When the buzzing synths mimic analog guitar riffs or a drum machine slices through autotuned wails of teenage yearning, you know you’re inside mako badco’s world. On ‘songs from a time,’ that world feels like an endless internet feed—chaotic, messy, oddly moving. It’s the sound of a keyboard tumbling into infinite melodies, sometimes colliding, sometimes euphoric, always glued together by curiosity and instinct.
The project first surfaced in the algorithmic haze of SoundCloud, buried among my recommendations, but what sets it apart is how addictive it becomes once you tune in. mako badco pulls from trance, indietronica, and experimental hip-hop in the vein of Evanora Unlimited, underscores, and deer park, yet reshapes those influences into something less polished but more personal.
Across its quick 19 minutes, ‘songs from a time’ offers surprising range within its lo-fi haze. “someone real,” featuring ivy2k, pairs glitchy crooning with a cracked emotional pulse. “offline!” veers toward overt sentimentality, a yearning for connection in a world that never seems to log out. The highlight, “relieve me of…,” leans on low-pass breakbeats and submerged atmospherics, hitting hard without overstaying its welcome. Each track feels like a fragment pulled from an endless scroll, but together they form a snapshot of what it’s like to be young, wired-in, and searching.
If the project falters, it’s in its looseness—songs sometimes drift without resolution, melodies threaten to evaporate before fully landing. But the imperfection is part of the charm. In between the buzzing synths and cracked vocals is a clear voice brimming with earnestness and restless ambition. It may not yet be fully formed, but ‘songs from a time’ makes one thing clear: mako badco has potential worth watching, grain, noise, and all.
Ada Meniv is a solo project by Philippines-born, Hong Kong-based producer, instrumentalist, vocalist, and sometimes rapper, Tisch Nava. Beginning with 2024’s ‘THE ONLY WAY THROUGH IS OUT,’ Ada Meniv’s music doesn’t feel like a loaded experiment in genre-blending as much as it is an assertion of taste and aesthetics. In laying bare the connective tissue between dark ambient, progressive metal, rap, and grunge, their tracks echo each genre’s most resonant qualities: an intensity of emotion and a stylistic choice to break convention.
All of these qualities are realized to a greater extent with “Placenta.” Compared to Adam Meniv’s other releases, “Placenta” presents itself as more restrained in exploring its aesthetic impulses, with a third of its runtime meditating on a grunge-inspired riff. At the same time, esoteric wordplay and ethereal chants come together without wearing out their welcome. Its genre switching comes in turn and in healthy doses.
Ada Meniv is more than capable of straight-up pursuing a dark ambient or grunge track worth listening to. But “Placenta” presents something more interesting than just embracing the abstractions that defined its sonic foundations. Neither the tinges of grunge-driven riffs nor the droning, trap-inspired rap would work as well without each other’s presence, taking turns. You don’t have to destroy to build something new.
We might live in a world where genres are being pushed to their farthest ends in the name of experimentation. Ada Meniv seeks out new meaning from within instead.
If you’ve ever spent even a fraction of a minute in Manila’s local underground, chances are you’ve already witnessed The Braille Flowers in action. Whether they’re offering stickers as they wade through the crowd, or creating sonic magic with their instruments under neon lights, there’s no doubt that the band’s members are a welcome presence in the tight-knit communities of artists and enthusiasts alike that run within the scene.
These nights down under, usually characterized by a selection of beer bottles, sweaty moshpits, and yosi breaks in the cool evening air, breathe life into The Braille Flowers’ debut album: ‘Lilac Dreams of a Second-Degree Non-Conformist.’ Long as the title may be, it’s a name that only begins to make sense when you bask in that specific feeling, punctuated by the haze of the guitar pedals and the album’s constant desire to live in a moment that a pariah of society’s rigid conventions can find solace and romance in.
‘Lilac Dreams…’ is a release that mirrors its scene predecessors; The Braille Flowers’ ability to write about vulnerability in a manner that sounds like small talk about the weather is similar to the air of nihilism that echoes from the lyrics of The Geeks. On the other hand, the way they couple quirky male vocals with jittery, pop rock influenced drums is reminiscent of We Are Imaginary’s captivating, dreamlike musical style.
