Hebigat Sounds sounded just right but
Inuman Sessions Vol.1 would have been more apt for Razorback's
debut. From the opening motif of "Tabi Ng Bulkan" to that riff that
plays repeatedly and ends "Diwata", these guys delivered bad-ass
goods - equal parts booze and rock and roll. "Stand by...rolling". I
took one bottle, poured half in a glass. It tasted bitter. And sweet. Kevin Roy
started singing about stuff - misadventures, a drinking buddy, among other things.
But the band kicked arse mainly via one-two punch of David Aguirre and Tirso
Ripoll. Riffs, motifs and licks - after, over and within - riffs, motifs and
licks. Sounded like each of them has got a sixth left-hand finger. Six. Fuckin.
Fingers. I emptied the bottle. Dumps one cube on the head. Before he could finish his fifth song, Kevin Roy must've been
drunk already. For he sang the same verse over and over. I took another bottle. Then
another. And another. The band played the same verse about three times, the same
chorus, three times. They must’ve been smashed already. Man, that song could have
been finished two minutes ago, damn! Then I reach the bucket for another. This
next bottle's already warm. The ice bucket was empty. A girl in black shirt
showed up and took it. Then, I went to the bath room and tried to keep my
balance as I walked carefully between tables and chairs. My feet following the
beat of Louie Talan and Miguel Ortigas’ pounding rhythm. I heard Kevin Roy talk
about things again - beer, jazz, ganjazz, another friend - all the shallow
stuff, including his
baňo song. But I'm not complaining. I
came here to relax, drink beer and not talk about politics or any serious
matter. For a change. I was already having
tamang
amats by the time I went home. Before I slept that night, I remember that
fair lady in black. She took the ice bucket and never came back. Then I woke up
with a massive hangover, my head hurts and felt like it was ten times heavier.
Hebigat, indeed. Damn, never gonna drink again. ***
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