MANILA, Philippines - After lining up for almost two hours, I was finally inside the NBC Tent, the venue for the Manila leg of Death Cab For Cutie’s Asian tour. People were starting to occupy the VIP section to get a prime spot for the show. A friend called out my name and invited me to join him and his friends — they were right in the middle, just meters away from the stage. “You’re the president of the Death Cab For Cutie Fans Club!” he said. “You deserve to be here!” I smiled at their invitation and joined them. Suddenly, my head filled with haze as I began to see flashbacks:
June 2001: I’m in the passenger seat of my best friend Quark Henares’ car on our way to a gig with my band, Ciudad. “Listen to this,” he says as he pops in “We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes” and plays the first track. An elegant guitar riff and a simple drumbeat plays, followed by a guy singing words in conversational prose with no rhymes. This is great! I say to Quark, except that it’s tinny-sounding and in lo-fi, like they recorded everything at once using just one microphone! Is the whole track like this? Suddenly, the second verse starts and explodes in full hi-fi glory. I look at Quark and he’s grinning at me. Whoa! I exclaim. We listen to the whole album on the road. The intimacy of the songs and the uniqueness of the arrangements amaze me. Rock songs don’t have to be all guitars on overdrive there’s the piano and keyboards, too, I realize. And lyrics don’t need to rhyme! They just need to be heartfelt, honest, but subtle! I look at my band mates Mitch, Jeff, and Justin at the back of the car. They don’t know it yet, but we’ll fashion our records to be just like this.
October 27, 2003: I’m in the Bowery Ballroom in New York with Quark and another close friend, Marie Jamora. Five feet from us is Death Cab For Cutie playing The New Year, the first song from their set and the first track from their newly-released record, “Transatlanticism.” My mouth hangs open. Quark and Marie look at me, big grins on their faces. They’re happy for me. They’ve seen DCFC before, but this is my first time. They play on, and the songs I’ve loved so much in their records burst into color in front of me. I take note and steal a few indie-rock moves to impress Ciudad fans back home (swaying back and forth is now officially cool). Band members shuffle between different instruments mid-song, making their live sound possibilities limitless. This is the best show ever, I think to myself. I wish everyone back home could see this!” Outside the Bowery Ballroom, we wait for frontman and songwriter, Ben Gibbard. He finally appears, carrying a pizza box with two hands. Ben! I yell, Here’s my band’s CD! It’s already our second album! It’s for you! With a face that seems to be a cross between amusement and slight terror, he stops and says, “Okay, put it on top of this pizza box I’m carrying.”
January 6, 2008: I’m at Route196 in Katipunan, playing a solo all-Death-Cab set for DCFC tribute night. Somewhere in the bar, an acquaintance, Marian Hernandez, is watching alone, singing along teary-eyed.
August 12, 2008: I’m at The Esplanade in Singapore with Quark, Marie, my Ciudad bandmates Mitch and Justin, and my girlfriend, Marian. Death Cab For Cutie is taking their final bows onstage. They just played a great set to support their latest record, “Narrow Stairs.” I get to the base of the stage and hold out a copy of our latest album, “Bring Your Friends,” our “masterpiece” containing everything I learned from Death Cab — subtlety, quietness, intimacy. “Chris!” I scream at Chris Walla, the group’s guitarist and producer, “This is for you!” Chris walks towards us and gets the CD. He says thanks, then rejoins his band as they exit the stage. I high-five Marian, then look over to where Mitch and Justin are standing with big grins on their faces. They give me the thumbs-up sign. I’m so happy for them because they finally saw Death Cab for Cutie. “No, this is the best show ever,” I think. But again, I wish more people back home were able to see this.
March 5, 2012: Inside the NBC tent, everyone was screaming and crying around me. Death Cab ended their encore with the song Transatlanticism, and every person in the audience who has ever had a longing in his heart sang along to the line, “I need you so much closer. “ A smile is plastered on my face. It was the great show of the same old Death Cab For Cutie I’d seen twice before — they still exchanged instruments mid-song and their songs still burst into life, but now there was more. Amazing moving lights complemented every chord change, and made silhouette snapshots of every cool rock move. The members never looked surer of themselves, especially Ben, who looked healthier and showed off some new moves. I saw smiles on their faces, probably, evidence of how overwhelmed they were by the support of the Filipino audience. I’ve never seen them that happy onstage. They played a killer set of 24 songs spanning all their releases throughout the past 12 years, even the ones we didn’t expect they would play. As house lights flooded the tent and the house music returned, group pictures were taken, with everyone feigning sad faces. (“Feigning,” because we were all really ecstatic inside.) I group hugged with Marian, Marie, and a couple of friends and acquaintances. I looked around and saw a sea of familiar faces. I realized that nearly every DCFC-loving person in Manila was here.
I take it back. This is the best show ever.
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Mikey Amistoso is the frontman of indie-rock band Ciudad (ciudad.bandcamp.com), and performs solo under the name Hannah+Gabi (hannahgabi.bandcamp.com). He also writes songs, jingles, and scores for Liquidpost.