MIKE Ferraro quietly sat in a corner at the second floor of the 123 Block. A member of Sleeping Boy Collective, the independent show promoter who brought in legendary New York hardcore band Judge to Manila, placed a table a few feet away from inquisitive fans to keep away those who hoped for selfies.
Ferraro, wearing olive-drab military fatigues and a baseball cap drawn closely to cover his eyes, sat back and was lost in thought.
This wasn’t like that night in 1991 when he told guitarist John Porcell the “show was over.”
“Porcell,” he said, looking at his bandmate who was with him since their days with Youth of Today: “I think I’m done.”
The guitarist recalled that moment. Thousands of miles away from New York City, Judge was in Manila as part of their Southeast Asian Tour—their first time to hit this part of the world. Porcell was upstairs some 3 hours before his band was scheduled to hit the stage. He looked at this author’s records, then the latter asked him to sign them.
“I don’t have my records anymore,” he softly said. He flipped over the LP “No Apologies: The ‘Chung King’ Sessions” that recounted the moment when Ferraro talked to him about his decision to hang it up.
The liner notes end with Porcell’s thoughts after Ferraro just called it quits. “Somehow, I knew it was coming.”
The guitarist nodded, with his mind racing back to those chaotic days when fights were routine at Judge gigs, and matters spun out of control.
“That was then; this is now,” quipped Porcell, who then signed the records, smiled, and posed for a photo.
Nearly 30 years later, Judge is hitting parts of the world they never even imagined coming to.
“It is amazing…” shyly admitted Ferraro later when we sat down for an interview, “…That we get to do this again—but it is different. I didn’t have the means to get these shows done before. Now, it’s great. The whole tour has been great.”
He went on to say: “It is amazing to see young fans who know our songs, and that they mean something, considering they were written a long time ago.”
And that begged the inevitable question: There have been no new releases since 1990. Judge reformed in 2013. Are there any plans to record a new album?
New York hardcore
EARLIER, Judge drummer Sammy Siegler sat down with Insektlife Cycle’s bassist Joy Legason and this author who were catching up. What followed was a good 25 minutes of talk about music, politics, and of course, Judge.
“I don’t know if we should record new songs,” suggested Siegler, who admitted the band has never really talked about it.
“If we do that, I have to wonder how they will stack up to the old songs. Will they be just as good? But that’s something for [Ferraro] and Porcell to figure out.”
“Me?” laughed Ferraro. “I am ready to go. I’ve known Porcell a long time. I’m just waiting for him.”
That is however, for another time. The fans who trooped to the 123 Block didn’t have to wait too long after the final opening act got off the stage.
“The Imperial March (Darth Vader’s Theme)” played in the background, then Judge launched into “Take Me Away.” The crowd went nuclear.
“So this is Manila on a Monday,” observed Ferraro after the intro, and before tearing off into those buzz-saw songs with metallic riffs.
It was an incredible sight. This author has seen all those videos of the band performing in CBGB’s and other famous spots, and watched dozens of times the documentary, “There Will Be Quiet,” which is the story of Judge.
Weaned on a steady diet of New York hardcore from the mid- to late-1980s, compared to all the bands that this author has listened to: Agnostic Front, Gorilla Biscuits, Youth of Today, and the Cro-Mags, it is Judge that stands out with its straight-edge message.
And now, they were live in the flesh performing their classics, as some members of the crowd declared too that they were “fed up.”
When Ferraro screamed, “You’ve lost…!” from In My Way and thrust the microphone to the blessed few in front of the stage, they wailed back the rest of the line: “…My respect!”
For their penultimate song Warriors, the crowd summoned what was left of their collective energies to join in the chorus: “Never forget the warriors!”
Who indeed would forget these hardcore troopers?
It was a sight to behold: Bleeping New York hardcore. The most militant of the straightedge bands was here, and the messages that they sang so fiercely and proudly about decades ago still rings true today.
Through great lengths
THE pursuit of a then-young Filipino kid from Manila in search of those precious original pressings of Judge albums took him from Bleecker Bob’s in Greenwich Village, to Kim’s in the East Village, and eventually back closer to home with Mutilated Records in Manila.
Ferraro dutifully signed the records and couldn’t help but notice one that wasn’t of theirs, but definitely not out of place. It was Warzone’s first extended-play album Lower East Side. “Yeah, I know this very well,” the Judge lead softly said.
The burly singer pulled out the liner notes and ran his fingers on the quote from his late colleague Ray “Raybeez” Barbieri: “Read the lyrics. Feel the passion. It all comes from our hearts. Like the famous saying goes: ‘No mess. No fuss. Just pure impact.’”
Ferraro nodded and smiled.
Oh yes, there was quiet indeed. And then, pure impact…
After a cool and surreal night, where after exiting into the early hours of the morn, this author wondered if the happenings of the night that was, was real. He entered with a pair of Judge records that were unsigned.
He exited with the “What It Meant” compilation that bore a stamp most unexpected and well, lasting. It had the New York Hardcore logo, as penciled in by Judge. Storms do leave lasting impressions.
Image credits: Mel Lacson Dolorico