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When they first visited Manila in 1998, The Corrs were on teetering on the verge of their international breakthrough. Three years later, they’ve returned – older, wiser and sexier. They’re superstars now.
It is early 1998. Talk on Corners is a few months old, and “Dreams,”
a Fleetwood Mac classic, just begins to air on Philippine radio.
The Corrs, demigods of Irish pop and Ireland’s own royal family, are
in Manila to promote their second album. They aren’t quite that popular
yet, and their itinerary consists of breakfast with the press, a mall show
and autograph signing, and a mini-concert at the erstwhile Fashion Café.
For most of the Philippine public, it would be the first time they would
ever hear of Ireland’s musically gifted and eerily beautiful siblings Jim
(guitarist, eldest), Sharon (violin, second eldest), Caroline (percussion,
drums, third child), and Andrea (lead vocals, tin whistle, youngest) Corr.
Friday afternoon, after arriving in Manila the night before, we find the Corrs in SM Megamall, where they are slated to perform at the atrium where they would be viewed by hundreds of fans, and additionally hundreds of curious onlookers peering over four flights of balconies. The Corrs are so relatively obscure in 1998 that Jim roams Megamall freely without fear of being mobbed by an adoring public. (His three sisters stay put backstage, perhaps because unearthly beauty, regardless of how little –known you are, has a tendency to attract a mob. Jim in ’98 was pre-goatee, and consequently pre-sexy.)
They sing a number of songs off Talk on Corners, and favorites from their debut akbum Forgiven, Not Forgotten, which is an obvious treat for unsuspecting mallrats hearing the unique fusion of Irish traditional music and 90s pop for the first time. Afterwards, the four siblings gamely sign albums and posters for true fans, who bring old CDs of Forgiven, Not Forgotten and Talk On Corners, and for new fans, who busily scratch the sticker labels off their newly bought copies of TOC.
The following night, The Corrs perform at Fashion Café, in one of the doomed theme restaurant’s few glorious moments. Tickets, sold at P200 a piece, are yellow cardboard affairs printed on with a low resolution inkjet. Fashion Café is packed. The mezzanine area is so full it threatens to collapse when The Corrs begin to play. The air is thick and sweaty, and The Corrs play five feet away from the front-row crowd. Under the bright lights, Andrea teases the audience with her ministrations, and constantly raises her arms to show off what is widely regarded as the whitest, smoothest armpits in the known universe.
The show is a massive success, an augury of how big they will become in Asia, Europe and Australia. While the show ends, Andrea yells to the audience, “We’ll be back!,” and there is much talk of them returning the following October. The Corrs do not come back to Manila again that year or the next; instead, they’re busy becoming a massive international success, playing at a Christmas concert in the Vatican, playing to a sold-out St. Patrick’s day crowd at London’s Albert Hall, appearing onstage with Luciano Pavarotti, opening for the Rolling Stones, and picking up awards right and left.
Talk On Corners is huge – their record company happily notes that it is “the album that just would not stop selling.” It had entered the UK Top Ten upon its release and had gone on to become the bestselling British album of 1998, but more remarkably; it went platinum or multi platinum in 15 different territories (and gold in many others), and is still at the top of the charts two years later.
It is September, 2001. In Blue is a few months old, and “All the Love
in the World,” an endearing song found in the soundtrack of an otherwise
mundane movie, has been receiving heavy airplay on local radio. The Corrs,
a little older, a little wiser, and now a lot sexier, are finally back
in Manila to fulfill a promise they made four years ago. It’s a long overdue
return.
Earlier, in January, the radios began promoting a Valentine season
concert at the Araneta Coliseum. The concert sold out even before the radio
ads finish their run. Unfortunately, the In Blue world tour is postponed
indefinitely when Andrea contracts an ear infection and is advised by her
doctor to refrain from airplane travel. The Corrs are stuck in Ireland
and subsequently cancel all engagements. Ticket holders in Manila are advised
to return their tickets for a refund or hold them until further notice.
Very few return their tickets.
Eventually, Andrea gets better and the In Blue tour resumes. TicketNet announces that The Corrs will play an additional engagement, and the new show sells out within a week. The Corrs are more popular than ever, and their itinerary consists of several, short private interviews and pictorials for print media on the first day, another set for television on the next, and a presscon. The Corrs will not be playing in a mall.
On the Saturday morning before their first performance, the Corrs try to relax in the private suite assigned for their interviews. Writers and photographers wait their turn outside, while Warner Music officials mill about. Their tour manager, a charming Scot named Henry McGroggan, makes sure everything is in order. Their entourage of 22 just transported 4,000 kilos of equipment from Hong Kong.
Jim is in leather pants, with a matching black velvet shirt with leather
cuffs and collar. He can’t seem to stand still, moving from the bedroom
to the living room, then places to the adjacent room. Sharon takes her
seat on the couch first, elegant in black, Andrea wears a tan skirt the
texture of suede with a light blue top, and takes the seat beside Sharon,
Caroline takes the edge of the sofa, and Jim settles in last.
Andrea enthuses about the first time they were in Manila, “It was great.
It’s such a different world out here. It was terrific. People just like
being natural.”
“Physically, it’s pretty draining,” Sharon explains the rigors of doing
a tour, where the Corrs fly to perform in up to five different countries
in the span of one week – a huge jump from their beginnings in Ireland
playing in small venues months apart. “When you have a new album out, the
cycle starts again. I mean, we really enjoy it, but it does takes its toll
after a while.”
Talk turns to the creative synergy of the Corrs, who compose their
own songs. Andrea, touted as the most well-read among the four, is mostly
responsible for the band’s lyrics. But she’s quick to say, “I couldn’t
write the lyrics if [for example] Sharon didn’t write the music. We’re
a team.”
They explain a few things about the In Blue album, which is the most
stylistically different collection of songs from the Corrs to date. Whereas
their first two albums were steeped in traditional Irish melodies and strong
violin instrumentals, In Blue is infused with electronica. Ironically,
it’s also the album produced entirely in Ireland (the first two were recorded
in the United States). “My violin is all over that album,” Sharon states
emphatically. “It’s just that because people like to [put] you in a box.
That I’ll come in every middle, end.” Sharon, who was trained in classical
violin and is qualified to instruct, explains how her violin interweaves
with the different instrumentations in the songs, and stresses the need
for experimentation as musicians. She disproves of compartmentalization,
“to me, that’s not music.”
“We shouldn’t be doing the same record every time,” Caroline injects.
“It’s been two years since the last one.”
Asked about the United States and how it remains the one region where
the Corrs have not had mainstream success (“Breathless” was a huge hit
but the follow-up single “Give Me A Reason” dropped quickly from the charts),
they earnestly brush it aside. Sharon responds, “We’re trying to crack
the world, really. That’s why we’re here.” Andrea adds, “We don’t just
look at one territory, ever. I mean. If we’d wanted to succeed in the US,
we’d have stayed in the US and toured in the US.”
“We don’t base our success on the US,” explains Sharon, “We base it
on the rest of the world and the US. We’ve sold a million albums. It’s
a difficult territory. Every territory is difficult.”
“I mean, if it happens, it happens. We still want it.” Andrea shrugs.
Jim remains quiet at the edge of the couch, letting his sisters do
the talking. This is the role that the eldest Corr has chosen for himself,
allowing his persona to fade in the background while his beautiful sisters
(inevitably) steal the limelight. Even his contributions to their music
is understated. Reading the album sleeves, it can be noted that Jim also
does vocals, yet it remains an aural challenge to identify his singing
in any of their numbers. “We’ve had to tone him down,” Caroline jests.
What goes unsaid, however, is that the eldest Corr is responsible for the
formation of the Corrs as a band. Sharon smiles, “I certainly didn’t do
it!”
At the Araneta Coliseum, the Corrs’ crew are hard at work setting up
the stage for the show. Ian Coulding, the band’s production manager, looks
like he’s about to collapse from exhaustion. He, along with his crew, has
been working since the plane touched down the night before. They’ve set
up a stage smaller than what they’re accustomed to, but “We’ll manage,”
he says. The arena is empty – security detail sweeps the area while Coliseum
staff draw out chalk numbers on the back of chairs. Stagehands adjust the
lights manually while balancing atop scaffolds suspended fifty feet overhead.
Mimi Moore, otherwise known as “The Maestro,” is the band’s sound engineer.
He’s travelled with the band for six years, longer than anyone else on
the team. He, along with the violin tech Brian O’Brien – known as “Bob”
(get it?) to the rest of the team – are the only crew members who were
with the Corrs on their first visit to Manila. Neither of them divulge
any damning anecdotes about the Corrs. “My lips are sealed,” Bob grins,
but assures that the family is really as pleasant as they seem. He attributes
Jim’s atypical silence during the interviews as having caught the eldest
Corr on a bad day. Mimi insists that the Corrs remain the same down-to-earth
people they were years ago, with the slight difference of having sold a
few million albums and sold out concerts all over the world. He recounts
how the band started off playing venues like Ireland’s Olympia Theater,
which has the capacity of 1,000 people, to filling the Dublin Stadium with
a wild crowd of 40,000. It was a concert that could make your hairs stand
on end, Bob recalls.
Henry, who has been managing tours for twenty years with the likes
of Iggy Pop, David Cohen, and David Bowie, points out how fame inevitably
changes people. “Four years down the line and a lot more success .. they
haven’t changed that much, I can honestly say. But still, obviously, it’s
gonna change you … You lose touch with certain things when you get to that
level.” He has seen it happen with lesser bands and so-called rockstars.
“Compared to a lot of the other ones I’ve seen, they’ve got their feet
pretty much on the ground.”
