Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Marikina’s up-and-coming pop artist SHANNi decides to elevate the groove in her latest single. In “SSS (stuck song),” her soft Manila sound explores a funky city-pop environment, a dreamy but exuberant track that tackles the narrative of a push-pull dynamic in a relationship. “SSS (stuck song)” is a stark contrast from the past three singles in the area of her sound elements. The lush texture, infectious guitar, boogie-worthy synth, and piano layers revisit the era of retro-fueled rhythms. It is irresistibly catchy, pulling the listener into a repetitive whirl, much like the endless loop of a vinyl, right from the first listen. “SSS (stuck song)” and its lyrical construction does not stray away from her previous releases; Instead, the production takes the spotlight. While her ‘70s-esque torch ballad inspirations led her to venture into nostalgia-driven hits, it does not reinvent the homage it is leaning on. It lacks the innovative approach to the funk-rock and city-pop genre. Although SHANNi did not opt to introduce something fresh in the soundscape of the aforementioned genre, her ability to widen her palette may be a positive sign. SHANNi’s talent and skill are undeniable when she puts out replayable jams like “SSS (stuck song)” as she continues to explore her artistic facade. If she consistently maintains this momentum, she’s likely to produce more bangers that stick like gum, replaying over and over like this one. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
Author: TFL
TRACK REVIEW: Paprikka – Itataya
Written by JK Caray Starting out by covering beloved City pop tracks, Manila-based singer-songwriter Paprikka releases her debut track “Itataya” as the next step to the career she’s been building. In a burst of creative inspiration, Paprikka decides to gamble to make it big—and sure enough, she hits it on her first try. From the get-go, Paprikka’s determined to make the city pop genre her own. Belting in straight Filipino, she channels that ‘kikay’ attitude of the Manila sound—think the whimsical, carefree fun in Rachel Alejandro’s Mr. Kupido and you get the gist. Her performance on the track playfully tethers between a cheerful schoolgirl on a first date and yearning alongside a high school crush. It’s warm and fuzzy, charming, and corny yet you giggle every time the memory crosses your mind. Overall, “Itataya” shows a lot of promise for Paprikka’s career, signifying she has an ear for producing memorable hits. At times, however, it becomes too similar to the whistles of the Japanese City pop tune, down to its clichéd bass groove and bells. As common as this pitfall may be for anyone starting in the genre, there’s no doubt that she’ll cultivate her style along the way if she truly wants to reinvent the genre. In the meantime, “Itataya” is a gamble worth taking if it leads to being a one-of-a-kind pop star like Paprikka. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: KAIA – Tanga
Written By Lex Celera Leading up to its music video release, KAIA released a number of one-minute “concept films” on their social media accounts, featuring each member depicting potentially romantic moments gone awry. And while the promotional videos are just long enough to capture the feeling, KAIA’s “Tanga” unpacks this romantic type of love with nuance without losing the sheen of its pop structure. Within the highly engineered lens of pop is a fantastical but relatable world built through image and sound, cultivated during and in between music releases, “Tanga” checks all the boxes of what is serviceable and “radio-friendly.” The single is catchy, it has earworm-worthy chorus and showcases upbeat rhythms. For KAIA, “Tanga” is a boon to its music catalog, sitting pretty beside “Walang Biruan.” While the latter pushed KAIA sonically, “Tanga” remains decisive in fine-tuning their sound. Zack Tabudlo’s mastery of examining expressions and receptions of love and putting them into words without sounding preachy leads to a satisfying pop track. More than lyrics, the harmonies are satisfyingly layered and the adlibs are discreet but playful. It’s safe to assume that these additions to KAIA’s repertoire are a result of close collaboration with the more experienced Tabudlo. What’s most compelling in “Tanga” is the levity created between the twee lightheartedness of its melodies and the abject sadness presented by its lyrics. Why do we carry on with unrequited love or romance beyond red flags? In “Tanga,” anger at the act and love for the other can happen at the same time. These themes are explored but never really go anywhere. And that’s fine. What matters for KAIA is one-minute moments and three-minute odes to these moments, portraying a feeling that can be sustained upon multiple listens. KAIA’s charm shines bright in “Tanga,” and while admittedly safer than their past releases, forms a full-bodied discography thanks to its well-considered lyricism and composition. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: SOS – It Was A Moment
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol Starting off your band’s much-awaited sophomore album with lines like “I wrote some lyrics but it’s ten years later / I’m always worried that I’m past my prime” is a ballsy move when it’s been eight years since your first. Even more so when you’ve added these lines to a song you’ve been playing for more than a decade. A close up of the artwork for 2017’s Whatever That Was flickers on an old TV in a sunlit living room, as though that period in the band’s career were glory days they can only reminisce about. You could be forgiven for thinking SOS is staging a farewell, but this is the façade of nostalgia and reflection they have formed over their brand new album It Was A Moment, and that includes the opening track “Amore”, which finally saw completion after being a long-beloved live number by fans of the band. One listen and you can see why people have been clamoring for this for years: an energetic jangle bounces off from everyone in the band, amping things up with a rousing chorus that just makes you want to dance. All of that is very much intact here in the definitive version of “Amore,” except the uptight, aggressive iteration once heard at Route 196 and beyond is nowhere to be seen. Roberto Seña, along with fellow guitarist Andrew Panopio, has seemingly traded his fuzzbox for cleaner tones, has given the song a carefree environment to live in, and not only did the two of them make space for an acoustic guitar, apparently, there’s a synthesizer now? Outside of its nostalgia-tinged cover art, there’s hardly a trace of the band’s distant past in It Was A Moment. For the last eight years, many things have happened within the SOS camp. They did side projects outside the realm of rock n’ roll. They opened a recording studio above the sandy shores of Elyu. They even signed a brand new record deal, on James Reid’s Careless Music label, of all places. Somewhere in the middle of it all, after more than a decade of playing the same old song, they finally decided to fuck with the formula. 2020’s The Other Side saw SOS dabble with disco beats, synth layers, and a softer approach to their music. While a cynic can dismiss the EP as a mere experiment at a time where their guitar-based alt-rock would’ve felt out of place, it was otherwise a necessary shakeup in their musical palette. And now, with the addition of keyboardist Ram Alonzo into the lineup, SOS has turned the cozy, colorful landscape of The Other Side from a brief excursion to the first phase of an artistic evolution. You can hear them take the next few steps into this path on songs like “Roses”, a respectable synthwave track about trying not to ruin a new love affair, and “I’m Kidding,” an anthemic exercise in irony with a sing-along chorus about bottling yourself up and never saying what you really feel. After these two songs is the pensive elegy to lost youth that is “It’s History”, which also affirms you, the listener, that in spite of your failures, all of that is in the past and that you’re more than just your shortcomings. While these three songs showcase Seña’s eloquent way with words and imagery, musically, something is amiss. Despite superb performances by the band, held together by Anjo Silvoza’s melodic bass lines and drummer King Puentespina’s steady but dynamic drumming, these are moments in which SOS seem like they aren’t willing to change up their sound much. They feel more like a compromise between slightly less jagged guitars and marginally pop keys, ultimately stalling the record after the shot of adrenaline that is “Amore”. Where SOS really shines in this record is when they fully commit to challenging their artistic identity. A hi-hat-heavy drum machine and a floaty synth line welcome listeners to the smooth R&B number “French Exit”. Seña sounds so seductive and self-assured as he sings about a casual love affair and how he’ll leave a lover before they even know it, a far cry from the jittery expressions of 2017’s “Favoritism”. Meanwhile, on “Money,” a rigid but groovy electro-funk beat coexists with frustrations toward someone else’s attitude towards money, especially when Seña talks about the frustrations of being a musician in today’s economy. While the song is sullied a bit by his overzealous vocals, it offers an otherwise noteworthy insight on being a struggling artist today. These two songs highlight SOS’ potential in holding their own across other genres, reaping the rewards of their expeditions outside the band’s walls. The back half of It Was A Moment, then, is further proof of how far SOS can break the lyrical and sonic barriers that have been placed against them. For one, “Please Lang” and “Seryoso,” the band’s first Filipino songs, show Seña successfully making his ramblings shine in our own language, his acerbic tongue more potent than ever as the Taglish words help him convey the strongest emotions in the simplest of words. Meanwhile, the remaining three songs give us a vision of what a fully-electronic SOS could sound like. Two of these, “Yumi & The Apocalypse” and “Love Kept Us Warm,” show two sides of a doomed relationship: wistful hopelessness faces off against cautious optimism in an atmosphere of sparkling keys, unrelenting drum patterns, irresistible chord progressions, and even a fadeout that’s delightfully-’80s. The title track that closes the album sees the band complete their transformation from guitar heroes to electro-pop stars through a moody number on the end of a relationship that should’ve been taken seriously. Regret permeates the song’s sparse instrumentation that recreates the lightheaded feeling of being alone with one too many drinks, the bridge even introducing chopped-up vocal samples straight out of mid-2010s Tumblr. However, it feels as though there’s more to this than meets the eye, with all the talk about phases and the references
ALBUM REVIEW: Linger Escape – We All End In The Same Place
Written by Faye Allego At midnight, gasping for air, wondering where life will take on, emptiness appears in a dreamlike sequence. It’s peculiar, it’s suffocating, but it has always been familiar, like the hand of a lover who swore to hold on tight when diving deep into the trenches. Well, Linger Escape holds a requiem for that feeling in their debut album, We All End In The Same Place. In the world of nu-gaze, it’s easy to put on a respirator to filter out the fumes of repetitiveness found in shoegaze and other genres that fall under that umbrella; that repetitiveness being the same knobs of emotion being turned on the guitar pedal, the longing, the distortion, the buzzing, the fizzling, the static, the reverb, all of it. Perhaps, things don’t have to sound unique to be good, or the very essence of repetitiveness is not inherently bad, and that is where Linger Escape proves that those fumes aren’t toxic at all: In “Nothing”, the 2000s Nu-metal riff seeps in and blends with the honesty found in the lyrics. Instead of pairing the growling vocals with a sensual approach, the low-frequency phone call effect used in the primary vocals instead creates a dichotomy of past versus present, or, bringing emphasis to the lyrics “still digging for the bones, of what once was, of what has been”. Their most popular track, “Whisper”, thrusts a knee-jerk response to the listener prompted by the change in atmosphere. The song takes you to outer space where everything is uncertain, and all there is left is to ponder, once the riff glides into climax, the song ends as if the listener is taken through a metaphysical spiral, circling through the axis of experiences, memories, and so on. We All End In The Same Place is an 8-track album where the first half seems as though the band is hurriedly yet slowly establishing their true voice, presenting their sonic capabilities through varied quirks and sequences in the guitar distortion and the heavier percussion. As the latter half of the album proceeds after the 5th track, Linger Escape progresses and establishes that unflinchingly honest voice and sound. In “Gone”, the longest track on the record, the band unleashes the restraint of complex emotions that are evident in “Kin” and “Vermin”. Unfolding into a slow yet cathartic release with the soft yet stern meddles of the drums and the guitar as raw as the vocals, the listener is almost compelled to feel doom that the song will eventually come to an end. Will they be in the same place as they were before? Only time and the act of submersion into nostalgia can tell. As the album ends with “Bloom”, Linger Escape’s evolution is palpable. A sense of finality hits, and everything makes sense: the very sequence of before, during, and after. Shoutout to all the Life Is Strange fans out there. This is Max Caufield as an album. Overall, this album paves the way for the Bicol Shoegaze scene. It isn’t just a debut album; it’s a statement of intent. The four-piece doesn’t shy away from merging different sounds into one nostalgia-core mood board, and it doesn’t try to reinvent the genre either– they hold a mirror, albeit smudged and fogged, and let the listener look into its depths and take a deep, long breath. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: &ND – quarters
Written by Anika Maculangan Like specks of sunlight huddled in one dark corner, “quarters” read like that old photo booth picture, that long-lost receipt, or that tattered candy wrapper at the bottom of your pocket. The tracks, if anything, feel homesick for another universe. Infused with ethereal accents and soft imprints of shoegaze, certain tracks, especially “2nd room”, a lengthy 7-minute song, are perfect for spacing out in the middle of Maginhawa, as a flurry of pollution fills the lungs with something ambivalent. Despite its longevity, through drifting and spacey lyric composition, the song seems to defy all odds of time. This seems to be the case for &ND, even with other tracks like the remastered version of “Best of Luck” which boasts a duration of 5 minutes, which somehow, one way or another, manages to distort our concept of how long a moment lasts. It seems like making something fulfilling amongst a sea of boredom, like when you’re in your living room sofa, and you turn the TV on to satiate the room with sound, just to reckon with the emptiness. Quarters is meant for those who were aficionados to the likes of Ourselves the Elves, amidst the height of Armi Millare, when everything circumvented within the seams of moonstruck yet hard-boiled indie ballads. Blurry images layered over thick pastures of grain, the EP recovers what was lost prior to the pandemic — that hypermnesia for hopecore edits and patch tattoos, riddled with a plethora of late nights by the fluorescent glow of Angel’s Burger. The EP, finely drawn in its faded outfit, ceases to ever decline when it comes to the long-standing culture of diaries and sundried flowers plastered against cigarette butts. Therefore, ultimately, makes the statement that while we are moving forward, we are still, at the end of the day, figments of an old cast, begging to break loose. It goes without saying that a throwback like quarters, gives a nod to ‘those days’ of once being a student and stocking up on caffeine, all the while tracing back one’s roots amongst the tangled cords of an earphone. More fluid in their approach to genre, this indefinite notion provides the ability to delve into other sonic characters in the future. “quarters”, unlike other projects loosely borrowed from shoegaze, touches on the genre lightly, permitting more capacity for revisiting its tonalities within their own terms — these terms that immerse its toes into dream pop, bringing more uplifting, effervescent qualities into their sound. The EP is a stand-in for sensations of a lost memory, as it sings “If I were old, old to stay/I would love to lay and just wait”, exemplifying what it means to have a doubled intuition for recollection toward an echo, acting as a souvenir to what led us here. “quarters,” in its stillness, flows with reverb and resonance that can only match the waves, one sweep lesser of a tide. &ND feels like a reactionary project to the post-Megumi Acorda generation, amplifying that accent of unmistakable transcendence. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: Bambu – If You See Someone Stealing Food… No, You Didn’t.
Written by Anika Maculangan One hard-hitting line after the other, Bambu’s words as a rap artist travel oceans just to make it into our eardrums. Timely, relevant, and empowering, If You See Someone Stealing Food…No, You Didn’t is a new release from the LA-based rapper that feels like just what we need right now more than ever. In the album, DePistola tackles issues like workers’ rights, the genocide in Gaza, corruption, and police brutality. He approaches these themes in a way that is direct, precise, and straightforward. He doesn’t sugarcoat his delivery, yet prioritizes the impact that it has to offer. Despite this emphasis, the tracks in this album, notably Steal For A Meal and PI State of Mind II have an immense sense of flow and rhythm. The beats across the tracks are potent, well-measured, and powerful, which better amplify DePistola’s fervent utilizations of tempo and melody. Despite lyrics not being available yet online, upon writing this review, there wasn’t much of a hassle deciphering the words because Bambu articulates each and every one of his messages so legibly throughout this entire album — both in form and content. DePistola raps from the heart of the Filipino-American community, highlighting what it means to have pride in one’s identity, despite geographic barriers. DePistola strengthens his listeners, which at its core, includes the youth in order to encourage them to continue to fight for human rights and social justice later along in the future. Inspiring, thought-provoking, and insightful, the content of DePistola’s most recent album brings light onto societal truths, that urge to be addressed. This exactly is what DePistola provides — a voice for those who are silenced. Through the medium of an album, he makes these stances firmly conveyed, and ensures that it’s accessible to his audience. Accompanied by various tonalities, like for instance, air instruments, even the interludes mixed into the rest of the songs evoke a kind of tough heartiness. It’s clear that DePistola doesn’t leave any empty spaces in his compositions, most, if not all of them, whole with soul and spirit. You can easily tell that he is passionate about his craft, in connection to the things that he stands for. With support from rap movements like the FlipTop community alongside the San Francisco bay area scene, artists like Bambu keep the Filipino perspective alive within this realm. He’s a promise that even abroad, Filipinos can make a name for themselves — despite all the hurdles and challenges that come along their way. DePistola speaks for those who have worked their way up to success, making something out of the value that is found in their personal experiences. Listening to this album, it’s hard not to be so attentive to the lyrics — ultimately, it’s the greatest asset of the entire project. The musicality of the album is just what you would expect from Bambu; skilled and masterful. But what shines the most is the weight that the album carries. It’s a perfect reflection of today’s faced struggles. And no, it does not mourn them, but rather, looks for solutions. However, what Bambu first does is open a discussion about them. This album is if anything, a necessity in today’s day and age. Perhaps DePistola thought it to be essential. Many rappers, local and international, can learn from Bambu’s integration of social issues into his music. He demonstrates that rap music can be used as a tool for advocacy during times of collective hardship. Music like Bambu’s unites people to help and uplift one another. It makes us realize what can be done, and how. It asks questions like “Why is this happening?” and makes the sound we are hearing more than just mere music but rather, a call for action. For that, we thank DePistola. While some tracks felt slightly out-of-place, like Tommy’s Burgers and Crazy Eyes, the album as a complete project doesn’t miss any points. Although others might find some patterns in instrumentality repetitive, one could also presume them to be intentional. Yes, these stories do need to be vocalized over and over again, as they should be until it’s brought us to acknowledge the problems that plague the world with oppression. In this album, DePistol says behind his messaging, that he won’t stop until those being exploited are given justice and recognized for their right to equity. If You See Someone Stealing Food…No, You Didn’t takes what is already there, and introduces it to a broader audience through the universal language of music. Bar after bar, Bambu proves to us that a compact summarization of what is happening currently can be put into words within the measure of 1-3 minute songs. In no way does it reduce these dialogues, but turns up the volume, for them to be reinforced on a more heightened, revolutionary scale. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Paper Satellites, BABYBLUE – Onodera
Written by Lex Celera Since their last project, Manila Meltdown in 2022, Paper Satellites has grown to a four-piece, with vocalist Jyle Macalintal, drummer Aaron Escueta, and bassist Paulo Carpio joined by Martin Cruz on the guitars and synths. Onodera, their newest release, continues their constant experimentation by taking a step further and recruiting another collaborator, producer BABYBLUE. Onodera is an impressive result of two collaborators putting their best foot forward and blending both the sounds that they have been known for to create something new and worthwhile. Listening to the album from beginning to finish is a tranquil experience that is not bereft of any exciting turns. “Onodera” is a mosaic of rhythmic pirouettes – a worthy prelude to what is to come in the rest of the EP. There is an addicting quality in how the song constructs itself with sound elements that swell and evaporate as it goes on. “Alipin” follows up with a polished dance-rock record that ends in undulating synths. Despite feeling like a mishmash of different styles, both parts are equally enjoyable. Released in February 2024, ahead of the rest of the EP, “Dapithapon” is an easy-listening record with a catchy tune that’s perfect for afternoon drives. “Dama” signals an emotional downturn without putting on the brakes, driven by lyrics that have enough oomph to be echoed into an anthem – a good swing that would make the EP’s closer, “Paggising,” all the more worthwhile. “Paggising” fully embraces the club-readiness of the whole EP with its synth-forward rhythms and floating vocals. In that regard, it reads like recent Up Dharma Down records. The likeness to electronic music is emboldened by how patient “Paggising” and the whole of Onodera in terms of building itself up into natural, enjoyable melodic arcs. The excitement never falters even when you can imagine the song ending sooner. Whether intended by its creators or not, I find myself thinking of the early 2010s in this record. There’s a little bit of Two Door Cinema Club, a little bit of Tycho’s Dive. You know how during those days you’d either listen to Skrillex or Boards Of Canada? Listeners of both will cling to this record like glue. It’s visceral but tranquil, and ultimately a well-bodied source of bops that won’t be out of place on either the dancefloor or a quiet headphone experience. Thankfully, the whole EP’s proximity to that era never reaches stomp-clap-hey status. For all of the EP’s achievements for the band – their first EP fully in Filipino and their first collaborative EP, – Onodera will be remembered for how it finds the sweet spot among both artists’ comfort zones, and how easy they make it feel. It shows that it pays off to be confident in exploring new sonic territories, despite the gestalt sadness in its lyrics. It would not be a surprise if Paper Satellites moved on to a different sound in the future, but should they choose to lean toward the direction of Onodera, I’d be the first to say that they would not be wearing out their welcome. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Fragile – Deep Enough
In recent years, we’ve noticed screamo music making a comeback amongst younger generations. Now, it’s referred to as ‘skramz’, which claims to be a contemporary approach to the classic genre. Do a basic search on ‘skramz’ and you’ll probably stumble upon bands like Catalyst…, Knumears, and Vs Self. But the catch is, most of them are from the U.S., whether the rural midwest or some suburbia out of the west coast. This makes their music often reflect Western imagery — something that is hard to relate to and resonate with if you didn’t grow up in America. Especially since most of their songs circulate within the themes of one’s teenage years. Although, thankfully, we have bands like Fragile now, to make skramz more applicable to our locality. There’s no denying that there’s some sense of contentment in finally having a skramz band, that is from the Philippines, and as a matter of fact, from Cavite. Skramz no longer feels like such a distant genre, hanging from the fringes of Western culture. It is now also something that we, as Filipinos, can define for ourselves, in our own version of it, independent from its Western counterpart. The track deep enough is angsty, melancholic, and with guttural vocals. It cuts through the senses like a sharp knife, bellowing with downtrodden lyrics. It provides that satisfying levity that we often feel, from listening to skramz, as if transcending towards heaven, and maybe even hell. The instrumentals hold a feel for nostalgia and sentimentality, which paired with harsh vocals, end up with great contrast and texture. However, the overall ‘recipe’ of the song still reflects a bit of what we hear in bands like Algae Bloom, Versera, and seahorsechoke. While there’s still some room for improvement, one could place priority on originality. Perhaps exploring themes and subjects within their ideas that are not so generic upon their temperament of what’s ‘angsty.’ Maybe something more rooted to the Filipino experience of the coming-of-age. Less on the dread, and more on the context. Asking questions like what is our (Filipinos) account on what torments us? And how can we convey such a niche experience through musicality? Although to add onto that, they’re still a relatively new band, and it always takes time to develop one’s unique sound. With this, comes an opportunity for them to establish a skramz sound that is purely authentic and genuine to the local scene. Despite it being quite common for skramz bands to fall into the trap of repeating a pattern of redundancy out of their own peers’ music, Fragile seems to be a capable band in breaking that frequent occurrence. Hopefully when they do, it won’t be a blueprint to what Western bands have already come up with. For one, they already produce more spirited, vigorous instrumentals that, in all honesty, is difficult to find in this day and age’s gloom-for-doom type of skramz. Despite clearly withholding aesthetics that are influenced by industrialism and perhaps even slightly nihilist, the overall sound of the band does not sound ‘dead’ and in fact livelier than ever. But maybe that’s the hope we Filipinos have, speaking for itself – always looking for the light at the end of the tunnel. Basically, free of mimicry and replication, without the inclination to imitate earlier skramz bands. Hence, there’s a lot of pressure for a band like Fragile, who is bringing a fresh genre into the community. Yes, screamo has been in the country for years, but skramz is an entirely new variety of it, and its presence is still pristine to the country. Certainly a big responsibility, one can place their bets that as they discover more of their sound, they’ll make a distinct name for Filipino skramz. Support the art & the artist:
EP Review: LU – Not Fragile, Just Tired
Written by Aly Maaño As 2024 came to a close, some of us couldn’t help but be in a somber mood. Aside from the festivities and family reunions, we also needed to prepare for a new transition which can often put us in a state of reflection, regret, and second-guessing. In her debut EP, Not Fragile Just Tired, 22-year-old LU sends us into a spiral of emotions on the precipice of a new year. Growing up in Aurora province, LU is no stranger to seeing gigantic sea waves off Baler’s coast, but when the tides of melancholy hit, surfing through the turbulence may not be an option. Sometimes, the waves roll in on you, each as strong and bold as the last. The EP’s opening track, BLAME IT ON THE BEER, sets a downcast tone, with its introspective lyrics, distorted riffs, and powerful guitar breakdowns fusing into a melodic, post-rock treat which is highlighted by the cacophony of aggressive guitars and LU’s haunting vocals towards the bridge. Lyrically, the same level of anguish is felt in LIVE FOR WHAT but it possesses more pop-rock sensibilities due to its consistent mellow and jangly sound, serving as a momentary crash in preparation for the next track. The great wave of desolation peaks at LINES, a song featuring Yusilo. In this track, LU finds herself in a tornadic waterspout of her own emotions, clashing with Yusilo’s heavier guitar textures and progressive rhythms. At this breaking point, LU further showcases her expressive vocal prowess with Calvin Borja, Yusilo’s frontman, impressing us with his vocal dynamic and range. As if all hope is lost, the track abruptly ends after the outro, signaling the end of the storm. While the first three tracks were all guitar-heavy, the latter half of the EP features acoustic tracks like CONTROL and KINDER. The soft plucking of guitars along with LU’s hushed voice evokes the quiet, calm, and desolate aftermath of the first act. The mood picks up again at ASTERISK, ushering upbeat drum patterns and grungy guitars. But this hopeful undertone doesn’t last for long. As if to harness the sea’s agony, the last track transitions mid-song to a subdued atmosphere with the lyrics building up to LU’s pleading screams, “I wanna give her the world,” which continues like a prayer to whoever may listen. LU’s first EP is brimming with potential. Their evocative vocals and contemplative lyricism are far from being one-dimensional and the fresh elements in her sound don’t fall off the bar either. LU sings about the transient nature of emotions much like the quavering sea, with its waves present and passing. Not Fragile Just Tired represents the rising and ebbing tides and each track is a wave-sound bearing a satisfying symphony. Support the art & the artist: