Category: TFL Columns

  • SABAW SESSIONS: DAINE

    SABAW SESSIONS: DAINE

    Inside Daine’s artistic psyche, lies a multifaceted dissection of their creative growth.

    Australian-Filipino pop artist Daine has been at it as an artist for several years now, but 2026 is the year their debut album will be out for everyone to hear. This is an uncommon instance where the process of a debut album becomes sacred rather than immediate, a representation of an artist still soul-searching and changing along the way.

    Their flexibility as an artist has been long documented throughout their work. Previous mixtapes like ‘Quantum Jumping’ and ‘Shapeless’ have them singing across Alternative Pop and Electronic beats, penning down Emo-tinged lyricism, and cultivating atmosphere that simultaneously broods and brightens. Their craft only continues with the looming anticipation of their debut album, ‘In Endless Awe & Agony’.

    In this segment of Sabaw Sessions with guest writer Louis Pelingen, he spoke to Daine about their past works, collaborating with millennial producers trading for Gen Z optimism, the cringy “industry plant” term, and what the overall process of birthing their long-awaited debut album. For Daine, the creative process is multifaceted as the concept they’ve built upon it: embracing Jungian psychology as a reflection of their internal self.

    [This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity]

    LP: I recently saw your short video interview on NME.

    You described “PQC” as an emotional portrait from your high school life. What were some of the music that you cherished the most throughout your high school experiences?

    D: I loved Teen Suicide, Alex G, Title Fight, American Football. It was very classic Tumblr, indie kid stuff. I could go more niche than that, but I feel like those are the main ones.

    LP: Your debut mixtape, Quantum Jumping, has turned four years old this year. What were the characteristics and takeaways that you took and refined since making that mixtape?

    D: I think that my writing was a little bit more clumsy then because I was just trying to fill up all of the verses and the choruses and trying to make sure that things rhyme and stuff. But now I’ve realized that I can kind of just write whatever I want.

    And back then, I think some of the stuff is, you know, as a teenager, so stuff is a little bit more cheesy, which I kind of like. Some people have told me that that’s their favorite work of mine and that the new stuff isn’t as good. I think there is something magical about how cheesy and unfiltered teenagers are. But I think I’ve matured and refined my craft to the point where you can tell it’s [coming from] the same person, but it’s like, I’m more refined now, I think.

    LP: Just looking at your songwriting on each subsequent release, there’s definitely a change in how you build up your emotional tension within those songs. It’s interesting that there are people who prefer more of your older stuff. Why do you think that is, though?

    D: I think there’s a lot more ear candy in the older stuff, like the older glitches, the hard 808s, the sort of trap elements in the production. And I think that stuff is very attention-grabbing. But what I mean by refining my sound as I get older is that I’m realizing that things don’t have to be so oversaturated. They don’t have to be so complicated, like simple songwriting with simple [production]. I mean, my music’s always been simple, but things like Auto-Tune and overdrive, I don’t need to drown everything out in these heavy electronic elements. I can just, you know, write a good indie folk song or a good rock song. I think there’s more of a return to classic songwriting, like letting the lyrics and the melodies speak [more] rather than the production.

    LP: I see that approach really catering to those teenagers who just want their head speakers blown up and whatnot.

    D: And I wanted that too. That’s why I was making that stuff. It’s like when you’re young and chasing a thrill, like that’s the vibe.


    It’s okay to keep parts of yourself to yourself and then have your creative persona be this kind of mask that you show to the world. It’s like, you know, a jester is not being himself.


    LP: Are you leaning into that approach on your debut album, or are you making a sort of playground when it comes towards the sounds?

    D: Yeah, the debut is all over the place, like there is still that [quality], [but] I don’t think I will ever be able to tame the part of myself that is constantly moving between different genres and sounds. There’s a lot going on, but there is sort of a throughline of just strong self-aware writing. And to me, it feels like an authentic indie record, even though the stage I’m on is much bigger at this point. So I’m sure there will be like a lot of industry plant allegations, but I think if people really listen to the music, they’ll hear it. Like it’s real.

    LP: It’s such a bullshit term, like the industry plant thing. Because, like, artistic development exists too, you know?

    D: Literally! Like the Beatles like made it naturally.

    LP: I mean, true, but it is the Beatles too.

    D: No, but it’s like, everything has always cost money. Like, did I think Lady Gaga had like no marketing, no marketing budget, nothing?

    LP: Oh yeah. Back in her dance-pop stuff in the 2000s.

    D: But she totally had help. Like, you know, everybody needs help to get out of the mud. And we were in the mud. We’re making it out.

    LP: That’s what I’ve noticed after your 2022 mixtape: you’ve worked with so many sounds from various producers. How do you ensure that you still keep your core voice while going through these different sonic approaches?

    D: I’m still struggling to figure that one out, but I also don’t know if it needs to be figured out. Like I think that I sound really different on most songs because I’m working with different people, but now I’m realizing that there’s ways to create throughlines. For example, I got Curtis Everett Pawley to executive produce my record. So even though I like a lot of the songs [that] were made with different producers, at the final stages of tweaking the production, he was tweaking stuff to make it sound cohesive. I think there’s ways of just sprinkling in little sonic elements that are repeated throughout a project. So that’s been really useful, but I try not to think about whether my discography is cohesive when I’m writing because I think that can get in the way of whatever’s trying to come out. So I kind of let myself be all over the place, and then I can choose out of like 20 songs. Like, what are the 11 or the 12 that could exist in the same world.

    Honestly, most of the songs that I wrote in this period of late last year [to] early this year are on the album. Like most of them turned out [well]. I was like, “okay, I’ve done it”. I’m not the type of person that writes a lot of songs, but definitely in the earlier stages, there were a few songs that were just like completely different genres. And that we didn’t really use it.

    LP: I noticed that in your major releases, there’s always one song that has one lyric about playing pretend. How do you now reflect on being yourself, when it comes towards making and performing music these days?

    D: I think it’s a subconscious thing. Like, I am autistic. So I think that to some degree, I’m always pretending, like I’m always masking. And creative expression, whilst it is authentic on some levels, it involves a degree of, you know, theater. It’s a theatrical process of being out there and over the top, and it’s not necessarily an accurate picture of reality. 

    And I think that’s something that’s really fun. Like I relate to that in a really positive way, but sometimes negative. Sometimes I’m like, “Oh, does anybody really know me? Am I fully authentic?” But for the most part, I think it’s okay to keep parts of yourself to yourself and then have your creative persona be this kind of mask that you show to the world. It’s like, you know, a jester is not being himself. He’s there to entertain the people and express himself in a fun way.

    LP: It’s important to have that balancing act, especially within the realms of pop music, where the audience wants to see the authenticity part of it, but also wants the cool persona schtick too, which can feel like a confusing thing for a lot of pop acts to navigate. How do you play around with that dynamic?

    D: It’s so hard to balance. And I think it’s also different with niche indie music. I feel like in pop music, people want you to be super good-looking. They want your dancing to be super flawless. They want everything to be on point, which is just not human at all.

    Whereas if you are on the more attractive side [and the] more polished side, you have good marketing, and you’re like, pushing niche indie music or underground music, it can have the reverse effect. People actually reject that because they think, “oh, you’re inauthentic”, you know? Like, people associate certain things with authenticity and fakeness, so what works

    in pop music doesn’t necessarily work in indie music, and what works in indie music doesn’t necessarily work in pop, like they’re two different realms. 


    There is something magical about how cheesy and unfiltered teenagers are. But I think I’ve matured and refined my craft to the point where you can tell it’s [coming from] the same person, but it’s like, I’m more refined now, I think.


    But I exist in the middle of them, so it’s been really difficult to juggle [them] because, on one hand, the underground is saying like, “this feels fake”, and they think it feels inauthentic, but then a more pop audience might be like, “this doesn’t feel polished or high budget”, so I don’t know if I [fit], [but] I think I can appeal to both, though. Being in the middle is actually like a good place to be because maybe there’s people from both sorts of audiences and obviously there’s overlap so it might not be the worst place to be.

    LP: For the past couple of years, you managed to collaborate with artists like Oli Sykes, aldn, Ninajirachi, and Kreayshawn. What got you the opportunity to work with them, and how do you navigate if a song you’re writing would work better with another voice that has a different perspective?

    D: Collaborations just need to happen sort of naturally. With Oli Sykes, he dm’d me – I swear this was in lockdown, like that was so long it’s crazy – he just found me on Instagram. Nina and I have been friends for almost six years now, and we made “It’s You”, like, three years ago.

    LP: It’s been that long?

    D: Yeah, we made it so long ago, and that was sort of natural. She just happened to be in New York when I was staying in New York, and we were like, “Let’s do a session, let’s write something!” and I crashed out. I was like, “I hate this like I can’t write music anymore, I don’t know how to write music, everything I write sounds so bad this sounds terrible”, and now it has five million streams, which is just insane to me, because when I was writing it I thought it was like the worst music in the world. I didn’t think we realized in the moment that it was like [going to blow up]. Like we knew it was a good song, but it took a while for the song to feel actualized and for us to get it finished. That was mostly me though, because I was just lacking so much confidence in that time. My career wasn’t doing well, but that collaboration, like when it finally did come out, I feel like that healed me a lot and seeing people’s response to it was amazing.

    Collaboration in general has been so beneficial for my career because community is the thing that gives you longevity, and it’s what makes things feel worthwhile. Achieving things with your friends is like so much better than achieving it alone because you feel supported. Pretty similar situation with aldn, like we did a session when I was in LA finishing my album, and we were like, “actually this is so good like we need to put this on the album”.

    LP: Your collaboration with Ninajirachi is just so interesting because it’s the only song that has a feature on her album. That’s like a big statement because all of her other tracks are just her pretty much solo.

    D: Yeah, I think that’s really special. It’s cute. I’m very honored.

    LP: Even if you wrote it in a place where you’re kind of feeling down, it’s quite uplifting to see that song blow up for a lot of people to hear.

    D: It is! I know it’s me, but like I’m inspired. I’m like, “What!?” Like, this is awesome!

    LP: I’m still surprised with the Kreayshawn collaboration because you will only know her if you’re terminally online, and just looking at your Twitter and Instagram accounts, you’re extremely online as well. Why do you think that being terminally online has something to do with expanding someone else’s like musical palette or knowledge?

    D: I think the internet can connect you to a lot of new communities, and it’s just such a library. It’s a dark place to be, but it’s also just like a really fun place in my opinion, and I’ve always been addicted to finding new sounds and connecting with different communities. I think it’s probably the most crucial, and that’s the main place that people find new music, and it’s completely changed the entire world. Like, even Spotify, that’s the internet. Like, SoundCloud is the internet. Where we get our music is the internet. It’s sad that it’s mostly algorithmic now, but like I still think that there’s a lot of good stuff to be found even if it’s through these evil crazy algorithms.

    LP: With you and Ninajirachi, you’ve been in the music space in Australia for around six or seven years. I’m so curious, what’s the electronic pop scene been like in Australia these days? Are there any events that give newer homegrown artists a chance to perform their music?

    D: There are like small club nights and events, and they do sell out. There’s good stuff on the weekends, sometimes you can find good DJs and stuff, but I would say that it’s still a very small niche. I feel like globally it’s a pretty small niche, but in Australia especially it’s like quite tight-knit. I would say that Nina, Mallrat, and I kind of are leading the charge here on how Australian alternative pop [and] electronic pop is received globally because I don’t think that there are many other Australians, or at least Gen Z Australians have had much success internationally except us. It’s quite hard to break out, and I just don’t think like that many people are like giving it a shot like we’re quite a small country. I mean obviously there’s people like the Kid Laroi who are like huge but that’s like ‘POP’ pop that’s like mainstream. I think for anything like left-field pop, it’s like quite a tight-knit scene. It’s beautiful, though. There’s so many cool underground artists here, [but] I just think like we need to be given a chance more.

    I remember a lot of the Australian music industry were like “Daine’s good, but Daine needs to develop more”, and then now I’ve developed, and it’s too late. I have moved on to an international infrastructure, like my label and everything is signed out of the US, not domestically, but I could have been nurtured in my home country if they saw a place for me here. 

    But I guess like, I don’t think they do before it’s too late, you know? They’re like, “Oh, we just need to see more development!” and then by the time you develop, you’re already internationally successful. So I had to do that by myself, it took so long!

    LP: And it’s been pretty rewarding for you too, you know?

    D: I feel like it just started this year and I’m like, “Whoa, what?” Like, what is happening?

    LP: Like, Kim Petras shouting you out? whoa!

    D: I love Kim! She’s getting her flowers [too]!

    LP: I want to question about some of those underground artists like could you can kind of name some that you could kind of recommend or suggest?

    D: Okay wait, I have a playlist. So I think Jonny Chopps, biblemami, JesseMelancholy, lyrah gray, koreancrashout, Lonelyspeck. They’re so awesome.

    LP: In most cases, a pop star would have an album output in their initial first or second year, but you took more time in pursuing this debut album. Why do you think that this is like the right moment for you to strike, and what’s the difference in crafting this album in comparison with a mixtape like Quantum Jumping?

    D: I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel like I had a cohesive message yet. I didn’t know what I wanted to say, like I think it was just a confidence thing. I took my time until I felt like [I was ready]. 

    Well, I still don’t feel ready. I didn’t feel ready, but I knew that I had to do it because it was overdue, and I did it! I had to focus, and I had to be really intentional about what kind of vibe I wanted to have if I want it to be a concept album, and I think I executed on that.

    LP: So it’s deliberate to just let things simmer?

    D: Yeah, and I think it’s really important. I think if I rushed it, like, you only get one shot at a debut album, and it’s so much different from a mixtape on a marketing, promotional, and press level. It’s like so much more intense, so if I was gonna do it, I wanted to do it 

    big, I wanted to do it conceptually, and I wanted it to be like very tasteful. And I don’t

    think I was like that tasteful yet until recently because I was like young and confused and going through a lot of things.

    LP: I mean, when it comes to your taste level, you listen to Midwest emo, and just looking at your Spotify bio, there are mentions of tweemo and indietronica there. It’s like, “Oh, they know their shit!”

    D: That’s me right now!

    LP: You know, when we’re passionate about music, we eventually meet and find more artists that act as our inspirations. Who were some of the musicians that have influenced you for this album?

    D: Alex G for sure, like I think it’s quite sonically obvious, but also non-musical artists have inspired me in this process. I re-read some Oscar Wilde and Mary Gateskill in the process, and that was really interesting because those authors touch on a lot of things like over-indulgence, ambition, people’s propensity for violence against one another and those are like the darker elements that I’ve thrown on the record. 

    So it wasn’t just inspired by musicians, but also different cultural movements. I worked on this record with predominantly millennials, and I wanted it to feel like my childhood, because my childhood was when millennials were having their golden age, like indie music was optimistic and felt really exciting, so I think Gen Z is yet to have like a moment that is like that authentic and fun and cool. So I wanted to really nail that vibe of being cool but still fun and accessible.

    LP: How was it like working with these millennial producers?

    D: Fucking amazing! They know everything, like I made sure everyone that worked on the record had an encyclopedic knowledge of emo music, like proper second-wave Midwest emo type stuff. So there was like a slightly emo undertone throughout the record, but also that they

    understood [these tones]. I mean, they are the pioneers of like the whole indie twee thing, so I knew that they would be able to execute on nailing those sounds. I think some of the reference

    points for the producers, I think they were drawing from stuff like The Go! Team and Sleigh Bells, so.

    LP: Oh yeah, I see the Sleigh Bells influence!

    D: Right? It’s kind of sick, and I feel like that’s not something that anyone in pop music or even the underground, like the scene that I’m in, I don’t think anyone is really like drawing on that vibe. So I was really grateful that I had these elder millennials around me being like, “we should try and make something like this!” you know? It was really inspiring because I was like too young to have heard much of that music, so I feel like I learned a lot, and yeah, it was fun.

    LP: Since Midwest emo and that sort of stuff has been your influence for a while, starting on your EP last year you’ve begun to experiment with your vocals through screaming. How did you develop your approach to screaming, and besides “Product of Profit (P.O.P)”, will there be more of those screams popping up on the album?

    D: No, that’s the only moment that I let it out, and I think it’s good. It makes the moment like stronger and more singular. But in terms of screaming, like, I love screaming. I haven’t done too much of it throughout my discography, but I do not have the correct technique whatsoever. I just like scream as loud as I can. I let it out of nowhere, like I don’t prepare my voice. I don’t do vocal warm-ups. I’m probably gonna damage my voice one day, but it’s fun, and it’s cute.

    LP: You described ‘in endless awe and agony’ as a concept album surrounding contrasting ideas and identities and it’s inspired by Jungian psychology, what pulled you into integrating these concepts in your album and how do they speak to you not just as an artist but also like as person?

    D: This is very Jungian to say, but I think it was my subconscious that created this entire process, like I was not consciously being like, “I’m gonna start with this concept and make an album that feels like a full-on head first dive into the different parts of my identity and an individuation arc of integrating all of these negative and positive aspects and like the identity split that various things in life caused me”, but I really just think it was like organic because I was telling the truth and I wasn’t going into the studio like with a plan.

    I mean, I had like a loose plan of what I wanted the record to overarchingly be. Like, I was really inspired by David Bazzan’s writing and Elliott Smith for sure. I knew that I wanted millennial dudes who like know emo and stuff, I wanted it to feel awkward, I wanted there to be like truth and forgiveness, and I also wanted to be really honest about failing in all of its glory. 

    The opening track of the record is like me embracing failure and success at the same time, and “PQC” is that as well. It’s really just like, I’m letting in all of the parts of myself that I had fully rejected, and then when I looked at it, I was like, “Oh, this is what Jung calls individuation!” and that’s why he believed that the most dangerous type of person is someone who’s creatively inhibited. 

    If you’re creatively blocked, your subconscious is dominating your life. Whereas if you have like, free-flowing, honest creative expression, your psyche actually becomes more integrated, and you become a more emotionally rounded person. And I’m just really grateful for the record in that way because I think it saved my life and saved my mental health because I’m like in a completely different place to where I was when I started it.

    LP: Because you mentioned Oscar Wilde and talked about indulgence, and now hearing your overall plans of the album, did you allow yourself to over-indulge, or is there a part of you who thinks, “I think this is a bit too much on the indulgence, I need to reel it back?”

    D: I think in my life I’ve definitely oscillated between the two extremes of just totally

    living like a monk and totally living like a degenerate. So I think having seen and felt both

    sides, that has made me like a better writer because I feel like I’m in a really unique position where I have seen the life of like a normal young person working in a nightclub in Melbourne doing random jobs, living with my parents and all that. And I’ve been in A-listers mansion parties in LA and seeing the games of the rich and famous, and I’ve seen overindulgence in both of those worlds. So I feel like I was able to write the record from this all-seeing place where I have seen all these different phases of my life, of other people’s lives, and I can have like a balanced perspective.

    LP: And what’s that perspective if you could expand upon it?

    D: I think it’s always changing. It’s pretty fluid because like, how I feel about the industry, my life, my career, the sort of different social standards and expectations that go along with my job. It’s fluctuating day to day and I don’t think it will ever be stagnant.

    LP: I feel it’s never going to be stagnant. I feel like it’s always going to be all the ups and downs, like an oscillating wave in music production.

    D: Literally, can someone put some EQ on that? Write that down, that is on the record! [Laughs]

    LP: With this album coming out in November, how did you get to know yourself deeply within the album-making process and what’s the important realization that clarified your identity as a person and as a musician?

    D: I think through forcing myself to do a project as difficult and intense and as rigorous as 

    writing an album in like three months, I got to see how I collaborate with others and how I work under pressure, and it was really rewarding because I found out what I had to say when I thought I didn’t have anything to say at all. So it was just totally undiluted like what was coming out of my subconscious, and I got to understand my feelings more about my past traumas, my industry experiences, my friendships, my relationship with myself, and success. 

    Like, I ended up speaking about all these things that I didn’t know how I felt about any of these things. When people ask me like, “How’s your life? How are you?” I’m always like, “I don’t know!” but I think through writing about stuff like stream of consciousness, I was then able to identify how I felt. I didn’t know how I felt until I wrote the record.

    LP: Writing music, it really is like a journaling kind of soul-searching process.

    D: It’s so weird. You’re like, “Wait, what the fuck?” That makes sense, and then you’re like seeing these [thoughts], and you’re like, “Wait what?” It’s so weird.

    LP: How do you feel that it’s now coming out?

    D: I’m scared, but it’s like, good. I feel like I’m pregnant right now, you know what I mean? Like, about to give [birth], but we don’t know what it’s gonna be like. This is the first child.

    LP: And there will be more of what you will be able to work on in the future.

    D: Yeah, oh my god, like what the hell? I’m gonna have to start a second album. Like, that is so crazy to me!

    LP: It’s just really important to just ride that wave.