Fans line up two hours before the show. The upper boxes and bleachers
are all free seating, so these sections fill up quickly. When the lights
dim, the crowd roars. But this isn’t the crowd that waited eight months
for the Corrs. When the guitar rips of “Only When I Sleep” open the concert,
voices rumble and a thunder of hands clap, but the crowd remains seated.
Bob mentioned that the crowd in Hong Kong was up to their feet on the opening
song, bit this crowd remains seated for eight songs. Hardcore fans struggle
to remain standing when the Corrs play “Dreams.” Andrea tries her charming
best to woo the crowds, but only manages to create a wave in the direction
she faces. Those seated in the front row, in particular, those who got
complimentary tickets and have no real business being in a concert, do
not stand at all. Andrea tries to hide her frustration.
And then they go into “Runaway” and all hell breaks loose.
The audience cheer so hard it’s defeaning. The crowd, the appreciative
but otherwise lethargic crowd stand up (except, tragically, for those unworthy
souls in the front row). In the darkness of the coliseum, a small pin*****
of blue light shines from the audience. Then there are green lights, and
white lights. Soon the entire hall is filled with a multitude of small
lights like a miniature sky. Ingenious fans, lacking glow sticks and lighters,
use the light from their mobile phones. This is when hairs stand on end.
Only in the Philippines.
The concert is a party from that point on. The Corrs are pleasantly
surprised to hear the audience sing along with most of the songs, but mostly
during the chorus of “All The Love in the World.” The expression on Andrea’s
face when she breaks into the first chorus is priceless. Awestruck, she
allows the audience to sing the words “all the love in the world” onwards,
and the crowds do not fail her. The concert ends with an encore and the
performance of “Toss the Feathers,” one of the few pop concerts that offer
a healthy dose of classical violin. The crowds give a standing ovation.
The following night the concert happens in pretty much the same fashion
with a few notable exceptions. This is, after all, the crowd that had waited
eight months for the Corrs. For some, maybe even four years. On the opening
riff, the crowd goes wild. The numbered seating Patron area becomes a mosh
pit. Even the front row – especially the front row – are dancing. The first
song, and they’re dancing. By the middle of the concert, someone in the
front row tosses a pillow Andrea’s way. She sits on it, and the crowd roars.
She poses with it, and the crowd roars again. At this point, the Corrs
can do no wrong.
Not to be outdone, another fellow in the front row tosses a bouquet
of roses. Another tosses a teddy bear. More flowers. And then the Corrs
sing “Runaway,” threatening to collapse the Araneta Coliseum with a cascade
of swaying, cell-phone toting bodies. The same sea of electronic stars.
By the time the Corrs get to “All The Love In The World,” Andrea knows
her cue and does not bother to sing the chorus. The audience fills the
coliseum with multi-thousand voice harmony. This is the cue for hairs to
stand at the back of the neck.
The Corrs know this is the crowd that waited for them for months. Andrea
thanks the audience for holding on their tickets. She says “Salamat, (translation:
Thank You) Manila!” and the throng explodes. The Corrs sing “Love Gives
Love Takes” (correction, they didn’t sing this song, they sang “Don’t Say
You Love Me.” It is the very first time they sing this song in public.
Andrea later tells the audience how the song is special to the Corrs, how
it was never given a chance to become a single, and how they chose to sing
it as a way of thanking such a wonderful crowd. The wonderful crowd, of
course, know the song. And they sing along with the Corrs, from beginning
to end. Even those in the front row.
THE CORRS
Andrea Jane
lead singer, tin whistle player, lyricist
Birthdate: May 17, 1974
Height: 5’2”
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Favorite Music: Nik Kershaw, Depeche Mode, and Prince. She considers
Paul Simon to be her favorite lyricist, and Supergrass to be her favorite
British Band.
Jim calls Andrea “Danger Dizzy.” Andrea has a penchant for losing things, and that’s the reason why she plays the tin whistle – because it’s the cheapest instrument she could find.
Caroline
Drummer, bodhran player, backing vocalist, and piano player
Birthdate: March 17, 1973
Height: 5’4”
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Favorite Music: Garbage, Radio Head, The Verve
Caroline used to wear a fake tattoo during a few of the Forgiven Not Forgotten tour concerts. She only learned to play the drums when she was eighteen years old – she asked a former boyfriend to teach her.
Sharon Helga
Violin player, backing vocalist, sometimes keyboards, sometimes guitar
Birthdate: March 24, 1970
Height: 5’5”
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Favorite Music: Crowded House, Rolling Stones or more “classical” artists
such as Britten, Tchaikovsky, and Satie.
Married her long-time boyfriend Gavin Bonnar, a lawyer from Northern Ireland, in July 2001.
James Steven Ignatius
keyboard and guitar player, arranger/composer, co-producer
Birthdate: July 31, 1964
Height: 5’8”
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Favorite Music: The Police, Fleetwood Mac
Jim is known to be the “funniest Corr.” He was nicknamed “The Arsonist”
when he was younger, because he used to get into a lot of trouble. He was
introduced to the guitar by a neighbor when he was 13, but picked up other
instruments along the way.