Written by Elijah P. 15 years is barely one-fifth of a century; trends and events have passed, figures have become monuments, culture has turned itself to the past and we’re here struggling to become a blender of something that happened 30 years ago. The veil of “OPM” is showing itself to become a rehash of what has been and what was. Indie pop, or pop music in general, has slowly become stale. Alternative music has become the starter pack of many younger listeners. The internet has inevitably redirected our view of alternative music forever. However, for seminal Bulacan indie-pop troupe Orange & Lemons, you’d expect them to dish out something different, all the while picking up where their influences have left off in their latest album titled “La Bulaquena”, their first album in forever. The 10-track album is no way of showing merely tributes to legends and name-checking every little detail behind the scenes. It doesn’t pull off any excuses, Orange & Lemons simply show and not tell. The new album – although vying to become a balance of traditional instrumentation and modern flick of anglophile-inspired indie-pop – has no shortage of melodies through and through, but at what cost? The answer: this is Clem and company’s attempt at reinventing the genre rather than paying true homage to it. All of the tracks circle back to the meaning of what it was like to become scholarly of what is viewed to be archaic in terms of technique and sonics. But that isn’t the lone goal according to the band. O&L loyalists may be surprised by the first couple of tracks. Like this isn’t any “Hannggang Kailan” or another “A Beginning of Something Wonderful”; it’s donned differently with less buttoned-polos and posters of your favorite slick-back C86 vocalist. “La Bulaquena” is treated with amplification of its traditions, wherein examinations of rondallas and kundiman as a whole are done like a pop quiz. The album is expected to behave like a gentleman in barong outfits, but rather Castro, the Del Mundos, and Neroda act as if this is what they have and they do it on their own terms respectively. The album clearly doesn’t imprison itself in its resources, especially with the title track, “Ikaw Ang Aking Tahanan” and “Yakapin Natin Ang Gabi”. There are tracks that exceed everyone’s expectations: headbanging to bandurrias couldn’t be any more exhilarating and refreshing. Although there are tracks that stand out positively, there are others that are entertained as fillers, covers that are fit for a venue of seekers of kundiman, and actual placeholders in a museum. The album, from front to back, face value to its lyrical depths, is conserved as one that wouldn’t come out as rather more innovative or bold; It’s an Orange & Lemons album without their classic setup and yet the entire project keeps within bounds of their familiar sound, even after their 15-year absence of releasing newer material. It is music that wouldn’t come across as material that would pave any of its contemporaries forward, but rather it crystallizes the thought of traditional music not exceeding its expected use. “La Bulaquena” has no tricks or rather little progressive ideas that are enough to gauge another project that would push the kundiman sound to another level in the future. The project needs a little bit of push in sonics: a little more outsider material and fewer instruments that are kept dusted on the inside. Orange & Lemons have accepted that challenge and the result came out well, but remembering it as a body of work barely makes sense in this wide collection of music released this year. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
Category: ALBUMS
ALBUM REVIEW: Paper Satellites – Manila Meltdown
Words by Janlor Encarnacion It took a pandemic for indie-rock trio Paper Satellites to finally put their musical vision out into the world. Spanning years of writing, Manila Meltdown depicts the maturation process of a band figuring out their sound and rolling with it. Evident in the album is their penchant for making memorable riffs and melodies while also experimenting with their sound. Their Oh, Flamingo!-like instrumentation is top-notch and while the Alex Turner-esque vocals were taken straight from the mid-2000’s indie scene, they sound more refreshing for today’s listening. The album takes the listener on a musical journey of growth with improvements heard from the remastered tracks to the newly made ones. The older songs show earnestness in their boundless energy often falling short on the delivery during the chorus but show bursts of creativity in the melodies and lyrical punch in the verses. In the newer, non-remastered, songs, the boys further refine their technique most notably with how the chorus is handled – a weakness in the older songs. The band makes use of a complicated-verse-simple-chorus to show contrast that have led to weak remastered songs but has been refined in their newer tracks. Though singer-guitarist Jyle Macalintal shows a set vocal range, his strength in lyricism is harnessed to great effect in the album’s best song: “Spinning”. He flips his conventional writing style found on other songs around and makes a compelling and engaging