Written by Elijah P. The ‘90s alternative rock revival is in full swing, with Twosday channeling Britpop sensibilities, Panjia exuding youthful energy and charm, sci fye embracing grunge-era aesthetics, and The Revisors paying homage to the Eraserheads with their songwriting groove. But wait for just a second, this isn’t a dig nor a reductive statement to compare the neophytes to an already lionized four piece. In fact, they are different. “Salagubang” would beg to differ if it were to play the game. Their 5-track debut EP is worth taking into account. “Salagubang” has a bevy of tracks that aim to reminisce an era and at the same time add something new to the formula: flourishes of guitar noise in “Alina”, the mixture of sunshine pop and chaos in “Take My Hand” or the rambunctious yet wholesome demeanor of “OK Lang Yan”. – there’s so much to pick in terms of highlights. Keoni, Raco, Ninja and Zell add a lot to the table with juxtaposing sensibilities of powerful vocal melodicism and fuzzy textures that add so much personality to their arsenal. Nowadays, the music industry is filled to the brim with vocalists and bands that overstay their welcome in terms of falsetto vocals and slow intimate pacing to add some sort of dramatic yet lazy, ineffective attempts. However, the band in question did it with a fresh mind and a redecorated take on the cliches that come with the conventions of standard “OPM” singer-songwriter rock. And with the formula in mind, The Revisors played it to their advantage in “Salagubang”. There’s an entire scene waiting for them, and the current modern-day power pop/pop rock circus is in good hands with the quartet entering the fold. Support the art & the artist:
Category: EPs / MIXTAPES
EP REVIEW: Pinkmen – Neptunes
Written by JK Caray Following a string of single releases spanning a couple of years, Offshore Music’s Pinkmen finally released their debut EP after a period of constant track launches within the past year. Far past their 2019 hit ‘Hanggang Sa Muli’, Pinkmen had the better part of 5 years to focus on progressively honing their distinct style within the music scene; however, the question still nags a few, was the long wait even worth it? The answer whether or not it was lies in Pinkmen’s dedication to their latest release ‘NEPTUNES’. With a runtime of 35 minutes, the EP begins with the track ‘Historical Revision ’24’; a reprise of their catchy political 2021 single ‘Historical’, consisting of even more tongue-in-cheek references and quips. ‘Di Pa Rin Sapat (Ang Sahod)’ drives the band’s stances even further, carried by vocalist/lead guitarist Giro Alvarado’s moving and powerful vocal performance over a somber instrumental that reflects the common folk’s everlasting problem. Third on the list, “Lately” includes droney, weeping guitars that decorate a thick wall of sound. The dense ballad structure makes it an unassuming first listen, yet it turns into a sentimental banger upon multiple listens, enough to be a solid pick for a break-up playlist. Oddly enough, ‘Art Song’ breaks the immersion that came from the earlier tracks. Its position momentarily skews the flow of the album, due to its nature of being a ‘nonsensical’ song, as it comes directly after two earnest ballad songs. Nevertheless, Pinkmen proudly wears their influences here, with the track being eerily similar to a ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’s song. In ‘Hourglass’, bassist Mark Armas animates the song forward with his highly infectious grooves and licks. Arguably one of the more enjoyable moments of the EP, the track seamlessly blends elements of neo-psychedelia and disco to form a fresh and distinctively unique sound. ‘Habulan’ sells a rich narrative as it features local rockstar Ely Buendia’s signature poignant songwriting at the center of the song. Themes of ambition and longing make up for an empowering track that makes ‘Habulan’ an anthem for hope and resiliency. Lastly, NEPTUNE’s last song ‘Miscom’ stands out as the resonant end to the entire release. Evocative and nostalgic, the song banks on classic feel-good musical conventions—jangly guitars, dynamic drums, and compelling chord progressions—paired with bittersweet lyrics to deliver that familiar sense of melancholy. And it succeeds in doing so, with the entire track sounding like a trip to the past, a chat with people you’ve sworn to hate but have since forgiven with time. After years of waiting, we could only hope for the band to continue riding the momentum of the ‘NEPTUNES’. This release marks a milestone in their discography and has shown the band that they could make it; because now that they’ve proven themselves capable, nothing’s stopping Pinkmen from getting to higher heights. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: sci fye – who knows?
Written by Anika Maculangan For those of us who grew up in Manila — a love/hate relationship often prospers. We carry so much frustration toward the city, yet also a fondness for it. With experiences like staying past curfew, hopping on the LRT right when it’s about to be full capacity, and sipping a cold San Mig along Manila Bay, we’re mostly indecisive on what to think of it. So what comes out of our subdued thoughts when we hear a song like i hate manila from sci fye’s latest EP entitled who knows? I don’t know, who knows, at this point? Maybe that’s the solid aimlessness it tries to convey. Like a pseudo-Cobain with more of a local undertone, sci fye highlights a grimy, snappish texture. Like washed-out graffiti beneath the underpass. Or scraps of crumpled receipts and candy wrappers along the tunnel. Think baggy jeans that reach the concrete, and skateboards with loose pivots. Densely immersed in distortion and fuzz, tracks like deadbeat generation extend a darker impression of rock. Although a debut, sci fye moves itself with its own surprising capacity for good mixing and stable production — something a lot of debuts are usually still shaky with upon their onset. However, the duality that is provoked within the songs’ reverb-studded guitars and brash, shrill drums is something that can be titled as imposing, for its harsh yet punkish accents. More soppy tracks like hanggang sa walang hanggan yearn to wake up just in time to see the sunrise trickle through the seams of transmission towers and billboards. What is another thing to observe in sci fye’s debut is the different personalities that each track seems to embody, distinct from one another. Although there is still symmetry somewhere along those varieties, since they still all fall within the same relish for dissonance. Songs like whiteflower and magulang profusely releases its greatest bouts of dread and foreboding malaise toward the city’s chaos. Perhaps it communicates the desire to escape its madness. Repeating the lyrical lines “Ako’y nahihilo sa ikot ng mundo”, what we can discern is the want for a pause, a break, or a ceasing halt to all the babel. Maybe sci fye is called that for a reason, because it suggests so many dystopian themes, perhaps through the language of lengthy bridges and Brutalist condominiums. Like putting on your tangled earphones one sweaty afternoon, who knows proffers the emotive features of parking next to NAIA, to watch airplanes either land or leap off the ground. Every track is a tribute to grunge in one way or another, placing emphasis on garage-metal basslines and riffs. Sci fye instigates a static-doused tonality, one that matches Manila’s musical palette for enkindled overdrive. Gritty and loud, like the engine of a retro Corolla about to ride down Aurora Boulevard, they amp compression over to its appendages, for waveforms that defy frequency. What they ultimately bring to the table is the age of a post-Pearl Jam, or even Soundgarden noise range, making a name for its own Manila equivalent, in light of pondering over journal entries in pieces of yellow lined parchment paper. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: LONER – DROPSTAR
Written by Jax Figarola Stepping back from the energetic beats and quicker rhythms of drum n’ bass in Lean Ordinario’s sophomore album ‘Make Noise,’ LONER—his solo project—ventures into new territory with five tracks of mellow techno-trance music in his third album, ‘DROPSTAR.’ This shift in genre reflects the influence of Metro Manila’s underground rave and club culture, which has surged in popularity post-lockdown era. Transitioning from syncopated breakbeats and heavy basslines to faster tempos and ambient synths, LONER charts a new course while maintaining a kinetic pulse that keeps his old fans in the scene engaged. His shift from creating drum n’ bass, which is a genre relatively uncommon in the Philippine electronic music scene, to a more conventional blend of house and trance might initially seem like a move towards the familiar. Yet, ‘DROPSTAR’ defies expectations, proving to be anything but ordinary. While it might lack the novelty of his earlier work, it certainly rises above mediocrity. LONER still embraces the fast tempos characteristic of his previous releases, but this time, with a spirit of experimentation. He incorporated elements of house music, crafting seamless, repetitive melodic pounding of kicks and hi-hats against rich ambient synths, creating beautiful instrumental interludes. Furthermore, his charismatic and resounding vocals, especially on tracks like ‘Stop Playing’ and ‘Don’t Wanna,’ fit well in the project’s theme of noncommittal love and situationships. His voice feels like an invitation to an intimate, late-night dance—just you and LONER, lost in the rhythm, filled with moxie and mutual infatuation. The serene four-on-the-floor drum patterns where his vocals are absent offer a refreshing change of scenery. Beginning with the pre-game energy of ‘Stop Playing’ and building up to the dreamy crescendo of ‘Figure It Out,’ the album evokes a hypnagogic state on the dance floor. Each track during its instrumental passages offers a corrosive and psychedelic moment, transporting the listener to another world. My personal world was under the mushrooms in a forest, where I danced with Pinoy gnomes to a storm of spores. Despite the project’s brevity, clocking in at just under 15 minutes, ‘DROPSTAR’ quickly becomes an earworm especially after repeated listens. Each track, while distinct, contributes to a cohesive whole art piece. The ambient synths that dominate when vocals are absent beautifully complement LONER’s voice when it reappears, peaking the dance experience in standouts like ‘Bahala Ka Na’ and ‘Figure It Out.’ Despite the seemingly minimal production typical of trance, the production in ‘DROPSTAR’ is anything but minimal—it’s a profoundly sublime art piece in its entirety. With his amazing past releases and this new project, LONER’s contributions to the Philippine electronic music scene truly deserve applause. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: Yaelokre – Hayfield
Written by JK Caray Keath Osk, more known by their stage name Yaelokre, has captured the attention of the Medieval fantasy-loving, Renaissance Faire attending part of the online community—garnering millions of streams, likes, and even a fandom of their own. An all-around storyteller, weaving stories through music, art, and performances, the artist first showed promise through their single “Harpy Hare”. After a few months, Yaelokre follows up with their debut album “Hayfield,” the prologue to their ongoing musical centered around the world of “Meadowlark”. Depicted with gorgeous art and a strong stylistic direction, it’s clear that “Hayfields” is part of the love project that Keath Osk has been brewing for years. However, it is still the kind of art that can be hard for some people to digest due to its perceived peculiarity. As for the music itself, “Hayfields” is a tight and cohesive concept EP, with influences that range from The Oh Hellos to AURORA. Although it suffers slightly from its unpolished production, the picturesque storytelling paired with the eloquent almost Nordic style of singing proves effective at showing the points across. “Hartebeest” for one sets a thrilling introduction, hyping up the entire album aside from its cryptic lyrics. In it, the scene is vivid: it feels like running in a mystical forest that promises one-of-a-kind adventures. “Harpy Hare”, the more known single, is a catchy stomp-and-holler song about an overprotective mother told through interesting symbolisms and metaphors. The track carries the energy that Hartebeest starts with and adds more to it; Yaelokre’s headstrong voice being the center of the song, every word pristine. In “And the Hound”, the blistering tempo mellows down as it goes to a more ballad approach, featuring the most moving and most powerful vocal performances of the entire EP. Here, Yaelokre boasts their prowess in songwriting, the lyrics being equal parts morbid and captivating. The closing song “Neath the grove is a heart” starts with gentle flutes and builds up the song along the way. Compared to the other songs, the song is much lighter yet still as grandiose. Warmth is felt across the beating of its drums and the harmonious vocals in the end, innocent and magical. It is an enchanting ending that calls back to the start of the EP as it includes leitmotifs of “Harpy Hare”, and “Hartebeest”, further hammering the feeling of going home. By now it’s obvious that this kind of project does not mix well with some, but Yaelokre’s instant rise to success may have exemplified the amount of naysayers. Scrolling through the comment section of some of their posts, a horde of people express their disapproval of the concept calling it “cringe.” While the question of it being cringeworthy is subjective and varies from person to person, is it bad to just have whimsical fun? “Meadowlark” as a whole is a world built on childlike wonder, a time where judgment was not yet commonplace—would it hurt for us to revisit what it felt like back then? Sure, Hayfields and the rest of Yaelokre’s works may not be for everyone, but when it does hit, it hits you hard. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: rosh – cotton mouth
Written by JK Caray If you were also a hip local music listener back in the 2010s, you understand how crucial music websites like Bandcamp and SoundCloud were in experiencing the height of that underground, lofi scene brewing inside people’s own houses. While home recordings have always been a thing, the format of these sites provided the internet a front-row seat to the unfiltered, underproduced music some passionate strangers online made in their free time. Among these lie hits and misses but in 2016, Roshelle Munez released her first release “gitling,” which became an instant hit on SoundCloud. Following the virality of “gitling,” Manila-based Alt-Pop artist Munez, aka rosh, became an indie darling overnight—however, it would not be until 8 years later that she released her debut EP entitled “cotton mouth.” Serving as her serious venture into the music scene, the release—a long-awaited debut effort consisting of her unseen works from 2016-2022—allows us to take a peek into her diary as an extension of her psyche. “gitling – 2024” reinvents the original with more polished production and a clearer sound direction that fits right in with the rest of the EP. The addition of groovy drums and harmonies gives it a more laid back and playful vibe, as if having given it space and time to breathe. In stark contrast to this, “human goo” introduces that wall of angst that lingers throughout the entire record. It picks up the pace with driven drums, rosh’s fatigue embodied in her vocals buried beneath eclectic bass synths and the harmonic dissonance of guitars. “rainbow road” steps back from the heavy noise, favoring to experiment with lush, dreampop-like sensibilities. The lyrics echoing her heartbreak are cryptic yet very familiar, something everyone has felt but nobody could pinpoint. Lastly, “nevermind” closes the EP at the zenith of its turmoil. The instrumentals weep with a sense of deep longing and yearning; she’s begged and begged, but somehow it’ll never be reciprocated. Errors decorate the track alongside distorted guitars, creating the perfect backdrop for the emotional breakdown that follows. rosh ends the EP with a “never mind,” too tired to care anymore. In cotton mouth, each song is a confession; all the anguish and hurt hidden finally surfacing after years of being bottled up. Maybe that’s why despite its heavy, angsty nature, cotton mouth feels freeing. It’s the words you couldn’t say and the stories you try to forget after years of running away. Ultimately, rosh’s first foray displays a remarkably promising future for Manila’s star-sign-loving, alt-pop rockstar. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: Yung Masa – MY KARMA RAN OUT
Written by Elijah P. Being a jack of all trades can take you somewhere, especially when you can balance out the dynamics of being a producer and a songwriter. These particular skills are something to masterfully juggle throughout your entire career span. Moreover, up-and-coming rapper and songwriter Yung Masa takes on the challenge of balancing different subgenres of rap in his debut EP titled “MY KARMA RAN OUT,” teetering with synthpop, drum n bass, digicore, and 2020s anti-pop sensibilities, mixing them into this cauldron of a project. The end result? A hot mess scattered by a relentless number of influences that don’t consistently gel well. “PRELUDE (could’ve been)” is an opener that overstays its welcome, while “GOODBYE” expresses my excitement for this EP to be over—not to mention the weak hook and singing. “DOWN” has harmonies that yearn for a Christmas Time remix from Alvin and the Chipmunks, while “RUN!” wishes to write like contemporary local rappers that sound like RB Slatt. However, “LOSE MYSELF” and its overall production could have defined the EP as a whole, with emotionally resonant vocal delivery and drum patterns that pay homage to 2020’s electronica. However, one takeaway the listener can get from this album is to not mistake all the futuristic, cyborg, Blade Runner-like visuals for actual material substance. “MY KARMA RAN OUT” was a frustrating listen from front to back. Sometimes the possible influences can get in the way and act as a detriment to its content. It’s like Mokujin except the impersonations don’t fully resonate to render the journey victorious. Its punches are weak, the lyrics are out of it, and the bar is extremely low for the remainder of this debut EP. Yung Masa’s “MY KARMA RAN OUT” should be renamed to a different title; maybe “My Originality Ran Out” is more fitting. Link:
EP REVIEW: BINI – Talaarawan
Written by Louis Pelingen With the news of BINI breaking new grounds on the Billboard charts and eventually dethroning Ben&Ben on Spotify in terms of being the most streamed OPM group in around 2 years, it showcases a grand successful milestone not just for BINI themselves, but for the P-pop scene in general: a hurrah for a lot of P-pop and K-pop fans where they celebrated the return of Bubblegum Pop in the mainstream local scene given the acoustic folk-pop chart dominance for a long time now. Although the Bubblegum Pop sound has been boiling in the local indie spotlights if you know where to look, there is still value to be had towards this groundbreaking success of BINI as it gives a fresh coat of paint to the local mainstream music scene right now. This all leads to the first EP of BINI, Talaarawan. To start, the performances and the melodies have a solid foundation throughout the EP, allowing the collection of cheery P-pop songs to feel vibrant and well-composed. The performances naturally carry off the loose and charming tones that are not just embedded into the hook-driven melodies, but also the writing and instrumentation that also surrounds them. While they do stumble a bit whenever they break out on the rap verses, they do at least manage to keep up the upward optimism that remains quite infectious. However, for an EP that is described to encapture the breadth of emotions and stages of life and love, that essential idea starts falling apart really quickly with a few glaring issues that sadly overshadow the melodies and the performances. The lyricism, despite the passing metaphors that differ from song to song, does not have enough intriguing flair to go alongside it. As it immediately goes into romantic platitudes where the sense of yearning and empowerment blurs into one another, Talaarawan lacks any detail that can open up the emotional depth of the writing, making it less special. Besides the writing, a lot of these songs still carry the same mixing issues as the previous BINI projects, where cuts like “Karera” go a bit too loud in the mix, “Pantropiko” and “Na Na Nandito Lang” having similar loud mixes and then some, and the inconsistent vocal fidelities that create a big distraction on those two songs. But this all rolls into the big frustration of this EP: the production. From the general synthetic instrumentation to the stiff and dated production choices, they never really allow the melodies to properly pop off and the vocal harmonies to be as stellar as they need to be, eventually taking away the brisk vibes that these cuts are going for, especially on “Pantropik” where the synthetic textures completely blemish the summery tone of that song. However, there are still moments of passing quality that BINI still pulls through: The effortless opener of “Karera” where the performances just go off amid the decently bubbly beat; the melodic glimmer on “Salamin, Salamin” remaining really sticky even despite the bass rhythms getting a bit janky on that song; and “Diyan Ka Lang’” that closes off the EP on a good note with enough remarkable synth lines that blend well with the retro-inspired drums. Even with all of that, there is a big missed opportunity for BINI to take a drastic swerve in terms of their sonic palette, especially when their shift in sound from project to project has always seen slight changes, taking the safest tangents instead of diving into fascinating genre influences and experiments that the contemporary K-pop scene has currently embraced. Because, if they did manage to take that colorful array of genre elements alongside production and writing refinements, it could strengthen the concept of this EP, where the variation within genres and production textures paired with the solid vocal and melodic foundations at the core can be an absolute boon to BINI. But, Talaarawan as a whole just does not go there. Instead, in every passing good note there are disheveled musical scribbles that overshadow the better aspects of the EP. Stuck in a stiff sound that doesn’t allow BINI to encapsulate the set of emotions they wanted to express in these diary pages, they at least managed to land on the important emotion that will guide them onward: joy. Support the art & the artist:
MIXTAPE REVIEW: Cat Boy Jeepney Driver – DIARY NG POGI
Written by Louis Pelingen The artistic bond that Neytan and Areli have made ever since ‘FAR’ has flourished into something ecstatic beyond compare. When they first put that song out in the spotlight, their musical chemistry gels in an instant as their melodies echo their sonic influences such as Brockhampton and No Rome, and the ruffled yet effectively tuneful production has enough to captivate not just the listener but perhaps even themselves. This pairing of their interlocking interests and styles eventually paves the way for this duo to make their own boyband under the delightful name: Cat Boy Jeepney Drivers. Under their long-awaited debut mixtape, DIARY NG POGI, there is something in the presentation alone that speaks about the duo and the interests that made them click together. Their fascination and appreciation for the 2010s mainstream and local pop culture, the intrinsically silly Pinoy references and exuberant experiences that they carry along through their songwriting and performances, and even their sense of musical wonder that is not just creative, but in a way does reminisce on how homespun a lot of the local music scene that was popping over in youtube back in the early 2010s. Where despite the limitations that those acts have to face, they still manage to push past that as they insert as much charm into their songs whenever possible. Of course, these inspired characteristics do plop over to the musical side as well, where both Neytan and Areli chain together their respective knack for sampling and melodic composition to create a delightful blend of incredibly enjoyable pop and R&B songs within this mixtape. The joyous bounce of “LOSER” just puts an instant grin from ear to ear due to the swiveling samples and rumbling grooves swirling around the effortless vocal melodies, “UNSINT A MESSAGE” that’s comprised of manipulated samples and shuffling beat carries the layers of vocal harmonies to soar and allow the cheeky yet sincere sentiments to succeed, “MARSHMALLOW HATDOG” with its near 4-minute runtime full of harmonic layers picks up more melodic swells alongside pileups of strings and distorted percussions that closes the mixtape to a grand finale, and their cover of Justin Bieber’s “BOYFRIEND” adds upon a certain menace on the track’s sense of cool through the hammering percussion and blown out vocal pickups that lets the song to become instantaneously glorious as a result. Even if the breakbeat samples on “POP CULTURE” and especially ”MAYBE MITSKI” didn’t have the same creative treatment as the other songs, the vocal melodic runs placed upon the quicker pace of these songs are still sharp enough to work within the structure of the mixtape. Defined by their past local and international sonic influences alongside their own experiences that mold the silly yet sincere moments in these cuts, Cat Boy Jeepney Drivers are willing to not just take notes on past glories but appreciate them by embracing a sense of wonder and charm into their song-crafting process. As a result of their adventurous brand of pop, DIARY NG POGI unleashes multitudes of ecstatic, creative, and excellent set of pop songs from a duo that lives and breathes pop culture. Overall creating a colorful and charming diary that definitely needs a next installment, for there is so much greatness on display. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: SHUICHI – YEAR OF THE RABBIT
Written by Jax Figarola Following shuichi’s well-received 2020 debut EP, “somniloquy,” he returns with “YEAR OF THE RABBIT,” a collection that invites listeners into a world of introspection and dream-like grief and longing. He presents a haunting blend of dream pop, bedroom R&B, and ambient electronic elements in music that creates a strong feeling of a bittersweet ache in your chest as you lie awake from grieving the loss of a person still living, distant and far away. The EP opens with “COUNTRY,” a track that sets the melancholic tone. You are greeted with arpeggiated chords that resemble faded photographs, each note a fragment of a lost love. The lyrics tug at a familiar ache – the longing for someone who feels like a distant dream, and shuichi captures it with a poignant honesty. The overall vibe invites quiet contemplation, allowing listeners to immerse and drift away in shuichi’s world of emotions. “SLIDE” throws its listeners into a disoriented spiral. The slow tempo and layered vocals evokes a deeper sadness – the desolate wistfulness that could be heard from the vulnerability in his vocal delivery. Yet, the solace of finding his lover only in dreams underscores the ephemeral nature of dreaming. Moreover, while almost unnoticeable, the tiny details of static sounds are a constant reminder that the images in dreams can be purely fantastical. And then, the despairing guitar line in the long outro builds towards a resolution that never arrives, as the track is abruptly cut off, transitioning into the next song. This abrupt ending could mirror the sudden shifts and unresolved stories that occur within dreams, because unfortunately, we all have to wake up eventually and face what we have lost. Next, “TILL THE MORNING” reinforces the record’s theme of anguished dreaming. The light synths and distant layered vocals are reminiscent of a half-forgotten nightmare. shuichi addresses his lover as if there were a real confrontation, but everything feels like a hazy memory due to the ambient and lingering layered and sampled sounds of audio recordings. The distant voice recordings are a desperate attempt to hold onto a fading, or faded, connection as if sanity is lost. The last tracks mark a shift towards a more meditative and romantic atmosphere. In “KEN’S TRACK,” unintelligible, dialogue snippets from a chillingly cold female voice, presumably his lover, against a lone piano melody evoke deeper sentimentality. This melancholic mood is continued with the seamless transition into the final song, “ILY,” which blends the dream pop, sound collage, and ambient elements that capture the feeling of bittersweet longing that define the EP. The lyrics express love for the other but also sound like a desperate plea to be loved back or be loved back again… It is a fitting conclusion that reflects the difficulty of letting go. “YEAR OF THE RABBIT” might feel slow and melancholic to some, but the thematic unity and sonically cohesive soundscape elevate the record into a work of artistic merit, where vulnerabilities are explored in a linear narrative. The rabbit signifies vulnerability, and the record is for those seeking a deeply personal and introspective experience, an invitation to confront vulnerabilities and find solace in the catharsis of emotions. It is the year to be vulnerable, as shuichi’s music isn’t just a listening experience; it’s a journey through a whispered conversation with the ghosts of love and loss that linger in the dreamscape of memory. Support the art & the artist: