When you try to pull together the Eraserheads after a venom-filled split over he-said-she-said accusations and primadonna personalities erupting, you know some drama is bound to happen.

A sponsor (the main promoter, actually) being pressured into pulling out at the last minute: check. (Although it would certainly have helped if they had sent Gorgoro’s very sensible, well-thought out defense to the Department of Hate, este, the Department of Health…)

A death in the immediate family of the lead singer two days prior to the concert: check.

Tickets going on sale only on Wednesday for a venue that seats up to 40,000, and the concert happening in a matter of three days: check.

MDJ Superstar not being able to decide on whether he should wear his Adidas Stan Smiths or an old scruffy pair of Lacoste sneakers to the concert: check.

But there were certainly some lovely parts to kick off the Eraserheads Reunion concert.

The 10:00 countdown to showtime was an inspired touch. Every time the clock hit a new minute, the crowd would erupt into cheers, and for the first time I felt the emotion of being wrapped in a giant 10-second countdown like what New Yorkers do on New Year’s Eve. Sony BMG went all out with a 70-foot tall LED screen backing the entire main stage, where they could flash various visuals and photographs during each song – sort of like watching a live music video. There were boom cameras swinging all over the place to capture the hordes that had gathered, and when the Randy Orton-esque pyro went off during the final chorus of “Alapaap”, that was pure heaven. I kept on waiting for Ely Buendia to strike the trademark RKO “You may admire my awesomeness now, peasants” pose.

  

I even forgave the bouncers for not letting me wear my giant red Topman belt into the concert grounds – I confess that the giant belt buckle shaped like a star could certainly have been deadly in the hands of a ferocious, buff n’ tough, roid-crazed Brahma bull such as myself.

Drama was overflowing. And all in a good way, so far.

Cut to the end of “Lightyears”, their last song of the first set – Ely Buendia slowly sinking to his ass on the floor of the stage, leaning on his guitar for support. We all thought that was just part of the drama – Pinoy rock n’ roll’s prodigal son willingly dropping down to put himself 5-feet closer to screaming fans who had grown up on, cried to, fallen asleep to, or fallen in and out of love to his unique brand of music in the 1990s.

I wasn’t actually inside the venue when they announced that he had been rushed to the hospital as a precautionary measure for his still-shaky heart. I was outside trying to catch my breath.

But the flood of people slowly filing out the Fort Bonifacio Open Field with stunned looks on their faces said it all – it was over.

I felt bad that we never got to share one malutong “TANG INA!” with the ‘heads in “Pare ko”. Never got to “Wooo!” along to “Magasin”. Never got to swoon along to “Ang Huling El Bimbo”.

But I forgive Ely.

I forgive the DOH, I forgive the fashion police bouncer who confiscated my belt. I even forgive that one fat sweaty bitch who grabbed the last bottle of Vitwater from the concession cooler when I was dying of thirst. They didn’t give us the best concert in the world, but they gave us something that was good enough. It was good enough to remind us that when you’re down, or happy, or in love, or bored, or hungry, or horny, the best companions you can have in the world are a guitar, a pick, an inspiration, and a tune in your head.

There was a lot of drama that night. Not all of it was good, but there was even less that was bad.

It’s just too bad that when life tried to bring together Philippine rock n’ roll’s greatest band back for one last night, it couldn’t be, as Ely sang to all 40,000 of us in “Fruitcake”, a piece of cake.

And I’m still steamed as hell that nobody bothered to tell me, of all people, that the concert went on at Saguijo with Ebe Dancel filling in for Ely…