song by making a frantic chorus that matches the riffs and the song title. The simple-chorus form of writing is exemplified, though, in the second best song of the album: “Scene”. The difference in lyrical complexity adds contrast between the songs’ parts but the simplicity in the chorus was enhanced by taming the instruments – further elevating the lines. I wish they went further with the experimentation, though. Ness Urian – of The Gentle Isolation – had a short feature that felt lost as she only delivered a few lines at the end of YGSFM. More inclusion of her sweet voice into the song would have made for a more contrast-y and interesting listen. All in all, Manila Meltdown is an excellent indie-rock trip full of great melodies and sing-along songs that show what the band is capable of. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: The Juans – Liwanag
Written by Elijah P. Drum pads, Christian Rock leanings, K-pop cosmetics, and musings of the neverending main character syndrome; Yep, it sounds like The Juans album alright. The then-boy band turned full-fledged conventional band has hit their momentum a year before pandemic, releasing the acclaimed Umaga EP last 2019, gaining fans and recognition besides their commissioned movie soundtrack credits here and there – dropping songs for blockbuster romantic movies like Sid and Aya, Squad Goals, and 100 Tula Para Kay Stella. The leather jacket-wearing, Gatsby hair-scented demeanor took a 180 degrees with the band now donning colorful suites, dead synth pop trends, and oppa-leaning touch ups for their latest album “Liwanag”. The album starts off with the band introducing themselves with 39-second long harmonies then transitioning to the insurance company, Manulife-type instrumental: tribal pop drums, motivationally charged vocal melodies, ocean-sized chorus pedals that’s blander than their music video color grading. Besides the pop trap left turns in several songs, “Anghel” is the only tolerable track in the entire album. The Juans’ “Liwanag” have hi-fived themselves to their doom. Executing the worst parts of homogenous sonic variation, or a lack thereof, nearly all of the songs in the album are barely worth mentioning due to the identical song structures, sonic aesthetics, subject matter that’s already achieved even before the band has existed. The album ends off in the sourest note: The sonic alettes noted down are already mentioned, and it’s almost pointless to even elaborate the stagnant compositions. The Juans are already out of touch from the get-go. Link:
ALBUM REVIEW: Massiah – Lahi
Written by Louis Pelingen Ever since its creation, Careless Music Manila has been in a state of constant growth as it became independent in 2019, allowing the signed artists creative freedom when it comes to their visual and musical aesthetics. While the last two years have restricted these artists to tour around the world, it did allow them to focus on their musical projects that will push their careers through the door even more. This year, one of the artists in that label has put out their debut record and that is ‘Lahi’ by Massiah. To put it simply, it is a breezy and tropical record that centers on Massiah’s half-Filipino, half-Ghanaian heritage as well as his success in recent years. While it showcases Massiah’s talent and skill on the door, it doesn’t exactly showcase what makes him stand out. But before I discuss my personal nitpicks on this record, I would love to point out the positive aspects of this record. For one, the production is consistent for the entire runtime as afrobeat and trap beats are weaved throughout, supported only by chilly synth tones, chiming piano textures, and enough low-end presence that acts as a solid groove foundation for a lot of the tracks. And for how tropical this album is, it does make sense that Massiah tries to be loose and chill with his vocals to convey different tensions on most of the songs. And when the production and melodies are at their polished results, we get songs like ‘Frequency’ with its magnetic melodies and charming performance from Massiah and ‘Stay With Me’ thanks to the woozy synths and synth horns, low-key vocals that are elevated with multitracking and backing vocals that are nested at the best timing. However, there are multiple pushbacks in the production that don’t work well. While I loved ‘Paid for It’ due to the Spanish guitar chords playing amidst the trap rattles, the vocal mixing gets haphazard as it shifts to the back of the mix quite often and is not helped by the bass that swamps Messiah out of the picture. ‘Island City’ is also a mixed bag as well as it provides an interesting drill-esque beat that is coming from the sputtering trap drums and low-end presence, but it gets odd as the track suddenly transitions in slowed and pitched down effects which only makes the back half of the song to end in a jarring way. The production on the other tracks are mostly fine, ‘Higher’ with its hypnotic synth presence amidst solid trap and low-end grooves, the stable tropical afrobeat presence on ‘High off Life’, ‘First Time’, and ‘Tourist Chick’ with the latter having some horn accompaniments, and the sparse synths and bass presence on ‘Silhouette’. While some tracks could’ve used more of the guitar and brass instruments utilized in the album, I think my biggest issue here is the writing, the melodies and flows, and some missed opportunities that Massiah could’ve done in the record. While Massiah is a solid enough performer that showcases different sides in his vocal range, there are tendencies where he wears some influences on his sleeves when he raps and sings, especially from the likes of Amine, Drake, and Ty Dolla $ign. It’s also a missed opportunity for Massiah to have more interplay with his guest features especially when he is trying to different things in the record. He could at least try to play off with Because on ‘Island City’ and provide vocal harmonies with Fern. Official and Cavill on ‘Silhouette’. And while there is some vocal interplay in ‘High off Life’, there could’ve more opportunities for interesting vocal dynamics in the song. When it comes to the writing, I do get and understand the thematics of success and fleeting love that is in the record, but Massiah could’ve done more here. While the flexing is not really in the record, the constant mentions of the hustle and hard work just got stale and Massiah could’ve branched out in this topic, possibly towards introspection and how that success really means for him and those that he truly cares about. And then there are the love songs, which felt a bit flirty on the first track only to derail into unappealing tangents in the next couple of tracks. Massiah tried to sell that loose tropical vibe in the writing and production with his vocals, but it still doesn’t compensate for the bland and uninteresting songwriting and the melodies that can be stiff and derivative. Massiah’s brand of tropical afrobeat is fine and dandy, but treating this as a victory lap on his debut album may demand some folks more attention on what else he can do next after that hustle. Personally, it is a flawed record, especially with the influences wearing on Massiah’s sleeves, the production that stumbles on certain songs, and the writing that just doesn’t showcase his unique flair and ends up being one-dimensional as a result of it. While I applaud him for reaching that success and celebrating it on this record, I’m going to pay close attention to what else he can do in his future releases. Because now that he has showcased his victory lap, he will need to do more than just hustle bragging to sustain that audience. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Nullification – Kingdoms to Hovel
Written by Nikolai Dineros There is something that is always so endearing about acts in the peripheries of the Filipino metal scene. For a genre so predicated on turbulence and density, bands like the Lagueno old school death metal group Nullification somehow know just when to fill those crevices with noise and violence. Enter ‘Kingdoms to Hovel’, Nullification’s nine-track project under Personal Records and Metal Choice Cut Records, produced around the third quarter of 2021 in Laguna, Philippines, before making its way to Walpole, Massachusetts, where it was set for physical release in January 2022. ‘Kingdoms to Hovel’ is all about fundamentals. Even the progression in its name, or the bareness of its medieval, almost Macbethian cover art, is suggestive of this idea. But for an OSDM album, one would think fundamentals seems like a redundant descriptor. As ironic as it sounds, this is the one glaring factor commonly overlooked by new DM bands in their tribute-to-the-past records (I’m looking at you, Gruesome). Nullification succeeds in elegantly incorporating the nostalgia factor without leaving it stale. Inspect the first track ‘Intro to ‘Annihilation’ on your first playthrough and you will most likely already know what to expect: a minute-long ambient tone-setter that slowly builds up power before cutting off at the last second, only to immediately throw you into the brutal pit that is the second track ‘Sledgehammer’ – the ‘actual’ first song, if we’re to be technical about it. Nothing new, but it’s so rich and well-executed that can never get enough of it. On that note, ‘Sledgehammer’ is like a proper poster child of Obituary and Morbid Angel, touched up enough to sound like a tribute to the genre’s formative years whilst sounding fresh in 2022. The drum work is crisp, the vocals are bloodcurdling, and the guitars are fast and unforgiving, as can be said about the other tracks. ‘Calamity from the Skies’, with its dissonant drum beats complementing the ebbs and flows of the guitars and lyrics, portrays destruction raining down from the skies, headed towards you. ‘Negated Fields’ has to be one of the biggest highlights in ‘Kingdoms to Hovel’ for how well it represents the band working seamlessly as a unit. Everything about this song gels perfectly with one another. Vocalist and bassist Rozel Leaño is at the top of his singing game. His growls are as graceful and as ‘death metal’ as they can possibly be. The solo near the end is blazingly fast and melodic, and reminded me a lot of the same section of ‘In Death’s Sleep’ by Dismember from their 1991 album ‘Like an Ever Flowing Stream’. Nullification proves that Filipino old school death metal can still break out of the mold while staying fundamentally rooted – a medieval fantasy opus that you know all too well but somehow manages to always keep you at the edge of your seat. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: ABANGLUPA – Of Rats And Swine
