The flame that grips me

On most Sundays when traffic is not as bad as on normal weekdays, I drive the few kilometers down to the old homestead in Diliman to visit mother as well as exchange rickety cars. Rule of thumb is that there should always be a vintage karag-karag car parked in the carport, underneath the awning of peeling plywood. It doesn’t matter if one or the other is regularly at the shop for various repairs, the years of wear and tear have made it necessary that the vehicles, both hand me downs, be alternated in the hope of lessening trips to the mechanic.

It is during such Sunday drives that the Rivermaya song Sunday Driving from Between the Stars and Waves plays repeatedly, whether on the actual radio in the 1990 model or in the imaginary one in the radio-less 1981 vehicle.

The CD is where the band still had two guitarists, one of them who has since left for another band that nevertheless has failed to showcase Kakoy Legaspi’s Stevie Ray Vaughan-like playing.

The song again comes to mind with the recent announced departure of its lead singer and songwriter, Rico Blanco, who has opted to go solo.

The band’s manager, Lizza Nakpil, has issued a statement that Rivermaya will go on, despite the fact that the only remaining original member is the drummer Mark Escueta, now flanked by remaining band players, bassist Japs Sergio and guitarist Mike Elgar.

The band has every right to proceed as a trio, as Rivermaya has survived the loss first of its lead guitarist, then its charismatic lead vocalist and subsequently its dominant bass player. But will it still be Rivermaya without its principal songwriter?

We can think of other bands both here and abroad that have gone through momentous changes, losing key personnel for reasons as varied as retirement to wanting to go solo or explore the proverbial greener pastures. The band is not the be all and end all, particularly for one as talented as Blanco, who has branched out to acting (Nasaan si Francis?) and designing. If he wants out then let him go.

We also had our doubts that the band would survive after Bamboo left, the trademark voice that defined their early hits such as Kung Ayaw Mo Huwag Mo and Kisapmata. But they shored up their resources, taking in more personnel for a more layered sound, particularly using the acoustic rhythm guitar as a foundation for the songs.

That omnipresent acoustic guitar can be heard clearly in Sunday Driving, a song as unobstructed with traffic as EDSA on a Sunday. We can hear Blanco’s voice sing about “the flame that grips me,” and his later asking, “do you believe in us?”

It is one of the most subtle love songs ever written, recounting the joy of being able to drive hassle-free through nearly empty streets, enabling the persona to think clearly of the possibilities of a loved one returning “into these arms you once called home.”

Through it all the lead guitars insinuate themselves in the melody, taking care not to clutter the song.

We can almost picture the music video for it, a lyric example for visual songwriting, complete with light filtering in through the trees and maybe the outline of the woman’s profile in the distance. It could be Blanco himself driving as he sings, hoping both for a reconciliation and that the streets remain clear. For the singer as much as the song, clarity is everything.

We can only wonder who will sing Sunday Driving if it is requested of a new refurbished Rivermaya in concerts; it is possible that they have to hire a new vocalist. A trade for Bamboo is definitely out of the picture, so maybe an entirely new entity pulled out by Nakpil and company out of their hats might do the trick.

Blanco, on the other hand, would likely release a solo album to out-Coldplay Coldplay, while the rest of his former bandmates figure out ways to proceed.

But Sunday Driving will continue to play on the radio both real and imagined, just as life goes on for Rivermaya with or without Blanco. The band members may change but the song remains the same, just as the vehicle may change but the mechanic remains the same as the flame that grips us so long as we believe in songs about driving on a Sunday.