ALBUM REVIEW: Barbie Almalbis – Not That Girl

Written by Noelle Alarcon If you’ve dug into the heyday of OPM, there’s no doubt you’ve come across Barbie Almalbis ‘ truths spread across her bands “Hungry Young Poets” and “Barbie’s Cradle.” Ever since becoming a solo act, Almalbis has shown immense growth–she tells us like it is in her latest release, Not That Girl. An album created to cope with “the most challenging year of her life,” her renewed outlook crafted a path for her most introspective, experimental record yet. Enriched with producer Nick Lazaro’s background in the metal genre, they managed to create an assortment of songs that are as familiar as they are fresh. Up to its mixing, the album utilizes everything at its sonic fingertips to tell its story. “Desperate Hours” shifts between your ears, a medley of multiple instruments banging and pattering against the sustained chord progression. Her eventual relief arrives when “finally the war is over” resounds clearer than any of her other lyrics, making way for her victory. “Homeostasis” follows suit in the first track’s whimsicality, equally as synth-laden and raw. It leans a bit more towards power pop though, reminiscent of the punchiness of her earlier works. Not That Girl hinges on Almalbis’ beliefs; it is what makes it so vulnerable, yet so comforting. “I tell my soul to only seek you, it’s the only real remedy,” she admits in “Happy Sad” through her signature unique delivery. The heavy metal-inspired track “Platonic” comes afterward, coated in cloying irony. You’d expect the bass drum-filled, fast-paced track to be cynical; until you hear Almalbis sweetly affirm, “I know God loves me, because you do!” All these songs build from each other; audible renditions of her life lessons making her stronger than ever before. “All U Wanna Do” is as feisty and loud as “Platonic,” yet there’s a calmness to the wandering synths that fill in its gaps while she bares her soul. “How To Weep” and the titular track “Not That Girl” prove Almalbis’ pen game is unparalleled. The former is a somber ballad, written straight from her heart: “Nobody knows I’m grieving alone; the way it comes, the way it goes.” The latter roars and howls, taking a more avant-garde approach to the worship songs she’s been acquainted with. “Tell them I’m not who I was before, I’m not that girl anymore!” Almalbis declares, calming the fierce storm inside her. Speaking of Almalbis and being unparalleled, she’s definitely one of the most influential women during Filipino alternative music’s peak in the 1990s and the 2000s. “Needy” and “Wickederrr Heart,” the album’s concluding tracks, greet you like an old friend you haven’t seen in a while. In this case, it’s her trademark sound that we all know and love. “Needy” is a bass-driven, drum machine-led proclamation, perfect for cruising along the road as you nod along to her lyrics filled with appreciation for loved ones in life. “Wickederrr Heart” is a bouncy, pop rock denouement of self-awareness, coated in the desire to change. “I can’t love you when I’m running; I know how it all turns out,” she admits to God, showing her true colors and encouraging you to do the same. Not That Girl is a testament to the fact that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Its experimentality emphasizes its overall message. Life has its very own heavy metal highs, and sincerity-ridden, folk-inspired revelations. The ringing in your ears can seem like a catastrophic cacophony–until you take charge, and create something daringly beautiful out of it. Support the art and the artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: Bambu – If You See Someone Stealing Food… No, You Didn’t.

Written by Anika Maculangan One hard-hitting line after the other, Bambu’s words as a rap artist travel oceans just to make it into our eardrums. Timely, relevant, and empowering, If You See Someone Stealing Food…No, You Didn’t is a new release from the LA-based rapper that feels like just what we need right now more than ever. In the album, DePistola tackles issues like workers’ rights, the genocide in Gaza, corruption, and police brutality. He approaches these themes in a way that is direct, precise, and straightforward. He doesn’t sugarcoat his delivery, yet prioritizes the impact that it has to offer. Despite this emphasis, the tracks in this album, notably Steal For A Meal and PI State of Mind II have an immense sense of flow and rhythm. The beats across the tracks are potent, well-measured, and powerful, which better amplify DePistola’s fervent utilizations of tempo and melody. Despite lyrics not being available yet online, upon writing this review, there wasn’t much of a hassle deciphering the words because Bambu articulates each and every one of his messages so legibly throughout this entire album — both in form and content. DePistola raps from the heart of the Filipino-American community, highlighting what it means to have pride in one’s identity, despite geographic barriers. DePistola strengthens his listeners, which at its core, includes the youth in order to encourage them to continue to fight for human rights and social justice later along in the future. Inspiring, thought-provoking, and insightful, the content of DePistola’s most recent album brings light onto societal truths, that urge to be addressed. This exactly is what DePistola provides — a voice for those who are silenced. Through the medium of an album, he makes these stances firmly conveyed, and ensures that it’s accessible to his audience. Accompanied by various tonalities, like for instance, air instruments, even the interludes mixed into the rest of the songs evoke a kind of tough heartiness. It’s clear that DePistola doesn’t leave any empty spaces in his compositions, most, if not all of them, whole with soul and spirit. You can easily tell that he is passionate about his craft, in connection to the things that he stands for. With support from rap movements like the FlipTop community alongside the San Francisco bay area scene, artists like Bambu keep the Filipino perspective alive within this realm. He’s a promise that even abroad, Filipinos can make a name for themselves — despite all the hurdles and challenges that come along their way. DePistola speaks for those who have worked their way up to success, making something out of the value that is found in their personal experiences. Listening to this album, it’s hard not to be so attentive to the lyrics — ultimately, it’s the greatest asset of the entire project. The musicality of the album is just what you would expect from Bambu; skilled and masterful. But what shines the most is the weight that the album carries. It’s a perfect reflection of today’s faced struggles. And no, it does not mourn them, but rather, looks for solutions. However, what Bambu first does is open a discussion about them. This album is if anything, a necessity in today’s day and age. Perhaps DePistola thought it to be essential. Many rappers, local and international, can learn from Bambu’s integration of social issues into his music. He demonstrates that rap music can be used as a tool for advocacy during times of collective hardship. Music like Bambu’s unites people to help and uplift one another. It makes us realize what can be done, and how. It asks questions like “Why is this happening?” and makes the sound we are hearing more than just mere music but rather, a call for action. For that, we thank DePistola. While some tracks felt slightly out-of-place, like Tommy’s Burgers and Crazy Eyes, the album as a complete project doesn’t miss any points. Although others might find some patterns in instrumentality repetitive, one could also presume them to be intentional. Yes, these stories do need to be vocalized over and over again, as they should be until it’s brought us to acknowledge the problems that plague the world with oppression. In this album, DePistol says behind his messaging, that he won’t stop until those being exploited are given justice and recognized for their right to equity. If You See Someone Stealing Food…No, You Didn’t takes what is already there, and introduces it to a broader audience through the universal language of music. Bar after bar, Bambu proves to us that a compact summarization of what is happening currently can be put into words within the measure of 1-3 minute songs. In no way does it reduce these dialogues, but turns up the volume, for them to be reinforced on a more heightened, revolutionary scale. Support the art and the artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: Yorko – where the sky meets the sea

