Thank you, everyone! Love, Rockeoke
The first ever Rockeoke was epic in all the wrong ways. It was on August 6, 2007, and a group of Manila’s finest artists, already wasted, had just come from an opening at Mo Space a block away. L***, internationally renowned installation and video artist, sang the most horrible version of R.E.M.’s Losing My Religion I’d ever heard, and she subsequently fainted onstage. Art stars Poklong Anading and J**** (her boyfriend at the time) did nothing but raise their bottles and cheer her on. The backup band, The Johnnys, looked disgusted and seemed like they’d rather be someplace else. A couple of older patrons walked out, probably expecting a jazz show and instead got this vulgar display of excess.
There were 20 people in the room, including the band and the waiters. It was a total disaster, yet I already knew that this was going to be magic.
The idea for Rockeoke was by no means an original one. My friend and compatriot Mich Dulce told me about Live Rock ‘n’ Roll Karaoke at Arlene’s Grocery in New York years ago. I always felt that, given the Pinoy preoccupation with karaoke and the fact that we are a musical people, it would be a perfect fit for the bar. We had the spirit… we just needed a band. My partner at Mag:Net Lulei Simpao excitedly told me about her wedding; how this great band — “The Johnnys” — brought the house down with their mix of classic rock and new wave hits, and how her drunken guests forced themselves onstage to sing. Seemed like a match made in heaven.
Lulei and I put Rockeoke together with one simple motto: “Make up for lack of talent with style and pizzazz.” It seemed like it was going to be an instant hit, and yet it wasn’t. The first two months of Rockeoke were empty, and mostly consisted of friends of Mag:Net partners. It was also a lot of work: countless hours photocopying and collating lyric sheets, printing multiple copies of the song list and mass texting a new concept that people didn’t get yet. After the first two sad months of Rockeoke, we were going to shut it down, except that, despite the lack of attendance, there was too much fun going on to stop. Random people who just stumbled into the place shared great conversation and popcorn with us. There was this one lady who discovered that this was going on and dragged her whole shy barkada in to be part of the festivities. During one Rockeoke, in a drunken stupor I, along with Mich, Sheryl Cruz and a bunch of random acquaintances decided to form the band that would eventually become Us-2 Evil-0 (no one remembered to get Sheryl Cruz’s number, though).
This was the most ‘rock star’ I ever got to be in my life,” JC Medina muses. “I work in I.T., for God’s sake.” JC came into Rockeoke a few months after it began, but I don’t consider anyone else keeping it alive as much as he did. Monday after Monday we, along with our partner Gabe Mercado and later on Wanggo Gallaga, would host Rockeoke for five hours with no pay whatsoever. We did it because of the people. We did it because of Ivan, who couldn’t breathe during You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling since he was so nervous about proposing to his future wife onstage. We did it because of Carl Clemente, our first Rockeoke Idol, who would actually change costume before doing his second song. We did it for the folks who we fondly called The OG’s, because they were a bunch of warm and wonderful people who we only had the pleasure of knowing through Rockeoke. Two of the OG’s are my editor Paolo Lorenzana and colleague Audrey Carpio, and I’m writing this for the STAR because I’ve gotten to know them through Rockeoke.
The event did eventually gain momentum. We won “Party Event of The Year” for the STAR’s Supreme Awards, and were featured in almost every magazine and morning show, including Time. Airline magazines would always feature Rockeoke as one of the “must-dos when you come to Manila,” and TV stations and other bars replicated what we were doing. Then there were the spin-offs: Broadwayoke, Sentioke, Popeoke, Abbaoke, Metallicaoke, Girls’ Night Out Rockeoke. Eventually even major bands like Rivermaya and The Dawn would do special Rockeokes where fans could come up and sing their major hits. It would be commonplace to spot celebrities like Heart Evangelista, Jericho Rosales and KC Concepcion come up and sing, and even international personalities like Ben Templesmith (creator of 30 Days of Night) and Dante Basco (But I’m Not a Cheerleader and Entourage, but most popularly known as Rufio from Hook) would have their moment at the mic. My personal favorite Rockeoke moment was being able to sing The Eraserheads’ Superproxy with my teenage hero: the man who wrote it himself, Ely Buendia. This became bigger than any of us dared to dream, and it was glorious.
Last Sunday, because business is business and complications arose, Rockeoke as we know it came to an end. The event, headlined by another great Rockeoke band, Oven Toaster, was announced a day before it happened, mostly through Facebook, Twitter and word-of-mouth. It was a surprise to everyone, especially since for the first time it was held on a Sunday. The suddenness of it all led to a strange sense of urgency, however, and it became the most bittersweet moment in Mag:Net history. There was a slideshow of Rockeoke photos and videos of past performances, and before people would burst out singing they’d share a few words about how Rockeoke made their lives happier, even if for a moment. It was very cinematic, like that final episode of Lost where everyone gets together and things fall into place. It also felt like a wake, except it was one of those great wakes that were more a celebration of a person’s life than a mourning of his/her death. The OG’s performed a very tearful Time After Time before everyone rushed the stage to do the song that usually ends a Rockeoke set: Mr. Brightside. It was messy and noisy and drunken. It was one of the happiest nights of my life.
