18. In Bloom – Nirvana

We heard about this teenage daughter of a Cabinet member who was caught doing more than touch up her make up in the restroom. Everyone in the scene knew of it. Of course there was a boy, at least one in most accounts. The story also involved a sick security guard pocketing the girl’s panties later. It was only through the intercession of the girl’s father’s bodyguard that she was able to avoid ending up behind bars sick drunk and naked underneath her tattered jeans skirt. The story became juicier as it was sketchy depending on who told it. There was always the temptation to dismiss it as some tall tale some drunk told. But it really could have happened. Blame it on the booze or maybe drugs but that might have been hearsay, too.

I would be lying if I told you this wasn’t the reason why we auditioned. Weekends Live at the Atrium was not yet a year old and it had become the default setting of stories like this. The bar, a pizza restaurant primarily, was marketed as the home of the burgeoning Manila grunge scene. There were other haunts that featured live rock music but this one had extensive radio coverage, a precious marketing weapon in the pre-mp3, pre-internet era.

My best friend/band manager also got us a spot. He got help from his neighbor who worked as one of the chefs there. Incidentally, this guy was the source of the blind item above and he would generously spice up drinking sessions with even juicier first-hand accounts of Pinoy rock and roll decadence. And who were we to doubt him? My band had been gigging for more than a year and we had never landed any regular gig aside from remote town fiesta battle of the bands.

Good thing, we had the intermission slot on audition night. The first thing that our guitarist did after arriving half an hour late from call time was to string his guitar. It would have been okay had he only remembered to bring his tuner. Since I didn’t want to show them that I was worried I just listened to the band onstage. The vocalist was trying his very best not to sound like Perry Farrell. They covered Phish and Blind Melon and somehow it worked. They were also into extended solos for each member, including the singer who hooted and yodeled and went into some introspective vocal acrobatics. I was no big fan of Art Rock but  I really wanted them to extend their set an hour more. The floor manager, however, was already pacing back and forth in the wings.

Before getting onstage, our guitarist was finished with the strings. He just had to plug his red Strat so he could tune audibly. I plugged my bass into the humongous Fender amp to help him tune which surprisingly, he did in no time too. Before our first song, I scanned the audience for any character that might inhabit our chef friend’s story. Some scantily clothed rich teenage girl. A goth princess with the token low self esteem. I strained my eyes but the spotlights were just too bright. I couldn’t see beyond the illumination that showed the edge of the stage. At least there wasn’t any danger of falling off the stage should we be moving a lot during the short set.

We started off with Pearl Jam’s Even Flow, then Nirvana’s Lithium with the guitarist singing lead. Next we covered Temple of the Dog’s Hunger Strike, with myself sharing vocal chores. We wanted to end big, so we decided to play Nirvana’s In Bloom. The single was getting heavy rotation on MTV and had been airing in at least three different versions.

I loved playing this song because I could sing while running bass line. And then the unexpected happened at the beginning of the first chorus. At I was plucking the E string, I felt something snap. I didn’t have to look at my knock-off Fender Jazz Bass to see that there was a thick string loose. Instantaneously, I heard myself trying hard to sing the correct notes in an otherwise monotonic punk rock tune. I tried playing the higher octave but my tuning was already messed up. I thought that even if we had finished the song, I wouldn’t have been able to retune it correctly. So much for “Spring” being “here again.”

Here’s the lyrics (something that during the pre-internet days was very difficult to decipher) and video:

In Bloom

Sell the kids for food, weather changes moods
Spring is here again, reproductive glands

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say, Yeah

We can have some more, Nature is a whore
Bruises on the fruit, tender age in bloom

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say, Yeah