Timestamp: May 20, 6 p.m.
I get a voice message from my friend Jaimee on WhatsApp: “Emergency, you have to come here! June 16, Eraserheads is having a concert in Hamilton!” I immediately replied, “Oh em gee. Yasss! Ipapaalam ko na!” (OMG. Yes! I’ll ask permission!)
My name is Katrina, and I’ve been living in Canada for nearly 10 years now. I don’t get to go home to Manila very often but last December, when the Eraserheads staged what would be the first in a series of reunion concert shows around the world, I was actually in town but unfortunately could not make it. The concert sold out in a matter of days. I also could not imagine braving horrendous Manila traffic or the massive concert crowd.
When my friend messaged me about the concert in Hamilton, I immediately seized the opportunity to go see them. However, I have a confession to make: I’m not exactly a die-hard E-heads fan. I only know a few songs from their extensive discography, mostly their early hits that were so widely known that you would have had to be a hermit to not have heard them. Nevertheless, their songs became an integral part of my high school and college years, and it was impossible to turn on the radio without hearing an E-heads tune. The chance to relive those years, even if only for a few hours, and immerse myself in the music of my youth, was simply too good to pass up.
In the weeks leading up to the concert, I listened to Eraserheads playlists on Spotify whenever I had the chance. As I sang along to my favorites and discovered new ones during my drives, I developed an appreciation for Ely Buendia’s witty songwriting. His lyrics seamlessly blended the emotions of Filipino youth in the ’90s with references that any Pinoy could relate to. While you may not have personally known someone who became a famous bold star like in the song “Magasin,” every boy could probably understand the thrill of opening and sharing naughty magazines with friends. And, how could you not connect with “Sembreak”? Back then, we used to write letters to friends during bakasyon, endured power outages (brownouts), and tried to find ways to alleviate the inevitable boredom. In “Pare Ko,” Ely sings about being in love with a girl who only wants to be friends. Didn’t we all know a buddy who had a crush on a friend, hoping for a chance to be magsyota (in a relationship) but ultimately facing frustration? It was a relatable experience for many. My Eraserheads immersion made me realize that there were so many songs I still had to discover, but I didn’t mind. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip down memory lane and the opportunity to reconnect with my roots through music.
Timestamp: June 16, 8 p.m.
As we walked the short distance from our hotel to the First Ontario Center, the venue for the concert that evening, the atmosphere was brimming with excitement, joy, and anticipation. It felt surreal when we noticed a Caucasian guy selling bootleg Eraserheads shirts. Most of the Filipino fans were already proudly sporting their Eheads merchandise. As VIP ticket holders, we were delighted to receive a complimentary Eheads tote bag each (may pa-giveaway!) and couldn’t help but notice that VVIP ticket holders had the special privilege of having their photos taken in a dedicated booth at the entrance (may pa-kodakan!). Although the concert began late, it didn’t dampen our spirits. The moment the four musicians stepped onto the stage, the energy skyrocketed and remained elevated throughout the night. They seldom took breaks, occasionally providing short commentaries, but primarily focused on delivering an unforgettable musical experience. While there were no elaborate pyrotechnics, smoke machines, or gimmicks—only graphics and image projections on stage—the band didn’t require any of that. The audience was there for the music, and Ely, Buddy, Raimund, and Marcus certainly delivered.
I have always been fascinated by the stories behind songs—the inspirations that drive artists to pen lyrics for their greatest hits and the defining moments that give birth to universally cherished melodies. While Eraserheads has produced intriguing and controversial songs, such as “Alapaap,” what sets them apart is their ability to resonate with listeners on a universal level, transcending the specific inspirations and narratives behind each song. As a listener, you forge a unique connection with the music, weaving your own experiences into the melodies and lyrics. This personal bond is what makes the songs relatable and enduring.
Timestamp: June 16, 9:15 p.m.
So, when the band played “Overdrive,” it instantly transported me back to my high school days when those who could drive a car were considered cool and popular. It also reminded me of a personal milestone in my life when I finally mastered driving. You see, I had given up driving after a traumatic car crash, but one fateful night, on our way back from a day trip in Batangas, my roommate, who was a bit tipsy, entrusted me with the task of driving his car all the way home. I remember my girlfriends who were with us feeling understandably nervous throughout the entire journey. But, it was my friend’s intoxicated confidence in my driving skills that ultimately gave me lasting faith in my ability to drive. That night, I truly learned how to drive (natuto na talaga akong mag-drive).
As the images of the Kalayaan residence flashed on the screen during the performance of “Minsan,” my friend Jaimee couldn’t help but reminisce about the time she decided to break away from the norm and choose a different college from her peers. As class valedictorian of Philippine Science High School in Davao, everyone expected her to go to UP and live in the Kalayaan residence for freshmen. However, due to a summer program she attended in the Ateneo (which incidentally is where we first met), she made the unexpected decision to pursue her education at that university instead. This surprising choice prompted former classmates to question her decision. It’s funny that Ely wrote that song about his friends in the Kalayaan residence, which he seemed to have lost touch with. But Jaimee and I ended up forming such a strong bond during our time living in the on-campus Ateneo residence, along with a few other girls who became our roommates. Here we are, 29 years after the release of that song, and our friendship remains genuine and steadfast. Tunay pa rin na magkaibigan.
There are so many memories wrapped up in these songs. I remember listening to “Pare Ko” with my barkada in the sari-sari store in front of our school, and piling into Alabang Town Center cinema with my friends to watch the movie of the same name starring Claudine Barretto, Mark Anthony Fernandez, Jao Mapa, Jomari Yllana, Gio Alvarez, and Nikki Valencia. For Jaimee, “Sem Break” (semestral break) meant staying at friends’ homes because she couldn’t afford to go back to the province, but feeling grateful and fortunate nonetheless to have spent her vacation with dear friends. One of my personal favorite songs, “With A Smile,” now holds a special place in my heart as I sing it to my boys at bedtime. It has transformed into a mother’s lullaby—a song of love and support for my children, who will inevitably encounter heartbreaks and failures as they grow older.
Timestamp: June 16, 10:30 p.m.
The band comes back for the final encore, wearing fresh tee shirts. With the shedding of their jackets and sunglasses, it seems the band has also discarded their angst and seriousness. They look visibly relaxed and light-hearted. As Buddy launches into the familiar bass riffs of “Alapaap,” the crowd goes wild. The whole stadium sings along word for word, knowing these are the last minutes we have with the band. After “Pare Ko,” Buddy tells us that there is a special someone in the crowd. Turns out Rowena Basco, the actress who played the adult Paraluman in the music video for “Ang Huling El Bimbo,” was with us that night. Not surprisingly, the band ends the show with “Ang Huling El Bimbo”—a fitting sign off for an amazing night.
One of the more remarkable things for me during the concert was witnessing people of different generations rocking out together to the music of the Eraserheads. There were tatays and titos jumping up and down, as if they were reliving their headbanging days in Club Dredd. At the same time, there were young ones enthusiastically singing along, as if the songs were just released and making waves on Tiktok. I couldn’t blame them. It was a testament to the timeless appeal of the Eheads’ discography, showing that their music continues to resonate across generations.
As I walked back to the hotel, arm in arm with my friend, I felt a warm fuzzy rush. Seeing familiar Filipino faces, hearing the language and music, brought solace to my immigrant heart that is perpetually missing the motherland. Even if only for a few hours, it felt as though I was transported to the Philippines. Maraming salamat, Eraserheads, for taking me back. It felt like home, even if only for a short while.