Written by Faye Allego Yorko’s virtuosic talent for Hip Hop and R&B shines in “Where The Sky Meets The Sea” as he opens up without fear of getting introspective in his songs; songs that took four years to make it into the final cut and four years to mark his first entry under LIAB studios.  The rollout of this album in terms of aesthetics was done in a way that genuinely highlights the ebb and flow of Yorko’s vulnerability: his journal entries published across his social media pages, the scenic imagery only paired with the color hues of the sky, and the impeccable album artwork and layout done by GRAVER, Zeon Gomez, @aleng_lukresya,  jadetonicc, @_niel4tienz4, and @skm2_ct have all sculpted and mended Yorko’s visions into a short anthology of memories written from the depths of Cloud 9.  In his sophomore album, Yorko, who also goes under the alias Blimp Shady, takes the listener down a rather silky road with his sleek rhymes and rhythms in “Descent” followed by “Nimbus” and “Surf” which encapsulate certain Cyber R&B beats you’d expect to hear in a Blade Runner 2049 action sequence or in a niche Vaporwave Lofi Rap mixtape. In Horizon,  Yorko reflects on the imbalances and harmony of life: ‘there’s more to life above the clouds/ there’s more to death beneath the ground/ take a dive headfirst/take the pain, feel the hurt/ ‘til you feel nothing no more’ these antheses with philosophical undertones become profound as Yorko takes what feels like a modern day Parable-of-Job-like approach to his storytelling. Juxtapositions that seep through the philosophical themes of the album are also emulsified in the pre/post break-up banger that is m.i.a. featuring SHNTI.  Production-wise, Kashira changes the game for the DIY rap scene. You can press play throughout any time frame of this album and won’t find yourself fidgeting with the volume buttons of your device.  Various influences and sonic textures from the West Coast Rap scene can definitely be heard in Where The Sun Meets the Sky, making it a flavorful homage to the entire genre itself and it’s not taking from the original and replicating it haphazardly. However, though the originality shines through, there is an inkling of that replication hazard getting in the way when you get to tracks like Ducktales, which utilises synth waves and ad libs that don’t add on to that theme of introspection and aren’t exactly elusive to hear within this genre.  Overall, this album is essentially a deep-dive into Yorko’s inner sea of confusion and takes the listener for a swim back to the shore, shining under the sun with all the glistening hopes that come out of surpassing hardship all with the dreamy atmosphere engineered into the beat. Support the art and the artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: emma bot – Radio Emma

Written by Louis Pelingen There is a sudden rush of emotions that’ll overwhelm everyone once they hit a certain age, wherein processing the state of their life thus far peels back all the ups and downs they’ve experienced as they continue to live and do the usual stuff in their routine to survive. It brings out the frustrations that may wallow in the present, but over time, it’ll die down as there is more to look forward to in the future. It might take time to push out those frustrations, but it is necessary to wade through them to learn and grow. For Sab Morado aka Emma Bot, they process that emotion within the set of pop punk and indie rock palette in their debut album, Radio Emma. Composed and produced by Emma Bot themself, with additional help by the members of Warpten amongst others, there’s a striking consistency and emotional punch within a lot of these songs, further grasped by the excellently sequenced album structure that allows both mellow and frenetic melodies to follow through without any flubs in momentum. Carrying through a familiar sonic streak that might not shift the sound of pop punk, but when these melodies are just catchy and filled with invigorating grooves, snappy performances, and fantastic production work, it leads to a lot of these songs just stick in the brain. Whether that be the rumbling bass and guitar passages on “Parallax (in Another Age)”, the stomping groove of “Mothing Feels Good”, the lively melodic throughlines of “P”, the shift from the wandering groove to the synth accents and flourishing guitars of “Coming of Age”, the soft build-ups that effectively lead to the explosive guitars of “On the Pavement” and the emotive final hook of “Easy”, the riotous melodic panic of “Japan”, and the wistful tone that’s amplified further by the additional vocals of Nica Feliciano and Howard Luistro on “Some Days (are Bad Days)”. It’s not just the melodies that manage to stick, as Emma Bot does write a compelling reflection within the themes of the record. Essentially, Emma Bot is trying to move away from whatever ache they feel, yet it doesn’t exactly come with an easy hurdle, especially as their mind is still filled with memories from the past that keep floating by. It’s an introspection that tangles itself down the line, getting a bit more existential through mentions of feeling numb, being a bit too wasted and sleep-deprived, and getting worked up with growing older that only creates the impression of getting close to giving in to cynicism as heartache and existential crisis only pulls them down further into the abyss. Yet amidst all that, Emma Bot acknowledges that there is still worth looking forward to beyond all of that cynical musings, where being able to see themselves alive is at least a positive moment to think about. The lingering pain might still be carried and there’s an unsureness about what else is there to dream about, but the important part is to keep grasping onto hope. The aspect in life that ensures that everything will be okay in the end. In short, Emma Radio is the sort of debut album that manages to hit the landing and showcases just how many roads Emma Bot could sonically proceed in the future, especially as there isn’t much risk taken within the production and compositional aspect of the album. Still, Emma Bot manages to strike the sweet spot on their first go, carving impressive melodies that have only gotten better with great pacing, sharp production, and nuanced writing that might wallow in the stormy heartache but is aware enough to grasp toward hope.  It’s a radio channel full of palpable tunes that are worth the listen. Support the art and the artist:

