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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
‘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.
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 heatwaves to the late nightlife expeditions, it’s a cycle sci fye may swear they want to get rid of, but is ultimately one that is synonymous with the band.
So, with all its gritty stories and failed dreams and dizzying scents and sleazy mood, I don’t think we really hate sci fye, I mean, Manila.
When in grief, condolences sound nothing but white, blank noise waiting for its echo to travel into the abyss; but grief? grief sounds illuminating, and Palepaths can tell you all about it. In their long-awaited debut EP finally released this year, “ I Can Tell You About Grief” seeks to melt your tears into firey passion all for the sake of love and the loss of it. Nearly seventeen minutes of melodic, hardcore heavy noise, lead vocalist Maki Dela Cruz’s plasmic voice along with the low-pitched riffs and thrash metal tones extolled the pain of grief and the violent yet sound nature of it.
Dark, brooding, and strangely comforting, ‘Real Curses’ is like a soft pillow that puts you to a deep sleep before plunging you into a harrowing nightmare. Excellent songwriting compounded by tight-knit performances across the board and good mixing work to boot. The Skeleton Years gave us not only a superior post-punk record, but also one of the.better rock releases of the year.
“SONIC BOOM” by Fervids exudes an energy so vibrant that it’s supposed to shake you awake from your dreams. Albeit the primary genre of this album is blues rock, there is no doubt that this sophomore album ruptures utter eclecticism in every facet of Rock N Roll, you hear it in certain tracks’ use of distortion in the guitars, the avant-garde metal influence in the explosive vocals, and of course all the head-banging that comes with listening to this body of art. Fervids cohesively blends opening riffs and gritty guitars that feel fresh and nostalgic all at once. Expect to hear it at a garage, a rooftop, your little sister’s playlist as you introduce your significant other to the family, or at one of their eargasmic gigs found in the Bicol music scene.
Salem! & The Stellar Cats takes us between food stall conversations and ramblings on a national highway in their four-track EP “Salem!”. The garage punk riffs and fuzzy pop-rock elements apparent in their songs are reminiscent of 2010s local indie rock darlings such as The Gory Orgies and The Buildings. But this four-piece, cat-loving ensemble is more than just the sum of their influences. In “Salem!,” the band’s personality radiates in all corners as they stir chaos without rage, just their chummy, intuitive tunes and tongue-in-cheek lyrics laced with stellar witchcraft.
16. Cinema Lumiere – Wishing it was sunday (anika)
Once you enter the workforce, weekends visibly become more of a blessing than they ever were. Like a gust of fresh air, Wishing It Was Sunday is the feeling of getting off work on a Friday night, and finally being able to breathe again. Charming in its dualities, Cinema Lumiere is a trip to the coffee shop a few blocks down the road, to get your usual fix. It hopes the weekend could last even longer, potentially forever if only that was possible.
The JVB enterprise is entering into a state of prosperity. They produce banger after banger with a little bit of cinematic magic in mp3s. “NO HANDS” is part stand-up comedy and part buddy-cop energy action in the most slapstick way possible. Rapping in between Spongebob references and Omnitrix bling-blings, Joey Valence & Brae have created an West Coast recipe that’s uniquely themselves.
Oh, how punishing it is to have the language to articulate both transformative love and the heavy weight of lingering guilt. Folk acoustics, solemn vocals, and ambient patchworks ground Austri’s deeply personal storytelling in his indie folk/dream pop debut EP, more or less sounding like Sufjan Stevens and Ichiko Aoba which he draws inspirations from. Through his music, he explores the vulnerability it takes to acknowledge imperfections as part of being human, who may love like a garden or may cradle like the moon with the waves. Like migrating birds that move and find places to meet – the album title – humans, too, move and seek new places for genuine moments of connection, which Austri wants to find beauty and meaning in.
13. Shanne Dandan – Kung Iyong Mamarapatin (nikolai)
The style of Manila sound that dominated Philippine airwaves in the mid-1970s is a key component of Shanne Dandan’s artistry. The singer-songwriter does not shy away from it and proudly wears her influences on her sleeves, as made evident by her past releases like ‘Hanggang Sa Langit’ and ‘Sandali’, and she even famously paid tribute to one of the proponents of the Manila sound with her rendition of Cinderella’s ‘T.L. Ako Sa’yo’.
