Music review: Going, going, gone: Stars live in Manila

There’s the kind of music that you stumble upon, and fall in love with all by yourself. It’s yours, you wear it as a badge, and you remind everybody that you solely own it.

 

And then there’s the rare kind that you keep as a secret—one that is introduced to you by someone you care about. It leaves a lasting impression on you, and stays with you for years. Listening to a particular band is now linked with that person, and it becomes a shared experience even when you’re alone. The memories endure, and you recognize that this time around, the songs aren’t meant for you. They push you to step outside of yourself and fully relive being with somebody.

I was at the Stars concert last Saturday at Metrotent because my girlfriend let me listen to “Your Ex-lover Is Dead” six years ago. I could never forget it. It was the kind of song that just stuck to my core. The piano and guitar intro gripped me with anticipation and the sad duet of the melodica and the bass guitar tore me apart.

 

“It has a story behind it,” she said as she leaned back on her seat, and closed her eyes. She had loved the band ever since we were in college, and I put it on like a coat, warming up to the idea of having another meaningful thing that could bind us together.

 

My life revolved around sports. Most of the things outside of that world was alien to me. My taste in music has always been limited as I tended to gravitate toward the old songs my father played on the turntable when I was young. But there I was, mouthing the words "I’m not sorry I met you / I’m not sorry it’s over / I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save."

 

I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of women say that it’s hard for us guys to wade into emotional territory, and voice out how we feel. And yet if you were at the concert that night, you’d see men of all ages unapologetically belting out lyrics of heartbreak and missed chances, waving their palms in the air, and calling out for more.

Before the concert started, I had a conversation with the dude beside me, who admitted that he was actually a heavy metal fan, and equated concerts with mosh pits. But when he found out that production house Kindassault was bringing Stars to Manila, he just knew that he had to watch them live.

 

There’s a thirst for class acts like Stars to come to our country, and Kindassault has been painstakingly making it possible. No hype and theatrics were necessary; they just let the band speak for itself. Despite the high turnout, Kindassault retained the concert’s vibe of being an intimate gathering.

 

It was all fitting for Stars. Quiet, resolute, and tender, they could make the most tightly laced people come undone. Hailing from Montreal, Canada, they’ve been penning words that could pierce you to your core, and weaving feather-light tunes that could rock you back and forth for 13 years. If honesty had a sound, Stars was the mouthpiece.

 

Their performance, like their albums, was threaded with startling sincerity. Sure, it wasn’t flawless. There were minor technical hiccups and the energy in the room would dip a bit when front man Torquil Campbell got too cloying (still, he wasn’t a winsome sap for nothing). Ultimately, these made it more genuine all the same.

And it was evident that—as they began the concert with “The Theory Of  Relativity,” peppered in crowd favorites “Ageless Beauty,” “Take Me To The Riot,” and “One More Night,” pitched “Hold On When You Get Love And Let Go When You Give It” from their new album The North, and closed with “The 400”—that the audience responded in kind.

 

“We made an executive decision that here in Manila, Philippines, we would play the longest set list we’ve ever played,” Torquil announced. He was as earnest as his voice was, and writhed and knelt onstage, as though he was imploring the crowd to throw away their jadedness, and open up. Everybody willingly joined in.

 

The show streamed in generously at 25 songs, with vocalist Amy Millan coyly singing “My Favorite Book,” who was accompanied with nothing but a guitar as a treat. Stars proved that you could be naked while being completely clothed.

 

With Filipino bands Outerhope and Ciudad opening for them earlier that evening, who were stellar and definitely set the mood right, the appreciative fans were swaying with feels, feels, feels. As the concert ended, and the tent’s incandescent lights flooded in, some were visibly spent, lingered like they had just woken up, and walked in a daze. Some squatted on the floor savoring the moments with the people they just shared the magical moment with. They just sat there with huge smiles, trying to extend the night they've patiently waited for.

 

“Music is all you have. Nobody can take it away from you,” Torquil said, with his arm pounding on his chest.

 

My girlfriend then held my hand, and didn’t say anything. For three hours, we were brought back to that defining moment six years ago. As always, their songs eloquently intoned what you yourself couldn’t, and reminded you that strength could be found by simply putting yourself out there. I stood still, bearing witness to this truth. —With a report from Mia Bontol/KG, GMA News