Eric Martin is no stranger to Manila.

As the front man of MR. BIG, he has stood before thousands in packed arenas, his voice riding on waves of heavy riffs and thunderous drums. On September 15, 2025, that same voice was heard again in the city, though this time within the walls of Café Shylō, a venue whose scale could not have been further from the arenas of old.

Presented by PULP Live World, the evening titled Unleashed & Unplugged was less about volume and spectacle and more about rediscovering what happens when rock anthems are stripped to their core.

For true fans, nothing compares to being up close with your favorite artist in an intimate, one-night-only experience and ERIC MARTIN gave Manila exactly that. ✨

THE VOICE OF MR. BIG: ERIC MARTIN Unleashed & Unplugged in Manila with David Cotterill last September 15, 2025 at… pic.twitter.com/xzDD3Wc1HR

— PULP Live World (@pulpliveworld) September 18, 2025

What followed was not merely a concert but a conversation. With guitarist David Cotterill beside him, Martin opened with “Daddy, Brother, Lover, Little Boy” and “Take Cover”, songs that in their original form carried the bravado of an era. Here they were leaner, more exposed, yet no less insistent. By the time “Alive and Kickin’” rolled in, the crowd was firmly with him. Manila was also treated to something exceptional: “Back in Blue”, an unreleased song rarely, if ever, performed. It felt less like a bonus track and more like a reminder that artists of Martin’s stature still have secrets left to share.

The set unfolded with deliberate pacing. “Wild World and Fragile” offered quiet, reflective passages, followed by the emotional peak of “Just Take My Heart.” Later came “Shine”, “Superfantastic”, “Promise Her the Moon”, and “Voodoo Kiss.” Each song carried the weight of familiarity, yet the intimacy of the room reshaped them into something almost personal. When the night closed with “To Be With You”, Martin’s most enduring hit with MR. BIG, the audience had already transformed into a chorus, singing not as spectators but as participants in a memory renewed.

Throughout, Martin treated the performance with a craftsman’s rigor. He repeatedly signaled for adjustments to his guitar sound, unwilling to let the technical details slip. His focus was not diluted by the smaller scale of the room. If anything, it sharpened. He sang as though the stakes were no different than at Araneta Coliseum or Budokan. That refusal to compromise elevated the performance, giving weight to every lyric he delivered.

At one point he paused to reflect, the room falling quiet as he spoke. “I will be forever known as the singer of MR. BIG,” he told the crowd, a statement delivered without irony or hesitation. It was both a recognition of how history will remember him and an acceptance of the role he continues to play in keeping those songs alive. The audience responded not with silence but with applause, as though to confirm that the legacy he named was still very much present before them.

Later, he leaned forward with something closer to a promise. “Maybe we can return next year,” he said, and the line drew a cheer that filled the café. The remark seemed casual on its surface, yet for fans who had followed the band across decades, it carried weight. It suggested continuity, the possibility that what had unfolded that night was not a farewell but a prelude. In the span of a few sentences, Martin bridged past and future, anchoring himself as both a figure of memory and an artist still writing the next chapter.

It’s not every day that we get to experience both the music 🎶 and the magic ✨ of decades’ worth of timeless hits live in the flesh—so imagine the sheer excitement and joy of being just a few feet away from a true music legend, willing to give die-hard fans a moment they will… pic.twitter.com/7ByJg05T8G

— PULP Live World (@pulpliveworld) September 18, 2025

For fans who have followed MR. BIG across decades, the show was more than nostalgia. It was proof that a song can endure beyond the arena, that its power does not fade when the amplifiers are dialed back. In Pasig, Eric Martin’s voice remained both familiar and vital, and the Filipino audience responded in kind, singing with a devotion that has long made this city one of rock music’s most loyal homes.

Words by Arielle Elep