With so much respect shown by the artist to the Manila sound—from the reserved use of synths to the quiet acoustics, and liberal use of vocal reverb—one would easily mistake Shanne’s rendition of ‘Boy, I Love You’ for a forgotten recording of the famed Cherie Gil song from that era. ‘Di Na Babalik Sayo’ and ‘Iyakin;’ are two other highlighs from the album that display Shanne’s exceptional control of her vocal chops.
However, ‘Kung Iyong Mamarapatin’ is far from a promise of a Manila sound revival delivered in LP form, though it’s worth noting that not a lot of artists today adopt this style of Filipino folk pop and excellently represent it the way Shanne does, which help make her stand out.
At it’s core, ‘Kung Iyong Mamarapatin’ is a concept album; an exploration of grief ingeniusly tied together by tarot overlays that allude to the individual themes (or, more aptly, fates) of each track. The songs are meticulously arranged to tell the narrator’s journey through the different stages of grief, emotively narrated by Shanne.
As cynical as it may be, not all that experience grief possess the wherewithal to overcome all its stages. Sometimes, they’re perpetually stuck with the thought, “Kailan ba ako magiging masaya?”
The Philippine Bald Eagle has recently reached a triumphant announcement: a chick egg hatched in a government bird breeding sanctuary. Maybe it’s a coincidence or probably it’s a signal of a time changing, and Davao’s dream pop hybrid outfit Precal Dropouts achieved a feat so jubilant you might as well blast “Eagles Shall Prosper” outside of Suazo’s established building complex. Locked and loaded in a 9-track adventure, Precal has officially graduated in seasoned scenester status with blaring guitar textures and cathartic releases of gang chants in their debut album.
A Gentle Reminder to Rest is foolproof evidence that Amateurish is no amateur in the local music scene. In this much-anticipated debut album, this five-piece indie rock band hailing from the country’s summer capital didn’t hold back in channeling their raw energy through introspective lyricism, somber melodies, and elaborate guitar solos. The first track “Blue” sets the listener up for an emotionally-charged rollercoaster ride, circling into the catchy hooks of “Orange” and the upbeat fast-tempo grooves of “New Age You” until it cascades into the acoustic intro of the last song bearing the album title, a fitting end to the entire listening experience.
The distinct fusion of math rock, emo, and pop punk evident in this 11-track, no-skip album sets Amateurish apart from mainstream bands, earning them a rightful stage beyond the borders of their hometown.
In her debut EP, Rosh spends thirteen lucky minutes creating an Alt-Pop masterpiece by tapping into a lyrical and contemporary ode to the bittersweet pursuits of love found in OPM ballads. Her lustrous vocals paired with the grainy sound her vintage noughties acoustic guitar brings are emblematic of a sensory waterfall. “Cottonmouth” contains four songs that gradually build upon one another; the EP begins as though she started singing to herself in her room, and then later gravitates toward opening a space for connection and ends the piece like she’s standing in front of a crowded gig where her musical muses stand beside her.
Sica stays humble and grounded in his profoundly human sophomore album, articulating how he’s so beholden to the almighty after dipping his toes in fame. Throughout the record, melancholic jazzy and trappy beats, alternating between soulful and boom-bap, meet his contemporary R&B style, elevating Sica’s songwriting to heavenly junctures. Furthermore, “On See God” particularly stands out in the sea of dirty rap. His pen game is too cold, with how his inspirational chronicles are deeply rooted in the strong community that shaped him. He recognizes that maintaining having highs and lows in life preserves his values and desires, and ultimately, he realizes how to keep moving forward while still having the “give-no-fucks” attitude.
Teenmachines is a release unapologetically made for Gen Z Filipino kids. If the themes of Internet Addiction and Internet Love are not enough to convince you, then the harmonious cacophonic genre switching within its 10-track run surely will.