The album’s singles show The Braille Flowers’ strengths; they’ve mastered the art of creating a cohesive album that still shows their variety and flexibility. “Lately” is a sweet train of thought that steadily grows louder as the infatuation continues to blossom. It’s a track that lends its attention to the high of being in love, not shying away from the intensity it brings as kick drum focused-fills gradually escalate the impact of its catchy, sugary guitar riff.
“The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers),” on the other hand, peeks out from the band’s “popgaze” box. The raspier vocals and whispers that accompany its palm-muted rise to the climax complement each other well. The sharper edge of ‘Lilac Dreams…’ contributes to its ability to invoke nostalgia, a callback to the preference of 2010s alternative music for squeaky clean, sharp production that’s tied altogether with the bow of a powerful rhythm section.
The Braille Flowers’ debut is self-expression at its best; the concept even shines through in the serene instrumentals that serve as interludes for the next sessions of reflection and rumination. Perhaps it’s a release that focuses on the peace brought by honesty. But as a record that banks on the intimacy of being understood, it could probably flesh out the euphoria brought by such an experience through a wider range of sounds and expressions.
At the end of the day, maybe the utilization of such a specific sound is what makes ‘Lilac Dreams of a Second-Degree Non-Conformist’ the record that it is-–a lush, fuzz-filled dream that everyone can hold up a mirror to. It’s a blueprint for every other non-conformist’s personal manifesto, ready to accompany you when you get feelings too difficult to put into words.
Malaybalay, Bukidnon, dubbed as the South Summer Capital of the Philippines, is a city nestled between lush mountains and picturesque landscapes. These lands, which birthed forests and historical parks, are also home to emerging artists like Aleeza Dawn Ellevera. Calling herself enfloeia for this musical project, the 19-year-old fuses indie, pop, jazz, and alternative sensibilities to create songs that seem to be taken straight from her diary.
After releasing her first single in 2024, enfloeia carefully planted the seeds to bring “Saturnine Pursuits” into full bloom. Each song in this six-track EP is like a flower petal pressed into the pages of a journal—its unique shape and desaturated color bleeding through the thin paper, revealing dark secrets and confessions.
Starting with the track “Going in reverse,” enfloeia lets us pry into her thoughts through cellophane drums and guitars and lyrics that mark the “x” in existential. It’s an upbeat starter with melodies that careen playfully into the pre-chorus and build to the hook. After the sprightly listen, we are greeted with somber keys of “to…,” the artist’s debut single. In contrast to the first track, “to…” eases us into euphonious jazz-pop rhythms and vocals that carry a wistful undertone.
“FROGCRUSHER!” is possibly one of the best tracks in the entire project. Here, enfloeia’s aptness for writing poetry shone the most. The lyrics are dark, brooding, and morose—the kind that makes you wish you wrote them yourself. In between ambient nature sounds, soft ukulele strums, abrupt violin tremolos, and frogs being crushed, enfloeia’s haunting vocals distort into overlays and harmonies that add a theatrical element to the song. If you listen closely, a part of the previous song’s melody is hidden in “FROGCRUSHER!’s” bridge, where enfloeia’s overlapping voices can be heard, figuratively illustrating the human tendency to push people away despite craving meaningful connection.
The shorter tracks of the EP, “you/have,” and “Poor Dreamer,” share similar structures but carry different emotional depths. “you/have” expresses feelings of jealousy towards a partner for having the privileges of being a man, while “Poor Dreamer” is a peronal anecdote on the frustrations of being discouraged from pursuing what you’re passionate about. Even with the minimalist approach to instrumentation, enfloeia tugs on the listener’s heartstrings at every transition until the very end. In a full-circle moment, “In Pursuit of Greatness” brings us back to the beginning of this saturnine ode—in a frantic and confused state. Being at wit’s end, enfloeia further showcases her vocal prowess and versatility as she belts the chorus, a signature formula in the opening track. As it ends, the repeating line “I’ve become so saturnine…” echoes like the voice in your head you’ve been accustomed to hearing and accepted as a part of you.
A testament to her commitment to music, “Saturnine Pursuits” is enfloeia’s attempt to remind us and herself that sitting with the discomfort and uncertainty of it all is part of the process. With this EP as a starting point, it’s exciting to know how she will continue to turn her garden of woes into a kaleidoscopic flowerfield. And if there’s one thing about enfloeia’s style, it’s the way she delivers lyrics that hit at the right moment. Through hushed verses and belted choruses, enfloeia evokes strong feelings that ponder on self-worth and the struggles of being a young musician.
In every new song that Gabriel Lazaro puts out, there is a drift that pulls him into a sandstorm. His hand at experimental jazz and rock continues to be tested at every turn. “Slam dance” is no different, as all the galloping drums and layers of ragged acoustics and electric guitars build towards a melodic crescendo that explodes, and eventually breaks off into a wall of gentle vocals that repeats their soft mantra.
Besides the warping progression it creates, Gabriel Lazaro does not get subsumed, more so, keeps his foot on the ground as his raw tone provides a chilling command within the conversational poetry. Singing like a preacher, spreading absolute knowledge to those who will hear. Telling the listener to go through various changes and decisions, one that will set them free from the evils that they hide within themselves.
For all that buildup, “Slam Dance” still feels like a part of Gabriel Lazaro’s journey in terms of truly landing the sound and mood that he’s been trying to craft for himself, where his direction with his compositions and intensity keeps wandering rather than truly hitting its mark. It’s a song that stumbles on pulling off its chaotic and serene dance, but does provide a semblance of hope towards getting close to a slam dunk.
Sometimes, The Best Thing Ever™ disguises itself as something arbitrary. In the case of SAINT LAWRENCE, his debut track “SO U” first came from that familiar itch of needing to create something, despite all limitations. Made out of a awkwardly tuned guitar, a catchy hook, and the feeling of losing your spark, “SO U” is a song about burnout that ironically helped its writer avoid burning out.
Right from the start, nothing could prepare you for the intense wave of emotions. The eclectic drum patterns and rigid glitches convey a sense of helplessness, being bitter at one’s predicament. The production is flawless for a debut track, with little elements like the occasional glitch adding to the steely vibe. Here, SAINT LAWRENCE’s performance is brooding yet intimate, carefully alternating between soft whispers and screaming with all the guts he can muster. Each detail builds into a satisfying breakdown that washes everything along with it.
It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon moment whenever an upcoming artist defines precisely what they want to do with their music, but it’s as if the stars aligned for SAINT LAWRENCE, given how polished his craft is. “SO U” not only provides a backdrop of what’s to come, it shoves you headfirst into the mayhem that is SAINT LAWRENCE.
A victim was slain by 12 minutes of “Desecration of Human Essence.” The suspect is identified as Organ Harvest, charged with first-degree grindcore.
The 14-track EP from Manila act Organ Harvest checks every box on the goregrind autopsy report: carnage, speed, and lacerations in every frequency range.
Marked by cuts such as “Silent Scream Symphony,” “Autopsy Buffet,” and “Post Mortem Salvation,” it epitomizes the horrors of forced organ harvesting through breakneck riffs, guttural explosions, and blastbeat trauma.
Organ Harvest’s debut doesn’t reinvent the genre, but it doesn’t have to. Sometimes mastering a formula is more effective than breaking it, especially when that formula involves the precise balance of chaos and control that defines grindcore. It’s not about evolution; it’s about execution. ‘Desecration of Human Essence’ delivers no pulse, no mercy, no cleanup — just the sound of deathgrind done right.
MISTER MEYERS’ “LAYUAN MO NA AKO” is a heartbreak spiral.
Compared to the glitchy, melodic sprawl of his hip-hop mixtape last year called Meister Eyres, this latest track keeps his signature eclecticism, but punctuates it with heavier percussion and a more confrontational edge. And just like his previous works, he scores his emotional distress with a soundbite from a pop culture ephemera: a Raffy Tulfo interview.
The flow is magnetic and the rhymes are slick, sure, but there’s an uneasy flattening of the woman in question. The woman in question is a hollow characterization that leans into the cliché of the manipulative ex-girlfriend without interrogating the trope. It positions her as a moralistic foil, a one-dimensional saboteur in the story of his downfall. Her presence is merely symbolic for him to contrast his own fragility and effort. What makes it worse is how intentional the framing feels, how the song relishes in the act of blaming her, while dramatizing the wounds he claims to carry.
Additionally, from any angle, it feels unlikable to posture and dismissively insinuate the woman as stupid. One of the lines in the chorus evokes a common trope in rap: that a woman’s inability to “get” a man justifies cutting her off. It’s reductive, but here, it’s delivered with such naked petulance that it becomes pitiful. Still questionable, but probably the least violent expression of the trope we’ve seen in Filipino rap in recent years.
Then again, to give the benefit of the doubt, maybe that’s just what really happened. MISTER MEYERS might just be speaking from a place of hurt that hasn’t had the language to process itself with care. He sketches a masculine persona caught between ego and exhaustion, desperately trying to reassert control over his emotions as a man who was done dirty. Moreover, the effort to list sacrifices becomes a coping mechanism, rather than a flex, if juxtaposed to the rest of the song. If read this way, the song becomes less of an attack, and more of a portrait of someone performing strength in his own way. Nevertheless, it’s always a risk when narratives like this regarding women circulate. In Filipino rap, they can normalize certain emotional patterns as justified without being questioned.
Still, “LAYUAN MO NA AKO” thrives as a track because of its production. It’s very hard to resist the theatricality of this bass-heavy bravado and the way the hook wriggles into your brain until you’re singing and feeling the masculine persona. Sonically, it’s just fun. It’s the kind of feel-good track tailor-made for those who’ve had their own crazy ex-girlfriend moment and just want to scream “bitch, teka lang!” Regardless of its lyrics, the track is undeniably a guilty pleasure with its impressive production.
What do you get when you are in a dark bedroom, a Stratocaster, and being deep in the throes of melancholia? That’s what’s in store in muckmedicine’s newest EP “Caspian”. Spanning across 6 tracks are scattered thoughts and confessions left unsaid; a voice echoed through angsty indie rock. This EP is the second long-form release since Migs Tabilin’s debut EP “Inside Enclosures” back in 2020, and with this most recent project, he doubles down on his lo-fi sound. How muckmedicine differs from his sister band Fairview Far — which features more upbeat indie rock and playful lyrics — is that he takes the opportunity in his solo work to indulge in dejection.
With Tabilin’s solo work, he explores his melancholy and puts his inner monologue into song, using the audience as a stand-in for the person he wishes to let into his psyche. It’s intimate lyrically, which is only accentuated by the lo-fi vibe that Tabilin has embraced wholeheartedly. “Warmth” and “Erase Me (I Hope She Listens to Modern Baseball)” feature lyrics directed to a once-loved one. As a listener, it’s akin to reading a letter addressed to someone else, and what’s found in those letters is pining and unreciprocated love. The songwriting varies on other tracks, reading more like vignettes of thought. Scattered ideas similar to ones that intrusively pop up in your head while trying to go to sleep. This is seen in songs like “Please Play Florist At My Funeral” and the intro “Pattern,” which features a monologue from Ice King of Adventure Time. It adds to the DIY aesthetic, harkoning to tiktoks where people put midwest emo riffs on top of random monologues from cartoons.
True devastation is found in the combination of the two writing styles, which is no better showcased in the final track “Cut”. The song takes an even more sullen turn than the previous entries of the EP. It’s an unresolved goodbye led with resentment, and conversely, longing for what still could be. The abrupt and straightforward lines slice deep into the chest: “I don’t ever wanna see your fucking face again, I never wanted to see any of you again”. But the knife finds more purchase with the last line of the EP: “I never made a gesture, but I wanted you to stay”.