The Flying Lugaw presents: THE 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢 𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰

2024 was the year where Filipino musicians and artists valued the full-length release. There are bands that shot for the moon right away by releasing an album with 12 songs while others released a mixtape like it was 2013 all over again. Streaming platforms like Bandcamp and Soundcloud are important in searching for those who wish to push the envelope in releasing new music. There are no limitations when it comes to releasing an album; you can create a “season” of your own while another up-and-coming local act is cooking something up behind the scenes. Music deserves to be heard in the form of an album (or at the very least releases that have more than 3-4 songs) The Flying Lugaw crew would like to make a wish that in the year 2025, or any year for that matter, more albums, EPs, Mixtapes or any other release with a collection of songs would be pushed more for artists, by artists. 30. Pat’s Soundhouse – Khaen Solo Vol. 1 (anika) Heavy on instrumentation, this one’s for long car rides. Maybe when you’re stuck in traffic or driving through the freeway. Poignant, with a touch of elegance, the sound of the khaen is brimming with liveliness as if embodying the spirit of a human within its chords. Encapsulating the aura of what it feels like to stargaze, Khaen Solo is rich with vastness in tone.  LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/2webH6kaLadcVoHd6uBEET?si=HJaFOd1-S_SNL6x2qq-D1w 29. To love everything ever again – Nineveh (aly) Emotional, vulnerable, brooding yet hopeful. In his first EP, “To Love Everything Ever Again,” Janpol Estrella, who goes by the moniker Nineveh, bares his soul by intricately weaving gut-wrenching lyricism with glitchy synthesizers, noisy distortions, playful drum beats, and chamber pop elements to uniquely capture an emotion and to tell a story. Referencing biblical characters and verses throughout the EP, Nineveh questions his relationship with his faith as he boldly shares his internal struggles, even if his voice shakes. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/1ZLfneo1HaEkbv4g7a57Gn?si=cdb26387ac754144 28. Soldados kan Tios – Walang Titulo (nikolai) More than a post-metal sludge release, ‘Walang Titulo’ is a protest. With heavy contributions from renowned artist and activist Alex Pinpin, this newly formed hardcore band decries in the album the plight of farmers whose lands are taken by the elite class. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/046CsHH1cBlsg411TmmRgF?si=668f301ae3bc4dbe 27. Tydings-Mcduffie – s/t (louis) Ever imagine a period piece coming back as a message to the present times? Tydings-Mcduffie takes you on the highs and lows of the Philippine Commonwealth Era. Amidst the brief ride, the tides of their self-titled record zoom into its protagonists and all they have to dream, experience, and sacrifice – paired with smooth jazz compositions that give you a tune to remember. Tydings-Mcduffie provides a penchant for what the past believed in: an optimism that persists beyond melancholia. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/35vNlk6c2W6c3SXPS8ka1W?si=11d57ae092e04085 26. Haley Heynderickx – Seed of a Seed (anika) Folkish and devoted to the nature of Oregon, Seed of a Seed projects the gentleness of trees, flowers, and insects when brought into a tender symphony. Like ripples on a river, doused with rainwater, Seed of a Seed introduces an organic approach to composition. Bringing in Heynderickx’s ability to produce poetic lyricism, she enkindles the profuse vibrance that one can find in mundanity. Surrounded by lush imagery, the musicality speaks for itself when it wants to convey that sense of fullness.  LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/5WjjIOn40MG9kLfaeHBS5a?si=03125d230e504161 25. PRY – Resignation Letter (jax)  Pry is aggressive and unapologetic in their female rage, in their sophomore album RESIGNATION LETTER, which slices through indie rock, alternative, punk, and noise rock with emotional edge. The constant surveillance and judgment for their non-conformity to established concepts of femininity and identity are anathema to the band. Unlike their debut “The Party’s Over,” which leaned heavily on riot grrrl and cathartic screaming, their new sound now explores more lilting rhythms, slower tempos, and stickier textures. This evolution is a goodbye letter to their anguish like a lump on their throats, but still, fitting in their principle of being punk.  LINK: https://prymusicph.bandcamp.com/album/resignation-letter 24. Switchbitch – Silang (jk) switchbitch’s bombastic debut release sets the stage aflame as they solidify themselves as Filipino Conscious Rap heroines. Women rapping about peasant and working-class advocacies sounds exactly as badass as it looks on paper, Silang is just another way of getting their points across. Heavily equipped with sardonically blunt quips and fast code-switching, the lyricism is wildly compelling at riling people up and igniting the simmering anger we already feel. It evokes inspiration and anger—one out of frustration and one out of hope, all in the sense of creating a better nation. From the current state of affairs in the Philippines, it seems that this isn’t the last we’ll hear from them. They said it best in their outro, “Ako at sila ang magtutuloy ng pagpunla sa pag-asa hanggang sa makamtan natin ang tagumpay.”; as long as there is injustice, there will always be a switchbitch spitting bars on the oppressor’s face. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/3TfSuIKsQfT6R1LFJ1f6FS?si=155c9dca615a4302 23. Brickcity – We the Forgettables (nikolai) Kinetic energy and deep angst envelope the room in Brickcity’s ‘We the Forgettables’. For 25 minutes, you are treated to pure skramz goodness with not a moment to rest besides ‘Pretend’. A must-listen if you’re into bands like TNG. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/6wBzB53uUrFW32BtxSpwnp?si=f263574b8ce94259 22. vice* – syzygy (louis) ‘syzygy’ is a notebook scribbled with every idea that vice* can execute with the hand of a careful adept. An EP that crosshatches glitch pop illustrations with emo-pop doodles notably aware of his influences, yet using that knowledge to establish his style within. What results is a melting pot of bassooning beats; fractious guitars; and bending vocal stirs that tie up into prismatic melodies. All chaotic pieces, linked into one mesmerizing frame. LINK: https://open.spotify.com/album/3wthcVGeUFteuz3gNZnPDC?si=0b713105c79f4788 21. sci fye – who knows? (jk) Something needs to be said about the beauty in mundanity. As an open hate/love letter to the buzzing existentialist cityscapes of Manila, who knows? captures its worldly essence to a tee—but not without unwittingly writing an ode to its intricacies. From the sweltering afternoon

ALBUM REVIEW: Ely Buendia – Method Adaptor

Written by Faye Allego Without a shadow of a doubt, Ely Buendia has an iconic and notably one of the most recognizable voices in OPM. His wordplay, chord progressions, and a whirlpool of psychedelia you feel after reaching the coda is top-notch during the Batang 90’s era of OPM. But now I ask myself: Is there a dark cloud of doubt in his newly released record, Method Adaptor, in the rearview?  When Buendia released “Bulaklak Sa Buwan”, his lyricism shone through, continuing to create parallels and paradigms conveying themes of delusions, misconstrued mindsets, and the irony of fantasy. That being said, this body of vulnerability as a whole could constitute as a throwaway Eraserheads mixtape from the ‘ole Cutterpillow days. The lead single itself is a wonderful homage to the batang 90’s sound. It surely brings exuberance to fans who have been there during Buendia’s early rise to fame and have witnessed his impact on the OPM genre in real-time, however, like (almost) every artist who goes solo after years of being in a successful and impactful band, their past reputation precedes every lyric their future solo albums has to say. In Method Adaptor’s lead singles, you hear what Buendia feels, but do you feel it too? It’s there to sing and dance along to, but not enough to swoon over Buendia’s typical magical ingredients that make his songs linger.  In multiple interviews pertaining to the release of Method Adaptor, Buendia created this album out of reflection on fame and life- and the stresses that come with it. It’s an inside look into the mind of someone who spent a long time pondering what it means to have lived a life ruled by youth, art, and irrevocable passion. In tracks like Faithful, however, it seems like the thought was there, but emotional umph was stagnant. In fact, he even communicates this precariousness in the same track: “There’s so much that I wanna say/ I just don’t know if I can say it this way” The narrator of the song is tired and in limbo, yet, the tune he plays lives on, almost never-ending.  As one may know, if it’s Buendia on vocals, it’s almost guaranteed that the listener will hear an upbeat hymn that may tell any story out of the ordinary. A great example of this out-of-body experience that you feel when listening to Buendia’s voice actually comes the song titled “Shallow Breathing” from his debut solo album, “Wanted Bedspacer”. With Method Adaptor, “Tamang Hinala” is a song that exemplifies Buendia’s lyrical and instrumental devices and approaches that fuel this album. You get a repetitive yet addictive chorus as well as verses that show off stimulating cadence such as “Ang tanim ay siya ring aanihin/Guguho ang kastilyong buhangin/Madulas ang balbas parang Hudas/Ganyan lang talaga ‘pag minalas”, Every instrument seeps perfectly into the chorus without sounding overpowering or underwhelming.  The appeal of tracks like “Chance Passenger” or “Deadbeat Creeper” is colorless to the  point where certain verses like “And you wear your spirit well /Satisfy the clientele /Make me want to set her down” as well as vocals that are bordering on the stringy spectrum that confuse the narrative of the song. It feels like I’m reading a notes app poem- there’s nothing wrong with a notes app poem, however, translating feelings of desire into melodies is critical to transform filler songs into album staples in an album like ‘Method Adaptor’.  Alternatively, if Buendia continued or even interweaved his experimental sound and velvety vocals highly executed in his previous songs, namely “Monday Mundane”, “Hotchik”, and of course, “Ligaya”, I could have understood and truly felt the thematic undertones of reliving youth, regret, grief, and desire more deeply.  Overall, Ely Buendia’s distinguished and seasoned love for songwriting is definitely evergreen and everpresent, his music legacy will always be a pillar of inspiration for generations to come, but his reflections seen in his second album, Method Adaptor, seems to translate into feelings of muffled confusions that almost glaze over what could have left a lasting memory of his caliber of a voice and mind.  Support the art & the artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: Haley Heynderickx – Seed of a Seed

