Reg Rubio: Sinong tiga Pasig dito? (Who hails from Pasig here?)
About an eighth of the crowd raised their hands.
Reg Rubio: Home court a. TANG-INA NYO!!! (Home court, huh? MOTHER FUCKERS!!!)
Us, the hyped crowd shouted: TANG-INA MO RIN!!! (YEAH, MOTHER FUCKER!!!)
That’s how it was when I attended the Red Horse Muziklaban a year ago. All are rowdy. Most are in black signature rock shirts. A lot are intoxicated (me included of course!), with nil inhibitions, a lot dancing the muthafuckin’ dance and the delicious loud music that we were all possessed with.
It was my first time to attend such event. But despite that I’m surrounded by complete strangers, I felt that familiar feeling a man would have for his band of brothers. Like all that gathered there were my long-lost brothers. It’s truly strange but they all look familiar. Maybe because it’s the same rock and roll that fathered us and that fast-paced, deafening music was our common lullaby that forged our similar identities.
Then the heart-pounding music began. I was jumping, I was growling, I was shouting at the top of my lungs, I was raising my fist with a lit cigarette in between my fingers. There were no prying eyes to ridicule or stop me. No fear of judgement. It was an opportunity of a lifetime to get lost to the music which struck a very familiar chord in me. It’s like finding a long-lost piece of myself and my soul, indispensable in completing the unfinished puzzle before me.
I felt free.
All the frustrations and rage that was bottled up inside me from time immemorial that reached horrifying proportions exploded into a one massive meltdown.
I was reduced to ashes.
And yet, borne out of the ashes I came out singing, screaming, shouting, head banging and dancing to the beat of the fast-paced rhythm with all inhibitions, fear and doubt hastily evaporating with every pound of the drums, scream of the lead guitars and the liberating growls. No longer am I compelled to act like everyone else in the outside world because here, I found that piece of myself along with the courage to live it. No I’m not alone, I have brothers and sisters, I have a family there who welcomed me with arms wide open and a liter of ice-cold Redhorse beer.
Suddenly I was meeting life’s stare head-on with the unwavering eyes of a beast ready to rock the moment and write my own rock and roll story.
My throat itched like it was just sandblasted. But what the hell, I was home!
And though the scene may seem nothing but total chaos, I felt something I never felt in a long time – I was home. There was this unfathomable peace that settled in my soul amidst the chaotic environment. I was fucking home!
I am a son of rock and roll!
The realization was too much. My emotions were welling up, like a wall of tsunami only God can avert.
I was reduced to tears thinking I’ve come home. No I’m not a nomad nor a vagabond in this life because I have a home. Fuck, this is my home. Rock and roll is my home. Yes, I am finally home!
If you’ve never been into a lovely mayhem before, you can check this video. This is Slapshock’s “Ngayon Na” the last piece played by that awesome, awesome band. ml/!!!!
You might also want to view some photos. You can have a peek here in Niña Sandejas’ blog:
All love, all rock and roll,