The production of the project lends a lot to the intimacy of the overall sound; The lo-fi bedroom rock sound only adds charm to the EP, further emphasizing the vibe of being alone in your room with only your thoughts to keep you company. The vocals are, at times, passed through an EQ filter, reminiscent of hearing a voicemail left late at night, as seen in “Wednesday”. The crunchy distortion of the guitars adds depth to the morose nature of the music and adds to the swell of the breakdowns in tracks like “Patterns” and “Cut”. The sound is evocative of the pandemic-era boom of home music production. When before it was a necessity, muckmedicine uses it as a tool to capture solitude and isolation, both physical and mental.
“Caspian” was an opportunity to say the things folks would never think to say out loud. To finally release the cacophony of thoughts and find closure in the music. The dedication on muckmedicine’s Bandcamp simply states “for our loved ones”, which could not be a more succinct description for the project. It’s an EP for victims of unrequited love and those who struggle to put into words the complex emotions they feel. Muckmedicine’s pandemic era sound was utilised beautifully in this project. As fitting as it was with the themes of isolation of the EP, it does leave the listener wondering if he’ll evolve his sound further in future projects. His style has been consistent to the point of stagnant with this EP sharing a lot of similarities from his initial EP which was released all the way back in 2020. 5 years later, it can be hard to tell if any time has passed at all. Knowing this, it just makes us even more eager to see what muckmedicine can come up with in his next endeavors.
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 don’t listen to that much music. For me, my music listening pretty much only happens on a commute. So if I’m not going out [or] if I’m just at home. I’m watching YouTube videos, or working on my own stuff, and listening to my own music, I guess. I don’t really think there was a difference in that time period. I was definitely listening to some things that were inspiring me for specific tracks. But I think in general, when I’m working on something, I’m pretty locked in. I tend to just listen to [what] I’m working on, and when I’m about to go to bed, I export the files, send them to my phone, and listen to it while I’m falling asleep. If I have ideas, I’ll wake back up and work on it again. So yeah, I guess your description was kind of accurate.
LP: Speaking about some of those inspirations, there’s an array of sounds that you’re doing on this debut album. What were some of those sounds that you’re trying to emulate and explore?
Lim: [For] the tracks on the album, there’s 50% guitar indie rock stuff, and then 50% is just like straight-up electronic. I pull from the same inspirations that I have been thinking about with my other projects and stuff. Alvvays, Ivy, AG Cook, of course. This band from France called Tape Worms. Big inspiration. And especially for the guitar songs, I’m also always thinking about my friends’ work and bands like Curb, Carpet Golf, and Subsonic Eye. Seeing what my friends are doing and the kind of instrumentation and things like that. It’s always inspiring to me.
LP: Because you mentioned there’s a lot of music that is 50% guitar and 50% electronic. There’s this observation I have with Rock artists toying with electronica as of recently. Is that the current case for you? Or have you always been embracing rock and electronica for quite some time?
Lim: With my solo stuff, I’ve always tried to make not really like electronic music but electronic music with guitars. That’s always what I’ve been trying to do with my solo stuff, not so much with my other projects, but I feel like with Sobs we’ve lately been trying to do that, combining both things because that’s what we enjoy.
I think it’s also just a circumstance of making stuff by myself at home on my laptop; it’s just easy to make electronic music anywhere on any computer. And the only other tool I have is my guitar and my audio interface, so it kind of made sense to try to do something that feels like both.
LP: Because you basically have those tools for that kind of music.
Lim: Yeah.
LP: How does being in solitude help you out in terms of producing for other acts?
Lim: I think this is a common thing, but I think I do my best work when I’m alone on my headphones with no one around me to hear it hahaha. That’s how I usually mix and arrange for any project I’m in. With Sobs, it’s really just us by ourselves at home working on our individual parts over the internet, so I’m just very used to that workflow. [It] doesn’t help that I get super anxious and second-guess any of my creative decisions when other people are around – I think all this might hinder rather than help me, but it’s worked out so far.
LP: Whenever you play around with your instruments and software, how do you decipher which songs belong to you or to other projects?
Lim: Actually, the title track the one that pauline sings on, I made that track just the instrumental three years ago, thinking that it would be a Sobs song just because at the time it has that same idea of guitar pop, this is what we want to do but it just sat on everyone’s laptops for a while so it didn’t get worked on, so I just decided [that] I’m taking this, I like it too much. If you’re not going to use it, mine! This is like a strange question for me also, because this is the first time I’m intentionally working on solo music and like making stuff with the intention of putting out under my own name. So it’s new to me too.
LP: Once you have the time to listen to music, how does the process make you feel or replicate the sounds that you hear?
Lim: I think there’s always [a] subconscious influence on anything that I do from the music I listen to, but when I’m actively working on it, I try not to think about artists that I like or songs that I like. I’m just sitting down in front of the computer, and I’m making it exactly how I hear it in my head. This is what I want to make right now. There’s definitely influence from everything that I like but when I’m making it, I’m just thinking of how I want it to sound, like how I imagine it in my head. I don’t know if this is a bit cringe, but when I’m working on something right now and I need to go out later, then I’ll listen to the song that I’m working on loop on the way to the thing that I have to go to.
LP: What are some emotions that flow immediately to you once you start wearing your producer hat, especially for this album?
Lim: So, if I’m working on a song for Sobs, I’m thinking about live band arrangements and how we’re gonna play this song live. Trying to make it easily translatable to a live show. I don’t think about that all the time, but it’s in my head. But when I was working on this stuff, I wasn’t making stuff with the intention of anyone else hearing it live or even hearing it in general. I’m just throwing ideas onto the board wherever I can. Literally just whatever idea I have, I’m gonna put it in until it’s a mess. And if I don’t like some stuff, then I’ll take it out. That was the mindset I had going through it.
LP: Do you have a certain plan on performing these songs in a live setting one day? Or is it the kind of project that you’re just gonna keep to yourself in the studio?
Lim: Yeah, I think. I mean, I have done DJ sets and things like that. But, yeah, I think the stuff on this album, apart from the really dancey ones that I can just play at the DJ set, I don’t think I’ll ever do any live thing. I’m not saying never, but it’s not something I think about. Honestly, I was almost just gonna put this all out on SoundCloud and call it a day. But something in me decided to promote it for real. Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about playing. I’m freaked out about that, being by myself.
LP: Unless, Cayenne, Pauline Rana, or Elo Elo are there for the specific songs, right?
Lim: Yeah, yeah.
LP: What track from ‘The Song’ album was most satisfying to complete? Which one of those songs is the toughest to finish?
Lim: I think, Lucky, the eighth track. That song went through quite a long process of the initial demo to where it is now. And I’m really happy with it. Basically, I was working on the title track with Pauline and I was telling her, “I think I’m making an album. I have a bunch of songs.” I sent her a bunch and she really liked this one track that was really unfinished. It was just guitar and drums, and she kind of unprompted, sang stuff for it. And I was like, yes! Her vocals on that song really helped me decide where it needed to go and what it was gonna sound like. When I finished that one, I was like, “Yeah, wow. This rocks.”
LP: It really does, it really does. But back when forums were still a thing, Singapore also had its own music forum called SOFT. What were some of your core memories with that forum?
Lim: Uh, it’s actually still around. I don’t know if it’s really active, but people still go on there to sell gear and stuff. My earliest memory of SOFT was helping my dad sell an old bass guitar that he had. I put up the forum post and everything. Took the photos, uploaded them on Photo Bucket, if you remember Photo Bucket. Yeah, that’s my earliest memory of soft.com.sg. It was doing that. I occasionally still look at the classifieds on there. Cause sometimes there’s stuff that people don’t post on Carousel or stuff like that. All of my first bands growing up [met there]. When I was in school, we’d find each other on SOFT. That’s how I met Celine from sobs. Special website. Awesome website.
LP: Really special one.
Lim: Old internet.
LP: Old internet days, yeah.In your experience, now that you’ve been active within the Singaporean music scene, what’s the special thing you hold dear there?
Lim: I feel like there aren’t that many things that are unique to the specific place that we’re in. But I think it helps that Singapore is so small, and the community of people making music is even smaller than that. So, it’s a lot easier to find the people who make stuff that you align with.
I feel like I’ve been lucky over the years. Joining Subsonic Eye was kind of the start of my whole thing. Meeting a lot of people. People who make similar music and vibe with the same stuff. That’s what I cherish, people around us who are making cool stuff, and I don’t think that’s unique to Singapore. It just helps that it’s such a small scene in a small country. Right now, I think there are, like, three venues.
LP: So, it’s really tightly knit, tightly connected to each other.
Lim: I would say so. Every genre has its group of people. But everyone tends to know each other and hang out at the same places and play shows on the same lineup. That’s what I like about being a musician in Singapore. It’s small, and you can fairly easily find the people who would connect with the things that you do.
LP: What was it with electronic music in general that has captivated so many artists in Singapore?
Lim: This may not be true, but I think it’s also because there’s so little physical space. It’s not like you can form a band and practice in your basement or your garage. Everyone lives in tiny apartments, and it’s pretty easy now to go on YouTube and find a tutorial on how to use the FL Studio or something. I think maybe that might have something to do with it. It’s just that, we are cooped up in our homes.I might not be the best person to ask that because I’m not super familiar with the electronic music scene. Like, I don’t DJ a lot, but I know it’s a thriving thing right now. There are a lot of raves and events and stuff going on. I’m not super tapped in, but there’s a lot of cool stuff happening right now. There’s this collective called Scum Boys. They have a bunch of producers making cool stuff. I think, if you have a laptop, if you have a computer, you can make it. You can just figure it out. And that’s the best part of it. Anyone can do it.
LP: Since this will be the first time that you are releasing your album, what does it say about your identity now that you’re able to have your own voice within the Singaporean music scene?
Lim: I approached this project in a similar way that I approach any other work I’ve done with mixing and producing other artists, so I’d like to think it just reflects what I’m able to provide to others. But I guess I’m also leaning on my direct instinct with the solo stuff in ways that I can’t usually do when working on other projects.
I tend not to think about “the scene” when making stuff because really I’m just used to finishing tracks and immediately uploading them on Soundcloud without the intention of like more than 5 people hearing it. It’s been a weird process putting stuff out under my own name and promoting it, doing the whole rollout schtick when I’m usually so averse to it because I like having people hear my stuff, but I’m still so self-conscious about it. I just try not to think about those things, like my place in the community or whatever
More than anything, I’m glad to have this opportunity to spotlight musicians from other scenes like Pauline and peers like Elo Elo and Cayenne, I feel like it’s just me wanting to make stuff with these people for fun.
LP: Do you consider yourself to be meticulous, or do you let spontaneous ideas carve your work process?
Lim: I think, while I’m making stuff, coming up with ideas and things like that, I’m not super precious about it. I’m just thinking of ideas and putting them down as soon as I can before I forget them. But, when it comes to producing. After the initial idea is done, I’ll get kind of into it.
Cause over the years I’ve been mixing other people’s music and learning a lot of things from doing that. So, when I’m coming back to my own stuff, I’ll get pretty into it, but I wouldn’t say I’m a perfectionist. I just want to get what I imagine in my head. I want to make the song sound like how I imagine it, too. And once I’m close enough, then it’s done. But then again, with other projects that I’ve worked on, I’ll think it’s great [at first]. And then a year later, I’ll listen to it, and [be] like: “fuck, I should have made the kick louder or something.” It’s always like that. But, yeah, I think when I’m in the moment, I tend not to be so particular about that kind of stuff.
LP: If there is a specific sound trend from the past that you want to see get more attention today, what would it be?
Lim: Hmm. Specific sound. I would like to see MIDI strings come back. Just like a long-held midi string note. That’s it. Just one note. Pan a bit to the left. That’s what I want to hear in every genre. Just Midi strings. One note. Weeeee! That’s what I want.
