Music review: Surprises, kuwentuhan, and Lea Salonga's 'Playlist'

The show was supposed to start at 8 p.m.

So when the stage remained performer-less 15 minutes later, the orchestra seats empty, and the lights steady, I thought: I’m at the right concert… right?

Because Lea Salonga couldn’t possibly allow this show to be behind schedule. We’ve come to know her as someone who’s always on point: the fresh face who won over West End and Broadway, the dedicated singer-actress—twice a Disney princess—with a string of accolades and 35 years under her belt, and probably the only one who has ever put the class in the otherwise waley joke that “Z-ilver Bells” ends the A to Z of Christmas songs.

And she has admitted to being “a major stickler for detail and getting everything right.”

I turned to my friend to tease her about our being “stood up.” Her grin stopped me.

“It’s going to be perfect,” we’ve been telling each other over the past week. For her, that night was a dream come true. She has long been a fan, the sort of girl who played Gigi in their high school production of Miss Saigon.

For me, it was my belated (and only) birthday celebration, reminiscent of a December many moons ago when I defied bedtime, sneaking downstairs for the replays of Lea’s concert on cable TV, when I first heard (and fell in love with) Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind.”

Years passed, and to our surprise, we've met Lea at the opening night of a stage play, and (we’d like to think) we’re grownups now. This time there were no backstage jitters, no late-night sneaking. Yet we sat there like eager kids, peering at the edge of the balcony every now and then.

Fifteen minutes more, the orchestra has taken its place, and the younger Salonga, Gerard, finally waved his baton for the overture.

“Para tayong nanonood ng panaginip,” my friend whispered as we listened, eyes fixed on the LED screens that were flashing Lea’s photos through the years. The crowd cheered a moment more, then fell into a hush, as Lea Salonga emerged onstage.

‘Musical kuwentuhan’

After her opening number, a mash-up of Diana Ross’ “Do You Know Where You’re Going To” and Alicia Keys’ “Girl on Fire,” Lea explained the delay: They decided to push the show back to 8:30 p.m. to wait for others who might be caught in the horrendous Friday night traffic.


She thanked those who came on time, and told the latecomers to relax. “Take a deep cleansing breath,” she said, smiling. “It’s fine.”

Even in her suit, she seemed laid back, enjoying the stage, her home for the past 35 years. Quite a contrast to the stickler she claimed to be. “Think of this as a musical sort of kuwentuhan,” she told us, “a really cool conversation between good friends, with good music.

And so she proceeded to introduce us to the soundtrack of her life, which included “new favorites” like Miley Cyrus’ “The Climb” and Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful”.

But it was her rendition of Robin Thicke’s controversial hit “Blurred Lines” that caught us off-guard, her delivery classy, but with striking sensuality that shone through the acoustic arrangement executed by esteemed guitarist Cesar Aguas.

As expected, it turned out to be a night of good music, but another thing I looked forward to were the spiels in between, the actual kuwentuhan, something I liked about Lea’s previous concerts that I caught on TV. She was funny and open, her lines slipping out with ease, as if there wasn’t anything on her teleprompter. There were anecdotes—and accompanying "embarrassing" photos!—about shoulder pads, teasing one’s hair and “my Aquanet days,” as well as insights on more serious matters like the recent series of natural disasters the country faced this year.

“She hasn't really gotten that personal in concert,” her brother, Gerard, said in 2008, when they mounted “My Life, On Stage” to celebrate Lea’s 30th year in the industry. It was, he said, the first concert that was “about her,” and a time when she has become “warmer with her audience."

Surprises, slips

Warmer with the audience she has remained, but unlike five years ago, she told stories just sitting down, without any elaborate skits or revolving platforms that may or may not show her “only” leading man and bosom friend, Aga Muhlach. We all just sat there—and fine, danced in parts—as if one big barkada chilling on a Friday night.

(Aga, Lea’s favorite onscreen partner, did come to see the show the following night, and incidentally became part of one of the most cheered segments during encore, when he brought her flowers onstage “kahit na pinagbawalan” because she refuses to make him sing. 


She eventually invited him to stay there, even dedicating “Sana Maulit Muli,” the theme song of their last movie, to him.)

And just like every awesome “chill,” not everything can be under one’s control. For Lea, that meant a surprise guest. On the first night, it was the “force of nature” Ai-Ai delas Alas, who had her performing an impromptu duet of the “jologs” hits “Isang Linggong Pag-ibig” and “Halik.”

“I can’t trust my teleprompters anymore,” Lea joked, shaking her head, after the episode that rendered us breathless with laughter.

The night had hiccups here and there—a microphone being bumped somewhere in the orchestra, some static—but they were barely noticeable.

There was times that Lea did get distracted, like when somebody yelled “I love you!” in the audience and she couldn’t help but giggle. Also, during first night’s encore, she interrupted the acoustic intro of “Sana Maulit Muli,” then quickly mumbled “Sorry.”

We didn’t mind those, of course. If anything, it only affirmed that she was really performing this in front of us, live.

Pitch perfect

Her crystal clear voice dulled whatever “imperfection” there was that night. As expected, Lea sounded almost as if it was all recorded, every word pronounced well, every note—no matter how high—easy to listen to.

“The expression was simple, it was beautiful,” she said of Barbra Streisand’s singing, which has influenced her own. “No BS, just music.”

Her words, as she hoped, applied to her that night, including during her performances of Streisand’s “Evergreen” and Roy Orbison’s “The Morning After,” as well as in “Movie in My Mind,” the remarkable duet she sang with Rachelle Ann Go, who has been cast as Gigi for the 2014 West End revival of Miss Saigon, a role originally portrayed by Isay Alvarez.

We thought her most impressive, though, in the “shoulder pads” medley, an homage to the late “greatest female singers to ever walk this earth.” It was difficult enough to sing a Whitney Houston song—and biriteras in general—but Lea rendered one song after another with seeming ease, hitting her notes perfectly.

Yes, she respected the kulot and rifts that made the songs distinct, but she also knew when to take her own simpler route. ("How to sing Whitney," my friend said as we stare at the stage in amazement. "That is how you sing Whitney...")

Great… but that’s it?

Lea's "Playlist" missed some of the songs most identified with Lea (such “On My Own” and “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables and the Disney anthems “A Whole New World” and “Reflection”), replaced instead by songs her public here in Manila hasn’t heard—the (supposed) last three numbers of the night, in particular, which reminded us of Lea’s musical theater roots.


It did show Lea at her finest: centerstage, a microphone before her, immersed in a song that tells a story. She made me fall in love with “Magbalik Ka Na, Mahal” from the pop ballet “Rama Hari”, the only Filipino song on her set list. And then, there was “Higher,” a song tailor-made for her for Broadway play Allegiance, which made me put my camera away.

The clarity of her last performances brought the whole PICC Plenary Hall to its feet, and we just clapped until it dawned on us that she was actually taking her (supposed) final bow. My friend nudged me, “‘Yun na ‘yun?” Lea made her way up the staircase in the middle of the stage as her brother manned the orchestra through “Love Will Keep Us Together.”

“More! More!” the crowd began to roar. Lea was already making her way backstage. ‘Yun na ‘yun? was right. So we joined in the plea, of course.

‘Might as well’

The orchestra had played the whole song, perhaps, with Gerard peering at the side entrance, before the night’s star came back out wearing earlier’s ‘80s dress (sans shoulder pads). We cheered louder.

“Might as well change,” she said, willing us back to our seats.

The high, high slit of her dress parted, showing off her legs. A collective “Whoa! More legs!” and in friendly banter she called us out on it. And in no-nonsense fashion she broke into song once more.

From her seat, she granted us songs that we knew (that reduced my friend, the high school Gigi, to tears). Then she stood up, ending the night in full party mode, with an ABBA medley that had us singing aloud, unabashed. The hall buzzed with energy, the audience was on its feet, and after making her final bow and wave, she walked away thrusting her fist into the air.

People were beginning to leave but we remained in our spot, arms locked together, soaking everything in, somehow craving for more.

Because just like in every “cool conversation,” it was a little hard to walk away. — VC, GMA News