Saturday At The Fete

How walking through the different stages of Fête de La Musique unites everyone in the pursuit of music, friends, and all-night dancing.

MANILA, Philippines — Football is a shared experience. Tired after moving from bar to bar, I came upon a place doing public screenings of this year’s World Cup. At 11 p.m., I managed to catch the start of the match between Mexico and South Korea. The anticipation was palpable. On my right was a table of Mexican fans, triumphantly singing along to their national anthem, all clad in the green of their country’s team. I stood with the crowd of spectators, eager to watch a sport I wasn’t heavily invested in. Time began rolling. The game had begun.

Music is a shared experience. Last Satuday, my friends and I jumpstarted the night at the Bedroom Beats stage at Agimat in Poblacion. At 6:30, we were early for the opening of the lo-fi hiphop “Sun” stage in the YOI portion of the building. Justo performed some nice chill beats. The place was packed (standing room only right up to the entrance), but noticeably mellow. No one was inebriated enough to really give it their all, or perhaps it was a function of the genre. In any case, we slipped out through the backroom to go to the Moon stage. Where the Sun stage was mellow, the Moon stage was nearly silent, with a very small gathering standing around in a dim room lit by Christmas lights and mirrors. It was Fête de la Musique, and there would be no shortage of entertainment for us. Pus, I was planning on living a little. It was only 7 p.m. after all.

Pure Mind Quiet Heart performed his awakening track called Tyapuseat at the Bedroom Beats Stage in YOI, Makati.

At 11 p.m., things were tense. Neither Mexico nor South Korea had made any real headway. By minute five, things were heated: South Korea was playing a very physical defense, often causing their Mexican opponents to hit the ground hard. Every injury on a member of the Mexican team was an injury against their fans, who voiced out their indignation. For all intents and purposes, they were right there on the pitch as well.

At 8 p.m. in Dulo, Poblacion — we’re weaving our way through streets dotted with bars and Korean restaurants, passing by other groups of friends. Everyone was dressed up, on point, we all had places to be. I made a mental note of a Mini Stop by P. Burgos and crossed over to Dulo. The designated end stage, the music was a little different from our usual standbys, and we grabbed some beer to watch the band, Cocojam, playing a cool reggae beat. The lead vocalist looked old enough to be my grandfather. The lead guitarist (more of a great uncle) was busting through solos like it was nobody’s business. The room was only about three-quarters full. Listeners were a healthy mix of millenial bar-regulars and some older fans who had gone out of their way to listen to this nice music. Everyone had their eyes on this band as they rocked to their beats. I reveled in it.

Fourteen minutes into the game, South Korea made a legitimate attempt. Getting by the Mexican defensive line, Hwang Hee-Chan passed the ball overhead into his waiting teammate. It could have happened right there, when suddenly Hirving Lozano of the Mexican squad cannonballed out of nowhere at top speed, deflecting the ball and rolling at least three times. He writhed in pain as he lay in the grass near their goal.

Fools and Foes charmed listeners for the night at the Post-Rock/Math Rock Stage.

We had been standing outside YOI for almost an hour then. What I had thought was a packed venue had turned into a meeting place for seemingly everyone in the greater Metro Manila area. A line had emerged, bouncers began keeping tabs on the venue’s capacity. Even the dreamy and quiet Moon stage was completely closed off. Perhaps this was a consequence of having three stages in a single spot. We were comforted by the peanut stall next to us, the warm embrace of garlic filled my nose and heart. With the amount of people in the area, I was beginning to doubt that I’d hear another note of music again. We sifted through the crowd and made our way to a small bar playing some dance hits from ABBA to Cher. A few cheap lambanog shots later, and some friends of mine had trouble standing. They had no problem singing along to Dancing Queen as soon as it came on. Something about the night just filled the air with music. There was no getting away from it.

It happened at minute 26. An errant kick had stuck a Korean defender right on the forearm. It was ruled a handball, and since it happened in the penalty zone, it was going to the one-on-one. There are moments in every sport that make you hold your breath, and penalty kicks are one of them. I barely followed football and yet here I was, frozen in time and waiting to see the outcome.

I was getting winded after walking up the seemingly countless steps up to The Apartment, where some DJ’s were spinning. I was restless standing outside. Pumped from the World Cup game, I wanted more music. In The Apartment (a small bar situated in what literally looks like a top-floor apartment in Poblacion) we were greeted by the feverish dancing of some hundred festival-goers, as Beyoncé blared from the back. The Apartment looks like a strange sitcom-esque vision of a house party. The place was alive. Logiclub was on stage. They weren’t shying away from dashing through hit after hit, keeping the party going for as long as possible. After Beyoncé, they brought on early Kanye, and after that came old school OPM, then a weird mash-up of Post Malone’s Congratulations. No one seemed to be getting tired. I danced along, thinking about this whole festival, which dragged so many people off their beds and into the rainy streets, all in the pursuit of this moment: the music, the friends, the dancing. were united in a single—

Tide/edit proved that music speaks louder than words as they performed at the Post-Rock/Math Rock Stage.

Goal. Korea’s goalie, Jo Hyeon-Woo, had lunged to his right. The ball flew overhead, to his left. There I was, cheering my ass off with a crowd of people I’d never met. We shouted as if those players could hear us all the way to Russia. Bottles clinked and men hugged as the Mexican stands on that projector screen erupted in joy. Mexico would go on to win, 2-1. In a similar way to music, I was there together with strangers, and for a split second, we were all thinking the same thing: “Thank God I’m here tonight.”

I thought about how a night like this can really bring people together. We all have different reasons for going out to shared spaces, different reasons to come together: some go to forget, some to relax, some really like music while others really like alcohol. Regardless, we always end up in the same place with one another, cheering at the top of our lungs, hoping the sun isn’t in a hurry to wash it all away. And in those shared moments, we feel we are one.