Written by Nikolai Dineros People the world over decry the looming threat of war and invasion. Filipinos, faced with a dilemma of their own, grieve in remembrance of comrades lost. Of Rats and Swine could not have come at a more vital time. Behind this full-length record is Abanglupa, a hardcore punk/grindcore duo hailing all the way from Pateros. With Of Rats and Swine marking the band’s debut album release, the Vivo brothers comprised of Abanglupa, Ronnel and Ronaldo, released around a month before the album’s 22 February release date a manifesto expressing their grievances toward the Marcoses for their lies, callousness, insatiable greed, and total lust for power. “The Marcoses will do anything to return to Malacañang and claim power for themselves,” the statement read, as Abanglupa teased “Forced Dementia” — an allegorical protest against historical revisionism and the distortion writ large of the resistance’s raison d’être. “They will stop at nothing even if it means sowing discord amongst the Filipino people.” Abanglupa doesn’t beat around the bush, never indulging itself with the ominous. Across the ten short but powerful tracks in Of Rats and Swine, the band resonates their anger with the oppressed collective through guttural screams and loud riffs, and calls for the destruction, not the redesign, of the carceral structures that enslave the poor. The title track, “Erase”, and “Decorated Vultures” are just three among the ten hard-hitting songs that heavily emphasize these themes. As far as their sound goes, Abanglupa has a lot going for it. The band has previously cited the New Hampshire-based hardcore punk act Trap Them as a major influence. But as cumulative as influences are, comparisons do not end there. On many occasions, Of Rats and Swine crosses over borders of punk subgenres and metal, but it is hardcore at heart. But the rage of Abanglupa in their debut album is far more than the slew of crust, sludge, and grind elements the Vivo brothers have colorfully thrown into the mix. It is best encapsulated by the masses’ anger for tyrants and the system that bred these corrupted people to enrich and rot amongst themselves on the pedestal, to be spewed by society of their poison, only to be ingested once again with that same poison. Of Rats and Swine is a call-to-action. To violently topple down the powers that be – and may be. Support the art & the artist: https://abanglupa.bandcamp.com/album/of-rats-and-swine
ALBUM REVIEW: Drive of Daydreams – DRIVE OF DAYDREAMS VOL. 1
Written by Janlor Encarnacion The OPM landscape has a never-ending list of bands singing about love and all its tangents. A band can find success just by sticking to this topic and avoiding any deviation from it. Signed to O/C Records back in 2018, Drive of Daydreams released their debut album – Daydreams Vol. 1 – with a collection of previously released singles and new songs while referencing the past overusing tropes to mixed results. All the songs in the album are your typical OPM songs talking about love and heartbreak that you may have already listened to in the 90’s and 00’s albeit with more modern sounding vocals. That is to say, they bypass the shout-along choruses you’d normally associate with these kinds of songs and deploy a more subdued vocal performance to mixed results. The opening song – Come With Me – is the best song on the album and sets the bar high where the rest of the songs fall short except for one. Taking cues from British bands like Oasis, the song has a great arrangement and is a banger opening track. The succeeding tracks fall short even if they try to pay homage to popular bands in the 90’s: Join the Club in Giliw, Spongecola in K.L.A., Itchyworms in L.D.R., and Silent Sanctuary in Wag Ka Lang Malumbay. But there is a glimmer of hope – Martyr. It shows the bands’ ability to shift from multiple genres and styles with great effect and shows the potential of the band where only glimpses can be seen in the other songs. Paying homage to the past is always a good starting point for any up-and-coming band but it’s always best to make your own mark – especially in the oversaturated space that the band is trying to make a name in. The album shows potential and we can only hope that this experience will help the band and their music grow in the hopes that the band can snap out of their own daydream and make a difference. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: BURZAGOM – Kontrabida
Written by Red Bartolome To attempt to confine an art project into conventional musical genres is a futile, fruitless effort. I could say that BURZAGOM’s album effortlessly combines dissonant genres such as punk, hip hop, noise, funk, TV/Film scores, and more into something surprisingly cohesive. I could say that the record’s pacing, at times slow and deliberate, at times frenetic and full-bore, mixed with its spoken word vocals, evokes memories of my adolescence listening to the Radioactive Sago Project from my Nokia 5130 while commuting to school. I could say that BURZAGOM’s sound is largely emblematic of a post-internet, post-pandemic venture. I could say that it cleverly borrows and steals from more established songs to create something entirely new. I could say that it is a piece of work that is inimitably anchored around its time of release. I could just say all of this and be done with it– but that would be a disservice to both you, the reader and possible enjoyer of the album, as well as to BURZAGOM’s vision. Grandi Oso, or Simbuyo D. Maunawaan: The grand impulse that cannot be understood. A force in the local music scene as enigmatic as their project the STIGMATICS, they cut through conventions like a Good Knife. Known for a variety of different projects, I honestly have no idea whether to refer to the artist as Grandi Oso or Simbuyo D. Maunawaan. For the sake of brevity and maybe my sanity, let me refer to Simbuyo D. Maunawaan, the vocalist Eric Barabas-Hestas, and BURZAGOM in its entirety simply as “the artist”. The artist crafts an experience that demands deliberate attention. A few weeks prior to even hearing about KONTRABIDA, I received a friend request on facebook from an account named Bur Za Gom. I did not know what to expect. I found myself experiencing chaos, anarchy, and disarray. A flurry of incoherent Facebook posts intermittently flooded my feed. Bur Za Gom shared cryptic images reminiscent of the weird side of the Facebook marketplace and boomer humor. They were somehow surprisingly salient but also stuttered and bewildering at the same time. That account would be banned a short while later. As I listened to the record, I found myself sinking into the same feelings of disorder and general confusion; only this time I had a vague sense of what was actually going on. I felt as if I could get a grasp of what the artist was trying to impart. The so-called “spoken word diatribes” and “mutant Frankenstein sound” reminded me of the metro, of the Philippines, of living here, and everything that that would entail. A sonic assault, not entirely unwelcome, painted feelings of anxiety amidst a bustling crowd. Existential dread flowed and mixed, ironically, into brighter and more hopeful sentiments in tracks like “Tamang Timpla”. The record reminded me of so many things. The record reminded me of how it felt to line up for the MRT. The record reminded me of the times I spent crammed inside a jeep that purportedly fit nine people on each side. The record reminded me of the blinding sunlight that hit my eyes while I walked in the middle of the day. The record reminded me of the wastes and of the wasted in Manila. The record reminded me of revolution. Just as I felt I was about to achieve a revelation, however, the artist made fun of me. “Magduda Ka,” the album’s penultimate track, wraps the entire project once again in a sense of confusion. With an almost schizophrenic fervor, it forces you to question whether or not what you felt was actually the intention. Was that what they wanted to say? Was it just a projection of your own affectations? You doubt your interpretations, and question not only yourself, but every little choice on the record. Why reference the story of GomBurZa? Why release it this close to the election? Why was it only made available on YouTube? I do not like to take things at surface value, but it is inevitable that I inject more and more of myself the more I try to process what I have experienced. The project, as Diane Arbus would describe photographs, is like a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know. At the time of this writing, I am satisfied not knowing everything. I no longer wish to seek meaning where there may be none; hipan mo na ang kandila, gusto ko nang magpahinga. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Nonentities – Autonimbus
Written by Nikolai Dineros Man’s desire for emancipation entangles him in a constant battle with that which oppresses him – a battle that was never lost but has withered him to the point of numbness. Autonimbus zooms down on the other struggle that ensues, one that exists from within the mind of our already embattled hero to keep his humanity in check. Local punk outfit NONENTITIES’ sophomore album Autonimbus’ is an amazing, straightforward punk record with occasional blends of power pop that has in each song all the blazingly infectious riffs, melodies, and lyrics we’ve all come to love about the genre. More than that, it perfectly encapsulates the pathos of the working class forced to endure capitalism’s destructive consequences as they continue to mobilize and seek respite wherever they can. NONENTITIES’ relationship with hope in Autonimbus ebbs and flows at every turn, but the passion brought into the nine hard-hitting songs never wanes. In the first two tracks – ‘Witnessing the Shedding’ and ‘Joy Unknowable’, respectively – the narrator is seen in a state of distress as they witness the different faces of injustice chipping away their hope for humanity and for themselves. But as the album progresses, the more he discovers about himself in others in the spirit of resistance. As he continues to resist and find his own solace, no longer has he placed his hopes on greater gods other than himself and his neighbors, as highlighted in the eighth track ‘Subservience’. Autonimbus is a battle cry, and it continues to echo despite the seemingly unwinnable odds. It accepts one’s mortality and the feebleness of the human spirit when trapped in a system that takes away all that which makes life fruitful. But this sentiment is not driven by the dread of reality, but of love. Support the art & the artist: https://nonentities.bandcamp.com/album/autonimbus
ALBUM REVIEW: Travelator – THE SINS OF YOUR CHILDREN
Written by Louis Pelingen In terms of creating an instrumental album centered towards a mood or a concept, the artist has to start thinking outside the box when creating tunes and textures especially if the said concept is a complex one, or at the very least, requires more thought into making it translate to the music effectively. Introducing: Travelator. Travelator is a solo project by Conrad Javier that essentially creates a musical backdrop to the chaotic swirls that have been a push-pull situation in the cities in the Philippines. His previous releases such as ‘Reset’ and ‘Travelator 2’ showcased Conrad’s skillset as a bassist, guitarist, and beatmaker with loopy grooves and cool textures making for a relaxed, but oddly tense listen. This was also the year where he released his debut album, ‘The Sins Of Your Children’. At first, given the album art, the album’s title, and the names in the tracklist, it may seem that Travelator is going somewhere with his concept. Possibly adding more interesting samples and textures to the mix to make the hypnotic, scorching mood of his past EPs feel more intensified and allow the melodies to slip into your mind with a bit of variety and clarity. After a dozen listens on this album, I was in an odd state with this project. I was a bit disappointed with the lack of samples that would really help emphasize the socio-political concept of this album even clearer, but on the other hand, I get why Travelator didn’t include more of them as the downtempo leaning tracks create more of a sifting, meditative backdrop against situations and figures that are creating much of the chaos in the Philippines. This record also reminds me slightly of Boards of Canada, and especially a vaporwave-tinged downtempo album from last year, NYSE’s Millennialism. On the surface, this album plays in a cohesive structure as the prominent presence of pulsating percussion, squelching and simmering synthesizers, somber and distorted guitars, and quaking bass all throughout the album, playing in tempos and textures that gallop on one side and submerge on the other. When the tracks hit hard, they really do stand out. I love the stomping and whirling atmosphere that comes on ‘Loveable Lies’, same goes for tracks like ‘A Bit of Flavor’ with the chiming synths and airy synth bass that is accompanied with distorted guitar at the end, and ‘The Sins of Your Children’ brings a steady beat and multiple synthesizers that provides layered melodies on top of that steady drum beat. I did like some of the meditative tracks on the record, like ‘Warlords’ that starts the record off with a calming charm coming off from the looping drums, guitar, and even trumpets, and the closer ‘The Gods That Hate You’ which brings in soothing guitar and varied synth textures on top of the steady percussion. However, when you take a closer look, the album starts to show its flaws as the inconsistent mixing, odd synth tones, and lack of rhythmic and melodic variance pokes through. I wasn’t crazy about the mixing on ‘Wasabi’ which kills off those punchy drum loops, kills an otherwise wonderful trudging atmosphere on ‘Walking on Mud’, and kills off what should be an explosive breakdown on ‘Victorious’. Some of the synth tones used on some of these songs like ‘State Beyond Sleep’, ‘Grace, Kindness, and Death’, and ‘An Abundance of Caution’ could’ve been modified at spots as they don’t exactly blend well and they do stick out like a sore thumb. And most importantly, while I do appreciate the consistent mid to low tempos peppered on this record to ensure the meditative feel of these songs, there could’ve been instances where the tempos ramp up for a few seconds to provide these songs some urgency, provide more melodic presence from the guitar when it was used not as frequent and sometimes mixed too low, and slip in more sampling cuts that would allow for variance from song to song. At the end of the day, I do understand and respect what Travelator is approaching in this record. It’s a contemplative respite from the whirling and somber aspects of the city life in the Philippines, especially when the album cover and track titles lean towards the socio-political aspects this time around. The vibe coming from these songs may be there, but it’s held back by mixing, synth tones, and lack of rhythmic variance that don’t make the tracks standout even more. It may hit the concept and feel that Travelator aims for, but it doesn’t snap consistently. Support the art & the artist: