There was much reservation at first, I admit, when I first heard the news that Pulp was working on bringing in Maryland-based rock group Good Charlotte for a one-night only gig at the Folk Arts Theater in Manila. Our previous efforts in bringing in foreign bands that would literally bring the house down and rock the venue to the rafters didn’t push through. Freya – a reincarnated version of legendary straight-edge band Earth Crisis – and our biggest disappointment Slipknot – the nine masked men from Des Moine, Iowa, Slipknot – are two unfortunate examples. We took risks and suffered things beyond our control, failing to deliver what this country has been wanting for the past few years.
Sure, Linkin Park and Incubus came here, but the ticket prices were simply not fan-friendly, and so were the big gaps from the bands from its respective crowds – notwithstanding the fact that both bands didn’t really put out impressive albums when they came here. They weren’t peaking. But Good Charlotte, as I look back a month later, was truly a concert that I will consider both memorable and, simply put, excellent.
I remember the countless discussions I had with my boss months before the show, Pulp editor in chief Vernon Go as if it were yesterday:
"Dude, what do you think about Good Charlotte?" he asked me. "Think we can get a good crowd? Do you think the kids will love it if we bring ‘em in and basically let everybody have the chance at grabbing great seats since they’ll get a ticket with the magazine for free?"
"I dunno dude… I’m not really a fan," I started at first, not sure whether or not the band would seriously ever make it here in the first place, and trying desperately not to get my hopes up in fear that I would only disappoint myself too much if I got too excited.
I was given a copy of the band’s latest album "The Chronicles of Life and Death" from the local record company and that’s where it all began for me. Once I managed to get rid of all my preconceived notions of the band (I always thought them to be some poster boy, pop-punk outfit), I realized that I was listening to what is probably their strongest material to date… a real (bleepin’) good album that is sincere yet is humongous in proportions.
The album features sing-along songs with big choruses that make listeners want to get up and dance, and tug at their fragile heartstrings at the same time.
As I worked on the feature story I was tasked to hand in for our July 2005 issue, I learned so much about the band – how they put their fans in the highest regard, and how much importance they put into their efforts, both live and in the studio.
We carefully picked out a solid lineup of opening bands: the over-the-top comic-punk of Kamikazee, the emo-stylings of Laguna-based Typecast, the radio-friendly yet solid-as-a-rock formula of Mayonnaise, and the high-intensity of Chicosci, which was in our opinion the best welcome mat we could provide for vocalist Joel Madden, guitarist Benji Madden, bassist Paul Thomas, guitarist Billy Martin and drummer Dean Butterworth.
We got an early and overwhelming response from kids who trooped over to our offices almost every hour asking about the concert. We had mixed reactions from fans who either simply couldn’t believe that their idols were coming to town or who were persistently asking us for ways they could go backstage and meet the band. Even we couldn’t deny that we were just as eager for the day to come.
That afternoon, we did get to meet the crew led by tour manager Mark Holloway, marketing manager Man-Men Lee, and production manager Ian Kinnersley for a final get-together. Surprisingly, they were as cool as the band itself. I remember Ian saying – in the most relaxed and comforting tone – that everything was fine and that the most important thing was that it’d be a show that everyone would enjoy and that the kids would all be able to go home as early and as safely as possible. Which is generally quite refreshing and surprising to hear from these professionals.
It was mainly a short afternoon of nice chatting, laughing and telling stories – and as early as that, I knew it was going to be a great show. The only thing we had to worry about the next day was the meet-and-greet session with contest winners and the press, and it was all rock n’ roll from then on.
We didn’t have a hint of that dreaded feeling we’d get the day before our annual Summer Slam concerts… and this was a foreign band. I hoped to myself that if we were to put on another foreign rock concert here, that the band and the crew would be this friendly.
Time seemed to pass by so quickly. The bouncers got there and all huddled in front of the venue’s main gate like an army ready to attack. We had our lunches alongside the rest of the local crew, and I got reassuring smiles and high fives from Ian and the rest of the crew as they worked on assembling speakers and the stage. We even watched GC technician Neil Hundt perform tricks with a Zippo lighter for the local technicians who were resting from the heat.
By the early afternoon, I was already ushering in members of the press (along with Sony BMG peeps Jade Maravillas and Mark Bonifacio, and under the friendly supervision of Man-Men Lee), and the lucky fans who were going to meet Good Charlotte for autographs and Q & As, which was a bit tiring.
