I Went to the St. Vincent Show in Manila and It Rocked My World

How someone else’s songs have the power to become our stories too

All photos by the author

I had the time of my life at the St. Vincent show in Manila on the 8th of January. Her songs are not just “songs,” they’re my stories. They’ve helped me survive and ultimately make sense of life’s chaos. I’ll never forget this night.

How I got there

It is the failure of the people in charge of marketing the show that I, a long-time and avid Annie Clark a.k.a. St. Vincent fan, was not notified by her coming to my country. The show was announced way back in October and I had not known about her coming here until a week prior to the show. Believe me, I would have purchased tickets right then and there. There was actually an early bird and a late purchase discount a day after I bought my tickets! Bad luck, I suppose, but I would have paid to see the show for much, much more. As I said on my Instagram, I feel like I cheated by paying only Php 4,800 for a front row view of a master at work. It felt like the world’s biggest secret.

Luckily, one fateful Wednesday, I was listening to her beautiful song *New York in my apartment in Makati and as the first chorus hit, I was taken aback by how deeply affected I was by the song and how simple its lyrics were. Because amidst life’s complexities, some things are that simple: yes, I’d do it all again*.

I was moved by the song in 2017 and I was moved by it two weeks ago when I heard it again after some time. New York means much more to me now, as I have attached the song to a person and a memory. I remember introducing this song to them a few years ago. This person does not listen to much music as a hobby, but they liked how Annie sings “motherf*cker.” This person was a hero and a friend to me, in every sense of those two words.

They happen to live in the same city as me but have banished any contact. “I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend. But for you, darling, I’d do it all again.” Even after all of the pain throughout the years, and the sharp sting I still feel on bad days… hell yeah, I’d do it all again. I’d do things differently, but I’d do it again nonetheless. The bond. The alliance. I wouldn’t even hesitate. What a gift it is to experience the depths of life through these profound feelings brought by love and loss. I hope I am not romanticizing pain here… maybe I am. I think by doing so, I am honoring the love I felt to my deepest core.

I let the feeling sit with me for a moment. After all that longing, I check St. Vincent’s Spotify page to see where she’s touring. And voila, in the Events tab, I see that the next show she’s playing is in Manila, a week from that day. In Alabang, nonetheless, a place I frequented as a kid and spent the lowest of my lows in early adulthood. I was treated multiple times for an illness in the hospital only a few meters away from the concert venue — and I haven’t been back since I healed.

Going to this show was a full circle moment for me. I always try to attach meaning to the things that happen. Chances are these things are purely coincidental. But in my world, they never are. Right place, right time, baby, or something along those lines. Imagine if I hadn’t checked her Spotify profile. How different would things be? What would I have been doing that Wednesday night?

Alabang is quite far — and by far, I mean 19 km far — from Makati, where I live. I decided to take a motorcycle ride through Angkas, a ride-hailing app in the Philippines. It wasn’t the most comfortable of seats. At every stop and every red light, I stood up to let my butt rest. Hailing a car to get there was too expensive, and commuting through buses and trains would have been so tiring and time-consuming. I can write a whole other blog post about the dehumanizing Metro Manila transport system, but that’s for another day. When I got there, I lined up longer than expected as there was a delay due to “technical difficulties.” Luckily, they fixed it, because the sound was impressively crisp.

Before the show, I had met up with nice people I saw on Reddit who were also solo concert-goers. We chatted about our favorite songs of St. Vincent and of other artists, and about our other concert-going experiences. As we stood and waited in line, I got tired and my excitement dipped a little bit… until we were allowed to finally enter the venue and I saw how close I was to the stage. Middle part, second row, baby!

Unfortunately, we waited an additional hour for the show to start. I could hear people getting frustrated, but the pre-show setlist helped me stay hyped — particularly I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Wilco and This Must be the Place by Talking Heads. Absolute bangers. I also spoke with the person I was standing next to at the show. Her name is Janice, and she flew to Manila from Cebu to catch this show and the Cigarettes After Sex show the following week. This gal matched my energy and enthusiasm. We talked Annie of course, and David Byrne of Talking Heads fame before the show started. She was as excited as I was. I just love people who have this unbridled zest for life. Those are my people.

The Show

Finally, the lights went out. Annie entered the stage. The room is dark, she is bathed in the beaming spotlight, singing the opening track *Reckless from her latest album [All Born Screaming](https://open.spotify.com/album/3nRlJXz5W39luXRto5hc4f?trackId=2VNfJpwdEQBLyXajaa6LWT)*.

The song starts out somber, and the crowd held on to Annie’s every soft note and the spare piano keys that accompany her… until the drums start to hit the loudest beat I’ve ever heard, pounding my chest and shaking the ground beneath my feet. As the drums hit, she lets out a scream akin to exorcism. That’s the moment I knew I belonged. Cramped in a small tent amongst people with exquisite musical taste and a desire to be taken out of this world.

