Approaching Antagonisms The singular author of his work, Jason Fernandez, is a textbook solo artist. His brainchild, Hazylazy, remains his closest collaborator, revisiting the Antagonisms demos he released from his bedroom years ago. Written by Hannah Manuel Born in the post-internet age, Hazylazy is the project of Tagalog native Jason Fernandez. An indie rock internet secret of the early 2020s, Jason made waves in the (then online) scene as the solo mind behind The Resentment Segment. Tracks like Ultrawanker and Juxtapose were the lockdown anthems that eventually funneled crowds new and old back into dive bars and in-person gig venues. With Antagonisms, Hazylazy reemerges transformed, putting together years of musical exploration into a cohesive and deeply personal thesis. The genealogy of Hazylazy precedes the act itself. Spending his formative years in Laguna, Jason found his first audience performing with his five schoolmates at fairs in the local Catholic school circuit as Serotonin. In step with the rise of indie bands all over the country, led by the likes of Autotelic and Ben&Ben, the six-piece Biñan-grown band had the classic OPM toolkit at their disposal while somehow still maintaining impressive individuality for an adolescent outfit. Part of this ought to be due to Jason, who composed the original pieces they performed in between covers. Initially writing songs in the drum seat of the band, Jason first made his way to the mic when the band’s vocalist quit. This late 2010s indie rock sensibility transforms into something more atmospheric toward the latter part of Serotonin’s lifespan. When the band quietly dissipated into college and work, the singer-songwriter took to SoundCloud for a new solo project, where a trajectory of his work remains in view today. From chillwave to jangle pop to neo-psychedelia, Hazylazy is heavily inspired by the wild array of musical inspirations Jason holds dear. A multisensory and multidisciplinary trip, Antagonisms is the matured mastery of Jason’s exploration project years in the making. The singular composer and producer of the album, Jason’s closest collaborator is himself. Many of the tracks are years older than they let on, beginning as demos back when Hazylazy was still in its seedling stages. With an ethos of total authorship and a creative control of the acoustic environment he molds, the indie rock auteur revisits old compositions and converses, eventually completing a years-spanning project long awaited since his last release four years ago. He orchestrates his listening experience down to a T. From the warm decay of lo-fi synthesizers, to drumlines—a channel he is well acquainted with—like heartbeats in their earnestness, the time it has taken to get him here is a reward made even riper for those who were there with him from the start. Back in time, it was impossible to imagine Hazylazy as real. The adulterated frequencies of the real world were seemingly not the place for Jason’s ethereality. The boundlessness of the net—its lack of physical constraints, its endless archives, its potential for anonymous reinvention—serves Jason well, so well that it is easy to conflate it with the separate and equally boundless entity that is his mind. As time and a return to on-site gigs permitted, the underground bore witness to a new master. From an etiology of melancholy, Antagonisms arrives noisily and unapologetically, not giving a fuck about what the world thinks, blazing a trail through it anyway. A storied creation and a boundless frontier, Antagonisms is something to look forward to on the live stage. **This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. HM: There are songs in Antagonisms and related to antagonisms written with years in between them and the final album. Specifically, the tracks “Another Self-Loathing Demo” and “ANTAGONISMS” which were released four and three years ago, respectively. Hazylazy: Yes, which is funny ‘cause “ANTAGONISMS” did not make it to the album. But “antagonisms”, it latched on as a name. Nagkaroon pa nga ko ng iba’t ibang album names in mind, and I was trying my best to not use antagonisms because I was telling myself na “Ah may nakarelease na track ng antagonisms, yeah, whatever”. But I figured if that’s the name that works, so be it. I just went for “Antagonisms” even though there already is a song called “Antagonisms” and wala siya sa mismong album. HM: Is there any relation between the two “Antagonisms”? Hazylazy: It felt like [the song] started the new sound for me? That’s when I separated from the previous sound, which is the sound that most people have heard from the Resentment Segment, and “ANTAGONISMS” was a big jump from what I usually make. It was a good starting point too, in a way that song started everything. And then lyrically, the album of Antagonisms fits the title. Parang kumbaga the “ANTAGONISMS” as a single, the one on SoundCloud, the sonic aspect and the lyric aspect don’t really fit in the album I’ve made, so I didn’t think to put it in. But looking back, the title really worked with how the lyrics were written: unapologetically saying anything, unapologetically following the sound that you want, not caring about what other people say to me. It’s like being antagonistic in a way, putting yourself first, being selfish quote unquote. HM: The singly credited composer, writer, and producer of your project. These are songs you’ve written with years in between them. Hazylazy: Yes, years apart but it’s not as if I’ve been working on those songs for the whole time interval. I just let it sit there and then when I decided I was gonna start recording the album that’s really the only time I revisit the song and there were changes here and there but not so much. I would say just production wise, na may onting adds lang and onting subtraction of things HM: In a way you’re revisiting a past iteration of yourself as well, in the year you first created those demos. As the sole auteur to your music, what is it like collaborating with a past
Tag: alternative rock
EP REVIEW: (e)motion engine – tell me how you f(e)el
Written by JK Caray How does a song mirror one’s life? (e)motion engine’s debut EP ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ doesn’t really give you an answer, but it provides a slate for you to write on. 6-piece indie rock outfit (e)motion engine has been all over the scene. From the release of their first track “mlb” dating back to 2024, the band has quickly cultivated a dedicated fanbase. After a year of teasing tracks, their newest EP ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ only pushes them further into their growing success. If you’ve gone to a few of (e)motion engine’s gigs over the years, you’ll know the kind of dynamic energy they bring to a set. With engaging performances that often result in a moshpit here and there, it’s a wonder that they’ve managed to record the same kinetic vibe in their EP. It’s another wonder that they’ve managed to be sonically consistent with the rest of their portfolio, mostly attributed to the edgy pop punk sound that permeates through all their songs which is a nod to their emo roots. (e)motion engine’s identity is deeply engraved into their music that it doesn’t just sound the same, it sounds uniquely them. ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ reads like a diary. At times it feels alive, as if someone occasionally peeking through the drum beats. Each song acts as a journal entry, capturing the essence of being in a certain moment. It’s filled with different scenarios that may conjure up a memory or two; “milk” is the entry for when your mind betrays you as you remember somebody you shouldn’t. On the other hand, “keep it in” is a track you want to expel some pent up energy, while “mlb” celebrates the beauty of life and the privilege of seeing it blossom in front of you. Not all of it has to be profound, much like how every day can’t always be exciting, but it speaks true to the human experience. Throughout the EP, (e)motion engine carefully tiptoes the line between telling a story and letting the listener fill in the blanks. At its very core, the tape hinges on your vulnerability to trust in it. It’s the record that you go to at the end of the day, like the vent folder in your notes app or the childhood blanket you cry to. It wants to make you feel seen. Now it’s up for you to decide, are you willing to ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ or are you still scared to make it real? SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: The Braille Flowers – Lilac Dreams of a Second-Degree Non-Conformist
Written by Noelle Alarcon If you’ve ever spent even a fraction of a minute in Manila’s local underground, chances are you’ve already witnessed The Braille Flowers in action. Whether they’re offering stickers as they wade through the crowd, or creating sonic magic with their instruments under neon lights, there’s no doubt that the band’s members are a welcome presence in the tight-knit communities of artists and enthusiasts alike that run within the scene. These nights down under, usually characterized by a selection of beer bottles, sweaty moshpits, and yosi breaks in the cool evening air, breathe life into The Braille Flowers’ debut album: ‘Lilac Dreams of a Second-Degree Non-Conformist.’ Long as the title may be, it’s a name that only begins to make sense when you bask in that specific feeling, punctuated by the haze of the guitar pedals and the album’s constant desire to live in a moment that a pariah of society’s rigid conventions can find solace and romance in. ‘Lilac Dreams…’ is a release that mirrors its scene predecessors; The Braille Flowers’ ability to write about vulnerability in a manner that sounds like small talk about the weather is similar to the air of nihilism that echoes from the lyrics of The Geeks. On the other hand, the way they couple quirky male vocals with jittery, pop rock influenced drums is reminiscent of We Are Imaginary’s captivating, dreamlike musical style. The album’s singles show The Braille Flowers’ strengths; they’ve mastered the art of creating a cohesive album that still shows their variety and flexibility. “Lately” is a sweet train of thought that steadily grows louder as the infatuation continues to blossom. It’s a track that lends its attention to the high of being in love, not shying away from the intensity it brings as kick drum focused-fills gradually escalate the impact of its catchy, sugary guitar riff. “The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers),” on the other hand, peeks out from the band’s “popgaze” box. The raspier vocals and whispers that accompany its palm-muted rise to the climax complement each other well. The sharper edge of ‘Lilac Dreams…’ contributes to its ability to invoke nostalgia, a callback to the preference of 2010s alternative music for squeaky clean, sharp production that’s tied altogether with the bow of a powerful rhythm section. The Braille Flowers’ debut is self-expression at its best; the concept even shines through in the serene instrumentals that serve as interludes for the next sessions of reflection and rumination. Perhaps it’s a release that focuses on the peace brought by honesty. But as a record that banks on the intimacy of being understood, it could probably flesh out the euphoria brought by such an experience through a wider range of sounds and expressions. At the end of the day, maybe the utilization of such a specific sound is what makes ‘Lilac Dreams of a Second-Degree Non-Conformist’ the record that it is-–a lush, fuzz-filled dream that everyone can hold up a mirror to. It’s a blueprint for every other non-conformist’s personal manifesto, ready to accompany you when you get feelings too difficult to put into words. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: SAINT LAWRENCE – SO U
Written by JK Caray Sometimes, The Best Thing Ever™ disguises itself as something arbitrary. In the case of SAINT LAWRENCE, his debut track “SO U” first came from that familiar itch of needing to create something, despite all limitations. Made out of a awkwardly tuned guitar, a catchy hook, and the feeling of losing your spark, “SO U” is a song about burnout that ironically helped its writer avoid burning out. Right from the start, nothing could prepare you for the intense wave of emotions. The eclectic drum patterns and rigid glitches convey a sense of helplessness, being bitter at one’s predicament. The production is flawless for a debut track, with little elements like the occasional glitch adding to the steely vibe. Here, SAINT LAWRENCE’s performance is brooding yet intimate, carefully alternating between soft whispers and screaming with all the guts he can muster. Each detail builds into a satisfying breakdown that washes everything along with it. It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon moment whenever an upcoming artist defines precisely what they want to do with their music, but it’s as if the stars aligned for SAINT LAWRENCE, given how polished his craft is. “SO U” not only provides a backdrop of what’s to come, it shoves you headfirst into the mayhem that is SAINT LAWRENCE. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: muckmedicine – Caspian
Written By Rory Marshall What do you get when you are in a dark bedroom, a Stratocaster, and being deep in the throes of melancholia? That’s what’s in store in muckmedicine’s newest EP “Caspian”. Spanning across 6 tracks are scattered thoughts and confessions left unsaid; a voice echoed through angsty indie rock. This EP is the second long-form release since Migs Tabilin’s debut EP “Inside Enclosures” back in 2020, and with this most recent project, he doubles down on his lo-fi sound. How muckmedicine differs from his sister band Fairview Far — which features more upbeat indie rock and playful lyrics — is that he takes the opportunity in his solo work to indulge in dejection. With Tabilin’s solo work, he explores his melancholy and puts his inner monologue into song, using the audience as a stand-in for the person he wishes to let into his psyche. It’s intimate lyrically, which is only accentuated by the lo-fi vibe that Tabilin has embraced wholeheartedly. “Warmth” and “Erase Me (I Hope She Listens to Modern Baseball)” feature lyrics directed to a once-loved one. As a listener, it’s akin to reading a letter addressed to someone else, and what’s found in those letters is pining and unreciprocated love. The songwriting varies on other tracks, reading more like vignettes of thought. Scattered ideas similar to ones that intrusively pop up in your head while trying to go to sleep. This is seen in songs like “Please Play Florist At My Funeral” and the intro “Pattern,” which features a monologue from Ice King of Adventure Time. It adds to the DIY aesthetic, harkoning to tiktoks where people put midwest emo riffs on top of random monologues from cartoons. True devastation is found in the combination of the two writing styles, which is no better showcased in the final track “Cut”. The song takes an even more sullen turn than the previous entries of the EP. It’s an unresolved goodbye led with resentment, and conversely, longing for what still could be. The abrupt and straightforward lines slice deep into the chest: “I don’t ever wanna see your fucking face again, I never wanted to see any of you again”. But the knife finds more purchase with the last line of the EP: “I never made a gesture, but I wanted you to stay”. The production of the project lends a lot to the intimacy of the overall sound; The lo-fi bedroom rock sound only adds charm to the EP, further emphasizing the vibe of being alone in your room with only your thoughts to keep you company. The vocals are, at times, passed through an EQ filter, reminiscent of hearing a voicemail left late at night, as seen in “Wednesday”. The crunchy distortion of the guitars adds depth to the morose nature of the music and adds to the swell of the breakdowns in tracks like “Patterns” and “Cut”. The sound is evocative of the pandemic-era boom of home music production. When before it was a necessity, muckmedicine uses it as a tool to capture solitude and isolation, both physical and mental. “Caspian” was an opportunity to say the things folks would never think to say out loud. To finally release the cacophony of thoughts and find closure in the music. The dedication on muckmedicine’s Bandcamp simply states “for our loved ones”, which could not be a more succinct description for the project. It’s an EP for victims of unrequited love and those who struggle to put into words the complex emotions they feel. Muckmedicine’s pandemic era sound was utilised beautifully in this project. As fitting as it was with the themes of isolation of the EP, it does leave the listener wondering if he’ll evolve his sound further in future projects. His style has been consistent to the point of stagnant with this EP sharing a lot of similarities from his initial EP which was released all the way back in 2020. 5 years later, it can be hard to tell if any time has passed at all. Knowing this, it just makes us even more eager to see what muckmedicine can come up with in his next endeavors. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: Caspian by muckmedicine
TRACK REVIEW: Your #1 Fan – Radio Transmission
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol Every artist starts out as a fan. You get exposed to all the ways people express themselves and enjoy it so much that you’d want to take a shot at it yourself. So just as the name “Your #1 Fan” suggests, Nica Feliciano started out living and breathing music – frequenting gigs in the underground music scene; playing bass guitar for bands such as Bird Dens, Thirds, and The Purest Blue; and even putting up her own indie rock shows. It was inevitable that Your #1 Fan would eventually be expanded into a music project; that time has come with the release of her debut single, “Radio Transmission.” The wonder and curiosity of being a fan is manifested in the music and lyrical themes of this song, a space rock ballad that sails like a probe traversing the cosmos. But the story remains mostly within the Earth’s atmosphere: here, Nica longs to make contact with somebody she loves who’s in another part of the world, wanting to know whether there’s a place for her in their heart even though they’re so far apart. The imagery of satellite communication courses through these lyrics, as it does in the music, with beeps and pulses that sound like incoming signals peppered throughout the song, which plays at a tempo meant to relive the grandeur of space travel. However, the song picks up speed halfway through as Nica begins to blur the boundaries between the vast distance of two lovers on opposite sides of the Earth and our collective smallness within the universe. It no longer matters that life means we’re all tiny figures tethered to an ultimately tiny place: as long as she makes contact with the one she loves, the concept of dimensions just fades away. Whenever we define ourselves with the celestial bodies, we often look to the Moon and its chase towards the Sun, or our relation with the stars, or even the depth of the unknown. Therefore, to hear an exploration on the celestial bodies we ourselves have created, and how we used our discoveries of outer space to bring us closer to one another no matter where we are in the world, is refreshing for once. Which brings us back to the cyclical nature of the making of an artist: we take what we find in the artists that we love and make something from that for ourselves. With “Radio Transmission,” Your #1 Fan has successfully taken that one small step as an artist, and as Nica continues to release more music and plays more shows with this project, people can certainly look forward to the great leaps ahead. Who knows? You could become Your #1 Fan’s no. 1 fan. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: Michael Seyer – Boylife
Written by Faye Allego During the peak years of the Bedroom music era, Michael Seyer was indeed in his bedroom and making music described as “Beachy Stoner Rock,” Alternative Dreampop, and even Hypnagogic Pop. However, his body of work is far from your typical bedroom sound: his debut album, Ugly Boy, is like that one SB-129 episode from SpongeBob in the way that existential longing and loneliness are its primary themes; in “Bad Bonez”, Seyer reconstructs a warm, aching sorrow that would be heard instead of being seen in an Edvard Munch painting; and in A Good Fool, a newer, heavier wave of tenderness that was slightly hinted in his Nostalgia EP tugs your heartstrings with more depth than any of his previous work. In Boylife, Michael Seyer doesn’t offer a coming-of-age bedroom pop anthem or a grand expedition on the epic highs and lows of navigating masculinity in the Fil-Am diaspora. Released under his brand new, independent DIY label Seyerland, the new album shares the same warm, subtle hues from his previous work through his persistent use of slow-moving percussion, delay effects, a mushy vignette of white and brown noises, and his loosely subdued vocals — only that this time, Seyer’s lair of creativity sheds layers of existential tensions and packs in horizons of growth, reflection, and endless love. Taking inspiration from John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band where Lennon randomly adds a Cookie Monster adlib in “Hold On” to make the song more fun, personal, and maybe even hint an inside joke that the listener can’t understand, Seyer surely reflects on these quirks: forming his own knicks and bolts to create an effect in a dozen tracks of pure sound and soul that is 100% his own unique story. It’s a risky yet intimate act of connection between the songwriter and the listener when the former writes music for their own reflections only. We see Seyer take that risk in Boylife, dissecting boyhood through the overarching theme of his art: nostalgia. His unfiltered essence then transforms into shared emotion, where tracks like “Folktales,” “Taylor,” and “I Want To Be Your Dog” become hymns, choruses, and letters that come from understanding and experiencing. The first three songs off of Boylife are a Dolly-effect zoom into where Michael Seyer is in his mind: he’s everywhere. The album begins as a sensory experience — it unfolds less like repetitive songs and more like a grounding technique for a young man realising that he has a place in this world, and now questions himself: “Is there something a man is supposed to become?” and even takes a jag at God to realise what love could mean in “Fiend,” where he sings “I need God, God’s not back.” With each passing track, being worried about Michael Seyer is a non-negotiable. “Don’t Worry” uses a descending melody as Seyer descends into a full-fledged crash-out– an honest yet cannon event for most people. Followed by a messy drum sequence in “Manlife,” the listener is then whiplashed at the very end as a nearly inaudible, muffled voice that is Seyer’s Father reaching out to him: “Hey Migs, it’s Dad, call me.” Perhaps it’s safe to say that sometimes, all it takes is a voice call from a loved one to snap back into the real world, or to look through a lens that isn’t so clouded with grain and distortion. Speaking of distortion, the latter end of Boylife shies away from the loudness and upbeat songs about growing pains and stays loyal to the Lennon-esque demos and outtakes approach, where the primary instrument is an acoustic guitar that is paired with timeless serenades of love poems and reassurances. The lines “We can be ghosts together/And we’ll disappear/ We can be ghosts together/ When there’s no one near” conclude and showcase Seyer’s most deeply quiet yet distilled form. He isn’t trying to resolve the chaos of Boyhood, he instead embraces it. He embraces the liminality, the softness, the ache. Michael Seyer gifts a scrapbook of memories through ambient noise, whispered admissions, squeaky yet steady vocals, certainly a Stratocaster of sorts, likely a second-hand synthesiser from the Glam Rock era, and lovesick lullabies that feel so intimate yet so profoundly universal. Michael Seyer doesn’t gift a resolution but more a revelation to himself: the revelation of becoming. Becoming a son, a boy, a man, an artist, a lover, a person, and all the feelings that come with that. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Fatigued – Negative Tide
Written by Adrian Jade Francisco The debut album from Fatigued arrives not with a bang, but with a whisper — yet its emotional resonance is anything but quiet. Nearly five years later, Emilio Gonzales’ solo project approaches to submerge us in the sentimental undercurrent of ‘Negative Tide’. Fatigued’s ten-track album is an introspective indie pop journey through uncertainty and quiet resilience, reflecting the experiences of the musician during the hectic process of ‘Negative Tide’. The opening track, “Oversized Words,” explores the struggle of articulating emotions and emotional disconnection in presence of hazy guitars, which is a prevalent theme throughout the release. A notable track “Temples” is a poignant commentary on the difficulty of self-improvement, expressing discontent with social expectations or conventions. Leaning on instrumentation, and the lyrics take a subtler, more restrained approach in “Take the Beating,” establishes the plea of emotional exile the best; the lines “Send me / To a home I used to be / Alone with my thoughts” echoes the theme of the album’s title and tone. What makes the track compelling is its stripped-back approach and emotional honesty holds back just enough to let the listener linger in the tension, the ache, and the silence of resignation. Fatigued channels his influences into something distinctively personal, crafting a sound that serves as a vessel for his ruminations. “Instant Disconnection” serves as a conclusion to its themes of inner turmoil and emotional exhaustion. While the album as a whole leans into a consistent mood of bleak introspection, it offers a subtle shift: not necessarily toward resolution, but toward resignation or quiet acceptance. The strength indeed lies in its thematic consistency and emotional honesty. Gonzales does not shy away from exploring discomfort and vulnerability. The lyrical quality is not overly abstract, making the weight of the tracks accessible and relatable to the listener. However, while the songs blend into one another, it lacks further dynamic shifts that could cover more emotional and sonic textures. The middle section of the album lacks space for experimentation; However, its sincerity and homage to the genre is still intact. ‘Negative Tide’ is a compelling indie pop monologue of emotional unrest. Fatigued’s sophomore album doesn’t just express vulnerability but inhabits it fully. The album has an unwavering commitment to thematic consistency and emotional transparency. Gonzales lives in a world where discomfort is explored with sincerity and grit, the band shows no signs of exhaustion — if anything Fatigued’s creative tide is still rising. For an album steeped in emotional unrest, it ends with remarkable clarity. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Novocrane – Safe and Sound
Written by Rory Marshall Following the release of their first single “Imaginary Party”, Bacolod’s budding rock project Novocrane doubles down on their dream pop style with their second-ever single “Safe and Sound”. Studious listeners will remember a bare-bones version of the track being teased a year ago on their Soundcloud under the name “from there,” but now it’s polished with their aesthetic that meshes indie rock and dream pop. In contrast to their first single, “Safe and Sound” takes an introspective turn and looks inward. The song tackles the conundrum of self-isolation. Kai Sevillano, the band’s lead, gives the listener a front row seat to her thought process, presenting the quandary ruminating in her mind: While one can find refuge in being alone, the suffocating demand for human connection is ever-present. The songwriting adds a layer of candidness to the words that is evocative of an anxiety-induced trail of thought and gives room to showcase her warm and intimate vocals. The vocal performance and poignant lyrics are only accentuated by the marriage of indie rock and dream pop, which is becoming a defining feature for Novocrane’s overall sound. The way the band coalesces the grungy guitar and high-attack drums with bright, glittery synths drowned in reverb creates an atmosphere of angst that will make you bob your head while you rethink your approach to relationships. In combination with Sevillano’s resonant vocal performance, it yields such a cohesive sound that it’s hard to believe that this is just their second release. “Safe and Sound,” along with their previous single “Imaginary Party,” lays a promising groundwork for the Novocrane’s growth. Their charming soundscape has once again proven to be a welcome addition to the indie scene. With this track being only their second-ever official release, fans are eager to see how they expand on this fusion of genres in future projects. Support the art and the artist:
EP REVIEW: jucu – tanging alaala
Written by Elijah P. Solo artist jucu doesn’t fake it. His latest EP, tanging alaala, plays like a memory dragged into the present—half-faded, half-reconstructed, but it doesn’t pretend to be authentic. The “distant memories” he sketches out aren’t framed through nostalgia but through the raw texture of alternative sounds. These are genres that doubled as both shelter and symptom during the post-pandemic ennui: post-punk, shoegaze, indie-folk, and other guitar-led corners of the scene. It’s a familiar palette for Gen Z’s genre-hopping musicians—the ones who aren’t afraid to twist the template and upload the results straight to the void (for this case, his expansive discography on his Soundcloud account). tanging alaala reads like a dare. It’s a direct translation: “only memory.” Obvious? Sure. But it works because jucu doesn’t try to cloak honesty in metaphor. The name is a low-hanging fruit, but sometimes, that’s where the sweetness is. From the opening tracks, “Insomnia” and “Salubong ng Ating Mata,” jucu shoves expectations aside; Drum machines sprint, and the acoustic riffs snap into reverb-heavy guitar washes. The production jolts, but it holds together. “Cookies and Cream,” the EP’s centerpiece, sprawls out at six minutes—a dangerous length for a young artist worth their salt in sticking to one sound—but jucu makes it land. The track meanders through hazy shoegaze into a kind of misted-over noise rock, his vocals ghostly, but it so happens to stay grounded throughout the entire thing. By the time “our love has faded away” hits, the emotional terrain feels more regional than imported, it is transformed into post-punk grown from local soil instead of borrowed from across the ponds of the revivalists of the North Americas (think Beat Happening, Surf Curse or even Voxtrot) or even the cloudy skies of the United Kingdom (think Cleaners from Venus, Joy Division or Young Marble Giants). No, tanging alaala doesn’t transcend genre—it doesn’t try to. And maybe that’s its biggest strength. jucu knows the blueprint and doesn’t flinch. He stays inside the frame but paints it with a sense of clarity most genre experimenters tend to blur. The textures, the pacing, the commitment to the mood: it’s all consistent. Maybe too consistent, whereas the conventions might act as a detriment if ever they choose to lessen the experimentation and continue to rely on these conventions heavily. There are moments in this EP that beg for rupture or surprise, but jucu plays it straight, showing that sometimes the best way to make a statement is to simply do the thing well. It’s not anything new, per se, but rather a refinement of the sound. There’s something real forming here—maybe even something worth sticking around for. tanging alaala diamond in the rough waiting to be discovered. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: