UNDERDRESSED AND ALONE AT THE SYMPHONY

A hopeless romantic-turned-pessimist details a night at Faye Webster's debut show in the country

- By KARA ANGAN

The last person you would ever expect to see at the Faye Webster concert in Manila is your ex-boyfriend. But there he is, on a rainy Monday evening, nearly six years after the fact. It feels like the world stops dead in its tracks. And for a while it really does—the moment we lock eyes and hold each other's gaze, there is an immediate tension of "Should I do something? Should I not?" that lasts just a couple of beats too long. I eventually break the silence. Polite "Hello, how are you?"s are exchanged, we ask each other questions we already know the answers to, and I awkwardly end the conversation by saying I am going to head to the restroom.

I don't. I walk around aimlessly for the next hour or so, nursing an overpriced beer and watching the sea of people pouring in to see the Atlanta-born singer-songwriter despite the torrential downpour. Funnily enough, the moment feels strangely Faye Webster-esque. It's like a scene pulled out from Tttttime off her most recent record, "Underdressed at the Symphony." In the track, she croons, "I'm alone, but what's new / I got t-t-t-t-t-t-t-time."

It seems that every corner I turn, there are couples upon couples of the matcha-drinking, feminist literature-reading, tote bag-bringing variety. Some even showed up in smart-casual '80s workwear or sported the occasional Minion merch (an inside joke for Faye Webster fans). Either way, everyone seems to be holding hands or wrapped in a warm embrace.

But there I am, clad in a plain, all-black outfit—underdressed and alone at the symphony.

Before I know it, the house lights dim. The crowd erupts in deafening screams. Webster and her band walk onto the stage and launch into the first song of the evening,