and that they will never be forced by circumstances into a position that compels them to play together without joy. That wish imparted, I do hope to be in line when the Eraserheads are ready and happy to finish their second set.
Yet during the one hour the Eraserheads had been onstage, all the backstories stopped to matter to the fans who were there. It was a transformative show. A countdown timer had people chanting, as if it were New Year's Eve, the seconds before the E-heads would be together again at long last. A drumburst from the darkened stage let us know that they were there and when the familiar chords to Alapaap broke through, we all felt tearjerky. The songs rolled out like old intimates welcomed back into our lives after years of absence. From my vantage point in the middle of the Patrons section, I captured some videos on my old point-and-shoot. What the official DVD release will not be able to capture is Ely's voice remixed with the voices of countless fans singing along -- in low intensity during less familiar lyrics, in full throated throttle during the choruses. The Eraserheads seemed to realize this, and at moments, Mr. Buendia would lay back, content with accompanying the fans who were doing the singing for him. This was our reunion concert too.
My friends noticed Marcus stepping over some cues. The energy level onstage was not that high, save for Raimund, who reminded me of a another concert, 70 years ago at Carnegie Hall by the Benny Goodman Orchestra, where drummer Gene Krupa hyperventilated on his beats to spur on his lethargic bandmates in what was to become a historic and legendary jazz concert. The flaws barely mattered. Perfection was not demanded of them from us. The weight gain of old comrades is never an impediment to the renewal of friendships.
Fifteen songs, then it was over. Before it was announced that the concert would not continue, my friends were counting off the songs yet unheard and guessing at which would find its way into the second set. Magasin? Spoliarium? Para sa Masa? Pare Ko? Ang Huling El Bimbo? They got lost on their way to the reunion, and we were deprived of the certainty of seeing them again in live color. We can experience only in our minds how that second set would have played with our nostalgia -- the emotional tour through valleys and peaks that would have built up to a crescendo, finally summing up with El Bimbo (the rumored last song).
Had the concert ended as intended, a full circle would have been completed for the fans, and presumably the Eraserheads. Instead, that lost second set would linger on the collective imagination, and there will be a clamor for the band to complete that set as if it were the antidote to some vague malignant spell. I really hope nobody felt cheated over tonight -- it was a solid one hour (I had heard that there was only to be one long set), and the outpour of good feeling was enough to sustain several concerts.
Yet I really don't know if that set would ever be completed, or if the Eraserheads will ever perform together again. My reflexively grim nature is prepared to accept that it might not happen again, no matter what evidence to the contrary there may be, and if that does happen, the mystery of that second set will be a lasting source of fascination and the stuff from which legends are born. I hope that if the E-heads perform together again, they do so knowing that the experience will be fun for them -- never mind the fans -- and that they will never be forced by circumstances into a position that compels them to play together without joy. That wish imparted, I do hope to be in line when the Eraserheads are ready and happy to finish their second set.
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