MANILA, Philippines - We were giddy at the thought of watching Pepe Smith on stage-a rare treat for those of us who turned on to Pinoy rock when he was already considered a legend.

But first, there was nothing rakenrol about the ticket prices for the "Fiesta ng Musikang Filipino" concert, steep at P1,000 for orchestra seats at the Cultural Center of the Philippines' Main Theater. That would only be the beginning of an evening that celebrated what seemed to be both the death and life of Pinoy rock as we know it.

Radioactive Sago Project's turn as the first band was uneventful. While there's much to be said about the spoken word/performance poetry which is this band's project-and though its sound is unique as a jazz/punk/funk fusion-watching front man Lourd de Veyra walk 'round and 'round the huge stage just made it seem ... wanting.

When the Manila Philharmonic Orchestra played with the band, the horn sections practically cancelled each other out. How was the audience supposed to appreciate the collaboration?

Followed by The Jerks' no-frills tugtugan, what was ultimately revealed about Sago was not only that it could use a revision in stage blocking; the complexity that the band sells wasn't really important. Playing an all-original set of socially relevant songs, The Jerks seemed to make this very point in the context of playing right after Sago: There was much to sing about other than cigarettes and bikining itim, wasakan and buhay rakenrol.

By the time the MPO began to play the intro to The Jerks' "Sayaw sa Bubog" (an ode to the 1986 Edsa Revolution and its aftermath), the message was clear: It is the medium, too. And it is a choice.

Fantastic choice

It was a fantastic choice for MPO to play Bamboo's "Hallelujah." The rendition was a tribute to the artistry of MPO, as much as it was to local contemporary rock, as a product of the history that is The Jerks and Juan de la Cruz. In this context, Korean-Italian violonist Lucia Micarelli's three numbers (Bach's "Toccata," Led Zepellin's "Kashmir" and Antonio Molina's "Hatinggabi") after the intermission seemed out of place.

Of course Micarelli's mere presence was striking-skimpy black-silver dress, unruly hair, bare feet, violin nonchalantly carried with one hand-rakenrol na rin-but her choice of songs was neither here nor there, given that the show had promised an "OPM Chronicle."

If anything, this moment of cognitive dissonance allowed Juan de la Cruz's opening song, "Laki Sa Layaw," to be more exciting. Few things could compare to seeing Joey "Pepe" Smith, Mike Hanopol and Wally Gonzalez-rock legends all-playing together again, in clothes they would've worn in the '60s, but with white hair (and beard!).

Gonzalez's two solos with the MPO demonstrated how exceptional guitar-playing could stand its ground alongside orchestral music.

Smith was barely audible in some of the songs, though that might have added to his charm. Hey, he's Pepe, and we can forgive him for anything. In truth, he carried that show, and if not for his crazy self, the audience might not have survived what seemed to be the demise of good ol' Pinoy rock: Mike Hanopol's spiel introducing the audience to God, and calling upon all to repeat after him: "Praise the Lord!"

The awkward silence that followed should've cued in the next number. But he just had to scream it again and ask everyone to respond, to which a minority acceded-perhaps to ease their own discomfort.

The comedian

What we needed to praise, in fact, was Smith, and how he got away with making fun, maybe unwittingly, of Hanopol. As the latter hailed God as the Creator of "everything-the earth and the sky, war and peace (?!)," Smith started making funny gestures that were simply difficult to miss. When Hanopol hollered, "Praise the Lord!" the second time, Smith responded with a nearly impertinent, "Yeah!"

Tasked to introduce Hanopol, who first referred to him as "the comedian," Smith quipped, "And now, the man of God ... shalom." It almost made up for what Hanopol had sprung upon the audience.

Almost, because what truly cancelled Hanopol's disconcerting Mike Velarde moment was JDC's finale, "Ang Himig Natin," with the MPO, Micarelli, and Chikoy Pura of The Jerks. Suddenly, Micarelli was anything but out of place, introducing the always revived but never equaled anthem of Pinoy rock.

As if on cue, Smith was also suddenly audible, singing with heart and soul. When Pura reemerged in a Jonas Burgos t-shirt and sang a revised version of the second verse- "Ako'y may kaibigan/Jonas ang kanyang pangalan/handa na ba kayong lahat/ upang siya'y tulungan"-the audience roared with approval. We were close to tears.

Finally, it all made sense: As the country reels from another cycle of crisis, and as right outside the CCP, another fiesta-a competition of regional customs and traditions-was ongoing, with images of religiosity, pomp and pageantry, Smith himself improvised: "Ang himig natin/inyong awitin ... dasalin ... mahalin..."
It brought Pinoy rock back to life.