Singaporean musician Jared Lim has been playing a significant role in various mainstay acts over the past couple of years, whether in his local country or elsewhere. Being the guitarist and producer of bands like Sobs and Subsonic Eye, as well as providing production assistance for Blush and The Purest Blue are just some of those notable credits. His ear for production sticks in your ear once you hear it: blissful synth chops, colorful instrumental mixes, and crisp vocal emphasis. A balancing act of sharp melodies and sparkling textures that are never put out of scale. An ability that only comes from very skilled producers who know how to leverage the mix without disruption. At some point, if he can help produce these songs for these bands, certainly, he can write songs for himself, too. Soon enough, that is what he just did. Donning the solo project Jorud, he pulled together his debut album, aptly titled ‘The Song’. This is Jared Lim expressing the colors that he has brushed over before, now splattered on a sonic canvas that is his own. Whether that be the saturated 80s ambiance on “Am”, speedy waves of breakbeats on “Harm”, chilled out dance beats on “Wannastop”, or the chiptune accents across surfing guitars on “Have It”. He has these soundscapes all layered out. Of course, it is not just him who gets the play around in these songs. Pauline Rana of The Purest Blue, Cayenne of Sobs, and elo elo provide contributing vocals in most of the album, filling the prismatic space with their friendly presence. Creating this slice-of-life feel where wholesome connections create more smiles along the way—shining the brightest on the title track’s sunny indie pop, “Friend” with its coat of shimmery hyperpop, and the raving, glitchy EDM of “Wideview”. The word “joyous” is the best way to describe what Jorud has put together with his debut album. A brisk walk in the park is remembered most due to the unabashed display of melodies and textures that are overall jubilant and vivid. These might be just a collection of songs, but once you hear them, you can’t help but turn your frowny days into smiley days. *The interview is edited with brevity and clarity: LP: When I hear your artist name, Jorud, I imagine someone who’s chill and lively. What was circulating in your head when you were figuring out the identity of your solo project? Lim: Actually, this project is kind of the first real music project I ever did when I was 15. I picked a stupid name that I don’t want to change, because I have all the URLs on Bandcamp and SoundCloud or whatever. It started when I was 15, [I was] learning how to use Ableton, and [was] just putting out stuff that I made on SoundCloud. Yeah, [there’s] not much thought to it, but I guess now, it’s been 10 years. So, I just felt like, “Uh, I should kind of do this properly.” See how it feels like to make an album and put it out properly and promote it and stuff like that. Yeah. LP: You mentioned that you were using Ableton at the age of 15. What invited you to do production work during those times? Lim: Before I started making my own stuff, I was making chiptune covers of songs. I’ll put them on YouTube. I did a few like CHRVCHES [covers], you know the band CHRVCHES? LP: Yes! Lim: Yeah, I did a few chiptune remixes of their songs, and they posted one of them on their Facebook. I was like 14, I was freaking out. Yeah, that’s kind of how it started. I was just making covers for fun, and then it led to making my own stuff. LP: How long have you been conceptualizing and working on your debut project? Lim: Some of the songs on it actually started quite a while ago, maybe like a year or two ago. But I didn’t properly think I was making something until, I think, it was December last year. I had the idea to send this instrumental track that I made three years ago to Pauline from [The Purest Blue]. I had that instrumental on my laptop for a few years and didn’t really know what to do with it until I had a sudden spark of inspiration. I decided to send it to her because I thought she would do something cool, and she did. That was December last year, and then from then on, I spent maybe three months combing through old ideas and making new stuff, and I just turned it into an album. LP: Speaking about those collaborations with Cayenne, Pauline, and Elo Elo. Did you have them in mind while creating the album, or were they a last-minute afterthought? Lim: [It’s] kind of a bit of both because, honestly, this whole album was like a last-minute afterthought. I made everything really quickly, but I always had those specific vocalists in mind for each song. The song with Elo Elo that actually just came out today [July 10, 2025], [it] originally was a remix I did for fun for this band that I’m working with. And that was more than a year ago. But I liked it too much that I wanted to keep it for myself. And Hui Jun (Elo Elo) heard that remix quite a while ago, and she said she liked it. So when I started working on the album, I was like, “Oh I should reuse that and I’m gonna ask her to sing on it”, and she did. LP: You said that, for three months, you tried to quickly comb through your ideas for this album. During that process, were you inclined to listen to music a lot, or did you just completely lock in on what you had in mind and never listen to anything that might disrupt those ideas? Lim: I feel like, generally, just in everyday life, I