Written by Louis Pelingen Looking back on Haley Heynderickx’s debut project is like observing a seedling grow into a lively tree, as there are a lot of elements within the record that keep on growing the more time passes by. Spanning across the pastoral writing wherein despite the generally loose themes – there is enough captivating poetry wading through, the rich performances that Haley Heynderickx offers with her striking vocals, as well as the well-produced and well-composed melodies that have enough enticingly warm progressions to allow them to stick a lot deeper. Since then, there has been a quiet period after I Need To Start A Garden, just before this year where she finally pulled together her sophomore record, Seed of a Seed. Within this long-awaited project, more awe-inspiring elements serve as an overall refinement of Haley Heynderickx’s debut output. The production is now much more organic in its mix where the expanded instrumentation and vocals nestle well to the point that it evokes a thrilling tone to these songs, the array of folk melodies have a lot of sticky charm from the instrumental refrains and the inviting chorus lines, and Haley Heynderickx’s presence as a vocalist soars further as she pulls more from her expanded vocal range that lands with ease – really letting these songs linger with charm from start to finish. The layers of strings, acoustics, and vocals render a harmonious touch on “Gemini” as they go on these lush melodic swings throughout the song, the ramping rhythmic shuffle of “Foxglove” that’s elevated further with Heynderickx’s rich vocal delivery, the emotive strings and the jangling acoustics on “Seed of a Seed” that never sounds so comforting on their warm tone, the glorious escapade of “Redwoods (Anxious God)” where the grand swells are encaptured by the melodic progressions that never lose their sweeping momentum, the arpeggiated guitar structure of “Jerry’s Song” that builds into this heavenly crescendo that the vocals land splendidly, and the aptly titled “Swoop” has these melodic structures from the acoustics and strings that swoops with a gleaming sway every time it goes to the chorus lines, ending the record with a gracefully strong finish. This is where Haley Heynderickx then also evolves as a writer, where there is at least a semblance of connecting themes spiraling within her mostly enthralling poetry. Still lingering within the pastoral touches that she has snuggled to a tee, yet there are some fascinating topics going through the details. The overall songwriting essentially grapples with the essence of growing older, whereas Haley Heynderickx is looking into a pastoral dream that may or may not be worth it in the long run amidst the indecisive frustration that comes with aging. Yet it is not just the only subject matter that she wanders through, where songs like “Seeds of a Seed”, “Mouth of a Flower”, and “Swoop”, there is a lingering reflection of generational divides and how Haley Heynderickx acknowledges that she is in a much better space than where her father, mother, and grandmother might have been back then. It adds an extra context to the overall themes, adding a subtle anxiousness in reflecting on growing older and looking to search for those dreams. That, paired with just how robust and big the melodies tend to be, does impart how much she is willing to be tossed over to that uncertain flow, where even if she did find a sense of gratitude on ‘Sorry Fahey’, it’s not going to stop her on reaching towards greater pastures in life. Perhaps, the big frustration within this record as much as it is enveloped with so many gleaming compositions all around it, might be in the writing itself. Not that it takes away from the refinements within, but there is that pastoral framing that creates a barrier on how much Haley Heynderickx’s reflections will stick further. Because as much as that personal arc can be traced the more time spent thinking through the concise poetry, this brand of pastoral beauty can be a double-edged sword, leading to gleaming musings that gesture towards those personal emotive touches rather than fully touching upon it.  But despite those personal nitpicks in the writing, there are a lot of exceptional moments traced within Seed of a Seed. Brimming with some of Haley Heyndrickx’s strongest songs to date that come from the overall array of performances, compositions, production, and writing, this sophomore output ended up amusing. Even if the overall personal touches could have been observed with a closer look, the improvements are enough to make the project stand stronger than her debut. It might be just a seed of a seed, yet how it grows is all up to its control. Support the art and the artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: LUSTBASS – inner space

Written by Anika Maculangan Having been in the game for a while, LUSTBASS delivers new intonations of soulful jazz and R&B modulations into the sphere of what is contemporary in style. A proclamation of lush beats, innerspace is the conglomeration of fruitful collaborations amongst the artist himself with other seminal artists like Jess Connelly, Jason Dhakal, Fern., Cavill, RJ Pineda, Waiian, Akio Rene, Nicole Anjela, and ((( O ))). Just when summer has ended, it makes us anticipate the next one even more, with this relaxed, beachy, and casual expression of sound. Effortless, wavy, and adjacent to chillwave, LUSTBASS explores the multitude of areas that the downward tempo scale of pop can encapsulate, if done right. With its easy-going, almost nonchalant ambiance, innerspace is a composed way of merging the stoical with the serene, in a more or less, leisurely mellowness. Known for his keen, cutting-edge approach to the assembly of rhythm, LUSTBASS best demonstrates this skill in this motley of modish, sophisticated indication of experience and background of joint teamwork with other fellow artists.  Some tracks are more atmospheric than others like Yeyuhh, the album is transcendental in the sense that it touches every ounce of one’s attention to notation. Motioning from one switch to the next, the songs in this collection flow with immeasurable poise and flair. Not often are producers given the full stage in most cases of how we laud them in the Philippine context, but in the case of LUSTBASS, this awareness of the man behind is well apparent. In LUSTBASS’ signature polishness, it’s swift for one to recognize LUSTBASS’ appeal to reverberation from a mile away. In addition, the vocalists he collaborates with in this album, bring out even more, the smoothness of his instrumentals.  Having previously collaborated with some of these artists LUSTBASS displays his propensity to apply his personal touch in all of his projects — a sharp, crisp, melodious harmony of percussion and refined grandeur.  This album comprises tracks that anyone could bring with them to a vacation, and not regret it, because it’s a concise dash of opulence that is not too pronounced but just the right amount to make the sky appear broader. Brightly colored, like fresh tangerine or sand along the coastline, LUSTBASS has a certain character to his musicality, that is funky, fun, and vibrant. It instantly brings us to our feet and makes us want to start the day with an uplifting temperament. If only we could make LUSTBASS’ interspace our alarm sound to waking up every morning — so that we’d be more energized to jump back into productivity. Support the art & artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: Shanne Dandan – Kung Iyong Mamarapatin

Written by Louis Pelingen Post-breakups leave everyone in touch with who they are. The pronounced pang of the breakup leaves a specific question on whether or not they are still worthy of falling in love, as well as if there is still a possibility of finding that romantic presence in the future. It’s an internal reflection that one must try to think deeply not just by wading through their introspections, but also by looking for an outlet that will help them release those deep-seated thoughts. After all, the path to searching for that answer and peace is shown in different ways – through conversations, poetry, films, music, etc. In perusing through this heartbreak, Shanne Dandan uses the outlet of music to allow her emotional undercurrent to spill through. On Kung Iyong Mamarapatin, she embraces a balanced set of contemporary smooth soul and vintage Manila sound that careens through with her stirring vocal runs, paired with well-composed song structures and supple production touches to allow Shanne’s presence become languishing within these mostly pretty soundscapes. Creating a well-structured flow that provides momentum to stumble less and lets these songs glide with their comforting grace. The quicker rhythmic shuffle of “Iyakin” from the drum passages and bass licks accompanies the glistening synth patches and Shanne’s sparking vocal deliveries that always cut through the striking hook, the wistful introspection of “What do I do with you?” with the waves of sweet synths and keys flying through the gentle melodies, the soulful glimmer of “di na babalik sa’yo” where the vocals pick up a self-assuring tone that very much fits with the sharper melodic snaps of the song, the genuinely pretty cover of Cherie Gil’s “Boy, I Love You” that’s laced with charming vocal coos amidst the gentler set of grooves and synth swells, and “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin” ending the record with a newfound sense of confidence running through the layers of lead melodies, backing vocals, and soaring instrumental flourishes. This set of songs eventually builds up the arc that Shanne Dandan has placed down, focusing on moving past a break-up where she self-doubts if she is worthy of happiness and love within future happenstance despite keeping up that smile that’s ever so fragile, yet she knows that it’s a step that leads her to slowly recover. Then, after “Gemini (Reprise)” Shanne finally regains her voice where she can confront that ex-partner, leaving them behind as she now finds a sense of joy in finally being able to speak up for herself and taking the next step forward to moving past that memory. And it is in “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin” wherein, through writing these songs, it is a way for her to recognize that she is still worthy of being loved. In creating music, she can sing these songs out for herself and pave a path where she’ll finally be able to settle into a relationship that she knows she is worthy of being in. Although, as much as the melodies, writing, and performances do give this album its charm, two problems distract away from that charm. For one, there could’ve been at least a few more songs that could give more weight to the arc of the album, especially as the songwriting does go for broader lyrical details and the album is already running a bit too short to land the emotional resonance it wants to impart. For two, it mostly comes from the production and how it treats the instrumentation of the record, where the mixing only lets the drums and guitars sound way too faint, and how there are points where there’s a lack of tender textural presence that would benefit certain songs – most notably on cuts like “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin” where the stiff drums are paired with thin sounding hand claps and “Boy, I Love You” that has these shaky vocal dubs that sadly pulls away from the magnetic presence that Shanne Dandan brings through her endearing performances. By the end of that, however, Kung Iyong Mamarapatin is sprinkled with potential that Shanne Dandan has showcased throughout the record, whether as a captivating singer and songwriter elevated further with melodies worth listening to. It’s just a shame that the production and brief runtime don’t build more of the emotional staying power that this album really wants to show, especially when there are moments where that resonance shines through in spades. Moving past that heartbreak reveals something special for everyone, validating their worth in finding that newfound love, and resurfacing the joy that provides everlasting comfort.   Support the art and the artist:

ALBUM REVIEW: switchbitch – Silang

Written by Jax Figarola For rap duo switchbitch, subversion means crossing the boundaries within the existing political realities in the Philippines from the bottom up. Their debut album Silang – under the genres of conscious/political hip-hop and experimental hip-hop – focuses on making its listeners confront known truths of oppression and systemic inequality, particularly the struggles faced by them as part of the working class. They refuse to compromise their overt socio political messages with forced rhymes or flashy wordplay. Instead, relatable personal narratives of class struggle and resistance run through the lyrics that make the album symbolic yet accessible. There was no need for political jargon or buzzwords that people from all sides of the political spectrum can understand; just critiques of devastating realities that everyone endures under state-sponsored structural violence. With “Koro” as an incendiary prelude and its dense layers of bass, the urgency to address the political realities is immediately established. It meant that the album and its themes should be expected not to be taken lightly. My personal favorites are “Reklamador” and “Ano Na Plano Mo?”, both expressing the precariousness of everyday life, especially for artists and laborers trapped in a system that strives for exploitation. While Filipinos are subjected to structural violence, this system demands our survival at the cost of accepted exploitation—and how the duo transformed lament and critique into performance shouldn’t just be admired as is. Switchbitch wants its listeners to be moved to action by the intensity of the beats, the aggression of vocal delivery, and the sharpness of their lyrics. Yet Silang is not content with remaining alone in anger and resistance. The duo recognizes that vulnerability within the movement brings comfort. Loving one’s nation also means wishing that the state’s incompetence doesn’t stand in the way of personal, romantic love, something switchbitch reflects in tracks like “Irene” and “my bb.” The former, reminiscent of their song “Kang Seulgi” from the Pasintabi EP, is referential to their love for K-Pop group Red Velvet as a couple of lesbians (and really, who doesn’t love Red Velvet?). But nevertheless, it’s a pause from the relentless beats and rhymes, but the political theme never paused. Even a simple act like spending time with a loved one is undercut by the harsh realities of working and wanting money to survive in an unforgiving economy.  Lastly, the title track and revolutionary song “Silang” finally anchors the album with a tear-jerking vulnerability that many activists do experience in real life. Subdued guitar strums accompany the duo’s framing of sacrifice as both an individual burden and a collective responsibility, like seeds for future generations. A vocal interlude from different comrades of the movement closes the track and the album, delivering an uplifting reminder that everything will be worthwhile in the end.  The unrelenting resistance embodied in the ten songs leading up to this moment carries the weight of fear and contradictions many activists face. Yet, through this powerful project, switchbitch urges everyone to stand in solidarity with one another in the face of those anxieties, emphasizing that even in fear of the state, the collective struggle must continue.  Silang performs acts of resistance not just through its lyrics but also in the structure of its sound. The dissonance, the unpredictability, the stellar beat from a tin can drums in “BoboCop,” and the chaos of the production reject the polished aesthetics in mainstream Philippine hip-hop. However, it’s imperative to understand that not everyone may want to listen to harsh political truths or find revolutionary political hip-hop albums good or listenable. But for those who have the prerogative to be moved to action, the album becomes an invitation to reflect, resist, and ultimately, reshape a future grounded in solidarity and collective liberation. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: