Bloomfields’ walk to fame!
At the rate and pace it goes, the fast-emerging retro band – the Bloomfields – will soon become a national security issue. There might come a time when there are more children, kids, teens, young girls and boys, even adults from across the age spectrum found in Eastwood (and beyond) than in their respective places of abode. When this happens, the National Security Adviser is well-advised to keep tabs of this development before everything goes out of hand. Sounds McCarthyst? No sir, but it is not an overstatement to say that all we see on the surface of this little localized ‘planet’ is a rock band now known to an expanding population of kindred souls. The Bloomfields – Jayjay, Pepe, Louie, Lakan, and Rocky – at the exclusion of all other bands is now making the waves. And soon enough, everybody else will see them coming.
That 31st of October in Eastwood is truly awesome, by Rocky’s very words. Indeed, it was never like that before as an entirely very juvenile group, aged 3 to 19 from presumably middle class families – invade Fuente Circle in Eastwood – to get a piece of the action. All tables were filled – not few – were standing but glued to the show they are watching. It was such an evening and Pepe, some minutes before the show has reason to be worried as to be apologetic that they might already be some kind of a ‘bad influence’ to my three kids. Thinking out loud, the Bloomfields is not a bad influence to my kids. To us parents – the kids are. The ‘generation gap’ has just been bridged by this evolving and patronizing fondness for the members of the band. To see other parents with their kids as well truly relieve us from any moral responsibility over our own. Right or wrong, music is all there is to it.
The original pack of bloomies doubled in size that evening and it is axiomatic that parents have become the bad influence over their own kids as they trooped to Eastwood for what was to be a simple Halloween party. There is no passing the buck now. In the spirit of clean and wholesome fun, the Bloomfields met the universal criteria of what a good rock band is. Some degree of TV exposure is partly responsible for this craze. Now more people will go to where they will find the Bloomfields in their regular gigs – north, south, east and west of Manila. It is not about how much one family will shell out for each viewing session. It is a common therapy from our pestering collective existence in a country ran by evil-doers, bootlickers, criminals in uniforms, ‘commissioners’.
Bloomfields is set to become the next phenomenal rock band. Its mercurial rise to fame is a group project, call it that. Molecular Louie – less ‘eye contact’ with a revering audience – is superb by any standard. Leader-of-the-band Jayjay is not King Creole for nothing – long live Jayjay. Magnetic Pepe and his glueing stare – full eye contact (and its captives) – is no age-specific (pardon me). Lakan and his rare voice put more fingers to the keys than are necessary. Rocky-drummer boy Rocky discovers every new tone where he hits his sticks to. Even George, the disc-jockey out of the box has voice that is too prompting. All the six are definitely doomed to fame, if you follow my drift. After all, each performance is created as though it were the last and thus, the musical recital is one for Guinness.
Not surprisingly, no two performances of Bloomfields leave the same and identical trace. Each performance is always different from the last – the relationship being moment-specific. Thus, it does not bore anyone who goes to Eastwood as a matter of unstoppable habit or addiction. There could really be one of a problem on whether Bloomfields can connect to all kinds of people in the Great Cultural Divide. Mall experience tells us that indeed, in mall tours, Bloomfields does not quite connect with the rest of the pack. More TV appearances at drowning frequency may yet be necessary to pole-vault the retro band to highest status as the ‘national rock band’. Eastwood, Blue Wave, Aruba, or else where – these are but music laboratories for just the middle class of society writ large.
Whatever segment of our realpolitik Bloomfields’ brand of rock music caters to – is of no moment. If others will tend to accuse the group for its inherent middle class bias, let them be proven wrong. In music, there are no social classes. No such thing as elitist rock. Remember that if we light others’ candles, we don’t have to lose the light. Thus, if Bloomfields are out there to pluck their guitars, punch their keyboard, bang their cymbals, hit their drums – perform to their own excesses – let the listener be the better judge. A lot of people from all walks of life love the Bloomfields. Whether there is only one Wednesday in a week, in a month, in a year, or in a lifetime, it is worth listening to this band – one gig at a time.
PRIMER C. PAGUNURAN
UP Diliman, Quezon City Email: firstname.lastname@example.org Cell: 09164985265