When head bouncer Rico Santiago told me that there were various rallies happening around the metro, I started to get a bit worried. But when the band marched inside the room reserved for the media, I once again breathed a sigh of relief and knew that the band and the show was in serious business.
I couldn’t help admiring how the guys politely went through all the questions and gamely threw in a joke or two throughout the press meet. Their time with the fans (albeit short, since sound check got pushed a few minutes behind schedule) was definitely momentous for them, as I observed how the guys engaged their fans in friendly conversation.
The front acts made it to their dressing rooms shortly before sunset. I could already hear the kids screaming from the other side of the Folk Arts Theater. My officemates, photographers Brutalgrace and JB Eudela nervously checked their gear, taking test snapshots, while the bouncers positioned themselves strategically. Final adjustments were made and shortly before 8 p.m., kids poured into the crowd area, filling in the entire floor area in minutes.
As the shadowy figures of the Kamikazee boys moved about onstage, the screams grew louder. Jay Contreras and company charged through with an impressive, short-but-sweet set of originals. As they retreated backstage, I noticed Good Charlotte security main-man Ryan Atkinson chatting and smiling at the people backstage and giving a few last-minute reminders, as brothers Benji and Joel, alongside guitarist Billy hung out a bit with the Kamikazee boys and fans backstage.
"What an amazing gesture of humility," I thought to myself as Mayonnaise, and (a quite drunk) Typecast took the stage. And as Chicosci delivered the final onslaught of local music via their hit Paris, the cheers of the crowd was obviously not meant solely for the local scene’s proud roster of talent for the evening… it meant that Good Charlotte was about to take the stage. I stood still from the side of the stage and watched the crowd go crazy in anticipation.
As the strains of the opening instrumental piece Once Upon A Time: The Battle of Life and Death creepily filled the theater along with the mist from the fog machine onstage, I was holding my breath, waiting for the thundering explosion of cymbals and overdriven guitars. I was not disappointed, as the band detonated on stage with The Anthem, as the crowd simultaneously roared back, singing along with the lyrics about a generation hungry to take charge, with so much energy and so much passion:
"I’m gonna get by and just do my time – out of step while they all get in line. I’m just a minor threat so pay no mind…’ Cause I don’t ever wanna be you – Don’t wanna be just like you!"
The song was immediately followed by the opening power chords of Walk Away (Maybe). I felt both the rush from the thundering opening take effect, and at the same time the poignancy in the words and honesty and the musical tension vocalist Joel had masterfully delivered, singing and meaning each line. As the rest of the band took cue, growing animated with the lights and the gigantic sounds from their guitars and the drum kit: Billy and Joel thrashed the life out of their guitars, Paul kept a steady and throbbing rhythm, and drummer Dean pounded away, his hands triumphantly bashing at the skins.
I marveled at that consistent amount of fervor throughout the band’s entire set, cheered on relentlessly by the audience: Through the moving weight of their ditty Hold On to the despair-ridden tune S.O.S. to fun tracks like I Just Wanna Live.
Joel paused for a quick spiel in praise of the Filipinos’ warm acceptance for their band, acknowledged the political dilemma the country was presently going through, and introduced the uplifting ballad We Believe. Instead of seeing thousands of lighters fill the auditorium in typical arena rock settings, what I saw instead was thousands of faces lighting up, inspired, impressed and (for even just a short period of time throughout the song, at the least…) filled with hope. Even the security guarding the barricades couldn’t help looking over their shoulder, the older fans couldn’t help singing along and the rest of the crowd couldn’t help screaming in great approval during the entire song. I was there… right smack in the middle of the barricade and the stage, and it truly was a sight to behold. The show was far from over, but I knew it was one worthy to spread the word about.
Though I wasn’t able to finish the remainder of the show, as a stage dive stunt from an overzealous fan from the side of the stage into the front row crowd prompted security to usher everybody backstage into the dressing rooms until the show was finished, I knew that it was all worth it. Not only for us, but for everybody: The band, the foreign and local crews and most especially the fans, who not only got an amazing show, but an experience to be kept for as long they can remember.
I remember sitting down in the chair, enjoying a cold drink with some members of Chicosci and some of my officemates, listening to the remaining songs for the set and exchanging opinions and praise for the band. When it was all over, we were again, silent.
But you couldn’t wipe the smile off our tired faces even if you tried.