Diary of a Wolfgang roadie

MANILA, Philippines - Moving a rock band from point A to point B requires as much logistics as planning the D-Day landing at Normandy. Thankfully, Wolfgang travels lean and mean. (Hmmm, I may be in danger of losing my job.) No wakeup calls, they arrive bang on time, on their own, are rarely hungry, carry their own bags and regard everything (good or bad) with ironic amusement. It doesn’t show that they just played a kick-ass show the night before and worked till late, Tirso Ripoll of Razorback included, since he guested as Wolfgang’s second guitarist in the Singapore foray).

Day 1: We pass the Centennial Airport’s 22 security checks (that’s right, count ‘em, 22, according to Time magazine), land at Changi airport and sling an excessive amount of gear, including four guitars, various sizes of laptops, and all kinds of electronic effects into an extra luggage van. There appears to be more tech stuff than personal luggage when Wolfgang makes a move.

We hurtle down Singapore’s gorgeous bougainvillea-lined boulevards to the hotel, which is right beside the Singapore Museum of Modern Art in a part of town that looks like New York’s Soho.

Night 1: There’s a party at a bar called Barrossa for the artists hosted by the Esplanade, which is Singapore’s equivalent to the CCP and then some. Officially known as “The Esplanade Theatres By the Bay,” it is state-run, equipped with all the latest electronic goodies and gewgaws, including a nice little enclave of bars on the ground floor, fronting the clear Singapore waters.

We are told that the Wolfgang show was the first to sell out at the Mosaic Music Festival, so the Esplanade was obliged to take down a lot of our banners because people just kept jamming the phone lines for tickets.

Wolfgang played in a special show called “Acoustica,” named after one of their best-selling albums, at the Mosaic Studio, a 300-seater, wood-paneled jewel of a place. (The Esplanade, we are told, was designed on a floating foundation to minimize any reverb, so it delivers ravishing acoustics.)

Skye of Morcheeba had just played the night before and we meet her at the party, looking very Vivienne Westwood-meets-Zulu Princess. The Singaporean owner of Barrossa gleefully cracks open the Wolfgang “Villains” CD and cranks up the volume in the band’s honor when we arrive. He appears to have bought one on vacation in Manila and the guys pose for pictures with him and his Filipino crew.

I am whisked away to get a peek of N.E.R.D.’s tech set-up on the sly. The hip-hop superstars are playing a midnight set. (Hmmm, note to self: N.E.R.D.’s technical rider includes several bottles of Cristal champagne and their holding room is filled with red roses. Wolfgang only specified beer… but lots of it.) It’s interesting that the lighting is effective but pretty basic. (Esplanade said of the 33 acts that came in, Wolfgang was one of five that brought in their own lighting director.)

Day 2: Basti Artadi is the original morning person and has apparently already toured the museum next door, done a little shopping and gone for a morning swim, while the rest of us are still blearily considering breakfast.

The main activities of the day are to do press interviews at the Esplanade. At the first one, a bearded Japanese superstar who specializes in “death jazz,” dressed in head-to-toe black with a matching cowboy hat, is a sensational sight. He speaks only Japanese and only through an interpreter who gives longwinded translations of his staccato answers to the roomful of media, although, off-cam, he speaks English quite well. (Hmm, second note to self: Speak in tongues and demand interpreter.)

Mon Legaspi, Wolfgang’s bassist who’s worked out of Singapore quite often, zips us off to Bencoolen to a quick-food favorite of his called Kopitiam on the promise that we will be fed grilled stingray. No such luck. It’s all sold out.

Wolfgang’s second session with the media is led by a pair of Singapore’s top deejays slash musicians, Jack and Rai. The interview also goes out on live broadcast. It’s set at the Library@Esplanade and a horde of enthusiastic kababayan is present, a much-appreciated show of support.

Rai asks why Wolfgang has “so many nationalities” and Basti answers firmly, “No, we are all Filipinos.” The Pinoy crowd cheers and stomps their feet.

Night 2: It’s always nerve-wracking the night before a big show. The solution? Loud music and more beer! We invade Basti’s room, where he has set up little hamburger speakers, playing Miles Davis, and the band sits around, swapping war stories of other shows till midnight. It is like Band of Brothers, just before hitting Omaha Beach.

Day 3: Show day! Soundcheck is at 1 p.m., but the tech gnomes Aries Guinto (for sound), Michael Tameta (for lights) have been at it since 8 a.m. Aries has asked that the digital mixing board be ripped out and replaced with an analogue (“for richer sound, more suitable to the acoustic set,” he finically declares) and the Esplanade has obliged.  

Everything goes smooth as silk. The Brit head of sound, however, surfaces with a sound meter in hand and says sternly, however, that we must stay below 100 decibels or the Esplanade will be obliged to put up a warning to the public that the show may be hazardous to their hearing. We are also asked how long we will run any strobe lights as an anti-epilepsy advisory must also be sent out. Assurances are made that the band will not make the audience deaf, blind or epileptic.

The Esplanade also has a Mission: Impossible-style electronic pass system that you have to swipe in order to enter and exit. Big Brother knows exactly who’s in the building at any given time. We are also warned: no pass, absolutely no entry, performing artist or not.

Night 3: Francis Aquino, Wolfgang’s new drummer, is in a state of panic, having discovered that his pass is missing. We upturn all the sofas in the hotel lobby and find it. Problem solved!

The show is set to start at 7:15 p.m. sharp, with gates to open at 6 p.m., and Wolfgang is lolling around backstage, expecting the audience to wander in at Filipino time. Surprise, surprise, the lobby fills up as early as 5 p.m. and the Esplanade — at last, unprepared for one eventuality — has to call in extra security and demand we start before 7 p.m. My adrenaline goes through the roof, but the band is quietly sipping beer and snacking on apples and pears in their dressing room. 

Aleck Pulido, dubbed honorary head of the Wolfpack, is in charge of merchandise and I am ping-ponging around the place on the brink of throwing up from the excitement. Seating is so tight (and, of course, so are the Singapore fire safety regulations) that the crew must have their own tickets to watch the show just like everybody else. (That includes our favorite photographer D’ye Sison who has flown in with us to document the whole show). Ticketless, I have to be sneaked in and perched beside Aries at the sound booth — well, it is the best non-seat in the house.

 If I do say so myself, the show goes off like a firecracker, from start to finish. Despite the house rules, the Filipino audience are madly clicking pics and video-camming the whole show, in between singing, screaming and head-banging. The Esplanade security give up attempts at subduing the crowd and decide to just enjoy the show with the rest of us.

 Guitarist Manuel Legarda had early on suggested that Wolfgang wind up the acoustic show with a couple of plugged-in numbers and he is right — the crowd goes even more berserk. The band has planned on two electric songs but the cheers and cries for “encore” are so overwhelming, I rush to the Esplanade people to ask if we can oblige. “Your call,” they reply, so the band roars into a couple of extra numbers.

 We’re allowed 10 minutes to cool down and change for a round of autograph-signing, always the best part of any show as far as I am concerned.

The original plan was to repair to the Esplanade’s rooftop aerie called the Martini Bar for an after-show celebration, but the band votes to attack the food-hawkers next door, called appropriately “Gluttons Bay.” Octopus, oysters, noodles, satay, and finally stingray are consumed.

Final Morning: Wolfgang say their farewells to return to their separate lairs — Basti to San Francisco, Mon to Hong Kong, Francis to Manila, while Tirso and Manuel are left to my tender mercies, since they have decided to spend a little R&R in Singapore. (Naturally, I trundle them off for more radio interviews.) Ah, there is never any rest for the wicked.

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Wolfgang and Razorback have just released a brand new album, “Alive 2007,” the lost, live recordings from the legendary reunion concert that marked the return of Wolfgang in earnest, jump-starting the recording of their sixth studio album in six years. “Alive 2007” is now available in 26 Metro Manila locations and key cities nationwide. Check out www.facebook.com/Wolfgang.Music.