Ascetics would surely change their minds when they get to experience the nadir of a rock show. That moment when all the flailing bodies around you slow down, the sound becomes one huge feedback of "Om" and the place fills with radiant, bright lights.

There’s illumination for you. St. Vitus got the dance right but the shamans of rock music took it one step further. In Pinoy rock, no one knows the gospel and prayers of such a body politic like Sandwich.

Though most of their core fans have since grown up to become professionals, kids today discovering Sandwich for the first time will show the same willingness to troop to the stadiums and clubs to express their adoration along side their older brethren -- in literal interpretative dance.

They might be giants, but Sandwich have always wanted to remain on the sidelines keeping a tight balancing act between popular trends and avante garde envelope pushing.

"Rock music should be made by misfits, for misfits," Bobby Gillespie, front man for Primal Scream, was once quoted as saying with his distinctive braggadocio.

"Yes! Yes! [I agree with that]," replies bassist Myrene Academia, nodding her head vigorously and her green felt cap bobbing along to the motion. "Pop music was influential to you when you were a teenager because you’re impressionable and because you’re looking for an anchor and someone who’ll sing your pain back to you. And it’s always rock music that does that."

"Yeah, dati wala akong tuner and that was a kind of reactionary thing as well when I was young," shrugs hyperactive guitarist Diego Castillo with his faster-than-a-machine-gun speech style. "Pare, paano ba ito? Sige atonal. Dyaraaang!" he mimics wind milling a guitar in the air. "High gain na distortion! Ang saya!"

At this point vocalist Raimund Marasigan interjects, "The misfits are always the ones pushing the envelope." Then he raps, drawling out the vowels in a Beastie Boys accent: "Pushing the borders and the expanse/ Band, stand and jump around in the air with your hand!"

PLANET SANDWICH

Well, with the release of Five on the Floor, the fourth in the discography of Sandwich, we’ve got much to put our hands in the air about.

Led by ex-Eraserhead Raimund Marasigan, Sandwich was formed in 1996 with Marc Abaya (vocals and guitars), Marasigan’s wife Myrene Academia (bass), Diego Castillo (guitars) and Mike Dizon (drums). Their melodic, big-arena sound filled with swagger that combined glam and alt-rock grit made them instant darlings to a post-grunge audience.

They debuted on the scene in 1999 with the grandiose art-rock album Grip, Stand, Throw, then they kicked us in the nuts with 2001’s minimalist Four Track Mind and opened the doors wide for the majestic space-mindf*^k of 2004 that was Thanks to the Moon’s Gravitational Pull.

Though Marc Abaya left the band in 2005 to concentrate on his own duties as a video jock of MTV Philippines (see our Q&A sidebar), Sandwich have still ruled the Pinoy rocker’s ear with tenacity, even panned out to composing theme songs for an on-line local RPG and a TV Show. Their dual accomplishment of critical acclaim and commercial success has made them one of the most influential bands of modern Pinoy rock.

With Abaya’s departure, Sandwich have had to divide his vocal and guitar duties. Now Marasigan does the main vocals while everyone sings back-up. Enter Mong Alcaraz to fill in the guitar shoes left by Abaya.

Mong, who also does guitars for metal core outfit Chicosci and hip-hop band Sun Valley Crew, claims that there was little by way of adjustment in him joining the band. He’s flat mates with Diego and has been jamming with Sandwich for the past three years or so."

"This is the album I made with the least distortion. I wanted to do that really," says Mong as the other members playfully banter with his comments.

"Mong brings more vibes to this band. Bad vibes!" laughs Raimund.

"Also younger babes," grins Myrene.

"It’s easier with him around kasi Mong also sings and plays keyboards. Best buy siya. Since he and Diego are house mates, Diego would ask him: `Wala kang gagawin? Sama ka sa jam.’ Then pagtagal tagal `Sumama ka na lang kaya sa amin?’ He also brought along new sounds and dance moves."

Thanks mainly to this great, easygoing chemistry between the members and the musical direction steered by Raimund, Sandwich have excelled at making music

that hits the viscera just right and leaves you wanting for more.

Raimund is also the only person to have the most NU Rock Awards for both the Eraserheads and Sandwich. You can even look up Marasigan on-line and you’ll find this Wikipedia entry: "Raimund Marasigan (May 22, 1971) is a rock musician and record producer in the Philippines. The breadth of his projects has made him one of the most well-respected mainstays of the Philippine rock band scene.

He first achieved fame as drummer for the rock band the Eraserheads, one of the most popular Philippine bands of the 1990s. The Eraserheads had been the band that had ushered in the ‘Golden Time of Music’ in the Philippines."

MY ELECTRIC EYE

If you were to ask Raimund, however, he’d insist that 2006 is this golden age, the greatest year in Pinoy rock. That there have never been more venues and more big gigs being played by bands, both signed and independent, throughout the archipelago.

Five on the Floor, released under EMI Records Philippines in February, is one of the signposts of this great year. It’s bursting with endearing rhythms that can ignite a mosh pit in seconds or something you can head bang to in the privacy of your bedroom.

The controlled anarchy of songs like "Sugod" (their homage to the ‘70s and the Juan De la Cruz band) or "DVDX" (their homage to the indomitable Pinoy entrepreneurial spirit, read: piracy) bear that trademark Sandwich sparkle of sardonic wit and energy.

Their music has always been concise and straight to the point, each note serves to encapsulate the atmosphere while pushing forward whatever narrative is in tow. While Alacaraz’s stripped down guitar playing still retains the dirt and weight he brought over from a nu metal background, and his riffs are also more spacious.

Consider the twisted poetry and brilliance of "View Master" where voyeurism never seemed so glorious: "My eye is bigger than the viewfinder / My heart is heavy with the lie."

"That’s the first song that Myrene wrote all by herself," says Raimund.

Myrene continues, "Actually the first line is from a conversation with my friend. She had given her husband a spy camera for his birthday. She said: `Look! So small. My eye is bigger than the viewfinder.’ It just got stuck in my head. I told Raimund that it really wants to be made into a song. I just followed through with the rest of the lyrics. It’s about looking at the big picture."

Though Raimund claims that the whole band now sings back-up, his own voice –now front and center -- still feels flat and without apt texture on some songs. On the glam goodness of "Sunburn," the clever pop culture trivia that is "Marikina" or the dark and seething "In Case of Fire" (which Mong Alcaraz wrote on a very depressed day) it’s entirely appropriate, but where he should come on soft with pathos in "Let Your Cellphone Shine" Raimund (musical genius that he is) falls disappointingly short.

On a full-on clarion that requires a berserker growl like "Resbak" there’s also a bit of vocal strain, but arrangement-wise, this Primal Scream inspired track is the thing to trip out to if you want to go galactic.

"I just bought the Best of Primal Scream CD," says Raimund. "Ang ganda! Funny that you mentioned [Primal Scream]. The track `Resbak’ is partially inspired by the album Screamadelica."

Songs like "Resbak" and "In Case of Fire" are the cause celebre for screamadelica. Those moments of clarity we were talking about that have made devotees out of listeners, making them continue to lay their homage to Sandwich.

Eat your Sandwich, boy, and see the light.