Throughout the show, I didn’t care at all about anything and everything going on in my life. My unpaid bills? The work email I have yet to send? My life and career in 5 to 10 years? None of that shit mattered. All that mattered at the time was what was in front of me. An artist who’s experienced life’s pain and glory and poured them into her art; performing the songs with every inch of herself, throwing her body to every beat, letting the music take complete control, and losing herself entirely. It was catharsis in its purest form — devoid of civility and societal norms and expectations. “Living in the moment” is a common phrase but in reality, it happens few and far in between. This was one of those moments for me.

In the show, the stakes are high. There is nothing to fall back on if things go wrong — no backing tracks and rarely a backing vocalist, only her voice and the live instruments played by virtuosic musicians. Annie was like a madman out there, which allowed me the space to be one, too. I was scream-singing her lyrics back to her. It was a communal experience, if I ever had one. I felt kinship with a rockstar who I likely have nothing in common with, and with people I know nothing about but happen to share this intimate space with. Because what is universal if not music, and love, and chaos?

A highlight of the show is *Los Ageless, featuring one of my favorite lyrics of all time: how can anybody have you lose you and not lose their minds to? *Death, taxes, and heartbreak. Everyone has experienced heartbreak in some way… but have you ever had an earth-shattering one that made you lose your mind? Where every lasting memory felt like a gut punch? Where the pain felt like it would rip you apart from the inside? If not, consider yourself lucky.

I wouldn’t wish that pain even on my worst enemy. But, singing those lyrics to Los Ageless with St. Vincent herself, as she shreds distorted guitar lines over synth beats that build towards an almighty and feral crescendo, and with a crowd full of strangers who seek the same catharsis— is every bit of a healing moment as one can have. In some worlds, healing is in a form of an off-kilter pop-rock song. I’m delighted to be in that world.

I am also holding space for the entirety of her performance of *Pay Your Way in Pain, the lead single and opening track of my favorite St. Vincent album, [Daddy’s Home](https://open.spotify.com/album/654KFpNOZ26Hj9luu7aKeM?trackId=2VNfJpwdEQBLyXajaa6LWT). I love the song for the same reasons I love Fiona Apple’s [I Want You to Love Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/73SBAGI4fPFm4VkB3NjXq8). *The songs demand love in a way that is borderline psychotic. Both songs depict these women as wanting machines, acting purely on primal desires. “I want to be loooooooooooved,” Annie wails and screeches yet again, and I, of course, join her. Then she lets out this child-like smile like she hadn’t done something crazy a few seconds prior. To me, it’s an expression of elation, to finally express that you want, nay, NEED love. It’s a difficult thing to admit. It’s freedom. It’s liberation.

To me, this is the peak of insanity in the show: the outro of *Broken Man, which has the same emotional DNA as Pay Your Way in Pain.*

“(Who the hell do you think I am?) Lover, nail yourself right to me (Like you never seen a broken man) If you go, I won’t be well (Who the hell do you think I am?) I can hold my arms wide open (Like you never seen a broken man) But I need you to drive the nail What are you looking at? What are you looking at? WHAT ARE YOU F*CKING LOOKING AT?!”

All lyrics by St Vincent courtesy of Loma Vista Recordings

Outside the show, we abide by societal customs and conventions, as a proper human does. As we should. We all got shit to worry about. But I couldn’t help but remember specific moments in my life where I look well and put together on the outside, but on the inside, I wanted to ferociously scream back to the person talking to me: CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I’M BROKEN!? WHAT THE F*CK ARE WE DOING!?

Life is not all about me, but the Broken Man outro gave space for me to make it all about me; to scream all of my contained anger and frustrations, and release them out to the ether. That shit felt amazing. The neediness in the song and the violence it entails spoke to a younger, crazier version of me. Yes, I want you. But I want you to want me too. I’m holding out my arms for you, but you drive that nail, baby. Want me. Need me. It’s crazy, and Annie went crazy on that stage. Thank you for not letting up.

I have raved on and on about the rowdy moments of the show, but it is not without its quieter moments, which are equally piercing. Before performing *Candy Darling, the closing track of Daddy’s Home, she thanked us fans for coming, and she expressed her joy being in Manila for the first time in her 18-year career. Candy Darling* is a tribute to the transgender icon of the same name who rose to fame in the 60s-70s through starring in Andy Warhol films.

Before Annie starts the song, she dedicates it to the people who “secretly make a city.” “They might not be the top of the list, they might not be accepted, but, they make up the real fucking heart and soul and fabric of a city and of culture. ’Cause they’re outsiders. I don’t know, maybe some of you felt like outsiders too. I suspect you might have, ’cause otherwise you wouldn’t be here tonight.” And she lets out a laugh. That meant a fucking great deal to me.

On this night, it was okay to be weird. It was okay to be different. It was okay to be a misfit. Ultimately, that dedication and the song was for my younger self. My inner child who thought she had to change everything about her to be accepted. She need not be accepted by others, only by herself. Annie starts to sing the song in a softer and sultrier manner, devoid of the synths and other instrumentation on the original recording. It was like a lullaby. It was a real quiet moment in the show, and it was powerful.

I’ve talked about the special moment I had with New York a week prior to the show, and coming into the venue, I was afraid that her performance won’t live up to my expectations. Before singing, Annie hyped up the crowd, “This is for all of our feelings,” spitting on stage and pounding her chest. Annie once said in a podcast episode of Song Exploder that it was the first time that she had written a song that might be someone’s favorite. It makes sense. The song doesn’t pull any punches. It doesn’t try to be something it’s not. It doesn’t say, “Hey, over here, listen to this insane guitar solo.” And I love her songs with those insane guitar solos! But New York stands out in her catalogue. It’s a song from the heart. It’s devoid of the labor that goes into crafting a song. According to Annie, the song just came to her, fully-formed. It just is. New York isn’t New York without you.

“So far in a few blocks to be so low.” That lyric from New York meant nothing to me despite the song being in my heavy rotation in college. But, with time and depths of experience, it suddenly clicked. I’ve come so far in a few blocks — in this new city, with a clear headspace, a wider worldview, living in an apartment I’ve made my home, with a job that I enjoy doing that pays the bills and allows me to live a life full of hobbies and passions, with great relationships with my workmates, with small circles of friends I consider family, and a great relationship with my actual blood family. I couldn’t ask for more, and I have come so far. But why do I feel so damn low? Why does the feeling sting when everything’s good? When I heard this lyric again on Wednesday night, it reminded me that I am not alone in feeling this way. It reminded me that I am not a machine whose value hinges on productivity and profitability but rather on love, art, and community. It reminded me that I am human.

I felt goosebumps all over my body singing the song together with the crowd and with Annie, who was hovered above us. This was the part of the show where she piggy-backed in the shoulder of a security guard and asked to be carried over to the crowd. She did two stage dives, the first of which I had to hold her and push her back up the stands. The rockstar/fan barrier was momentarily blurred, and I devoured this moment of intimacy. All of us, having loved and lost, singing our hearts out... together.

“you’re the only motherfcker in the city who would- Only motherfcker in the city who would- Only motherf*cker in the city who’d forgive me

I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend But for you, darling, I’d do it all again”

All lyrics by St Vincent courtesy of Loma Vista Recordings

She closes out the show with the funky title track All Born Screaming and Annie did as Annie does — sing and be a guitar hero up on that stage. This is the closing track of her latest album and supposedly, the show. She and her bandmates left the stage. The crowd stood still, and then clamoured for more. She, alone, came back and sang in a capella *Somebody Like Me, a track from Daddy’s Home*.

“Dress up in white, slip on the ring Walk straight down the aisle to the violin strings Does it make you a genius or the fool of the week To believe enough in somebody like me, baby? Oh, I guess we’ll see who was the freak

Time tells us things (I guess we’ll see) That you and I can’t see”

All lyrics by St. Vincent courtesy of Loma Vista Recordings

This was not my favorite song from Daddy’s Home when it came out in 2021, nor did it stay in my rotation. But Annie singing it a cappella captivated me. I’m someone who has always struggled with self-doubt. And in the few moments I do believe in myself, I often ask if that makes me foolish. Luckily, this time around, I choose to be a genius.

Some other takeaways:

• She’s not a dancer by any means, but her movements are fluid, self-assured, and free. She is in touch with her body, she IS her body. For the longest time, I’ve been living in my body rather uncomfortably. There’s this disconnected feeling I have to my skeletal system, and so seeing Annie up close in her element, so utterly sure of herself, gave me the power to believe that I, too, can act as one with my mind, body, and soul. I just gotta move, and move forward. I will take up space.
• Her mastery of her craft is what allows her to act silly on stage, be humorous, improvise, and ultimately open new worlds and break new ground at her shows. She’s shredding like the virtuoso that she is, all while acting like a woman possessed, her eyes twitching and her mouth salivating. She couldn’t pull that off if she only had baseline talent. That’s years and years of labor and hard work poured into herself and her art. That added character to the show which took it to a whole different level. I am glad to have seen that up close. It makes it all the more clear why we should seek to be excellent at everything we do. I wanna move through life with my fully realized potential. And Annie and her band showed me what that looks like. I’m completely inspired.
• Digital Witness live. That’s it. That’s the tweet.
• Thanking my bladder for not letting up. I drank a huge cup of iced water while waiting for the show to start, yet never felt the need to pee during. I didn’t go to the bathroom before it started as I did not want to give up my front row seat. Excellent decision, BTW.
• I got pissed that my ticket souvenir to the show was ruined as I put it in the same pocket I kept my iced water. But, looking at it now, the frayed and worn out look is actually much more characteristic of St. Vincent as an artist, and of the show itself. She and her band were not afraid to get really ugly with the songs. I’d much rather have this than the new, polished ticket that it was when it was handed to us.

Her songs are both my safe space in this world, and my release from it. I run to them to be comforted, and at the same time, to be transported elsewhere. This night was eternity.

Video clips and more photos up on my Instagram post and highlights.