A brush with Bamboo

Pinoy rock has changed a lot since Eddie Mesa, the so-called Elvis Presley of the Philippines, breathed his last. From Bobby Gonzales’ Hahabol-habol to Rivermaya’s Liwanag sa Dilim, Pinoys have been cooking up all sorts of songs with varying degrees of quality since the time of Elvis. Sadly, it was only recently that I really started to appreciate OPM. Perhaps it’s because my Filpino is abysmal, and I end up not understanding the lyrics. Yep, that’s right. My Filipino is so bad that up to now, I still mix up snails (susô) and breasts (suso). Pretty strange coming from the grandson of a politician who speaks Filipino fluently, eh? Well, I’m only human.

My wonderful and ever-adoring ninang, Auntie Joy, managed to obtain 20 tickets for the "Pinoy Ako" concert of Bamboo at the Ateneo covered courts last Friday for my barkada and me. I had never heard any of Bamboo group’s songs before, only that they won Best New Artist for the Philippines in the MTV Asia Music Awards, and that they were wildly popular among my friends. The reason I had never heard them before was because of their song, Mr. Clay. It was the name which drove me away. I mean, what sort of a rock song is named Mr. Clay? It sounds like a character in Batibot or Mulawin. Or Lastikman’s latest nemesis. What the hell, I thought. I decided to go anyway.

After swerving in and out of the Katipunan traffic and dodging cars left and right, I managed to make it to Ateneo in a record 45 minutes. Add another 20 minutes for getting lost in the campus. Upon arrival at the Ateneo High School covered court at 6:50 p.m., to my dismay I realized that perhaps the concert wasn’t going to start at 7 p.m. after all.

At 8 p.m. I was inside. People were trickling in like a leaky faucet. I was shocked, after all these Bamboo dudes were supposed to be really good, weren’t they? I discovered that another band from Ateneo called Fag Newtons, was playing before Bamboo. They weren’t that great, but they certainly were better than what you’d think after hearing their name. They were interviewed when they were finished by the host, a Fita Biscuits model or something like that. Apparently, they got their band name from the sections of three of the band members, F, A, and G. Then they added Newtons at the end to make a parody of the food Fig Newtons, I guess. At any rate, it’s better than mayonnaise or french fries, no matter how bizarre it might sound.

By this time, the crowd was getting anxious. They wanted their dear old Bamboo, not just a bunch of college students. The host tried to kill time by diverting the audience’s attention, but was unsuccessful. Some of my idiot friends who came with me started screaming, "We want Fita!" loudly and repeatedly. At about this point, Bamboo’s bassist arrived. The show started immediately.

The worst part of it was that I didn’t recognize any of their songs. Also, some of my friends remarked on how stiff I was. Then they told me to jump up and down. I refused. It was a slow song, and no one else was getting wild or anything. I’d have stood out like a sore thumb, making a fool out of myself. Of course, when the tunes got louder, I hollered, leaped, and made hand gestures like everyone else. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

It was just too bad that the only food available at the venue was Kenny Rogers. Not that the food was bad, only that burgers would have been so much more convenient. Imagine trying to eat a fried chicken breast with rice and gravy using plastic utensils in a crowd. I decided to fast and eat only the new thick-cut fries that Kenny Rogers was advertising. It tasted just like ordinary fries, but thicker. They also had this terrific iced tea which was P15 each and tasted just like a glass of water with a teaspoon of powdered iced tea. The concert ended at 10 p.m. Everyone but myself and a few of my buddies waited in line for 40 minutes to get their poster or CD signed. I left ahead of everyone else and catnapped in the car.

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E-mail the author at ifyoudonteatyoulldie@yahoo.com