It is an album born out of the kids’ TikTok attention span, the rapidly increasing apathy, and the overwhelming suffocation to how bad things have gotten. Nowadays, everything is digital; digital money, digital personas, digital deaths, digital love—it makes one think if anything even matters because hey, are we even real? Are these people on the Internet real? It’s a dilemma that none other than a kid of the Internet Age understands, a culture that embraced the disconnection despite how close we all claim to be.
In a few years, ‘Teenmachine’ is bound to be the type of release that represents the zeitgeist of an entire generation.
Fax Gang’s twinkly electronic distortions coalesce with Parranoul’s fuzzy synth presets to produce a genre-bending project that is “Scattersun”. Like colliding stars, “Scattersun” creates a violent explosion of textures with its glitchy, bit-crushed, shoegaze-riddled production which often sounds like a conjunction between My Bloody Valentine, Drain Gang, and 100 Gecs. Fax Gang’s vocalist, PK Shellboy, explores existential themes in their lyrics, adding to the rawness of Parannoul’s warbling vocals and screams, with Mudd the student and agatka joining in the emotional turbulence. This collaborative album exudes chaotic energy, one that continuously unfolds one track after the other. But amidst the avalanche of effects, abrasive drum patterns, and atmospheric percussions, “Scattersun’s” uneasiness feels like a controlled chaos leading to a technicolor propulsion of sound transmitted straight from the cosmos.
Sorsogon’s ecstatic indie pop duo Cream Flower plays “To Remember is to Live” like a distant memory, and you can sense its approaching you in a haunting fashion. Whether you find yourself lost in the haze of a bus ride back to the capital or by the sea catching fish, there’s a wave of fuzz waiting to hit you in rhythm. Static crumbles beneath you while an angelic voice lifts you from rapture. Memories gently lose their prominence, leaving the listener into a void of beauty and longing. Cream Flower rages into the light with simple approaches of dream pop and shoegaze, leaving the scene celebrating even further into the future.
Leg warmers and much of the ‘anik-anik’, this album is twee in a kind of Sailor Moon-esque manner if it was mixed with grit and perhaps a cross-cultural dance floor. That’s a strange way to put it, but poses as most accurate. Twinkly, but spunk with innovation, U-Pistol relays emotions of coolness and chill demeanor. Electronic and inspired by the visuals of Japanese anime, we recall lo-fi track beats if sped up to higher octaves. As a concept album, Last Splinter evokes colorful harmonies, stretched on a field of blossoms. That, and the facet of what one would categorize as celestial-like and grotesque, perhaps even metaphysical.
After DJ Love received his deserving flowers last year, this year, he signals his sound worldwide. The reverberating groove of budots can be heard everywhere else: from sound bites on Tiktok, melodic bounces in a Soundcloud mix, to live performances worldwide from DJ Love himself. There’s no denying just how much his unique electronic beat-making has impacted the dance floor.
Through that wave of well-deserved success comes his cherry on top: ‘Budots World (Reloaded)’, the debut album that pushes what made Budots an earworm sound from the start. Swirly beats tousled around with magnetic vocal dubs, bouncy grooves, and even touches of techno melodies – amplifying DJ Love’s letter to spread forth the lovely markings of Budots in its remarkably distinct form. No matter what everyone feels about it, one thing is for sure: Budots will be here to stay for a long time.
“Oriang” isn’t just an album, it is a statement firmly rooted in its activism. Tao, Calix, and Co carry the names of figures whose revolutionary spirit flows within their movement, as their words and actions elevate the oppressed and oppress those who elevate the corrupt. Tao’s emboldened vocals and Calix’s flexible production merge smoothly as they always have before, a consistency that further sharpens the power of its songwriting.
Strapped with foggy atmospherics and strident cadences, it leaps to enhance the folk details that are embedded in the music. It embraces the struggles of the oppressed, reinforcing the hope and strength to continue fighting for a better place.
“DIARY NG POGI” has a certain je ne sais quoi, perhaps in Cat Boy Jeepney Drivers’ futuristic approach to concepts that go beyond simply making a pastiche of 2010s romcom music and mainstream pop. The esoteric duo Neytan and Areli’s love for that era shines through in every track, blending dream-pop and experimental R&B with cheeky production like in their cover of Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” or their interpolation of Nadine Lustre’s “Paligoy-ligoy.” This is literally a no-skip mixtape packed with freneticism brought to life through autotune-laden and reverb-heavy production, making the 2010s feel astig and fresh.
Moreover, local pop culture was pervasive for those of us who grew up in that time, especially with the then-rise of Facebook, YouTube, and internet access. And the duo managed to transform that nostalgia into something frivolous and welcoming. The idea of reviving exactly the sound of 2010s Pinoy pop felt so impossible before, until the release of this mixtape… The outro perfectly encapsulates the feeling of its stylish sound – everyday ay birthday [natin]!
Underneath the dreamy pastures of Memory Drawer’s self-titled album lies the core of its gleaming spirit: its interconnectedness. Despite the amount of time lingering towards the creation of their debut album, Memory Drawers never distances away in filling pieces of which melodies will stick in our memory. Its overall package is like a small capsule box, which nonetheless pops up all of the wistful longings that this trio has penned down.
Within all of that patience, the self-titled record encapsulates the majestic strength that comes from bands that want to bring their songs into the world amidst dour musings that surround present times. Personal priorities may be focused throughout everyone’s lives, but as long as their connections continue growing forward, they’ll always be able to make something special. Their debut album does just that: colliding their paths into one, where the possibilities of creating more memories are cherished in the songs they made together.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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”.
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.
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.
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 “I love you” and “I miss you” phrases within the early 2010s Facebook chat bubbles, all with emoticons backing up those messages. Shimmering pluggnb production elevates the yearning of the four performers, all earnestly singing their love for their mary janes.
Being a “MANILA BOY” for Thugsta is tough business. No snitches, no opps and no names in the watchlist, those are his wishes to live a life peacefully. Thugsta throws up signs, smoothly raps over a g-funk production, and at the same time brings the power of assurance in less than 2 minutes. There’s love for the game, and Thugsta would show that love with the family and gang by tenfold.
From the visuals to the rhythm, from start to finish, BabyDraco made a better clone of American rapper 4Batz’s “act ii: date @ 8”, but in pink bunnyclava swag. His laconic lyrics fit in his style of overly-modified vocals, much reminiscent again of 4Batz’s idiosyncrasies. There isn’t much to say for “Guhits” as a contemporary R&B performance; after around the 1 minute mark, the already risqué song slows down to cast a more sexual feeling from his previously androgynous vocals. As a neophyte, he needs to carve his own identity as a rising R&B star, which all could be revealed in his mixtape in 2025.
We all know this familiar feeling of grief and regret in a short-lived yet exhilarating summer fling. In two minutes, Shan Capri made “PAST FLIGHT” stand out by effortlessly using brash guitar riffs to corporealize, in music form, that isolating feeling. While the track is just one of Shan Capri’s back-to-back releases of demos this year, this one particularly best describes the quality she produces and writes as a way to express her personal introspection and reverie.
In his collaboration with KLLY in “Ako Ba Talaga?”, Alisson Shore takes OPM R&B by storm: The bilingual storytelling told by two unreliably relatable narrators in this track coupled with Shore’s continuous themes of infidelity and the emotional baggage that peruses one’s headspace is so theatrical I would call it Ozian-esque… But like if Oz was hip. It gets even better when you watch the Y2K-inspired music video of this track and visualize the hip-grooving melody that sticks like gum with Alisson Shore’s hard-hitting bars and KLLY’s unforgettably silky, sensual, honey-like vocals.
Nina’s debut single was released out from the belly of the beast. His blurry vocals echo across miles away as the nerving post-punk melodies create a misty smoke, stirring your ears with its murky atmosphere. With that in mind, the title rings true after all, as the soundscape beckons the bone-chilling presence of death. Lurking behind all of our shadows, taking its sweet time to get on our nerves.
Released under Offshore Music, Mi Mi glides you to her phenomenal jazz and R&B track that’s chill to the max because of its hovering, bouncy basslines and soulful sax. The Barbie Morena’s navigation of her vulnerabilities of aching and longing for someone who’s uncertain with their feelings is animated in the tenderness and lightness of her vocals against intimate jazzy sounds. The track grooves so hard it almost makes the sting of being ghosted bearable. Perhaps with such a rapturous saxophone solo, we get to press repeat and listen on how to stop lamenting and how to steer clear of the familiar crisis of fickle situations.
The easy-breeziness in KAIA’s “Walang Biruan” dives you into bubblegum pop pantomiming as a carefree feel-good pop performance similar to the songs that are “inspired by” the Y2K era. The natural ease that one feels mirrors the group’s charm, and it’s not because of the similarities to other fellow P-pop groups in related pop genres such as BINI. KAIA has long been in the sound of hip-hop and R&B, especially with their trappy single called “You Did It” which was released just a few months earlier. With UK Garage and jersey club successfully blended into a matured lattice, thanks to the girls’ collaboration with Kenneth Amores and KINDRED’s Pikunin in the co-production, this track was a confident leap into new frequencies for them; you can even tell from the sound and music video how much they loved making it. True to the homophone of their name, they prove that they’ll go far, especially with the right creative team.
With her new seductive, tantalizing, and vampy sound, Beabadoobee clenches down with both fangs in “Take A Bite”. This track simply oozes early 00s Post-Britpop which is no surprise coming from the London-raised singer-songwriter who wrote her third album in the suburbs of California with Rick Ruben, one of the holy figures of record production. ‘Take A Bite’ takes you to the mind lair of Beabadoobee where she ponders about the opaque toxicity of shrewd relationships with no rest, almost like the syncopated melodies mess with her circadian rhythm.
Novocrane, a name that is currently making noise in the Cebu underground scene, released their debut track this year to the delight of Bisaya indie rock enthusiasts. Apart from being sonically distinct and eclectic, the innovative guitar work goes smoothly through the ear, like a soothing voice lulling you to sleep. In under 3 minutes, the neophyte band showed us a tiny fraction of what they can create—and they are just getting started.
Have you ever known what it feels like to be in the limbo of love and regret? In this track mixed with saccharine arrays of guitar and xylophone, Blaster’s lyricism and cadence dance in the eye of the hurricane caused by the euphoric collision of memory and the cruel absence of it, all while in limerence. The dreamlike, electropop echo chamber this childlike ditty creates surely has you playing it on repeat, mirroring what it feels like to enter a carnival and get that tight feeling on your chest as you’re about to ride a rollercoaster to finally exhaling on the coaster’s big drop.
UDD goes through a maturity phase as the band pushes on with a new industrial-leaning sound following circumstances that prompted the band to reevaluate their identity. The synths are heavier than ever, songwriting bolder than ever, and the production more evolved than it has ever been for the group. Throw all your hopes for another ‘Capacities’ or ‘Fragmented’ as the band already has; this is UDD.
Bittersweet, emotive, and raw, this promising Dumaguete-based band—that has been making moves in the past year with their recent EP release—blends raw grunge and emo with a hint of post-hardcore in their music in a tasteful way. “Heaven is a Trip” sees Apebreeder in their element as they display a masterclass in turning unfiltered emotions into gut-punching passages and melodies.
If you’re wondering what the scene would sound like inside of a Dance Dance Revolution arcade machine, this would be the ideal world to live in. Soundcloud prodigy and Fresh-ill Club’s n_d_g goes beyond camp on “Yoko Na Sayo” with a 100 percent score alongside heartbreak, feet-tapping trance production and a knack for catchiness that’s bound to end up in a modded level.
Matoki always comes high on the list, when in discussion of love songs. “Lemon” supports that claim to the greatest extent. Ecstatic and mercurial, it feels just like the summertime when come the prospects of meeting your soulmate by the burger machine stand. Lemon reads like a diary, with excerpts that express sensibilities toward picnics against the backdrop of UP circle.
Like driving through a tunnel, eliciting blurred shadows, “Subzero” paints the urban lifestyle in mellow shades of blue. Dreamy and spacey, the track dedicates itself to those who enjoy liminal soundscapes with airy vocals. What the track suffuses is a ‘mumblecore’ movie, picturesque with reminiscence and dread. Self-described as a ‘micro-ensemble unit’, Squaretoe continues to dazzle with their glowing chemistry. Squaretoe is what you listen to when you’re either ‘bed-rotting’ or traversing the halls of an empty mall — there’s no in-between.
“Mad!” is a short but catchy tune anyone can see themselves dancing to. Aunt Robert’s superb songwriting skills shine as they bid adieu to the unpleasant interlopers that creep into life every now and then. With their production skills on the rise, Aunt Robert enters the bedroom rock arena with 00s revivalism and the guitar is their weapon of choice.
The beauty of R&B crooning has never sounded this alluring. Throughout the comfort of “Baby blue”, Fern embodies the best kind of cool: genuinely affirming in his ways of approaching love. The booming bass and twittering synth are not just the highlight here, as Fern’s vocals encapsulate the slick tone that he can effortlessly change all over. Like the color stamped on the title, the song is imbued with baby blue serenity.
Love Rap in the year 2024 feels like a tried and tested concept, but it feels great to be proven wrong, and here we are witnessing its best form yet. YB Neet and Bugoy na KoyKoy begs for more than the bare minimum in “ily”. As simple the title is, it’s also an implication how far can love be or the limitations of any existing terms of endearment. “Ily” has encapsulated the catchy-as-hell chorus or YB’s plea for their partner’s respect. Maybe saying I love you isn’t enough after all.
It’s only a matter of time before 25hearts eventually pump their heart out. What “Hearts” brings is a fresh beginning; a warm hug to start the day; a walk in the park with the sun shining down on you. Each verse from every member is a flutter that keeps building up over time, with a gentle beat providing warmth during the song’s runtime. Creating love that sprouts in sparkling water, giving you the aahs after every sip of this song.
Zild has seemingly retired from his darkwave era as he takes a different sonic route in his latest record “Superpower,” switching from moody and melancholic to a playful and refreshing take on the Post-Britpop soundscape. Zild embraces the cliches of young love through innocent storytelling and heartfelt delivery, a common formula in most OPM rock serenades during the 90s and 2000s. It denotes a significant amount of acceptance and gratefulness for the chance to fall for someone again without the clammy use of metaphors. The simplicity of “Lia” is what makes it so endearing and perhaps, what everyone wants to experience—a sense of clarity and calmness when love comes to your doorstep.
Like a modern ‘harana’ of sorts, think Christmas lights with glinting fairy lights and warm cocoa. Although there’s no winter in this climate, “minsan lang” replicates that same atmosphere. Simple yet catchy and precise, it’s what you look for whenever you long for a sense of calmness. Laid-back and carefree, you practically feel the sand at your toes. The waves crisp with the sun’s reflection. Just what you need for musical notes to intangibly embrace you.
Back in the 2000s, the best way to predict an incoming call on your 2G mobile phone was the sound your old PC speakers made. A year after releasing their debut demo, cheeky things introduced their new song “Bones” in the same fashion—through analog signal disruptions meant to ring up the alternative scene for another tweemo banger.
In “Bones,” the band condenses their signature sonic elements—noisy guitar riffs, glitchy distortions, and frenetic drums—all within its short runtime, even managing to squeeze in a high-pitched, kazoo-like sound mid-chorus. Similar to their noise-rock anthem, “korean blackout curtains 7ft (1 pc, not set),” this single holds the same effect on listeners with its Tagalog lyrics that hit straight to its titular living tissue. During the quiet verses, Kim Bernardino’s vocals seem to be recorded straight from a late-night phone call, with their drony voice progressing to a raw, unaltered version to prepare us for the explosive chorus. There’s really no other choice but to jump and sing your heart out.
Stab does not pull its punches—or stabs. This Cebu-based hardcore band is consistently unrelenting in their track, “watchyoudie”, and will not stop until you are laying on the ground, either from exhaustion or from being run over by someone else in the room who is moshing to this song.
The song slowly paces you into that fit of rage with a popular ‘Ozark’ soundbite and a breakbeat drum sample teasing you of what’s to come. By the time it lets go of its own constraints, it’s all straightforward, no-BS hardcore from here on out.
For a song as brief as ‘watchyoudie’, it is still packed with many quotable lines, as stab understands and fully embraces its shock value and gives room in between riffs for these lines to resonate. The most memorable one is undoubtedly, “Know death will never catch me, because I’ll live to watch you die.”
It’s what a slasher movie would be if it was turned into a song.
Divino Dayacap boards a plane to a place filled with wonder and excitement. However, there’s a lingering melancholy by his row. Nothing but the feeling of missing something or someone. And as the lights dim, he peers through the window, witnessing flying Fender guitars, but as the vision starts to clear, “Kung Nandito Ka Lang” goes into hyperdrive – speeding in high altitudes of rumbling drums, epic crescendos and chapel synths. It is everything but anything. Maximalist but with a growing sense of eloquence. There’s dirt and cleanliness in its gradual pacing yet chaos in jet engine speeds. Halina is back.
Despite all its mischief, it can’t catch a sin when the melody is extremely catchy. “Babaero” has been in rotation ever since January, a gradual smash hit where Gins and Melodies & Hev Abi become two sly foxes that whisk their way out with subtle deception. Layering a catchy-as-sin hook and woozy beat that tries to pull everyone under hook, line, and sinker.
It’s a playful plan that works in Gin and Melodies & Hev Abi’s favor, their smoothness only amplifying that impish wink. An irresistible charm that never slips, always gliding towards the road to satisfaction.
Carrying their rustic blue guitar-lele, the Filipino-Icelandic solo artist shares folktales from the fantasy world of Meadowlark in their breakout single. In “Harpy Hare,” Yaelokre tells a thought-provoking story of an overprotective mother through “The Lark,” a quartet of young minstrels named Cole, Clementine, Perrine, and Kingsley. Throughout the song, Keath Osk changes their voice to match each character, notably Clementine’s soft, high-pitched vocals alternating with the lead singer Cole’s assertive mid-tones as the chorus continuously repeats in an interrogating manner. Through its acoustic-folk instrumentation, stomping rhythms, and group vocal harmonies, “Harpy Hare” paints an intricate and poetic landscape of Yaelokre’s worldbuilding—a whimsical place where one can run free and bring back the magic of their childhood. Once you hear it, you can’t resist falling down the rabbit hole.
As (e)motion engine comes home from a mosh-heavy gig, vocalists Ace and Camille Santos would wander around their house, yearning for their pet cat to play catch with them again. All of a sudden, their minds encounter a criss-cross: post-punk drum machines, ethereal guitars playing with the fuzz pedal and synths pollinating as the thought of being one’s “my little boy” lingers. Shining brightest in the first half only to burn bright into the rough textures in the outro has brought them to the climax, all thanks to their liking of shoegaze, pop punk and emo. (e)motion engine’s “mlb” wraps itself like a warm hug, only to send a message that pets are healing.
BINI, the eight-piece girl group phenom that took the world by storm with a summer tune in late 2023, follows through with the biggest pop banger of the year. And while their concept may be as simple as girl-next-door bubblegum pop, they are the biggest girls-next-door right now.
Amid the blindingly vibrant motif and a pile of denim to last you a decade, BINI’s success with “Salamin, Salamin” is a result of P-Pop’s many trials and errors now bearing fruit.
For quite some time, P-Pop’s many names have been entangled in a contest of “who can make the boldest and most unique statement piece in the genre?” Understandably so, as P-Pop has had a steep climb trying to find a place outside its core audience’s bubble and an identity that is not relegated to just being window dressing to your favorite noontime variety TV show. This, as well as a chip on its shoulders mounting from (scathing) remarks from fans and non-fans about the genre’s supposed lack of originality and a propensity for slapping a Filipino tag on an otherwise foreign product, hindered P-Pop from catapulting into its own realm of success.
Before BINI, the closest thing P-Pop has come to a breakthrough moment is SB19’s ‘Go Up’, which brought the band to fame and led to the name ‘P-Pop’ being coined, but it was seen more as an antecedent to a phenomenon much bigger, waiting to take over. Unfortunately, it did not have the lasting power outside its concentrated listener base.
Either people wanted to hear something simple and upbeat, or a consistent theme across their discography that people can easily identify them with, or both, or neither. Whatever’s the case, BINI understood that assingment and stuck to their guns as they always have. Writing a cute and catchy bubblegum pop song is only a part of that equation. But taking a step back from the needlessly complex statements, genre fusions, and grandstanding not only led BINI to chart-topping success, but also gave P-Pop a blueprint that other groups may find helpful.
Let’s not beat around the bush – Bangsamoro Pop’s “Selos” is everywhere despite the now-resolved copyright issue.
From malls to palengkes, Shaira’s unexpected breakout Disco Moro hit has become a national cultural juggernaut, with its catchy hooks, humor, and relatable lyrics that cement her as the face of OPM in 2024. The track, produced by DJ Charles, sampled Australian singer-songwriter Lenka’s work and positioned music of the past into the present in a futuristic way, reconstructing fragments of pop into something fresh by also incorporating electronic drums found in Indonesia’s dangdut.
It’s not an uncreative process to sample and remix, as they have always been integral to OPM’s musicality, just as they are in pop and hip-hop globally. However, historically, sample clearance has notably intensified the inaccessibility of making music faced by passionate and ambitious artists like Shaira who may lack the resources, capital, and information to secure sample rights. Furthermore, it’s telling–and very frustrating–that her identity, as a Muslim woman from Sultan Kudarat in Mindanao, was transgressive enough to draw attention to the legality and validity of all her music, perpetuating discrimination that holds back neophytes like her. And in her reprise “Selos Na Yan Friend,” she now sings about selos, or jealousy, not in the romantic sense, but as a response against the online vitriol and crab mentality that she faced from other Filipinos.
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 feltthe 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.
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.
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.
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!
If you were also a hip local music listener back in the 2010s, you understand how crucial music websites like Bandcamp and SoundCloud were in experiencing the height of that underground, lofi scene brewing inside people’s own houses. While home recordings have always been a thing, the format of these sites provided the internet a front-row seat to the unfiltered, underproduced music some passionate strangers online made in their free time. Among these lie hits and misses but in 2016, Roshelle Munez released her first release “gitling,” which became an instant hit on SoundCloud.
Following the virality of “gitling,” Manila-based Alt-Pop artist Munez, aka rosh, became an indie darling overnight—however, it would not be until 8 years later that she released her debut EP entitled “cotton mouth.” Serving as her serious venture into the music scene, the release—a long-awaited debut effort consisting of her unseen works from 2016-2022—allows us to take a peek into her diary as an extension of her psyche.
“gitling – 2024” reinvents the original with more polished production and a clearer sound direction that fits right in with the rest of the EP. The addition of groovy drums and harmonies gives it a more laid back and playful vibe, as if having given it space and time to breathe. In stark contrast to this, “human goo” introduces that wall of angst that lingers throughout the entire record. It picks up the pace with driven drums, rosh’s fatigue embodied in her vocals buried beneath eclectic bass synths and the harmonic dissonance of guitars.
“rainbow road” steps back from the heavy noise, favoring to experiment with lush, dreampop-like sensibilities. The lyrics echoing her heartbreak are cryptic yet very familiar, something everyone has felt but nobody could pinpoint. Lastly, “nevermind” closes the EP at the zenith of its turmoil. The instrumentals weep with a sense of deep longing and yearning; she’s begged and begged, but somehow it’ll never be reciprocated. Errors decorate the track alongside distorted guitars, creating the perfect backdrop for the emotional breakdown that follows. rosh ends the EP with a “never mind,” too tired to care anymore.
In cotton mouth, each song is a confession; all the anguish and hurt hidden finally surfacing after years of being bottled up. Maybe that’s why despite its heavy, angsty nature, cotton mouth feels freeing. It’s the words you couldn’t say and the stories you try to forget after years of running away. Ultimately, rosh’s first foray displays a remarkably promising future for Manila’s star-sign-loving, alt-pop rockstar.