Author: Louis Pelingen
TRACK REVIEW: Your #1 Fan – Radio Transmission
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol Every artist starts out as a fan. You get exposed to all the ways people express themselves and enjoy it so much that you’d want to take a shot at it yourself. So just as the name “Your #1 Fan” suggests, Nica Feliciano started out living and breathing music – frequenting gigs in the underground music scene; playing bass guitar for bands such as Bird Dens, Thirds, and The Purest Blue; and even putting up her own indie rock shows. It was inevitable that Your #1 Fan would eventually be expanded into a music project; that time has come with the release of her debut single, “Radio Transmission.” The wonder and curiosity of being a fan is manifested in the music and lyrical themes of this song, a space rock ballad that sails like a probe traversing the cosmos. But the story remains mostly within the Earth’s atmosphere: here, Nica longs to make contact with somebody she loves who’s in another part of the world, wanting to know whether there’s a place for her in their heart even though they’re so far apart. The imagery of satellite communication courses through these lyrics, as it does in the music, with beeps and pulses that sound like incoming signals peppered throughout the song, which plays at a tempo meant to relive the grandeur of space travel. However, the song picks up speed halfway through as Nica begins to blur the boundaries between the vast distance of two lovers on opposite sides of the Earth and our collective smallness within the universe. It no longer matters that life means we’re all tiny figures tethered to an ultimately tiny place: as long as she makes contact with the one she loves, the concept of dimensions just fades away. Whenever we define ourselves with the celestial bodies, we often look to the Moon and its chase towards the Sun, or our relation with the stars, or even the depth of the unknown. Therefore, to hear an exploration on the celestial bodies we ourselves have created, and how we used our discoveries of outer space to bring us closer to one another no matter where we are in the world, is refreshing for once. Which brings us back to the cyclical nature of the making of an artist: we take what we find in the artists that we love and make something from that for ourselves. With “Radio Transmission,” Your #1 Fan has successfully taken that one small step as an artist, and as Nica continues to release more music and plays more shows with this project, people can certainly look forward to the great leaps ahead. Who knows? You could become Your #1 Fan’s no. 1 fan. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: VVINK – Tulala
Written by Noelle Alarcon Filipino production house FlipMusic is known for being the genius behind some of the hottest OPM tunes, may it be Ron Henley and Pow Chavez’s bouncy rap song “Biglang Liko,” or even Nica del Rosario’s politically motivated serenade “Rosas.” In this current era that’s experiencing an influx of Pinoy Pop groups debuting left and right, from the easygoing AJAA to the versatile KAIA, it’s no surprise that FlipMusic has played a part in steering the direction of P-Pop’s sound. They’ve gained plenty of praise for mastering the recipe of bubblegum pop–after all, they are the masterminds behind some of BINI’s most beloved hits, such as “Pantropiko” and “Salamin, Salamin.” Taking a step further in pushing P-Pop to greater heights, FlipMusic debuted its own girl group, VVINK, with the release of their debut single, “Tulala,” on July 10. It’s evident that P-Pop is influenced by the sounds of the Hallyu Wave, and FlipMusic skillfully takes from K-Pop’s “a little bit of this, a little bit of that” approach, where the music acts as an auditory stage. It’s a playing field that focuses on showcasing the idols’ learned prowess, honed by their dedication to training. In the three minutes and 26 seconds of the song, its simple yet carefully constructed structure showcases the talent and charisma possessed by the five girls of VVINK. The synths that open the song catch your attention, pulsing and full of energy, matching the explosive vocals of the members. What about a bouncy rap part immediately greeting you in the second verse? An impactful bass drop for a dance break? Truly, VVINK makes the most out of “Tulala’s” runtime, sonically putting out all of their strengths for the budding fan to admire. Make no mistake, despite the different ways “Tulala” pulls from its many influences, it is purely and thoroughly P-Pop, from start to finish. In the various ways the girls project their voices, you can’t help but hear the bubblegum pop roots that were planted over a decade ago. They’re a little coy, a little sincere, and a little fierce, carrying the torch passed onto them by the discographies of artists like Nadine Lustre and Donnalyn Bartolome. With an addictive bassline and a mesmerizing guitar solo added into the mix, FlipMusic’s extensive understanding of pop music truly shows. Of course, VVINK covers all the bases. “Tulala” also bears the standard pop music cheesiness of its ancestors–the way its lyrics fall off the girls’ tongues makes it an easy earworm. “Ano ba ‘tong ang diyahe?” They sing with earnestness, followed by their collective “OMG” in the background, full of life and ‘kilig.’ They even came prepared with word play: “If I’m your lady, I’ll go ga-ga, your baby goo-goo, ga-ga.” From the onomatopoeias to the expressions of a pounding heart, VVINK recalls the feeling of having a schoolgirl crush with ease. Understanding what makes pop music pop is a skill, and FlipMusic’s capability to do so has granted them the ability to make music that captivates the ears of Filipinos all over the nation. It’s exciting to see the places VVINK will go and how their talents will help in shaping the sonic landscape of P-Pop.
ALBUM REVIEW: agatka – BLACK SPRING
Written by Lex Celera After a feature in Fax Gang and Parannoul’s collaborative album, and an appearance in Sining Shelter’s 2024 compilation tunes for a true home, Texas-based agatka’s sophomore album Black Spring arrives in the wake of what can be described as a tumultuous time for the artist. Presented as a “true documentary of all the things I’ve felt in the past year and a half” by agatka, Black Spring is a pulverizing blood rush straight to the dome when considered in its entirety. Across each track, the project warps in different tonal and sonic shifts and constantly dips itself into abrasion balanced out by tracks that allow you to catch your breath. “PISTOL ROUND,” “ROLL THE DICE, I LOSE AGAIN,” and “DOORDASH THERAPY” (in what appears to be in the same arrangement heard in tunes for a true home) barge in guns ablazing, simmer down, then pick up again at five tracks down; trap 808s, beheaded producer tags, Vocaloid sample flips, gutteral echoes, and high-energy grooves, deftly find their respective places in the album, alongside its shoutouts including Fax Gang, Andy Milonakis, and Counter Strike. In this regard, agatka falls in line alongside their contemporaries in placemaking their discography with internet artifacts, which serve as not just sonic decoration but also as referential material for the extremely online. Not only that, but framed within America’s sociopolitical landscape, Black Spring is also a direct response to and a first-person observation of America’s many failings, especially under its current administration, from a first-generation Filipino immigrant. “I FEEL FANTASTIC” depicts scenarios of violence against the far-right and a distrust of the system at play. Stitched by its commitment to verisimilitude, agatka has created a body of work that not only appears coherent in its accumulation of unapologetic angst and trauma across the span of it being produced, but condenses it into a vision that lands. I find myself returning to a number of tracks after initial full album listens: “CAMERON COUNTY COWBOYZ” emerges as a standout in its juxtaposition; wrapped around a silky smooth sample, stream-of-consciousness confessional lyrics end in a crescendo that pierces right through: “I can’t let go / I haunt myself / just like a ghost.” Meanwhile, “LORD FORGIVE ME” and its ruminations on existential and spiritual crises are on top of a thumping club rhythm, which comes across as catharsis in its three-minute runtime. Beyond these categorizations, Black Spring emerges as a body of work that could stand beyond its fixation on the present. Recorded across different locations in the United States over almost a year, the fifteen-track album comes across as an assemblage of raw moods and textures that carry the weight of its lyrics from the moment it was written down, distilled into a form that persists as something almost universal. Almost all of the lyrics of each track are written in the present tense, creating a sense of immediacy that, when addled with heavy production or laid bare, transports you to the same room where each track is made. Political statements and world-weary confessionals are rendered in the same way; one that can be seen as both tactile and tactless. Devoid of any need for metaphors, agatka’s “BLACK SPRING” serves as a teller of their own unfiltered truths. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: K – Dilim (feat. LORY)
Written by Anika Maculangan After releasing her debut EP Gabi ng Lagim in 2024, K follows up with her first collaboration, “Dilim,” a single featuring LORY. In the track, what emerges is less a duet and more a convergence; two voices moving through the same storm, not hand in hand, but aware of each other’s shadows. The track doesn’t open the door gently; it surges into the room. From the first downstroke, its intent is not to be misunderstood, but rather, to dislodge, to engulf, and to hum beneath the flesh like a second skin. “Dilim” feels like reading a letter written in a language you once knew, every line familiar but just out of reach, each word flickering at the edge of meaning. The guitars churn like static caught between radio frequencies, and the drums tick forward with the cold precision of a dying clock. K doesn’t sing, she pries sound out of her sternum, each note arriving cracked, as if it’s already lived through the pain it’s meant to express. LORY, whispered but no less real, dances upon the spaces between, like smoke tracing the lines in a windowpane. The track is not linear; it sways, it plunges, it crests in unsymmetrical waves. There is a studied vagueness to it, as though the track had been constructed underwater, under silt and memory. Emotion rises like steam, hot and ephemeral, but the form never coagulates. It’s a song more sensed than taped; held together by mood, not motion. There’s beauty in that blur, and restlessness. The weight is there, yes, but where is it? The track hangs on without completely falling apart. Despite all its weight, there’s a feeling of something withheld, not due to mystery, but restraint. A tremor that doesn’t end in collision. But to define “Dilim” in what it does not have would be inaccurate. There is clarity in its ambiguity, there is comfort as well. Something does not always have to come in whole or in its entirety. Some music is scaffolding; empty frameworks where people superimpose their own ruin, their own fixing. “Dilim” does that. It does not thrust sorrow onto the stage, but offers it. It doesn’t demand anything of its listeners, but allows for them to make the song their own, whichever shape it morphs into, depending on its beholder. And perhaps that is its goal; not to enlighten, but to resonate. Not to answer, but to ring true. The sort of song that doesn’t speak at you but to you. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: Wuji Wuji – NOVISION
Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Alt-fusion Wuji Wuji has always been a six-piece defined by motion. Their sonic palette constantly twists, turns, unravels like a loose thread, and is always in flux. From jazz-funk rhythms to the dreamy allure of city-pop, now they’ve peeled it all back, exposing ”NOVISION,” a six-track extended play hot out of the oven: fresh, with a warm, experimental bite. This sophomore release is a deliberate act of destruction and reconstruction, preserving some past elements but shedding the hip-hop influences entirely from “NOSOUL.” Drenched in brooding basslines and reverb-heavy guitar, “Times a Crime” and “Push & Pull” carve the emotional core of the EP. The title track “NOVISION” is to surrender to zero gravity, lost in the space of vocal layers and synths that hum like a distant past. It projects exactly what it needs to: a sense of suspension before the EP concludes, acting as a transition to the second half. “Careless” and “Words Hurt” leave things taut, not unresolved. These tracks lay a pivotal point in the EP, deliberately placing the listener in a state of emotional inertia and reflecting a measured evolution in Wuji Wuji’s sound. “NOVISION” was created during a period of identity struggle for Wuji Wuji, a bold, risky move that marks a turning point in their discography, defying expectations that they would lean further into the city-pop path laid out by 2023’s “Kanluran.” But that shift isn’t a misstep; Instead, it reflects their growing curiosity in production and willingness to explore unfamiliar territory. Wuji Wuji doesn’t just change direction; they embrace uncertainty as part of the process. Whether this marks a sound caught mid-metamorphosis or a new era, “NOVISION” proves that the group admires movement more than comfort, and that’s exactly what makes them worth following. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: Clay Birds – a separation from vanity
Written by Anika Maculangan Founded in 2022 by Sam Slater, Italy Jones, Aron Farkas, and Jack Von Bloeker in Mission Viejo, California, five-piece skramz band Clay Birds is onto their sophomore EP, a separation of vanity, a palimpsest which gleams with dissonance and introspection, intimate as it is liberating. separation of vanity begins with “an intuition of morality”, a track that immediately sets you into a dirty basement, sweat flying from slamming bodies of a mosh pit, the heaviness of stomping feet on broken floorboards. The song carries a weathered subtlety, like a memory half-sung on a battered Telecaster; its bitter, wistful texture echoing the kind of late-night conversation you’d only dare to have beneath a spray-painted-over bridge, when it’s too dark to see each other’s faces but too honest to look away. As the EP progresses, Clay Birds’ sound is revealed not in nuance but in imperfection, sharp energy that’s like being pushed off a bike or your heart racing through the seams of a t-shirt. Every song is peeling away, a slash into the emotional undertow of being young. The tracks pose as an unraveling, taking you through the architecture of what has come undone. Each song arrives unearthed, dismantled, plunging you into its entropy. The music doesn’t come out as complete or polished. Rather, it seeps through, and invites people to bask in the mess through the acceptance of being unfinished together. What you hear is reminiscent of cut-short and picked-up conversations from venues, voice calls, and basement shows. It’s built with the rigid kind of faith that only exists between people who’ve gone through the same pain and somehow ended up at the show. Spoken in glances and gestures, in the nods around a circle pit, in the soothing silence when the set ends, it’s a project that insists: you’re not alone. These are not songs sung over a crowd but with them, music which depends on the listener’s openness to feel, to shatter, to mend in tandem. There’s a very real sense of every single line having been written in a room full of friends screaming the same thing at once, each of them taking the words because they’d written them themselves. The EP is not simply a recording of hardship; it’s a recording of being close enough to another person’s agony that it becomes your own. It’s not catharsis by distance but radical empathy. Even with its rough-around-the-edges demeanor, this is hardly a “noise” EP as you might anticipate. The language itself is the heft in this case, pulling on you instead of shoving away, evoking the spirit of unity. This culture of sharedness is at the center of the band. On their Bandcamp, there is a short sentence that reads: “Birds of the same feather flock together.” It’s a slogan, naturally, but something more. It reads as if it’s a manifesto. Clay Birds traces back to a more wide-ranging Gen Z DIY skramz ecosystem where communality is at the backbone of everything. Whether it’s through collaboration or collective effort, it’s in these relationships that the scene is rich, not competitive but cooperative. Pilfer their overlaps with bands like Composition Booklet and Kiowa, who the band shares members with. Not to mention their joint release with Knumears, where the sky meets you. By the same token, there is their commitment to DIY. Take for example their 2022 cover of iwrotehaikusaboutcannibalisminyouryearbook. The clip is didactic in its austerity: a cymbal to which a microphone is duct-taped, an unadorned, visual paean to the spartan aesthetic that characterizes the scene. DIY in this instance isn’t about utility but about authenticity, about not sanding off what makes the music sincere. Although considered one of the younger generations within the scene, Clay Birds continues a philosophy that has defined the scene for decades now: vulnerability, urgency, presence. It’s this devotion that brings their music back to haunt you long after the final note has disappeared, leaving not just sound, but the sense of something real, something felt behind. A band that challenges you to listen with more than your ears, but with whatever is still left of you that aches. Their cries form not chaos but concord, a solemn pact that, despite everything, the kids are alright. Why do I like it? Because it allows me to think out loud, and more importantly, do so alongside others. Not to be heard, but seen. Which reminds me — this is what life is all about. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Thee Marloes (Indonesia)
A close look at Indonesia’s rich history reveals specific moments in its music deemed significant in the past. The Pop Kreatif scene in the 70s – 80s, the existence of bands and musicians like Koes Plus and Chrisye, and the distribution of bootleg tapes of foreign music that influenced so much of Indonesian music, are big examples of that. Despite the negative economic effects that came from the harsh political climate throughout the Old Order and New Order regimes as well as shaky record label deals that stifled the proper archival of older Indonesian music, the modern methods of compilations and online uploads of records and songs released in the 60s – 70s still gave them their spot to echo. Once a figment of the past, it is now slowly being brought to the present once more. In the city of Surabaya, Indonesia – a home to significant names of the Indonesian music scene such as Ervinna and Dara Puspita – lies the band Thee Marloes, signed under the Big Crown Records label. Comprised of Natassya Sianturi (vocalist & keyboardist), Tommy Satwick (drummer), and Sinatrya “Raka” Dharaka (guitarist & producer), the members crossed paths through their passion for music, Natassya’s performances in local shows and Tommy and Sinatrya’s constant band & DJ pursuits have allowed their paths to meet. Natassya’s love for retro soul and pop has established what Thee Marloes will eventually become: classic soul with the city of Surabaya filling its identity. ‘Perak’, their debut album, becomes the band’s firm statement of who they are and what they bring to Indonesia’s musical landscape. Lush soul with scoops of jazz rhythms and pop hookiness, all tied by the fragments of love-driven stories that light up the streets of Surabaya’s cityscape. A combination of local and universal elements held together through warmly cushioned production and especially Natassya’s serene singing. Her voice deftly weaves across English and Malay, bringing such kindling flair to songs like ‘Over’ and ‘Nona’ where she soars around pretty backing vocals, and ‘True Love’ where she opts for an alluring voice that effectively pulls you into the song’s humid atmosphere. But, of course, the band’s instrumental chemistry is also something to behold. Their flexibility allows more supple charm to be embossed in these compositions. Whether that be the shuffling rhythms shown off in the drum and bass rumbles of ‘Midnight Hotline’ and ‘I Know’, the psychedelic dazzle of ‘Logika’ coming through the organ sounding keys and simmering grooves, and the relaxing affirmation of ‘Not Today’ with the soulful layers of bright keys, simple drum patterns, and gentle guitars. Their melodic variations add more elegance, leaving more color to stew within the record. The album title, when translated, means ‘silver’. An apt word for what Thee Marloes has displayed with their debut album thus far, approaching the spirit of the city of Sarubaya and the familiar beauty of soul and R&B with malleability, further shaping themselves in the process. ‘Perak’ only adds another page to Indonesia’s vibrant music history. A reminder of soul, disco, and funk music that once permeated their past, giving life for those genres to breathe with excitement today.
EP REVIEW: Jess Connelly – fool’s gold
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol The interlude of “fool’s gold,” the latest EP from R&B singer-songwriter Jess Connelly, is a song that speaks of unconditional love. In under two minutes, she lays down creeds of a committed monogamy with somebody in spite of the vultures circling around them. The lyrics sung are the words we say to a lover when we know there is trust between the two of you, when acts of love need not be asked and feel like they just fall into place. But putting it another way, these are the things we say to ourselves when we hold on to a stagnating relationship, when complacency sets in, and feelings turn lukewarm. Now you’re desperate to keep the relationship steady, but you know it’s not getting any better, what with the permeating silence and all the lit matches ready to catch a moth. The honeymoon is over, which is why it makes sense that Jess named this track “indelulude.” This interlude is the turning point that bridges the two halves of a collection of songs in which Jess details the life cycle of a love that’s too good to be true: a rendezvous with a flame too thrilling to pass up on, too selfish to settle down with, but too powerful to forget. “fool’s gold” delivers this story upon a backdrop of class and elegance that we’ve come to expect from a Jess Connelly project, provided here by long-time collaborator LUSTBASS. The moody atmosphere of the music and the greyscale cover art bring a noir feel to the EP, especially with the live instrumentation of the opening track “flow.” The sense of space brought by recording a live band, drawn particularly from the cymbal-heavy drumming, complements the feeling of wonder and excitement in wanting to get close to someone new, as though we see two people cozying up to each other at a bar. But it doesn’t take long for mischief to set in. On “fool me twice,” we find that this new person has wandering eyes, and we get a feeling that what the two have between them may not be as serious as she had hoped it to be. Nevertheless, she sticks around for a while, spellbound by a one-sided fling with somebody she couldn’t refuse. But after this hallucination drifts in and out for the last time on “indelulude,” Jess has decided enough is enough. “never fall in love again” talks about the aftermath of this love affair, in which she makes it clear to her former lover that he will feel the absence of her unconditional love. But that doesn’t mean his absence hasn’t affected her either: after getting into a few rebounds, she reveals she might not be able to find true love just yet. The final stage of grief is acceptance, and in the closing track “let the bird fly,” Jess confesses that the time she spent with this man was unforgettable. Over a jittery drum break, we see her rekindle things with him despite everything she learned about people like him throughout this EP. This is the part where the real delusions set in, where acceptance is taken as a chance to blindly start over with someone who will never change and has taught another to do the same. Likewise, “fool’s gold,” in its intoxicating drama set to a warm, cozy score, is a project you will come back to again and again. Jess Connelly’s impeccable writing and composition, combined with LUSTBASS’s ear for space and instrumentation, have produced the perfect soundtrack to get you through a failed relationship, where you’re hung up on the things that could’ve been with someone you needed to get away from. Which brings us to the waltz-like beat at the end of the EP. It goes on for a few bars until it abruptly stops, slowing down like a record no one wants to hear again. Did Jess break the cycle? Were the events in the last song just all in her head? We can only guess the answers to these questions because the story is over. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: unikko ijo – kung ipagdaramot ang nadarama, saan ba tayo pupunta?
Written by JK Caray With worn-out confessions scattered across his discography, unikko ijo’s brand of writing has earned him a special place among yearners who cover his songs on a dying digicam or create intricate lyric art that gets passed around their timeline. But after half a decade of writing unrequited ballads, the solo artist seems to have hit a checkpoint. His latest album entitled “kung ipagdaramot ang nadarama, saan ba tayo mapupunta?” shows a different resolve from the same artist who understands a little more about what it means to love. “malayo sa lupa ang bituin” starts the album at its lowest point, thematically. The blaring electronic pianos set an alluring backdrop alongside his defeated quips as unikko ijo contemplates whether it’s worth it to keep loving. Amidst its catchy melody that predates virality, the song also asks the most important question yet, “itatago nalang ba ang nadarama sa iyo?”. Throughout the album, he gradually builds up his answer. Halfway, songs like “kakaiba,” “matiwasay,” and “sapat nang hindi ka magsalita” fluffs up that familiar melding of Manila sound and lo-fi bedroom pop unikko ijo’s known for. The production is much more polished while retaining those intimate imperfections that drive home the sincerity in his words. As always, the solo artist is effective at building choruses that plant themselves in your eardrums. The simple song structure in the form of drum loops and hooky guitar riffs serves not only as a vessel but as the driving force for his talent at infiltrating your emotions with his intimacy and relatability. In “Hiwaga”, we get unikko ijo’s answer in the form of a question that bears the name of the album. “kung ipagdaramot ang nadarama, saan ba tayo pupunta?” shares the sentiment that fruitless longing gets us nowhere. Those unspoken words, stolen looks, and hidden letters all turn to rot on their own. In hoarding your feelings and creating your own stories, you’ve built an inescapable tower, becoming a reminder that self-contained devotion can be selfish. What good does our silent pining do if it’s not to be seen? To be felt? To be transformed into another thing? Where do these intense emotions linger if not become the catalyst of our self-destruction? It may sound harsh for some and inspiring for others, but this is a truth that most of us have forgotten. After all, what use does love have if not shared? The key to all this seems obvious. A line in “malayo sa lupa ang bituin” goes “babaguhin ko ang sarili ko”, a phrase that explains how the singer-songwriter sees the shift in his perspective that led to this album. At a glance, unikko ijo may seem like the type of artist who only has one gimmick, but this release reveals how he is capable of pushing the envelopes of his niche. “kung ipagdaramot” is the kind of album that emerges when an artist becomes aware of the clichés that surround his music and evolves along with it. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: