Conversations. Sometimes it's all I need after a bad day. Sometimes, it's all I need to complete a beautiful moment. Sometimes, it's all I need to feel alive after a monotonous dull week. Other times, it makes me cry, mad, frustrated. After two hours of Vincent De Jesus, I left the theater feeling as if I had just had the most intense conversation with a friend. It replenished my soul like a good old cup of coffee. His music befriended me, comforted me, loved me. And when the time came for him to rant and grieve through his songs, I wanted to return the favor and give him a hug. I wanted to tell him "It's ok Vincent. May Forever. I promise". I wanted to sit beside him and cry with him but reality disrupted my thoughts and the curtains closed. Hindi pala kami close. Laughing inside, I reminded myself that he doesn't know I exist and that this was the first time I saw him in person. Just like that the conversation ended. But just like a good one, I was left with emotions that I think will stay with me for awhile.
Bed of Tears
I loved the whole show but there were some spots that stood out. Ricci Chan swayed me with his performance of "Twenty Four Years Old" . Tearful, I listened to him and heard the pretty melody and lyrics that made me crumble. Bituin Escalante started singing the first few lines from the song "Kasalan Ko" and immediately she silenced the crowd and drew them in. In contrast to the anguish that the song has she performed every lyric with sensitivity. Having heard this a second time, I felt that she really took the time to share with the audience the depth of this musical creation. I appreciated the sensory bliss. But what overwhelmed me was the layers she brought to the performance. (Uh Oh..... I think the memory is making me tear up just a bit.)
A Barrel of Laughs
Both the Care Divas and the Zsa Zsa Zaturninah Suites provided comical breathers that were embraced by the audience. The combination of colorful actors, playful music and simple yet intelligent humor was simply a beautiful triumph. The usual slapstick was replaced by the comedy of life.
Pas De Deux from Songs Without Words was performed by dancers PJ Rebullida and Erick Dizon. The music alone was stirring. For a moment or two I closed my eyes and just listened to the melancholy dripping from each note. I opened my eyes and I got goosebumps from these two gentlemen who told the story of the song. Rebullida threw his arms to embrace Dizon and Dizon melted away. Left in space was a memory of what used to be there. Dizon slid away but kept his hand on Rebullida as if the thought of breaking completely free was threatening. Their performance was so powerful that I was reduced to mush. I wanted a happy ending but there was none, there were only regrets.
All of his presented pieces spoke volumes about De Jesus' unique mind. In the end, I say thank you for the music. Thank you for clothing us with your healing and loving music. He says he is demented, delightful and deranged. The combined madness is the source of his "hugot" masterpieces. I say he is ALSO deep, delicate and devoted. The new set of ds push him to create with care and with love. Hats off to a genius. I say thank you Vincent De Jesus for allowing your music to be there for people. Thank you for the much needed chat. Bravo.
“How shall I say it? Music makes me forget my real situation. It transports me into a state which is not my own. Under the influence of music I really seem to feel what I do not feel, to understand what I do not understand, to have powers which I cannot have … And music transports me immediately into the condition of soul in which he who wrote the music found himself at that time. I become confounded with his soul, and with him I pass from one condition to another.” —"The Kreutzer Sonata"