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I was never a big fan of the Eraserheads as individuals.
But as a band?
As a collective force?
That I was always a fan of.
Here’s the thing you need to know about me and the Eraserheads.
My band once got kicked out of Wombworks Studio because Ely Buendia wanted to use it for his band, Pupil’s, recording session.
We had to pack up and leave.
I was irritated about that for a long time.
Genuinely harbored a little bit of resentment about it for years.
Over the years, that feeling has waned.
And watching Combo on the Run helped with that completely because I now believe, looking back, that us getting booted out of that studio led to some great music being recorded in that space by a genius musician at the time.
Sometimes getting the short end of a situation is the universe doing you and someone else a favor at the same time.
· · ·
The documentary is directed by Maria Diane Ventura and follows the band’s story leading up to their reunion concert in December 2022 at SMDC Festival Grounds in Parañaque, which drew an estimated 75,000 people.
Ventura described it as “a comprehensive deconstruction of the band’s mythology, humanity, complex relationship and the lasting mark they left on Filipino culture.”
It took three years to finish. It is the first Philippine documentary to be mixed in Dolby Atmos.
That last detail is a small flex but an earned one.
What the film confirms — and this wasn’t entirely surprising — is that these four were not particularly close to each other.
We’d seen them several times over the years and the closeness you’d expect from bandmates wasn’t always visibly there.
That’s actually the most interesting part of the documentary.
How do four people who aren’t best friends make music that becomes the soundtrack of a generation?
How does something that accidental end up being that precise?
It’s a question I think about with my own band too.
We started as friends.
Eventually life pulled us in different directions, the way it does.
I guess that’s just what happens.
We all have to grow up sometimes.
The Eraserheads had a longer, louder version of that same arc and the documentary handles it honestly without trying to manufacture warmth that wasn’t there.
—
Now I said I wasn’t a fan, right?
Blasphemous I know.
But I know all the songs and I can sing most of them.
When I was probably 10 or 11, I was singing Pare Ko to amuse my friends.
As soon as I could afford it, I bought a cassette. Yes, I had UltraElectroMagneticPop! And it was constantly playing in my Sony Walkman.
I loved the songs.
I didn’t care who they were.
When they came to Tacloban City, I went to watch them and I was dismayed that their show was cut short because some drunken guys thought it was a good idea to start throwing blocks of wood and stones at them while they were onstage.
I bought Cutterpillow. Mostly because I loved the album cover art and not for anything else. At that time I think I was more into Wolfgang and Rivermaya.
I think I skipped their second album, Circus, because looking back at their discography, I don’t recall the album art. The songs I remember but not the album art. And I loved album art when I was younger.
The rest of their discography, Fruitcake, Natin99, Sticker Happy… I didn’t bother to buy those. I didn’t like their musical direction then, I guess. Or I just wanted more technical guitars in the songs I listened to.
I didn’t cry or get sad when they broke up.
I didn’t get excited when they announced a reunion decades later.
I didn’t even watch their latest concert.
And to be honest, I only watched the Netflix movie because I needed some background noise while working on these personal projects:
… shameless plug I know…
I have no regrets I chose to play it.
No regrets except the time I spent just focused on watching the movie and not doing anything else.
But hey… I got some kind of a review coming out of it so I guess that’ something okay. Not time completely wasted on a band I barely care about.
But after getting to know the band a little bit more, I’ve come to appreciate their songs a little bit more. And I love how their songs seem to bring back days of innocence when I recall how to sing them.
I think that’s why the Eraserheads are one of the most important Philippine bands ever.
What I would have loved most — for my band, not theirs — is what they managed to have without fully appreciating it: a band that grew up alongside its audience.
A long hiatus, yes, but more than a quarter of a million people showed up at SMDC in 2022 like no time had passed.
That kind of loyalty doesn’t come from the music alone.
It comes from the music landing at the right moment in people’s lives and staying there. I wish I had their songwriting instincts.
All four of them.
They had their thumb on the Filipino pulse in a way that still holds up now.
At the end of the documentary the band announced the Electric Fun Music Festival and teased new music — specifically “Get This Love Thing Down,” an unreleased track from sessions for their final studio album Carbon Stereoxide.
So this wasn’t just a farewell document.
It’s apparently a door opening back up.
Watch it
Just Watch It
Doesn’t matter if you’re a superfan or a casual listener or someone who just knows Alapaap and Pare Ko. It’s 102 minutes about how Filipino music found its own voice and what that cost the people who made it happen.
Worth every minute.
Worth every fallen tear.
Now streaming on Netflix.
And if you haven’t watched it yet, go watch it now.
