Like a hypnotist, Martin Nievera can make me do anything. He can put me in a trance with just half a note. A full note can turn me into a gay frog. When he hums Kahit Isang Saglit, I freeze like Guinevere, and when he croons Wildflower, instantaneously I am possessed by Xaviera Hollander. A couple of weeks ago, the wildest thing happened to me. I sang live with the Concert King Martin Nievera at Onstage. I was not only wild, I was shameless. But I figured I had to overcome one of my greatest fears – to sing live before an audience. Could there have been a scarier place to do that than in the lair of the King himself?
That night, I came straight from Boracay, ran immediately to Onstage and nervously waited for my cue. Of course, backstage, I pretended to be Barbra Streisand – cold, distant and focused. The lyrics of Wildflower was on a piece of paper, safely kept in a secret pocket of my blazer – just in case I forget a word – despite the fact that in the past 48 hours – I did nothing but rehearse the song in front of the corals, the white sand, the puka shells, the sailboats of Boracay.
One afternoon, I was trying to get the chorus of the song right. I saw the majestic Boracay sunset hurriedly setting because of my singing. But what the heck, one day in your life – you’ ve got to "swim thru the tunnel." I was determined to survive onstage.
Weeks before the Onstage appearance, I was told that I’d guest in Martin’s show. The concert had a Martin Late At Night portion where Martin would interview a guest in front of his audience. Nice trick, I thought. His audience will not only watch Martin perform but will get a glimpse of how he does his late show complete with the TV production staff, his set and cameras.
"Cool," I muttered. The interview would be a breeze. On and off cam, Martin and I can talk endlessly. We can also talk about everything and anything, unabashedly dishing out the most mundane, profound, hilarious, irrational, intelligent opinions that could only come from two confused egotists who love each other dearly, who both love life and love, and who never have time to complain and are grateful about the kindness of God and the universe.
Martin and I talk about anything that makes sense and everything that doesn’t make sense. The conversation was a prelude to the main thing where I was to do a song with Martin. Too bad, I could not do Kahit Isang Saglit, because it was part of his repertoire. I ferociously protested but of course, I could not spoil the King’s repertoire. Divas are supposed to be difficult. It’s a trademark.
I had to play difficult. I told Martin’s staff to leave me alone for a couple of days and I will let them know what song I would want to do with Martin. But the truth of the matter is that I have not much choice, because I can’t do any song in its entirety. I would either know the first line of the chorus but never the whole song.
After Kahit Isang Saglit, my next Martin Nievera favorite song is Wildflower. But the pitch of this song is higher than Everest and Martin goes higher than the highest notes with his inhuman adlibs. And I figured, if I were to sing this song with him, I would refuse to lower the pitch. Either I sang it in his key or I will do an aria from Turandot.
A couple of days later, I called Martin’s office and declared that I wanted to sing Wildflower and if they could send me a copy of the lyrics of the song and a study tape. They do this to divas. The night before my guesting, Lani Misalucha sang with Martin! I could not do less! After all, "we are both divas," I hallucinated.
The study tapes and lyrics arrived on time. I also ordered my office to provide me a CD of Martin which contains Wildflower.
In the most private recesses of my flesh and bones, I was so nervous that from the time I woke up to the time I would spend in the car in the middle of traffic, in Baclaran while praying–I was rehearsing Wildflower.
And when the night of nights came, when my name was called on stage, I forgot the first line of Wildflower.
(To be continued)