Alapaap

The first performance, after six years, was spectacular.

For an Eraserheads fan, the opening number, pumped up by a grand setup—a huge screen on the main stage, lighting that can only be seen on international concerts, cameras from different angles for each band member, and a fireworks display at the last verse—was already an epic. As one DJ put it, “opening pa lang, sulit na”.

We were not supposed to be there, spending almost P2,700 for Patron tickets, standing side by side-- along with many other fans-- and going home after the first set. The original plan was to find a coffee shop near the area, and listen to their songs—just the way we did last July in Daughtry concert. That was the plan because we were not able to get the VIP invites, which had been given away to those who logged on to Marlboro’s site several weeks ago. But after checking out some shelves at Powerbooks and strolling around Greenbelt, we ended up inquiring at the Ticketnet booth, and later on, buying two tickets. Eheads yun eh. Mapapalampas ba naman.

We grabbed an early dinner at Contis; I enjoyed my Shrimp and Mushroom Pasta (which I will tempt Kat to cook for us, hehe), while he indulged in his Mango Royale Salad and Tuna Salad Sandwich. By 7PM, we lined up, first outside the Patron entrance near Boni High Street, then outside the other Patron entrance at the opposite side. The security personnel were stringent in terms of what not to bring inside—including perfumes. And I brought mine that night. So they were expecting me to leave my perfume behind? Like just throw it away?! It pissed me off a bit. Hmmm... figuring out how to settle such issues was their problem, not mine. They should have disseminated information at all ticket booths regarding DONTs, and never bothered those people who paid a relatively dear damage. But forget about security, I was able to get in anyway.

By 8PM, a huge countdown, starting at 10:00 minutes, was displayed on all screens. The crowd cheered at the end of every minute. It was overwhelming.

And then, the first song. Wow.

I could barely see the whole band. Well, I was 6-footer in my past life, you know. My buddy was trying to carry me from time to time just to get a glimpse of them. But, honestly, the distance from the stage did not matter. I was intensely listening as Ely sang, Buddy played the bass, Marcus the guitar, and Raimund the drums. I was simply carried away, just like everybody else.

The first song was followed by another hit. Then, another hit. And so on, and so forth. I forgot to count. There were no adlibs. No spiels. No “hello fans!” Same old, same old. They have been like that since their UP gig days. Di talaga sila ma-hirit. They showed up on stage to play. That particular night, however, there was something lacking. They seemed to be detached from the performance. No cues from the frontman. But no matter how silent the band was in between songs, the crowd consistently applauded with enthusiasm and chanted “Group hug! Group hug!” at the end of each Eheads hit. I’m not sure whether the band members were aware of their effect, but those people who had filled up the whole concert area screamed their hearts out, rooting for the reunion.

I knew there was something wrong in the last song on the first set. I thought Ely struggled with some stanzas. My buddy noticed that Ely requested a production crew who strapped him the guitar to unfasten it. After the last song, the rest of the band left the stage, Ely sat on the platform, resting his hands on his knees. Lights out. Another countdown, 20:00 minutes, was displayed on all screens.

There were no intermissions. No videos. No front-act bands. There were only announcement about food and beverages available at the concessionaires, and the voices of Eheads fan, talking to one another, noticing dead air.

It took the band more than 20 minutes t get back on stage. And their resumption was uncomfortable. Buddy introduced the members of the band, except for Ely. But he introduced another person, Ely's sister, who, in turn, told the crowd that he was being rushed to the hospital due to his poor health condition. Everyone was startled.

The concert was cut short. The opening song for the next set was turned into a 1-minute prayer in silence for Ely. I was not able to hear Poor Man’s Grave, which I had been anticipating to hear that night. My buddy was waiting for Minsan. Others for Pare Ko and Magasin. The rest for Huling El Bimbo. But we could not complain nor booed the production. The life of the frontman was at stake. Half of the reunion thing was accomplished. And to those who grew up in the Eraserheads era have gotten some satisfaction, seeing the band together on stage, singing many hit songs (one album if compiled) with the band, and experiencing that sort of Woodstock feel.

It was definitely not a perfect concert. It actually finished off a mess. But being able to get there in the middle of the field was moving. It gave us an unusual high.