The kids are alright, all right.

But apparently the cops don’t think so. In at least two separate occasions on the same night, random saGuijo habitués who’ve trickled onto the street with beers in tow have incited the wrath of the authority. They’re technically not vagrants but I guess that’s what they were being made out to be. I saw the drummer of a popular pop-rock outfit small-talking the cops (presumably) about leaving the “kids” be; I saw one or two other music-scene kuya figures attempt to do the same. The itinerant cop-mobile visits were apparently mini-witch-hunts masquerading as public service. Allegedly, this happens every so often; and allegedly, such matters get resolved fairly quickly (read: via “mabuting usapan”). Part of the reason why the kids that night turned into temporary vagabonds (if you may) is the increasing miniaturization of everyone’s favorite Makati rock bar: it’s not that it literally shrank with the passing of time; it’s just gotten bigger than what it first set out to be.

And also—and I’m guessing this is the more qualifiable explanation—a bright “new” band of relative old-timers have come to grace the stage, and their newly-congregated faithful was there to witness every pulsating moment.

The band is called Franco, and they are insanely good. And no wonder: Queso’s 8 Toleran is on guitar, Parokya ni Edgar’s Buwi Meneses is on bass, and Urbandub’s Gabby Alipe and Janjan Mendoza are on guitar and drums, respectively. To cap things off is the most low-key but, hands-down, the most seasoned/revered/emulated guy in the band, no questions asked: Franco “Frank” Reyes, from whom the group takes its name (duh). This writer only caught the band once before—at last year’s NU Rock Awards, performing “Song for the Suspect”—and was an instant convert. They’re riff-rock with a dub kind of twist, and they do it very well. You can say they’re all cock, but in a good way: a cock that delivers (please pardon the incidental imagery). And all that supergroup-this, supergroup-that talk? You can throw that out the window. Because, even with hockey masks on, this is one band you should damn well be listening to.

And so the story goes that 8, Buwi, and Janjan wanted to form a band together, since they were hanging out with each other a lot anyway. “Isang bato lang kami sa isa’t isa, eh; hindi talaga maiwasan, eh,” the Queso axeman shared. Alipe joining in afterwards was but natural, since he’s also buddies with the rest. But it will all get better: Janjan will pitch the idea of asking Franco Reyes (who was then on a musical-career gamble in the U.S.) to be their frontman. Now, this may seem like so-so to Manila rock fans, but Reyes banding together with Mendoza and Alipe—stellar Cebuano musicians in their own right—is something short of nirvana. “Growing up as a musician in Cebu, you hear bands like Sheila and the Insects and, at the time, Frank [Reyes’ regionally successful seminal Cebu outfit]. Those were the bands that were established in the scene. Sila lagi pinapanood namin. Pumupunta talaga ako sa mga shows, lalo na kapag Frank [ang tumutugtog]. And now that I’m in a band with [Franco], feeling ko, as a musician, I’ve come full-circle,” Alipe beamed.

You can call it glowing respect and you can call it seething adulation. But, you know, you can also call it a man-crush. Take the best bits of Urbandub’s Influence, for instance, and then go on over and listen to InYo, Frank’s U.S.-based musical baby. To say that Alipe and company are operating in the same idiom as Reyes would be a gross understatement, I think. The decision to christen the band after its singer is one manifestation of this idolatry, and it came easy. “We tried a few names before sticking to this name. We would have called it ‘The Janjans,’ pero kay Janjan na ‘yun. [And] everybody decided that it’s the name to use, kasi nag-stick [na]. There [are] also a handful of people who already know that we’re forming this project,” Reyes offered a tad shyly. Also, when his bandmates interpret his material, they defer to him in deference/reverence. “Lahat kami, we all try to work around [Franco], just to level us down and keep us grounded. I know where I’ve been, but it’s not like I’m taking it to this band,” Toleran, in no measure merely tolerant of all this, explained. They all profess to a warm, shared feeling: that sensation of being in a new band again. “Back to zero,” Gabby said. Beer bottles clinked against each other like the sound of early Christmas.

The songs on the band’s debut sound like the sort of songs that have been standing around for a while and silently accumulating power. The reason for this is simple: they have been standing around for a while and silently accumulating power, but with a different band. “Castaway,” “Memory Kill,” “A Mass for the End of Time,” and so on: you know, to file them away at the department of forgotten songs (apologies to Jens Lekman for the phrase) would be a crime, especially since the gospel of “one love” and good vibes populates the songs. “Everybody’s good, [though] we had problems, too,” came the few words of the man of a few words, Franco, about his erstwhile group. “We’ve been beating around the bush,” Alipe teased, “but, sorry, guys…” 8 filled in jokingly, “Ninakaw namin siya, in short.” No uncomfortable silences, just more beer-clinking sounds.

And if there are allusions to a certain “plant” in the material (most glaringly on the aforementioned “Song for the Suspect”), it’s not because they’re out to be potheads. No, no. A pothead stays at home and laughs his head off and gets nothing done. Clearly, penning songs of multi-layered grace and sheer genius doesn’t fall under “getting nothing done.” “I could probably say that maybe the government is afraid that everybody would smoke, because it opens up everybody’s minds. So, if I was a new smoker, I would think, ‘Why am in this state?’ ‘Why is my country poor?’ ‘What the fuck is the government doing?’” Reyes asked with purpose in his eyes. “Nandu’n ‘yung sense of responsibility with how [Franco] wrote his songs; it’s not like you’re out and you party your head off and you disrespect everyone along the way. We’re trying to explain what this plant can do. There are so many things. Obviously, it’s stupid if you don’t see the good points,” Toleran added, putting emphasis on the creation of new jobs and the medicinal benefits one would enjoy from the herb. “It’s all about truth and non-violence. Like Bob Marley said, ‘Why would people take that away from us?’” Reyes added further.

As night slowly turned into day on Guijo St. (and as kids continued to dodge the ridiculously unreasonable police), there was a light that never went out. (Aldus Santos)

Get high on Franco’s self-titled debut under MCA. Images courtesy of said label.