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:
Author: TFL
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:
The Flying Lugaw presents: THE 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢 𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰
2024 was the year where Filipino musicians and artists valued the full-length release. There are bands that shot for the moon right away by releasing an album with 12 songs while others released a mixtape like it was 2013 all over again. Streaming platforms like Bandcamp and Soundcloud are important in searching for those who wish to push the envelope in releasing new music. There are no limitations when it comes to releasing an album; you can create a “season” of your own while another up-and-coming local act is cooking something up behind the scenes. Music deserves to be heard in the form of an album (or at the very least releases that have more than 3-4 songs) The Flying Lugaw crew would like to make a wish that in the year 2025, or any year for that matter, more albums, EPs, Mixtapes or any other release with a collection of songs would be pushed more for artists, by artists. 30. Pat’s Soundhouse – Khaen Solo Vol. 1 (anika) Heavy on instrumentation, this one’s for long car rides. Maybe when you’re stuck in traffic or driving through the freeway. Poignant, with a touch of elegance, the sound of the khaen is brimming with liveliness as if embodying the spirit of a human within its chords. Encapsulating the aura of what it feels like to stargaze, Khaen Solo is rich with vastness in tone. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/2webH6kaLadcVoHd6uBEET?si=HJaFOd1-S_SNL6x2qq-D1w 29. To love everything ever again – Nineveh (aly) Emotional, vulnerable, brooding yet hopeful. In his first EP, “To Love Everything Ever Again,” Janpol Estrella, who goes by the moniker Nineveh, bares his soul by intricately weaving gut-wrenching lyricism with glitchy synthesizers, noisy distortions, playful drum beats, and chamber pop elements to uniquely capture an emotion and to tell a story. Referencing biblical characters and verses throughout the EP, Nineveh questions his relationship with his faith as he boldly shares his internal struggles, even if his voice shakes. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/1ZLfneo1HaEkbv4g7a57Gn?si=cdb26387ac754144 28. Soldados kan Tios – Walang Titulo (nikolai) More than a post-metal sludge release, ‘Walang Titulo’ is a protest. With heavy contributions from renowned artist and activist Alex Pinpin, this newly formed hardcore band decries in the album the plight of farmers whose lands are taken by the elite class. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/046CsHH1cBlsg411TmmRgF?si=668f301ae3bc4dbe 27. Tydings-Mcduffie – s/t (louis) Ever imagine a period piece coming back as a message to the present times? Tydings-Mcduffie takes you on the highs and lows of the Philippine Commonwealth Era. Amidst the brief ride, the tides of their self-titled record zoom into its protagonists and all they have to dream, experience, and sacrifice – paired with smooth jazz compositions that give you a tune to remember. Tydings-Mcduffie provides a penchant for what the past believed in: an optimism that persists beyond melancholia. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/35vNlk6c2W6c3SXPS8ka1W?si=11d57ae092e04085 26. Haley Heynderickx – Seed of a Seed (anika) Folkish and devoted to the nature of Oregon, Seed of a Seed projects the gentleness of trees, flowers, and insects when brought into a tender symphony. Like ripples on a river, doused with rainwater, Seed of a Seed introduces an organic approach to composition. Bringing in Heynderickx’s ability to produce poetic lyricism, she enkindles the profuse vibrance that one can find in mundanity. Surrounded by lush imagery, the musicality speaks for itself when it wants to convey that sense of fullness. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/5WjjIOn40MG9kLfaeHBS5a?si=03125d230e504161 25. PRY – Resignation Letter (jax) Pry is aggressive and unapologetic in their female rage, in their sophomore album RESIGNATION LETTER, which slices through indie rock, alternative, punk, and noise rock with emotional edge. The constant surveillance and judgment for their non-conformity to established concepts of femininity and identity are anathema to the band. Unlike their debut “The Party’s Over,” which leaned heavily on riot grrrl and cathartic screaming, their new sound now explores more lilting rhythms, slower tempos, and stickier textures. This evolution is a goodbye letter to their anguish like a lump on their throats, but still, fitting in their principle of being punk. LINK: https://prymusicph.bandcamp.com/album/resignation-letter 24. Switchbitch – Silang (jk) switchbitch’s bombastic debut release sets the stage aflame as they solidify themselves as Filipino Conscious Rap heroines. Women rapping about peasant and working-class advocacies sounds exactly as badass as it looks on paper, Silang is just another way of getting their points across. Heavily equipped with sardonically blunt quips and fast code-switching, the lyricism is wildly compelling at riling people up and igniting the simmering anger we already feel. It evokes inspiration and anger—one out of frustration and one out of hope, all in the sense of creating a better nation. From the current state of affairs in the Philippines, it seems that this isn’t the last we’ll hear from them. They said it best in their outro, “Ako at sila ang magtutuloy ng pagpunla sa pag-asa hanggang sa makamtan natin ang tagumpay.”; as long as there is injustice, there will always be a switchbitch spitting bars on the oppressor’s face. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/3TfSuIKsQfT6R1LFJ1f6FS?si=155c9dca615a4302 23. Brickcity – We the Forgettables (nikolai) Kinetic energy and deep angst envelope the room in Brickcity’s ‘We the Forgettables’. For 25 minutes, you are treated to pure skramz goodness with not a moment to rest besides ‘Pretend’. A must-listen if you’re into bands like TNG. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/6wBzB53uUrFW32BtxSpwnp?si=f263574b8ce94259 22. vice* – syzygy (louis) ‘syzygy’ is a notebook scribbled with every idea that vice* can execute with the hand of a careful adept. An EP that crosshatches glitch pop illustrations with emo-pop doodles notably aware of his influences, yet using that knowledge to establish his style within. What results is a melting pot of bassooning beats; fractious guitars; and bending vocal stirs that tie up into prismatic melodies. All chaotic pieces, linked into one mesmerizing frame. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/3wthcVGeUFteuz3gNZnPDC?si=0b713105c79f4788 21. sci fye – who knows? (jk) Something needs to be said about the beauty in mundanity. As an open hate/love letter to the buzzing existentialist cityscapes of Manila, who knows? captures its worldly essence to a tee—but not without unwittingly writing an ode to its intricacies. From the sweltering afternoon
The Flying Lugaw presents: THE 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰
The year was met with an overwhelming amount of new artists releasing amazing tracks everyday. 24/7 we are experiencing another golden age of local music from Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao. We have surf rock riding the waves in the lo-fi scenes, electronic music merging with the alternative and grunge community, and hip-hop greatly influencing pop music for the better. It’s that time of the year to celebrate the greatness that is the Filipino Music scene, both from the mainstream and the alternative. These are the songs that have caught our attention and hopefully they get to catch yours. Hear everything from January to December 2024. 40. r0xxy – Fashion Killa (jk) Clocking in at about a minute and a half, “FASHiONKiLLA” waits no time in grabbing your attention and stringing you along for a little ride. Alongside ethereal and lush beats, the character r0xxy portrays here is swag, in all sense of the word—striking as the type of guy walking inside a grocery store in a full-on silver chrome hearts drip. He knows he is cool, he makes sure you understand that. And then, in between the busy dairy and meat produce section, he’s gone just as quickly as he arrived, leaving you interested and asking for more. Link: https://soundcloud.com/r0xxstvr/fashionkilla-prod-fuctjin 39. Polkadots – unstuck (aly) Straight from the Bay Area, Polkadot is back with another tweemo soundtrack befitting the precipice of a new year. Four years after releasing their debut album “Feeling Okay,” they teased their sophomore album “…to be crushed” with a track called “Unstuck” following their lead single “Pulling Threads”. Unlike the songs in their first album, “Unstuck” banks heavier on the angsty, emo sound with heavier guitar riffs, fuzzy distortions, and profoundly reflective lyricism from Daney Espiritu. The track is vulnerable and honest to boot, with poignant melodies and nuanced vocals that aren’t meant to get easily “Unstuck” in your head. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVSipia8gUI 38. Arkyalina – readmymind (elijah) “readmymind” is a diary entry written in digital ink. You get flourishes of guitar, Tavin Villanueva’s frustrations translated in the ether, and earnestness addressed via audio call. The track is 2-step crossed over with shoegaze influences, wandering and glitching into the world of Arkyalina’s mind palace. We just so happen to live with it. Link: https://open.spotify.com/album/5hNFl261HfMy1ZB7dvDus3?si=1a7e35bec89a4f0e 37. A piloto – in light (anika) Picture this: you’re a stem major, who’s truly an art student at heart, but the world keeps pitting against your favor. In light calls for poetry written on converse, the guidebook to surviving your early 20s when they tell you to cut your overgrown hair. If an ‘angel lost its wings’, A piloto reignites the ability to fly. Fuzzy with reverb and overdrive, “in light” beckons to the feeling of burning the midnight oil at Mow’s, all the while wishing you didn’t have to go home. Think stickers on a Stratocaster, timeworn. Link: https://soundcloud.com/user-877377412/in-light 36. Uncertain specimen – I knew you then I knew you now (anika) Primarily a soundcloud-based artist, “I knew you then I knew you now” is a synthwave project at best. Uncertain specimen, clearly functions within a tiny keyboard, and that’s where a lot of its DIY aura comes from. Lots of bells ring in this track, as if a ringtone you would have picked up from an old Nokia. Link: https://soundcloud.com/uncertain-specimen/i-knew-you-then-i-know-you-now 35. Lomboys – Spartan (elijah) Rhythmic chants are heard across the streets of Palangoy, Binangonan, Rizal Province. “AHU! AHU!” were made clear through small alleyways and eskinitas, but we’re not talking about actual Spartans charging towards an army. These are real life gangs arriving on the street like it’s a normal Sunday afternoon. “Spartan” by Lomboys could either be the equivalent of The Imperial March in boom bap form or the natural progression of Rizal’s storied rap history re-emerging into the scene. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUnszWGjRlM 34. YiYi – Jasper Jeans (jk) Among the standout trends of the year, it seems that a cultural shift has gone towards making “cringe” and “heartfelt” art once again. Despite being overly simplistic and soppy, “Jasper Jeans” allows us to view it as an edge. Showcasing how a little goes a long way, the track wears its emotions on its sleeves for all of us to see and it’s nothing short of endearing. For YiYi, sentimentality is a bullet that pierces through all. Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/2EfCPxDimVgTqzATke3dSp?si=752bcf0652c945bd 33. Felip – envy (elijah) Felip belts out a remark that could win a breathing contest, but this isn’t just a casual braggadocio. He’s an equestrian reaching a higher bar for the sole purpose of being the dark horse of his own league. SB19’s Felip balances elegance, opium-pilled juvenile astonishment and a brash presence that’s far away from his boy group image in “envy”. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zq2l7PJJFMI 32. Shanni – Kdrama (anika) In a world of ‘fandoms’ and whatnot, it’s easy to daydream your idealized version of a story. “Kdrama” is a track that extends those feelings toward longing, yearning, and wishing for a happy ending where everything falls into place. Endearing and melodious, Kdrama sets the tone for seeking the ethereal within reality. That experience of binging on a Kdrama with someone, one episode to the next, as the rest of the world fades into a standstill. Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/7xOdR15gtoAH1B4KYkcDqR?si=08533594885049c4 31. Cherry Society – Recluse (jk) If there was one song that Kat Stratford from 27 Things I Hate About You played after her iconic poem scene, it would definitely be Cherry Society’s “Recluse”. This is the main appeal of the track; the deliciously lively instrumentals and feminine angst dialed up to 11 create the perfect backdrop to having your weekly “nobody likes me” moment. Being the band that brands their music “adjacent to a 2000s teen movie soundtrack”, the quartet knows exactly what kind of music they want and is not afraid to make it. Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/2OC4bmeBYQ7Nn6GOEyMlOB?si=8b10e7521dae473f 30. dizzy.FM – mary_jane (+ku1buk0l +mr.kupido77 +peew33 +ocsiber! (prod. sandin x wintfye! x warheart) (louis) This song can only come from a vape-doused romanticism. It is the sonic equivalent of typing too much
ALBUM REVIEW: Ely Buendia – Method Adaptor
Written by Faye Allego Without a shadow of a doubt, Ely Buendia has an iconic and notably one of the most recognizable voices in OPM. His wordplay, chord progressions, and a whirlpool of psychedelia you feel after reaching the coda is top-notch during the Batang 90’s era of OPM. But now I ask myself: Is there a dark cloud of doubt in his newly released record, Method Adaptor, in the rearview? When Buendia released “Bulaklak Sa Buwan”, his lyricism shone through, continuing to create parallels and paradigms conveying themes of delusions, misconstrued mindsets, and the irony of fantasy. That being said, this body of vulnerability as a whole could constitute as a throwaway Eraserheads mixtape from the ‘ole Cutterpillow days. The lead single itself is a wonderful homage to the batang 90’s sound. It surely brings exuberance to fans who have been there during Buendia’s early rise to fame and have witnessed his impact on the OPM genre in real-time, however, like (almost) every artist who goes solo after years of being in a successful and impactful band, their past reputation precedes every lyric their future solo albums has to say. In Method Adaptor’s lead singles, you hear what Buendia feels, but do you feel it too? It’s there to sing and dance along to, but not enough to swoon over Buendia’s typical magical ingredients that make his songs linger. In multiple interviews pertaining to the release of Method Adaptor, Buendia created this album out of reflection on fame and life- and the stresses that come with it. It’s an inside look into the mind of someone who spent a long time pondering what it means to have lived a life ruled by youth, art, and irrevocable passion. In tracks like Faithful, however, it seems like the thought was there, but emotional umph was stagnant. In fact, he even communicates this precariousness in the same track: “There’s so much that I wanna say/ I just don’t know if I can say it this way” The narrator of the song is tired and in limbo, yet, the tune he plays lives on, almost never-ending. As one may know, if it’s Buendia on vocals, it’s almost guaranteed that the listener will hear an upbeat hymn that may tell any story out of the ordinary. A great example of this out-of-body experience that you feel when listening to Buendia’s voice actually comes the song titled “Shallow Breathing” from his debut solo album, “Wanted Bedspacer”. With Method Adaptor, “Tamang Hinala” is a song that exemplifies Buendia’s lyrical and instrumental devices and approaches that fuel this album. You get a repetitive yet addictive chorus as well as verses that show off stimulating cadence such as “Ang tanim ay siya ring aanihin/Guguho ang kastilyong buhangin/Madulas ang balbas parang Hudas/Ganyan lang talaga ‘pag minalas”, Every instrument seeps perfectly into the chorus without sounding overpowering or underwhelming. The appeal of tracks like “Chance Passenger” or “Deadbeat Creeper” is colorless to the point where certain verses like “And you wear your spirit well /Satisfy the clientele /Make me want to set her down” as well as vocals that are bordering on the stringy spectrum that confuse the narrative of the song. It feels like I’m reading a notes app poem- there’s nothing wrong with a notes app poem, however, translating feelings of desire into melodies is critical to transform filler songs into album staples in an album like ‘Method Adaptor’. Alternatively, if Buendia continued or even interweaved his experimental sound and velvety vocals highly executed in his previous songs, namely “Monday Mundane”, “Hotchik”, and of course, “Ligaya”, I could have understood and truly felt the thematic undertones of reliving youth, regret, grief, and desire more deeply. Overall, Ely Buendia’s distinguished and seasoned love for songwriting is definitely evergreen and everpresent, his music legacy will always be a pillar of inspiration for generations to come, but his reflections seen in his second album, Method Adaptor, seems to translate into feelings of muffled confusions that almost glaze over what could have left a lasting memory of his caliber of a voice and mind. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: sci fye – who knows?
Written by Anika Maculangan For those of us who grew up in Manila — a love/hate relationship often prospers. We carry so much frustration toward the city, yet also a fondness for it. With experiences like staying past curfew, hopping on the LRT right when it’s about to be full capacity, and sipping a cold San Mig along Manila Bay, we’re mostly indecisive on what to think of it. So what comes out of our subdued thoughts when we hear a song like i hate manila from sci fye’s latest EP entitled who knows? I don’t know, who knows, at this point? Maybe that’s the solid aimlessness it tries to convey. Like a pseudo-Cobain with more of a local undertone, sci fye highlights a grimy, snappish texture. Like washed-out graffiti beneath the underpass. Or scraps of crumpled receipts and candy wrappers along the tunnel. Think baggy jeans that reach the concrete, and skateboards with loose pivots. Densely immersed in distortion and fuzz, tracks like deadbeat generation extend a darker impression of rock. Although a debut, sci fye moves itself with its own surprising capacity for good mixing and stable production — something a lot of debuts are usually still shaky with upon their onset. However, the duality that is provoked within the songs’ reverb-studded guitars and brash, shrill drums is something that can be titled as imposing, for its harsh yet punkish accents. More soppy tracks like hanggang sa walang hanggan yearn to wake up just in time to see the sunrise trickle through the seams of transmission towers and billboards. What is another thing to observe in sci fye’s debut is the different personalities that each track seems to embody, distinct from one another. Although there is still symmetry somewhere along those varieties, since they still all fall within the same relish for dissonance. Songs like whiteflower and magulang profusely releases its greatest bouts of dread and foreboding malaise toward the city’s chaos. Perhaps it communicates the desire to escape its madness. Repeating the lyrical lines “Ako’y nahihilo sa ikot ng mundo”, what we can discern is the want for a pause, a break, or a ceasing halt to all the babel. Maybe sci fye is called that for a reason, because it suggests so many dystopian themes, perhaps through the language of lengthy bridges and Brutalist condominiums. Like putting on your tangled earphones one sweaty afternoon, who knows proffers the emotive features of parking next to NAIA, to watch airplanes either land or leap off the ground. Every track is a tribute to grunge in one way or another, placing emphasis on garage-metal basslines and riffs. Sci fye instigates a static-doused tonality, one that matches Manila’s musical palette for enkindled overdrive. Gritty and loud, like the engine of a retro Corolla about to ride down Aurora Boulevard, they amp compression over to its appendages, for waveforms that defy frequency. What they ultimately bring to the table is the age of a post-Pearl Jam, or even Soundgarden noise range, making a name for its own Manila equivalent, in light of pondering over journal entries in pieces of yellow lined parchment paper. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Cherry Society – Recluse
Written by Aly Maaño It’s 2009 again. I’m wearing an Artwork shirt, a plaid tennis skirt, and my favorite pair of black Chucks with rainbow-colored laces for a meet-up with my date at the local park. He would teach me how to skate for the first time, and I would let him read the pretentious poems in my journal. After a few weeks, we would stop seeing each other. I would never learn how to skate. This is how Cherry Society’s “Recluse” opened this long-forgotten time capsule in my brain. As an elder emo, I easily resonated with this song as it perfectly encapsulates an era when all the bands headlining When We Were Young were being blasted off from a Nokia Xpressmusic (if you still had one) or one of those early Samsung smartphones. Think of female-led bands like Paramore, Hey Monday, We Are the in Crowd, Tonight Alive, or Courage My Love. Sonically, “Recluse” draws influence from new wave, pop-punk bands from the posthumously coined “Defend Pop Punk” era like Neck Deep, The Wonder Years, Knuckle Puck, etc. With its cutting guitar riffs, thick, jangly bass tones, and energetic tempos, it could easily be the soundtrack for an angsty Y2K movie or the background music of an amateur skate video. Kuki’s strong, raw vocals balance clarity with a punch, evoking lyrics with adolescent themes involving relationships and heartbreak. Although some elements could still be polished, Kuki, Miya, Kat, and Lisha were successful in crafting their signature sound straight from Cherry Land—the kind you’ll dance and sing along to in your room or mosh to with your friends at the pit. If “Recluse” was released in the 2000s, I wouldn’t mind getting malware from illegally downloading it on Limewire just to listen to it on repeat. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: 25hearts – HEARTS
Written by Aly Maaño If you’re missing BROCKHAMPTON, 25hearts is the collective to watch out for this 2024. Formed last year, this seven-piece ensemble, consisting of Never Paco, Bankyu, E.J, Wan, Nix, kyleaux, and k1ko, has been teasing us with early releases like “NAGA FREESTYLE” and “PUMAPALO” in collaboration with other up-and-coming hip-hop artists, including RB Slatt and Papayasoak. In their latest single, “HEARTS,” the group introduces a fresh and vibrant sound — a culmination of each member’s style and artistry and their journey as a collective. Never Paco’s catchy freestyle hook is a nod to BROCKHAMPTON’s signature style, with its pitched-up vocals rolling off suavely over kyleaux’s production. Surprisingly, the beat is sampled from ABS-CBN’s “Family is Love,” and layered with bounce house elements and bluesy piano underscores that swell around Bankyu’s short but sweet verse. E.J delivers probably one of the most significant lyrics in this track, “Take me back to these moments / Let me do it again,” which celebrates how far they’ve come and can still go. And while each verse presents its own flair, Wan’s effortless flow stands out like a magnetic string pulling you to get up and 2-step along to their sonic odyssey. Another noteworthy part is kyleaux’s wistfully melodic verse smoothly transitioning to Nix’s heavenly voice—a perfect match to their infatuation-heavy lyricism. Nix’s hyperpop-influenced vocal charm is a key element in completing the sound they aim to capture in this single. More than the vibes, “HEARTS” reflect the members’ experiences on love, relationships, and their solid bond as a group. Sweet and upbeat, this track echoes the passion they have for their craft and how they have fun in the process. As we anticipate more projects, we’ll definitely be dancing the hula with 25hearts! Support the art & the artist: