Don’t You Fake It

Nine days from now, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus’ debut album, “Don’t You Fake It,” will be celebrating its first decade of being loved by young once and young ones alike.

I got exposed to bands when I was in third year high school. Before then, my music player consists mostly of the top songs of the week, some Avril Lavigne hits (because my cousin is a huge fan of hers, and I used to consider him as the closest thing to a brother that I’d ever have so I was “forced” to watch numerous recorded concerts over merienda), and classic songs that my parents (and grandparents) love. It was the start of the school year, and before frying our brains on our Biochem class (which comes after Chem, sheesh), our teacher allowed us to watch Myx. That’s when I first watched Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance (bless them), and the rest is history. But then of course, I’m still gonna talk about it because I love blabbering so much.

The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus has performed here in Manila a couple of times already, but it was only until their DYFI tour that I had the chance to watch them live. And man, the crowd, I don’t even know how to describe it.

After work, my friends and I settled at the barricades separating the VIP-pass holders from the others. It was a good choice, I would say, because most of the “VIPs” are kiddos.

I don’t know every band member’s name (because I’m really not good with names, sorry), but I remember feeling so utterly young and excited because I feel so lucky being in the audience of such a legendary pop punk band.


Now, the crowd. Two guys totally caught my attention during the whole concert – not because they’re cute or whatever, but because I feel like they represented the fans of The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus at that moment.

There was a curly-haired dude who was at an all-time high energy during the almost two-hour performance. He was alone, or so it seems. But he set his things aside and headbanged, pumped his fists in the air so hard that even Saitama will tremble, and jumped all around the space he could move on. He really caught my attention because one song he’d be in front me, another he’d gone missing, then the next one he’s there again.

The second dude is the kind that you’d see on EDM fests. He was wearing a somewhat Coachella-inspired outfit (with a fedora on!). And he moved as if he’s listening to some funky music. He just swayed his body left to right, then occassionally put his hands in the air.

But here’s the thing: I know they love the band. I realized now that they may be about my age, and we may have been all on the same age when we first encountered these bands, and probably all on the same “young adult” transition phase. We all had the “qualifications,” if I’m even bold to say so. But at that moment, I felt like we represented different groups: the curly dude is that friend who doesn’t give a fuck about what people say about him, the fedora dude is that friend who’s always been curious that he ventured to other “genres” of life, and then there was me, the one who got eaten by the system (LOL).

But there we were. On the same concert. Back to listening to the same tunes. Back to being our rebellious selves.


It made me feel nostalgic to be there, no matter how corny that may sound to you.

I wasn’t a super fan of TRJA, but I had a major post-concert depression that I played their songs on loop for a week. And I actually bought a copy of their Et Tu Brute EP which I am planning to listen to on the 20th in memoriam of how much that concert reignited the youth in me.

I hope as you go by your days, you remind yourself how strong you are for surviving this far. And yes, “childhood” songs can make you feel that.

Remember if you seek then you shall find.