    DP: And have fun! Like it doesn’t have to be complicated, and it doesn’t have to be serious.

  • Rejoice with the Band Nothing: The State of Shoegaze in the Big ‘26

    Rejoice with the Band Nothing: The State of Shoegaze in the Big ‘26

    After more than a decade in the game of nu-gaze, Nothing has become some sort of fortune teller of what comes next in a scene that has spent years celebrating its own revival. The mastermind, Domenic Palermo, has challenged how people perceive the genre and reworked its formula, all with the help of his background in hardcore, in both lifestyle and sound. 

    From playing in bands like Horror Show in 2000 and eventually recording Guilty of Everything in 2014, to headlining ballroom stages at his very own curated shoegaze and dream pop festival, Slide Away Festival, Palermo has always thought forward and never backward. A scene that celebrates itself would eventually have to relearn the genre over and over to avoid stagnation. This is what Nothing has been doing, ironically enough.

    Palermo and company have visited Manila three times at this point, and the noise has never faded with each visit. Their first time, dating back to early 2017, found Palermo in what he admits was his worst mental state. Their second visit in 2019 came with a more robust lineup, with Palermo in a clearer headspace and planning on ringing the ears of the uninitiated. Their most recent visit in July 2026, to me at least, showed the band in its most complete, realized incarnation to date. Their latest album, a short history of decay, also reads like a diary of the band’s trips abroad. 

    As for the state of shoegaze, it is melting into the ether, slowly reanimating into a more chaotic, digital monster, far removed from its original form. Palermo willingly embraces the change, as everyone should in the long run. The “decay” in question might be a metaphor for recovery, or maybe it is a commentary on the state of the world, where music exists as a coping mechanism. Who knows? Palermo has his own answer. This interview took place literally 20 minutes before the band showed what “decay” means in the form of sonic warfare for the eardrums at Aster Events Place, Mandaluyong City.

    [This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity] 

    ELIJAH: I was there in 2017 for your first Manila show. Could you tell me what life was like at the time? It’s a bit of a nostalgia trip at Checkpoint Bar in Paranaque City.

    DOMINIC PALERMO: I guess 2017 was a pretty chaotic time. We had just finished the touring cycle for Tired of Tomorrow, and that was right around the time when I got my head bashed in pretty good. Everything was really crazy for me mentally at that point. I was suffering from a lot of depression, paranoia, wild mood swings, and stuff. I was taking all these different types of medicines from my neurologist, so touring at that time was really crazy because I was still doing typical Nothing stuff, like drinking and partying, but I was on all these pills, and obviously my mental state was not really great. That’s probably where I was at that point. But we were also getting all these opportunities to go on tour and visit places we had never gone to, or places I didn’t think I would ever make it to anyway.

    ELIJAH: If we could dial the time back two years before that, to Guilty of Everything, it’s now become one of those records people point to as the start of the modern shoegaze revival, at least for me. At the time, did you see Nothing as passing the torch of a genre, or were you simply trying to make sense of your own life through music?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: I didn’t really have any intention of doing anything that we wound up doing. For me, that record was a bucket-list type thing. I always wanted to do something away from the hardcore stuff, and I didn’t really have the tools to do it for a long time, or the courage to even try. I was carrying a lot of trauma on my shoulders for a couple of decades, and I wanted to get it all off my chest. That’s what that record was for me. Pure and simple, the goal was just to get that record done, to address two decades of pain and whatever else. Then it kind of sprawled out of control, and here we are, 11 or so years later.


    “I realized during Horror Show, playing shows, that I was able to release some of that darkness when I played and recorded. It was really the only way I knew how to get that release.”


    ELIJAH: Time flies. It’s been 12 years. You mentioned earlier that before Nothing, your story was already defined by trauma and starting over. When you finally committed to making music again, what made you believe that writing songs could express those experiences better than simply leaving them behind?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: I think music has always been like that for me. When I was younger, I played in Horror Show and stuff like that. It was the same kind of recipe, basically. At that time, there was a lot more anger in me. There was still depression, but it was pushed and backed by angst. I realized during Horror Show, playing shows, that I was able to release some of that darkness when I played and recorded. It was really the only way I knew how to get that release. With Nothing, it was a big jump for me musically, but the goal was to see if I would get the same kind of reaction.

    ELIJAH: That’s a great way to put it, because a lot of heavy music uses volume as catharsis. Nothing often feels numb to me. At least when I saw you guys for the first two times, it almost felt numb beyond being deafening. Was that emotional tension always intentional, or did it naturally become part of your songwriting as you processed different chapters of your life?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: I think Nothing’s live shows were really loud and aggressive for two reasons. One, I wanted the recordings to sound different from what the live setting was going to sound like. I come from an extreme music world, and it’s aggressive, so I wanted Nothing’s records and live shows to always be different. A big part of it was also just not knowing what to do to get the sounds we needed for Nothing. So it was being aggressive for several different reasons, and being loud.

    ELIJAH: I kind of noticed that My Bloody Valentine, for instance, was informed by the post-punk and jangle-pop scene in Ireland and the United Kingdom. To me, American shoegaze has always been informed by metallic and hardcore leanings, and that fascinates me, how sounds develop over time, especially extreme or heavy music over the past two decades. Since the pandemic, shoegaze has become one of the internet’s fastest-growing guitar scenes, but it’s also been folded into countless microgenres and algorithm-driven labels. As someone who’s watched the genre evolve for more than a decade, what excites you about this moment, and what do you think gets lost when scenes become internet aesthetics?


    “Seeing people run with our recipe, it’s like, okay, we can’t make the same record again.”


    DOMINIC PALERMO: It’s a bummer and it’s exciting at the same time. I do think Nothing is responsible for a lot of what’s going on, and there’s good and bad in that. I see certain things happening that are hard to watch, and then you see some really cool stuff coming out, too. It feels like people could get hung up on the genre elements as well as the new and interesting things that are coming out. Doing Slide Away Festival and stuff like that lets me tap into these younger bands that are doing really cool stuff. I also have to live with the fact that I see really bad stuff happening, too, and I do feel directly responsible for some of that.

    ELIJAH: Speaking of Slide Away Festival, you’ve gone from being a musician to helping curate the genre itself, at least through the festival. What responsibility comes with deciding which versions of shoegaze get represented, especially when you’re bringing together foundational bands like Chapterhouse alongside newer acts?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: For me, it’s a good way to keep my hands on the steering wheel. I haven’t had a lot of help through the years doing this. It’s been hard work and elbow grease, so Nothing’s really never been handed to me or given to me. I’ve had to make my own way. That’s what Slide Away is to me: another way for me to control what I can control. It’s really cool to chase down old heads and get bands to play for younger kids, but it’s also cool to put younger bands I like into these giant rooms that hold 5,000 people. We’ve brought bands like Lucid Express from Hong Kong, Terraplana from Brazil, and there’s a bunch of bands we’ve done that with. To me, that’s really cool. It’s given people a different opportunity to do this stuff, and it’s hard to do this.

    ELIJAH: One thing that’s striking about Slide Away is how broad the definition of shoegaze has become. I saw Hum on the bill, and loveliescrushing or even projects that blur into noise, industrial, and electronic music, all exist under the same umbrella. What does that wider interpretation say about where you think the genre is headed?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: It’s a never-ending kind of thing, what you can do. The band Nothing did it one way, very ’90s, all-rock, fixated in that area, with a lot of those elements. 

    ELIJAH: You added your own elements, and it’s cool to see people take that and make something original. Nothing has never seemed interested in recreating shoegaze or treating it as nostalgia, at least to me. Was it important from the beginning that the band constantly challenge what people expect?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: For sure. That’s always the goal, especially after doing this for so long. Seeing people run with our recipe, it’s like, okay, we can’t make the same record again. We did do that for a long time, I feel like, but now that we’ve really honed in on our sound, we can experiment. I’ve done everything I feel like I needed to do, so now I just do what feels natural.

    ELIJAH: If I may, I’m a big fan of your Grouper cover, the one from Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill. I really love how you seemingly turned that ambient, slowcore gem into your own version. Talking about the new album, a short history of decay, it feels like another step away from traditional shoegaze, embracing harsher textures, electronics, and more fractured songwriting. Were there ideas on that particular record that you couldn’t have imagined pursuing during the Guilty of Everything era, ten or so years ago?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: Every time we go to the studio, I learn a little bit more. I was really greedy, but with that experience comes a little bit more confidence in myself as a recording artist. It allows me to be more honest with myself as the musician I feel like I am.


    “We were too soft for the punk shows and too heavy for the rock shows. We had to force a square peg into a circle.”


    ELIJAH: That’s well said. I mean, shoegaze is arguably healthier than it’s been in decades, with younger listeners discovering classic and contemporary bands like she’s green, Manslaughter 777, and Julie. At the same time, when you look at where Nothing fits within that history today, what do you hope the band’s lasting contribution will be beyond simply being part of the genre’s resurgence?

    DOMINIC PALERMO: I don’t really ever look at myself as having a legacy or anything like that. I’m way too cynical for that kind of thought. I just know that when we started doing this, it was really hard. Nobody wanted to help us. I emailed some of these old bands, like, “Hey, we play this kind of music. Would you need an opening act?” All that punishing stuff. There wasn’t a lot of help. We were too soft for the punk shows and too heavy for the other shows. We had to force a square peg into a circle. If I can leave this world with an easier way for people who are more like me at that point to get into this music, and to feel like they have a community and a safe place to be who they are, I think that’s good.

  • SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Soft Things (Myanmar)

    SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Soft Things (Myanmar)

    Within the largest city of Myanmar, Yangon, lie small yet meaningful bands like Soft Things, who are waving the flag towards the dream pop and shoegaze flourishes that echo across the city. Formed back in 2023, this tight-knit band is composed of guitarists Kaung Khant Htun and Nyi Ye Htut, bassist Kaung SI Thu, drummer Thu Ta Aung, and vocalist Thet Htar Zin. Young fledglings finding their groove within the yearning spirit of the sounds they’re pulling from.

    They sparked a flash last year with their debut EP, ‘Warm Blue Sea,’ a stirring wave of dream pop that washes over. It acts as a starting point that defines their spirit, a characteristic best represented on the first track of the song, ‘Asleep, Awake’. Punchy drums and serene pedal effects reinforce the tension that Thet writes on record. Looking into a lilting love that is either fleeting or everlasting.

    This overall spirit carries through from song to song. ‘Zoo’ very much casts a lot of Cocteau Twins’ soundscape, especially how the guitars phase out in the mix alongside Thet’s vocal backdrops scattering all over the song. ‘I am not the one for you’ tests out its writing intrigues, letting glossy keys cascade over the protagonist’s affections with the women he’s loved in the past. The closer track, ‘Cherry Cola,’ delves into synthpop bits as buzzing synth pads trickle all over the song. It recalls and reflects upon the saccharine moments that can end up so bitter, like an unforgettable aftertaste

    Of course, as heard through Thet’s delivery, the brute forces his vocal limits to a flinching degree on ‘I Remember You’, they wear their passion in their sleeves and embrace all its ups and downs as much as possible. Soft Things know that the world is in a rough shape at the moment, so they may as well hold onto those soft moments from the very beginning, and let it glow as they continue their path, charging their spirits to a much tender future.

  • SABAW SESSIONS: Ada Meniv

    SABAW SESSIONS: Ada Meniv

    In Ada Meniv’s Playbook, There Was Darkness Before Light

    When you look through the telescope at the moment when the Blood Moon — where astrologists would calculated that it would take a century to evolve — is about to reveal itself, you realize that an album titled LUWAL HATI is about to be uploaded to cyberspace by Ada Meniv; A one-of-a-kind debut album of the trap-metal experimental project of Tisch Nava. The concept of Ada Meniv comes from an internet-induced fever dream of a cultural worker based in Hong Kong, whose vision of the grimmer sides of the Philippines is filtered through intensive worldbuilding. The new album, however, carries moments where one wouldn’t expect these genre trappings to meet, yet they come together in ways that feel deliberate. At the same time, switching between different personas for his DJ alter-ego Fr:(wn and his alternative rave initiative gRave, the music itself is a warning sign for those who want to move deeper into darker corners of the underground.

    In tracks like “Placenta,” “Hayeta,” “On Bondage of the Will,” and “Karit,” Ada Meniv taps into an atmosphere less common in a scene saturated with technicolor and maximalism. The lore unfolds in a way that feels reserved for those willing to sit with its discomfort. With parents who both played music early on, and later exposure to local and digital scenes, these influences shaped his direction over time. Here, Tisch lets listeners only scratch the surface of what he has been working toward, both in sound and in creative output overall, putting the album out independently and fully aware of its own abrasive tendencies. Ada Meniv has only gotten started.

    [This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity]

    Elijah: I think we were internet friends first around 2016 and my first impression was at the time you attended these very diverse mixed-bill shows. Hardcore, metal, mga hip-hop, trap music. Since then, we didn’t really converse as much in those early years, but we somehow found our way to get back into the groove during the pandemic. From what I assume, you grew up with a lot of emo and metal influences. Could you tell me what were the first bands or records that made you feel like music could be a world you could live inside?

    Ada Meniv: Si mama tsaka si papa nasa band sila, grunge band. Tapos nagpe-play sila around Manila. Kaya Tisch yung name ko, kasi pangalan ng banda nila is Tisch. Doon nagsimula yung hilig ko sa rock. Simula siya sa Nirvana. Tapos nung four to six years old ako, Nirvana lagi pinapatugtog sa bahay. Tapos Red Hot Chili Peppers, Tool, yung mga sikat sa MTV.

    Nung eight to ten years old ako, in-introduce na sa akin ng papa ko yung mas mabibigat pang banda. Naalala ko Disturbed. Tapos lahat ng metal noon, hindi pa metal yung tawag. Parang wala pang label sa mga banda. Korn, Slipknot. Doon ako nagsimula mag-discover ng similar bands sa sarili ko. Pero nag-school ako sa Santa Rosa Laguna, uso yung hip-hop doon. Nahiligan ko rin—Repablikan, mga ganun. Doon nagsimula yung hip-hop side ko. Tapos nag-merge yung fashion ko from hip-hop to metal. Naka-darts ako, hoodie, tapos may studded belt. Yun yung itsura ko noon. Nung grade 5 to 6, in-introduce sa akin ng kaklase ko yung Alesana. Doon ako nagkaroon ng interest sa emo scene.

    E: I think pumunta pa sila dito recently like last year? 

    AM: Oo pero wala ako doon. Sayang.

    E: First time nila sa Pilipinas yun after decades. 

    AM: Nung time na yun, around 2000s sa Santa Rosa. Kasagsagan yun ng emo scene sa Laguna.

    E: Sobra, lakas emo scene nila.

    AM: Oo, lalo na typecast, mga hardcore ng Piledriver. Wait, dagdag ko lang. Wala pang Spotify, wala pang SoundCloud. Wala rin kaming computer sa bahay. Ang ginagawa ko pumupunta ako sa Olivarez Mall para bumili ng pirated CDs—compilations ng As I Lay Dying, Asking Alexandria. Doon ako nagsimula. Wala sila sa MTV pero sobrang nagustuhan ko yung guitar riffs nila. Yun yung unang inaaral ko sa guitar.

    E: What was the first song?

    AM: Yung unang natutunan ko sa guitar, tinuro sakin ng papa ko, “Schism” ng Tool. After nun, umalis si papa papuntang Hong Kong. So ako na lang mag-isa nag-discover ng music. Nahilig ako sa drop D, yung mabibigat. Doon ako nagsimula talaga. Yun yung roots ko aside from hip-hop.

    E: When was the time you explored more online?

    AM: Late na rin. May computer shop malapit sa amin, pero madalas naglalaro lang mga tao doon. May soundtrip yung admin, yun yung pinapakinggan ko lagi. Kaya doon ko rin nadiscover yung ibang sounds. Noong 2009, nagkaroon kami ng laptop tapos binigyan ako ng Globe Tattoo broadband.

    E: Ay, same!

    AM: Sobrang bagal nun. Isang YouTube video 15 to 30 minutes bago mag-load. 

    E: 140p lang kaya.

    AM: Pero part siya ng experience. Pagkatapos ng intay, ang saya mo na maririnig mo na yung gusto mong pakinggan.

    E: Earliest memory ko sa Globe Tattoo, Odd Future, “Oldie” 2011.

    AM: Ay oo shet! Malaki rin influence sa akin ni Tyler, pero hindi pa siya kasama sa earliest discoveries ko online. Noon, hinahanap ko pa lang sa YouTube yung mga gusto kong aralin sa guitar—Flyleaf, post-hardcore bands. Tapos nag-aaral din ako ng art rock—Muse, Radiohead.

    E: Lumawak yung palette mo.

    AM: Oo, eventually. Rabbit hole kasi yung internet. Once pumasok ka, tuloy-tuloy na yun.

    E: Ngayon you’re still carrying that Filipino identity in your work as Ada Meniv. How does being part of the overseas Filipino experience affect the way you write or produce music?

    AMl: Hindi siya gaano sa lyrics, pero malaki yung influence ng Pilipinas sa soundscape ng Ada Meniv. Sa visuals din, Pilipinas lahat ng settings. Hindi ko pinaplanong mag-set sa ibang bansa. Gusto ko yung nature ng Pilipinas. Sa soundscape, malaking factor yung pagiging Pinoy ko kasi doon ako nag-start mag-explore ng roots. Hanggang ngayon, na-iinvoke ko pa rin siya. Late ako naglabas ng album as Ada Meniv, parang 2026. Pero matagal ko nang sinulat yung ibang tracks. Wala lang akong oras tapusin noon.

    E: Which one is the oldest track?

    AM: “Placenta.”

    E: Gaano katagal ginawa?

    AM: Matagal na. Yung riff ng “Placenta,” influence ng Incubus. First or second year high school ko pa iniisip yun. Hindi siya nawala sa isip ko. Wala lang akong pang-record noon.

    Ngayon lang ako nagkaroon ng resources—plugins, recording gear—kaya nailabas ko na siya.

    E: One of my favorite tracks is “Karit.” Ang ganda ng buildup. Pati yung “Salvia Trip Report” intro, sobrang atmospheric. The whole album feels very psychological. Do you see the project as confronting your darkest thoughts or may narrative siya?

    AM: “Placenta” yung anchor ng album. Doon nagsimula lahat. After nun, may idea na ako for the next tracks like “Lisan.” “Mana Drain” yung unang natapos kasi yun yung pinakamadali, influenced by EDM production ko as Fr:(wn. Yung “Salvia Trip Report” at “Lisan” yung pinakamahirap kasi matagal ko nang gustong gawin yung sound na yun. Around 2010–2011 ko pa ini-imagine yun. Inabot ako ng around 6 months para matapos sila. After that, “Moonrat” at ibang tracks. “Karit” yung pinaka-enjoy ako gawin kasi sobrang galing ni Kuya Kevin. Yung ambience ng ‘LUWAL HATI’ yung nagiging glue ng album kahit iba-iba yung genre. Yung paulit-ulit na hangin at tribal drums yung subliminal element.

    E: Yung snare ng “On Bondage of the Will,” ang ganda.

    AM: Sobrang proud ako dun. Clap, snare, at tribal snare—tatlong layer, iba-ibang EQ. Parang nanununtok yung sound. Yung lyrics at lore, habang ginagawa ko yung album, sinusulat ko rin yung story ni Ada Meniv. Si Ada Meniv parang vagrant sa psychedelic realm. Ako, si Tisch, ako yung host niya. Kapag nasa flow state ako—like habang nagluluto ako sa trabaho—parang nasa ibang dimension yung utak ko. Doon lumalabas si Ada Meniv. Parang sa movie na Soul.

    May parts na narrator, may parts na si Tisch, may parts na si Ada Meniv. Ayoko i-giveaway lahat. Yung world niya parang post-apocalyptic psychedelic realm. May authority yung mga tao sa ibang dimension. Dystopian na rin siya. Si Ada Meniv parang defender ng last religion sa world na yun. Hindi real name yung Ada Meniv, parang Dark Souls style naming. Matagal ko nang ginagawa yung lore, hanggang ngayon ongoing pa.

    E: Yung Salvia Trip Report, parang interlude, parang diss track ng album. How was the visual process?

    AM: Wala ako doon. Shoutout kay Rosario, siya visual director ng Ada Meniv. Sa Korean Temple. Silang sila nag-shoot, temple locations with River Dimitri as photographer. May tatlong model—Rui, Erich, at si Cayenne. May isa pa na parang temple guard character, hindi tumitingin sa camera.

    E: That’s fucking fun.


    Pag gumagawa ako ng material kay Ada Meniv, ako lang mag-isa. Control ko yung environment. Walang nagsasabi kung maganda o hindi.

    -Ada Meniv


    AM: Oo, sobrang saya. Pwede siyang partner ng soundscape na ginagawa ko. Yun yung gusto ko doon kasi naiintindihan nila yung gusto ko kahit nandito ako sa ibang bansa.

    E: At yung music that you have that’s already there and having people understand you or communicate the visuals through your music, it must have been the biggest compliment that they absolutely get your vision. Would you say it’s your alter ego or is it just a completely separate persona, yung Ada Meniv?

    AM: Kaya pa rin akong may sariling personality away from him. Kaya kong mag-step away sa kanya tapos gumawa ako ng material ni Fr:(wn na hindi mo maiisip na si Ada Meniv pala. Parang gano’n.

    E: Can you distinguish yourself personally from this character that lives outside of you? How does Ada Meniv differ from the Frown persona?

    AM: Si Fr:(wn, siyempre doon nanggaling—yung roots niya from Skrillex, parang EDM. Doon tayo sa side na yan. Hindi ko siya maiisip i-merge kay Ada Meniv kasi ibang practice kung paano ko siya i-play at i-record. Doon pa lang mapapansin na ng mga nakikinig na parang dalawang magkaibang tao yung gumawa ng dalawang project.

    E: The first time I encountered Frown was through gRave, post-pandemic. You built this DIY party collective that emphasizes experimentation and community. What inspired you to start organizing those kinds of parties?

    AM: Naisip ko yung gTave kasi hindi pa siya gRave noon. Parang performance art show lang sa Pinas yung idea. Para sa akin, yung pinakamagandang venue na napuntahan ko, nagsara na, tawag sa venue “Limbo.”

    E: Ay, putek! Wala na rin yun! 

    AM: Yun lagi kong sinasabi kung saan nanggaling yung gRrave—sa Limbo. Ang ganda ng venue na yan.

    E: Sobrang ganda. Mababa yung ceiling, nandun yung noise acts, performance art. Nakapunta ako doon pre-pandemic.

    AM: Same. Sobrang solid nun.

    E: Yeah, nasa gitna ng Poblacion, may bilog na pinto. Pagpasok mo parang ibang mundo—low ceiling gallery, tapos mga wild na performers. Nakita ko si Ryosuke Kiyasu doon.

    AM: Naka-line up ako dyan.

    E: Post-pandemic sa Mows?

    AM: Oo, under Mainland Connection.

    E: Because of Kiyasu, parang na-realize ko na normal pala yung mixed bills. Isang snare lang dala niya pero kaya niya makipag-line up sa iba’t ibang genre. When I think of gRave, it feels similar pero in a sense na ritual-like na spectacle siya. Parang rare, ephemeral, ganun. Is that intentional?

    AM: Intentional siya in a way na nahihirapan kami mag-produce ng maraming shows per year. Nawawala yung point ng gRave kapag madalas. Lagi lang siya after Holy Week. Napag-usapan namin na pwede once or twice a year, pero hindi sobra. Ayoko maging parang ibang rave productions na paulit-ulit lang.

    E: Do you approach your music the same way—fleeting, experiential?

    AM: Yung ‘LUWAL HATI,’ planado talaga siya na i-release kasabay ng Blood Moon. Matagal ko nang plan yun. Buti natapos ko before mangyari yung event. Yun yung naging anchor, parang deadline ng project.

    E: So it’s almost lifelong?

    AM: Yung total Blood Moon, parang once every century. Yung lunar eclipse pwede yearly.

    E: What kind of freedom does experimental hip-hop or trap metal give you?

    AM: Pag gumagawa ako ng material kay Ada Meniv, ako lang mag-isa. Control ko yung environment. Walang nagsasabi kung maganda o hindi. Hindi ko rin pinapasa sa friends ko during the process. After ko ma-polish, saka ko lang pinapakinggan sa iba. Pero kahit ganun, may nababago pa rin. Kung wala yung Blood Moon, baka hindi pa rin siya nare-release kasi pabago-bago ako ng sound design.

    E: What do you hope listeners take from ‘LUWAL HATI’?

    AM: Hindi ko intention magbigay ng specific feeling. Pero kung may mapulot sila, sana huwag silang tumingin sa isang typebeat lang. Maraming pwedeng kunin—parang palengke. Kunin mo lahat ng gusto mo, tapos ikaw na bahala.

    E: What was the most chaotic moment performing live as Frown?

    AM: gRave 3. Nandoon ka ba?

    E: Halfway the program lang.

    AM: Yun yung pinaka-chaotic. May nagbabasag ng bote sa gitna ng set ko. Tinigil ko yung music during “Yonkers” ni Tyler, the Creator para i-clear yung area. Habang nangyayari yun, sa peripheral vision ko may nagsusuntukan, may sumisigaw ng “stop the car.” So tinigil ko talaga. Parang sobra na. Isa pa, yung first gRave. Hindi ko pa alam yung audience. Beta test pa lang. Nagulat kami may nag-mosh pit sa set ko. Akala ko joke lang yun nung pinost ko. Pero nangyari talaga.

    E: That was magical.

    AM: Oo. Yun yung roots ng Grave—yunh Limbo and small events in general kung saan may nagmo-mosh kahit DJ set lang. Tisch pa lang name ko noon, hindi pa Fr:(wn. Up to North days.

    E: Nag-DJ ka pa sa 88 Vibers naalala ko yun sa Team Jesus?

    AM: Oo.

    E: Grabe, 10 years ago.

    AM: Paano tayo naka-survive nun?

    E: Basta. Sobrang chaotic ng era na yun.

  • SOUNDS OF THE SEA: CURB (Singapore) 

    SOUNDS OF THE SEA: CURB (Singapore) 

    Spelled in full caps, Singapore’s CURB plays emo with a ferocious bite. The city-state has built a strong reputation in the genre since the mid-2010s revival, with bands like Terrible People, Xingfoo&Roy, and Forests helping push the scene into cult territory. CURB arrives from the same ecosystem, sharing creative ties with the indie lineage surrounding Subsonic Eye.

    The trio — guitarist Lucas Tee, bassist Sam Venditti, and drummer Farizi Noorfauzi — first met as diploma students at LASALLE College of the Arts. In their early days, they bonded over the precision of math rock and the intensity of emo’s technical side but eventually grew to appreciate more styles later on. Their debut album Hope You’re Doing Well, Michaella (2022) captures that shift. The record leans on blunt, diaristic lyrics and the kind of guitar crunch associated with bands like Title Fight, yet it resists emo’s more theatrical tendencies. Instead, songs such as “7AM” and “Insult Through Injury” thrive on tight, direct hooks. “Become Again,” one of the album’s heaviest moments, highlights the band’s collaborative dynamic, with all three members trading vocal lines over restless, back-and-forth grooves.

    By the time they reached the 2024 EP benjabes!, the group began stretching that formula. The record opens with a surprising detour: slurred half-rap verses delivered by rapper-producer Mary Sue, a longtime collaborator of Noorfauzi. From there, the band gradually slips back into the guitar-driven sound listeners recognize.

    For CURB, emo remains a starting point rather than a boundary. The band sees genre labels as temporary signposts rather than a fixed identity. In that sense, Hope You’re Doing Well, Michaella reads almost like a diary — a record of someone confronting their own contradictions while trying to move forward.

    Noisier, punk-leaning riffage surfaces in songs like “You’re Me But Worse” and “Blake & The Surf.” Both tracks seem more interested in the pull of friendships and fleeting fascinations than in the anxieties of growing up. In that sense, CURB taps directly into emo’s lineage, where immediacy and youth carry a kind of strange timelessness.

  • SABAW SESSIONS: Shanne Dandan

    SABAW SESSIONS: Shanne Dandan

    Shanne Dandan Holds No Pedestal for Love

    Written by Faye Allego

    Shanne Dandan is for lovers. When talking to her, it feels like you’ve known her forever; almost like a seatmate you never stopped talking to in elementary school and would eventually share school lunches with. In the age of yearning and finding love on a tricky, slippery slope, Dandan possesses a rare trait– she simply loves the way she loves. It’s a privilege to get to connect with artists in the local scene, they’re not to be put on pedestals because the stage itself is level with everyone else most of the time. Talking to them about their artistry can be done anywhere and sounds just like a Facetime call; and that’s exactly how Dandan approached the simplicity of love and how overcomplicating it is bound to happen, but that’s not what love is going to be like forever. 

    It was almost surprising to learn then, that Shanne Dandan’s introduction to music was anything but intimate. Like many children shone onto the spotlights of stardom, Dandan started her career at around eight years old and at thirteen upon joining ABS-CBN’s very first The Voice Kids with immense pressure, however, she later deflated it through her discovery of passionate writing. She began breaking free from the child-star bubble through connecting with the Manila Sound Era of OPM through the love and help from her grandmother, she then began a series of covers and being invited to collaborate on soundtracks from films such as “My Husband, My Lover”, “Breathe Again”, and later “100 Awit Para Kay Stella”. Dandan then explored the music scene and later released her debut album in 2024, “Kung Iyong Mamarapati”, where she dissects her own vulnerability and relationship with everything emotional. 

    Her new single, “Labs Kita”, is a tune to look out for this Valentines season, aiming for a more wholesome approach and homage to lovey-dovey OPM ballads, Dandan gracefully converses on her songwriting process and experiences. 

    **This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

    FA: What kinds of music did you grow up listening to, and how did those early influences stay with you?  

    Shanne Dandan: Growing up, I was really a different person, I wouldn’t really say I was an artist because before I was just being a performer. Since I grew up doing competitive singing then joining singing contests, I thought talaga na, ‘Well, it was a different time naman din before.’ Before, the only way for you to make music – or  if you’re a singer, is that you have to join singing contests para ma “discover” ka. So, dinaanan ko yung path na ‘yon, bata pa ako as in! Nag start ako parang mga eight years old? Seven years old? Very young. I got exposed sa industry ng ganong ka aga. Pero music-wise, yung listening ko, na-adapt ko siya sa, syempre, kasama ko sa bahay, yung lola ko, my mom, and my dad. We’re all very musically inclined din, my mom is a singer, lola ko also a singer. So every day we were all listening to music palagi. Lola was always blasting yung radio niya. And yun, I grew up listening to that kind of music, yung pinapakinggan ng lola ko which was music from Pilita Corrales, Cely Bautista, Ella del Rosario… Nakalimutan ko yung channel sa radio, pero parang Sunday radio everyday [laughs] may kaunting religious [themed] podcasts… Pero laging ganon, so growing up, na adapt ko talaga siya and ever since, mahilig talaga ako sa mga lumang bagay. Tapos ayun, na dala ko siya and even nung nagkaroon nakong ng idea and ng c-change na yung environment towards the entertainment industry, meron nang, Instagram, Meron nang YouTube, so mas namotivate ako na “ah okay, ‘di lang pala ito yung tanging ‘way’ ko to become who i want to be!” So then I discovered the magic of songwriting nung siguro 15 ako? 14? Very late bloomer ako kasi up until that point in my life nag j-join parin ako sa mga singing contests, tas may na meet akong mga like-minded people na gusto yung mga bagay na gusto ko, dun ko lang na discover na “Ah I like to write pala” pero before songwriting i really liked writing as a journalist, I was in journalism clubs, and I’m a feature writer pero sa Tagalog/Filipino. Pagsulat ng lathalain! Mahilig ako magsulat ng mga short stories, fantasy, all that!  When I discovered songwriting, narealize ko na “ah, may ganito pala, na you can blend your words tapos may melody,” parang nag merge yung dalawang hilig ko which is writing and singing! That’s when I also set boundaries sa family ko, sabi ko ayoko na mag join ng singing contests. Hindi nagustuhan ng mom ko kasi very stage mom talaga yung mom ko– di niya naiintindihan! Sabi niya “Huh? Hindi ‘wag ka diyan” tas nung una, sumasama siya sa mga gigs ko, sa mga bars, and hindi niya maintindihan kasi sanay siya sa mga gigs na ang dami nanonood kasi I used to sing in hotels and events talaga. I would always sing covers lang. So nung nakita niya na ang konti nanonood sakin, ang didilim ng mga bars… pero eventually naging supportive naman siya! Ayun mas naempower ako when I started going to communities that appreciate my craft. But to answer your question, I am very much influenced by my Lola and nag rereflect ‘yun to who I am today and what kind of music I write. 

    FA: I had a conversation with my friends, and nasabi ko na parang harana na reversed roles yung mga songs mo, kasi with harana, yung audience or yung muse ang highlight kasi sa kanila nadedeclare yung pag-ibig, but with your songwriting, it highlights your own love for your muse.

    Shanne Dandan: [Laughs] I feel like nag rereflect din sa craft ko, yung music ko, yung sarili ko! Na I have so much love to give. As in, when you meet my family we are very OA kami, very expressive kami. We always say “I love you,” “ingat ka”, never nawalan ng ganong lambingan sa family ko kaya feeling ko kahit ano gawin ko, okay lang talaga.

    FA: When did you realize that you can actually dive into the songwriting world and write your own songs without being under the pressure of childhood stardom or being under the spotlight? 

    Shanne Dandan: Oh, this is a really good question. Medyo naiiyak na ako… Charot!  After joining singing contests, sobrang na drain talaga ako … Syempre hindi alam ng mga bata na work pala yun, may money involved sa ganong industry, akala ko kumakanta lang ako and syempre gusto ko lang mapasaya yung parents ko and family ko ganon. Dati talaga, ayoko maging singer. Introverted ako na bata kaya dati hindi ako natatanggap sa mga auditions for TV kasi wala daw akong personality eh kailangan sa TV na may personality ka or “bibo kid”. So I joined two singing contests on TV, the Voice Kids and sa TV5. Sa TV5 ako naging champion. But after the voice kids, sabi ko ayoko na! Ayoko na kumanta ulit. [laughs] tas nag aral na ako nun, i think was junior in highschool nun. As a kid, I couldn’t understand what losing meant, I got really sad when I got eliminated– not because I wanted to win, but because nadisappoint ko parents ko. So sabi ko “ayoko na, gusto ko na mag aral” and then i pursued journalism at mas naging active ako sa school. After joining that second contest tas nanalo na ako, sabi ko “okay masaya naman siguro yung family ko, so ayoko na. Ayoko na ulit mag ganito.” That’s when I discovered and met indie artists! The very first people that I met from the music scene was sila ate Cherry, Bea Lorenzo, Jellie Villanueva, silang tatlo! Sila ang itinuturing kong mothers, mothers ko sa music ko. They inspired me very much. Minotivate nila ako to sing, to write my own songs and I really got inspired by their own music din lalo na kay ate Jellie– I think we make the same music in the way na may pagka-emotional, storytelling [elements], and also the singing, it’s soulful singing. Tuloy tuloy na after that.

    FA: Did you ever talk to your younger self as you grew and realized the person you are now outside of childhood stardom? 

    Shanne Dandan: I didn’t really do that [talk to my younger self] at that time because I was still a child– I started really connecting with my younger self with my inner child nung eto na, when I made my first album, and parang more on reassurance sya– hala… nakakaiyak [laughs] – I reassured myself na “Hey you’re going to be proud of future me” ganon. 

    FA: How do you navigate the line between Shanne Dandan the artist and Shanne Dandan the person, and how has reconnecting with your younger self shaped who you are today?

    Shanne Dandan: Feeling ko nag evolve talaga ang pagkatao ko in the past few years, when I first started, I felt really connected with myself and then as time goes by medyo nag drift away sya kasi I started focusing on other things tapos nawala yung spark nawala yung passion ko with my own music tapos ngayon, sobrang connected na yung regular self ko outside of gigs and work. My creativity as an artist is also very connected kasi kung dati wala akong drive to write about songs about my internal feelings, lagi lang ako nagsusulat kapag nag kwento yung friend ko about their lovelife and gagawin kong topic yun or inspiration ko sa song tas di ako nakakasulat ng songs about ano talaga na feel ko kaya hirap ako magsulat ng love songs and puro conceptual songs, pero when I started connecting with my inner child and then past ko, accepting that I had a painful past and wala akong magagawa dun and i just chose to be grateful for that because if it weren’t for that, i wouldn’t be where i am today. So when I started setting my mindset sa ganong  perspective, bumuhos lahat ng inspiration and mas nakasulat ako ng mas connected na songs and mas “ako” siya. Feeling ko wala talagang difference yung personal artistry ko and yung outside music self ko. 

    FA: How do you balance being vulnerable in your music while protecting yourself as a person? 

    Shanne Dandan: Actually, pretty recently din, mas nagiging brave na ako to be very vulnerable sa music ko kasi I stopped thinking about what other people are gonna think about me or these songs. Ito yun eh, ito ang pinagdaanan ko, ito yung gusto kong isulat. I know may mga taong [mararamdaman na] same yung story or may similar experience na makaka connect dun sa songs ko. Yung yung favorite ko rin about releasing music: yung mga taong nag memessage sakin, nag re reach out sakin na “Oh my gosh Shanne, kahit sakin, lahat ng mga stages mo sa buhay ko may narelease kang kanta,” – Very memorable moment, may isang girl na nag message sakin na kunyari may pinagdadaanan siya tas nirelease ko daw yung “Kailan Ba Ako Magiging Masaya?”, nagbreak daw sila ng jowa niya tapos nirelease ko daw yung “Iyakin” di pa daw siya nakaka move on, tapos nirelease ko yung “Di Na Babalik Sayo” naka move on na daw siya, nasama ako sa lahat ng stages ng life niya kahit hindi ko siya kilala. Doon ako kumukuha ng motivation to be more vulnerable and to show more vulnerability. Dati kasi, I was a very vulnerable pero I was sharing too much on the internet at that time, ngayon, I learned how to set boundaries. I learned that when you share too much online, may mga tao nagkakaroon ng parasocial relationship sayo and then may lakas ng loob sila to judge yung life mo and your choices. So now, I only share my vulnerability through music. Yun yung boundaries ko at sobrang na eenjoy ko!


    We were all recording [Labs Kita] na and pinakinggan ko yung mix niya, naisip ko ulit na “Ang sweet ko naman, ganto ako mag mahal!”

    –Shanne Dandan


    FA: Let’s talk about your new track “Labs Kita”, What do you hope listeners take away from this track when they’re navigating their own perspective of love?

    Shanne Dandan: Baklaan. Guys, let’s be real.. Charot! [Laughs] I want it to be such a safe space for everyone na nagmamahal. I want to tell everyone that your love is sacred. Your love is supposed to be celebrated. Very straightforward din kasi yung song eh! It’s not really a love song that hides in metaphors, walang ganong! Gusto ko “Matulog ka ng mahimbing tapos pagkagising mo ikikiss kita!” Walang “Aabutin ko lahat ng bituin sayo” hindi! As in, “Good morning, tapos kiss tayo,” ganon!  Yung song na yon, Labs Kita, nasulat ko lang siya randomly, nag stay ako dito sa studio, natutulog yung partner ko in the other room, tapos naisip ko, “Hala, sana mahimbing ang tulog niya,” [laughs] tapos kinilig ako dun sa “Hala! Naisip ko yun? Parang ang sweet ko naman!” tapos dun na yung song nag set, then the melody sumunod na, very spontaneous yung songwriting na ginawa ko nung night nayon and then nung we were all recording it na and pinakinggan ko yung mix niya, naisip ko ulit na “ang sweet ko naman, ganto ako mag mahal!” [laughs] and then mas naempower ako kasi nafeel ko that it is a privilege to be loved by me! It’s so healing din, lalo na sa mga people like me who give too much and sobra-sobra talaga mag mahal. Gusto ko lang ireassure mga listeners ko na OKAY LANG! Alam mo yon? As long as you’re giving your all tas  masaya ka sa love that you give to other people, that’s okay because in a way that’s also loving yourself. Hindi mo pinupull back yung sarili mo to feel everything, every positive thing. Spread love! 

    FA: Can you describe moments when singing becomes so emotional that it physically affects you, and how those moments shape your performance? 

    Shanne Dandan: Umiiyak talaga ako [laughs] maraming beses na nangyari yun, I get really overwhelmed with the situation lalo na yung tour ko for Kung Iyong Mamarapatin, ilang beses ako humagulgol, wala lang, iyakin ako! I am Mercury in Cancer tapos Gemini pa ako… ang dami kong nararamdaman sa buhay… [laughs]

    FA: [laughs] GETSSSSSSSSSSS

    Shanne Dandan: I just let it flow, pag nafefeel ko yung luha ko, pabagsakin ko siya pero hindi naman yung nakaka overwhelm siya. In a way, I’m grateful for those kinds of emotions na nag flood sakin whenever I sing because that just means na hindi nawawala yung passion ko for singing. Itinuturing kong instrument ko yung voice ko; the way guitarists play their guitars, keyboardists play the piano, yung voice ko ang sinustrum ko, so hindi ko maiiwasan maging emotional, that also just means din na grabe yung love ko for this craft, for voice as an instrument, hindi siya nawala kahit yung start ko medyo rough. 

    FA: When it comes to songwriting, it’s almost kind of a requirement to pour your heart out on a page or pour your heart out through the sound of a melody. So when it comes to songwriting for you, ano yung mga non-negotiables mo in the songwriting process? 

    Shanne Dandan: Sa songwriting, wala naman akong rules sa sarili ko, yung process ko kasi is nag sesketch ako sa voice notes– I don’t really play an instrument when I’m writing a song because I don’t want to box myself and limit myself to chords or keys on the piano para maexplore ko yung range ko sa melodies, so I sketch tapos nagkaroon kami ng jam [session] with my band, sila yung nag iinterperate sakin ng chords. Very visual yung isip ko, so the way I describe my ideas– hindi ko masasabi yung “Okay dito is D-flat,” hindi ako ganun eh! More on “gusto ko parang umuulan tapos nabasa ako sa ulan–” parang ganun ako mag describe ng feelings ko! [laughs] And sobrang connected and close kami ng band ko, as in family talaga, so they know what I’m trying to achieve musically, and alam ko pano sila kausapin about it. 

    FA: Writing with your band is such a good non-negotiable. Nakakapa nila yung pakiramdam mo tapos kaya nilang itranslate yun into music! 

    Shanne Dandan: Non-negotiable ko si Lui, yung nag p-piano sakin. Non- negotiable ko is yung may bading sa banda. Mas gets nila, mas gets namin [raises eyebrow, laughs] yung mga influences ko which is very Femme talaga. Yun yung non-negotiable ko! [laughs]  


    I’m surrounded by so many queer people na mahal na mahal ko talaga. Grabe din yung influence nila sa akin. All the queer artists that I listen to are also connected dun sa sinabi ko na non-negotiable ko yung bakla. 

    -Shanne Dandan


    FA: Taking notes for myself… 

    Shanne Dandan: Can I just say, grabe yung influence ng queer people in my life. Ngayon ko lang din narealize na I’ve been queer my whole life. Iba lang naman din yung panahon dati, so when I opened up to myself and came out to my family, dun ko lang din narealize–pati yung mga friends ko– na alam ko na matagal na. I’m surrounded by so many queer people na mahal na mahal ko talaga. Grabe din yung influence nila sa akin. All the queer artists that I listen to are also connected dun sa sinabi ko na non-negotiable ko yung bakla. 

    FA: Your aesthetics and fashion styles are also very interconnected with who you are as a person, may pag ka-60s, may pag ka-70s that reflect yung musical upbringings mo, and I also noticed that you wear your hair natural! It’s rare to see an artist embrace their natural curls din kaya it’s so refreshing seeing someone be their authentic self. How did you develop that style? 

    Shanne Dandan: Matagal na! [laughs] I’m very connected pa rin sa music taste ng lola ko and mga pinakinggan ko nung bata pa ako. Visually, the films I consumed before and the books that I read are all from the 20th century. Sobrang fascinated ako dun sa aesthetic na iyon, nag start siya siguro nung 15 years old ako. Tumblr kid din ako dati! nagkaroon ako ng Tumblr mga 9 years old ako and naalala ko pa yung URL ko pa dati is “Shannederella” kasi love ko yung Cinderella na band…[laughs] Connected talaga yung style ko sa personality ko and sa music ko din kasi very visual ako mag isip, naiimagine ko yung magiging look ko, kasi I’m also a part time stylist. I really like enhancing yung fashion sense ng mga artists, mga musicians like myself and basing it on their personalities and moods. I think I developed that very young because when I was a young teenager naging art director ako for mga iba’t ibang bands before and nag evolve yung creative side ko as I got older. 

    FA: You mentioned the band Cinderella and your music is very much reminiscent of their songs back then especially with the way you use both tagalog and english in songs. How do you reinterpret classic Filipino pop influences like Cinderella, Didith Reyes, Ella del Rosario and even covering “Boy I love You” by the late Cherie Gil for a modern audience?

    Shanne Dandan: I think there’s something about the way they sang their songs from that period of time. Like Yolly Samson from Cinderella, she passed away a very long time ago na, but when you listen to her voice parang ka-call mo lang siya. Sobrang lapit niya sayo kasi her voice really touches your heart. I feel like that touching energy is something that I also want to translate in my music. I reinterpret that energy when I did covers of songs from that era pero namomodernise ko siya in some way but I keep [the old-timey] singing from that era, hindi ko siya iniiba, pineperserve ko siya. I don’t know if this will make sense, pero yung pag ka-feminine ng mga songs nila from that time and the way they write it din. Parang, loving siya okay, pero sa POV ng isang babae, ganon yung gusto ko, yung softness… The Female Gaze!! 

    FA: What guides your choice when deciding which songs to cover? The feelings the song brings out in you, the way it allows you to explore your voice,  do those two things meet? 

    Shanne Dandan: Wala, kasi requirement siya… Charot! [laughs] Kasi mostly I do covers from movies or OSTs, and lagi nangyayari where kailangan nila ng lumang kanta, ako kaagad ang iniisip nila na ipa cover sa kanta and I guess that’s a compliment kasi gustong gusto ko talaga kumanta ng mga lumang kanta. Sobrang love na love ko kasi as a writer and a literary enthusiast, love na love ko yung usage of Tagalog na sobrang grammatically correct talaga, tulad ng usage of apostrophe then letter Y (‘y), basta ganon! [laughs] Lahat ng natutunan ko when I was still a journalism student, na apply ko parin siya [sa songwriting] Anyway, when it comes to cover song choices that ako mismo pumipili, like with “Boy I Love You”, ako talaga pumili i-cover yun, blessed ako in a way kasi yung label that I’m in, they own most of the songs from the Manila Sound Era of OPM, nasa Vicor Music / Viva Music Group siya. 

    FA: That’s so cool! May access ka sa buong catalogue. 

    Shanne Dandan: Yeah! With “Boy I Love You”, favorite song siya ng lola ko so when I was thinking of doing a cover for my album yun ka agad yung song na naisip ko. Sa interpretation naman with that song, kineep ko yung pag ka-lungkot ng kanta pero in a way, nilagyan ko siya ng touch of happy longing from afar, loving from afar. 

    FA: Do you have any Filipino book recommendations? 

    Shanne Dandan: Favorite book ko ay kay Lualhati Bautista, “Bata, bata… Pa’no Ka Ginawa?”, Wala akong kinalaman dun sa politics ng book na yon nung binasa ko siya nung bata pa ako pero dun ko na-adapt most of my style in writing.

    FA: How important is it to make music that pays homage to the original OPM sound? If so, what makes slow and highly emotional Filipino ballads stand out?

    Shanne Dandan: Aside from the fact that I really enjoy that kind of music, I really enjoy performing those songs because it’s preserving Filipino culture. We are very westernised and those songs are also very westernised din pero yung Pinoy essence is still captured lalo na yung mga love songs ng Pinoy. Very hopeless romantic tayo as Filipinos. We describe being in love to someone in a very Filipino way, may pa-kilig-kilig pa [laughs]

    Preserving Manila Sound is also important din kasi Manila Sound is a mix of different genres eh so may pop, may jazz, may soul, so yun din ang mga iniisip kong sound whenever may isunusulat akong kanta. It’s all about the heart. 

    FA: Was there a moment during writing or recording when you surprised yourself emotionally?

    Shanne Dandan: Ang dami! [Laughs] Most of the songs na nasusulat ko ngayon is– I didn’t expect myself na magiging ganito ako ka-open sa music ko lalo with “Labs Kita” and yung first album ko. Para talaga akong nakawala sa cage, ganon yung feeling. When I was writing and recording “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin”, my main goal was to reintroduce myself as an artist and as a musician. You’ve seen a different version of me, but ito talaga ako; this is the music I grew up with, ito yung roots ko. But then I released it, and nakikita ko na siya sa Spotify, online, everywhere… Ako yung nagulat sa sarili kong growth na naging ganito ako ka-open… Slay… [laughs] Na-appreciate ko yung sarili ko for being that open and brave to write those songs, lalo na sa kantang “Kailan ba ako magiging masaya?”, When I was writing it I was in a very dark place and iniisip ko noon na secret song lang siya kasi ginawa ko lang siya to express what I was feeling. Pero, sobrang freeing din nung nirelease ko siya. Now, with “Labs Kita”, nainspire kaming lahat to do more and we’re now planning to create a new body of work, I’m so excited!


    Feeling ko lahat ng kinds of pagmamahal, whether it’s directed to other people or to yourself, you’re also simultaneously hoping. Kung wala nang hope, asan na yung love? Mag best friend sila!

    –Shanne Dandan


    FA: A year after the album’s release, how do you now view the person who wrote these songs? Now that you’re in a stage where you can write more freely about your emotions, do you think it’s easier to write about affection or heartbreak? 

    Shanne Dandan: It depends kung anong phase ka na sa buhay mo, syempre if malungkot ka, mas madali magsulat ng malungkot na kanta. Lately, I find myself writing a lot of love songs. So I guess very in love talaga ako ngayon [laughs] Pero I’m not yet at that point na yung mga songwriters, grabe yung skills nila to re-imagine a very different situation na wala naman sila. But I’m still connected with myself and my emotions when I’m writing. Nowadays, I feel like it’s easier for me to write happier love songs about love and then more about myself – not necessarily about love naman pero my own self-discovery, coming of age, all that. Nasa phase ako sa life na may mga moments na napapaisip ka na “Hala, tumatanda na, there’s bills to pay,” Tas mga moments with your old friends now, but I choose not to dwell on the fact that we’re now growing old; I’m happy that I get to grow old with my friends and with my family and with the one I love. Ang saya lang.

    FA: How did your collaboration with Shadiel shape the final sound of “Labs Kita”?

    Shanne Dandan: Sobrang amazing, It has always been my dream to collaborate with Shadiel lalo na to record in his studio sa Baguio. I think the place has a lot of impact sa song, kasi Baguio is such a beautiful place ang lamig lamig pa puro nature, so ganon rin maririnig mo sa song. Shadiel has a lot of ideas na hindi ko maisip na ako lang or even my band, it helps a lot with the song if may ibang tenga na nakakarinig that’s outside of the circle of people na kasama mo palagi. Ang laking impact ng ibang ear. With the intro, siya yung nag isip nun. I feel very honored na na ka-work ko siya and him and his team are very down-to-earth and they’re not the type of music producers that have so many criticisms sa mga songs mo, they just let the artist be. They really believe in your craft and don’t try to change it. Sobrang saya. 

    FA: What was the biggest difference between producing this single and producing your previous album?

    Shanne Dandan: Masaya na ako. Kasi Panay iyak lang talaga ako when I was recording my previous album– and not naman sad cries, more on happy cries talaga na “Oh my God, I did this, Oh my gosh natapos na naten”, sobrang na-attach kasi ako with the people na gumawa ng last album ko and also, syempre now. Sa “Labs Kita”, Si Lui parin, Pat, Duo, and Kurt, band ko talaga. The difference siguro is yung vibe ng song. “Labs Kita” is much lighter and happier, ganon din yung vibe namin sa studio, very light energy and chill lang!

    FA: What can you say about your other upcoming projects, if you can say anything about it? 

    Shanne Dandan: I’m very excited for this year, especially kasi yung year na ‘to, is such a ground-breaking moment for me as an artist because I started being more accepting and na discover ko itong whole new side of songwriting. Na pwede pala magaan lang and masaya. Parang nag tatae ako ng kanta [laugs] But yeah! Lalo na sa Valentines, February is going to be a super busy month for us and people invite me to sing at their weddings and I really really love that kasi lagi ako umiiyak, ang cute, kahit kaninong kasal! 

    FA: Do you think that love can exist without hope? 


    Shanne Dandan: Feeling ko hindi! There are two sides of hope. When you love someone, they love you back. Syempre, may positive hope na we’re going to grow old together and magiging masaya lang tayo, but then, syempre, madami kayong ipagdadaanan, dadating sa point na mawawalan ka rin ng hope. But it’s all about the perspective and affirmations to yourself na you [and your partner] will get through this. Feeling ko lahat ng kinds of pagmamahal, whether it’s directed to other people or to yourself, you’re also simultaneously hoping. Kung wala nang hope, asan na yung love? Mag best friend sila!

  • SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Wisp (Thailand)

    SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Wisp (Thailand)

    In the middle of the vast ethernet lies a genre that has been stretched, flattened, recycled, and reborn more times than anyone can reasonably count. Shoegaze, once tied to distortion pedals, rehearsal rooms, and subcultural isolation, has since found a second life online, where riffs circulate as presets, moods become templates, and entire scenes form inside comment sections. Out of that churn emerged Wisp, a Thai-Taiwanese American musician whose rise traces how shoegaze slipped from niche fixation into one of the most accessible sounds of the 2020s.

    Wisp’s earliest material, dating back to 2023, lived where many young artists now begin: alone in a bedroom, posting short instrumental clips online. Her early TikTok uploads leaned into shoegaze “type beat” structures, dense guitar layers looping into themselves, melodies hovering for the majority of the track. These clips spread quickly because her contemporaries understood how it could function in a compressed, scroll-first environment. Shoegaze became texture first, atmosphere before statement, something listeners could step into alongside a rich story that traces back to influences of noise rock and post-punk in the 80s. 

    That clarity carried into her first EP, Pandora released in 2024, which marked a shift from small snippets to fully formed songs. Tracks like “Pandora” and “Mimi” expanded her sound, pairing blown-out guitars with soft, hushed vocals that rarely rose above a whisper. Her voice became one of her defining traits, dreamy and lo-fi, sitting low in the mix as another instrument rather than a focal point. It gave the music a sense of closeness, as if the listener had stumbled into something private. At times, stepping into Wisp’s worldbuilding as the wall of noise envelopes the listeners one at a time. 

    As her audience grew, so did the scale of her work. Wisp’s songwriting eventually sharpened her sensibilities in writing more melodic pieces of music; Her arrangements thickened, and her live presence followed suit. What began as solo bedroom recordings translated into full-band performances capable of filling festival stages, all while keeping the grimy, internet-bred edge intact. Shoegaze, in her hands, did not lose its heaviness as it grew louder. It simply became easier to step into.

    That evolution continues on her debut album If Not Winter released in 2025, where newer songs like “Black Swan” or “Sword” lean further into contrast. The guitars hit harder, the structures tighten, and the emotional palette darkens without drifting into excess. The whispery vocals remain, floating over walls of sound that feel heavier and more deliberate than before. It is music shaped by online beginnings yet no longer confined to them.

    Wisp’s career reflects a broader shift in how shoegaze functions today. Detached from strict lineage and carried by platforms that reward immediacy, the genre has opened itself to a new generation. Through texture and a clear sense of mood, Wisp helped make shoegaze feel less like insular and more like a shared space for a wider audience, one that listeners could enter from anywhere and stay as long as they liked.

  • SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Asunojokei (Japan)

    SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Asunojokei (Japan)

    Within the populated stretches of Tokyo, Japan, lies the flood of acts and bands that start by crafting music, pursuing their own identity that continues to grow year by year. Coming from such a place is a band named Asunojokei, a four-piece blackgaze band that was formed back in 2014. Takuya Seki (bassist), Kei Toriki (guitarist), and Seiya Saito (drummer) were close friends since their teenage years, only meeting up with their vocalist, Daiki Nuno, through social media after watching a video of him covering a Converge song. Since then, they stuck together, starting their musical journey that will continue to break their limits.

    While they started with a two-track demo release back in 2015, it is through their first EP in 2016, ‘A Bird in the Fault,’ that informs the start of what soundscape, melodic tone, and writing style they’ll keep building up into. Howling screams; pummeling streaks of blackgaze, post-hardcore, and other metal stripes; and numbed melancholic poetry are immediately attached to this band’s palette. Songs like “Silent Tears” go through their post-metal motions with these solemn guitars, just before Nuno starts shrieking and the wail of blast beats and stormy riffs that come afterward. And “Easy” tips the line within depressive black metal, most notably with the gloomy first few minutes, cultivating this downbeat atmosphere that continues getting more cavernous and stinging.

    Two years later, their 2018 debut album, ‘Awakening’, amplifies what the band showcased beforehand and expands upon melodic prowess that caters to more potent songcrafting, with writing that consists of pushing past dour emotions despite feeling hopeless and lonely within a momentous city. Leaner cuts like “Double Quotation Mark” and “Ugly Mask” indulge within thunderous black metal passages on the former and shimmering rock tones on the latter, carving out Nuno’s ability towards spoken word, singing, and screaming. “Bashfulness of the Moon” and “Thin Ice” maximize their post-rock structures to a different level, where lilting cooldowns lead to explosive blackgaze turmaturges, with Nuno sounding guttural and snappy in his wails. 

    After releasing a couple of EPs throughout 2019 and 2020, they eventually took a bit more time before putting together ‘Island’, their sophomore record, which took a different direction in the way they compose their tunes. Said direction comes in the manner of implementing J-rock progressions to their post-hardcore and blackgaze roots, a blend of sound that this band manages to synergize in a big way. “Chimera” and “Diva Under The Blue Sky” simultaneously sound harrowing and magnetic all at once, bleary riffs and crushing screams become a bit brighter amid the accompanying J-rock melodies. There is happiness and company that’s worth looking forward to: A sign of forward momentum that is essential to the album’s songwriting, gently realizing that, despite the internal gloom that the protagonist is overwhelmed by.

    That is not to say the straightforward blackgaze tones are left behind, as cuts like “The Forgotten Ones” and “The Sweet Smile of Vortex” sound more ferocious with the band’s refinement across production and songcrafting. Nuno’s howls and spoken word are crushing and emotive as ever, clawing across frigid blast beats and melodic crescendos that kept building up into a punchy resolution. A characteristic that carries the momentum of this album from front to back, allowing compositions to sound heftier and stickier than ever.

    The seeds that came from that specific direction paved the path to their recent record this year, ‘Think of You’. Even moving further into that J-rock and J-Pop influences and leaning more into concise melodic structures, formulating a shorter, winter-themed album where the production and composition refinements are on full display. Said influences overall strengthen their signature blackgaze and post-hardcore bread-and-butter, crystallizing phenomenal melodic earworms that this band lands with gusto. “Magic Hour,” “Angel,” and “Stella” are invigorating as it is showstopping, with Nuno pulling out all the power into screams and the rest of the band pulling off dazzling melodic throughlines. “Dogma” still shows that, despite going in this direction, the band doesn’t forget their roots, with that blackgaze wall of sound combusts through its roaring riffs. So does the rampant rhythms of “In The City Where Cobalt Falls” with the soaring guitar passages and blast beats piercing through the skies.

    This level of vigor proceeds to how frosty and brighter the album sounds, a tone that complements the yearning, thoughtful sensibilities that are plastered on its songwriting. Always finding hope and confidence, an uplifting energy that echoes through “The Farewell Frost” and “Tomorrow is Your Day”. Utilizing gleaming atmospherics, cavernous vocals, and fiery compositions to drive that tender optimism higher.

    With each passing record, Asunojokei keeps flapping their wings and gradually crafting their own unique identity amidst Japan’s historic background towards its circulation of black metal and post-hardcore bands. Never leaving behind what they used to be in the past, just taking new steps to find a space that is their own. With an optimistic thoughtfulness being embraced that keeps shining brighter, the way that they’re going is up, flooding the skies with howls that put everyone awake. 

  • Tender in A Selfish Universe: Ourselves The Elves

    Tender in A Selfish Universe: Ourselves The Elves

    In an industry driven by visibility and speed, Ourselves The Elves embody a DIY ethic that builds on showing up and sustaining community and embracing contradiction across a decade of making music together

    There’s a tendency to frame longevity in the local underground scene as triumph, survival as spectacle, and persistence as proof of greatness. However, Ourselves The Elves don’t seem to be interested in that kind of narrative. A decade on from their debut EP, Geography Lessons, the band speaks less like veterans guarding a legacy and more like participants who never left. They’re still booking their own shows, printing CDs themselves, and keep the promise of never attaching to a money hungry music label. “DIY or die” is their stubborn yet gentle manifesto. 

    Formed in the early 2010s, Ourselves The Elves emerged as a college band in UP during a time when genre borders felt porous and gig lineups were wildly heterogeneous with rock bands sharing stages with DJs, electronic acts, and solo performers. For Ourselves The Elves, the underground has never been an abstract ideal. It’s always been logistical, relational, and deeply emotional; it is as interpersonal as it is intrapersonal. 

    Celebrating a decade of Geography Lessons, the band speaks of the EP with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. What began as an exercise in recording and release, self-funded and self-distributed and nearly missing its own launch deadline, has proven unexpectedly enduring. Newer listeners continue to discover it, finding something current in its vulnerability. For Paula Castillo, who was once a fan before joining the band, finds that the EP’s continued resonance reflects the honesty of its songwriting and why it remains meaningful years later. 

    That honesty has always included contradictions. Despite the band’s name and their later embrace of “self” as a central theme in their music, Cabral is careful to point out that many of their early lyrics are self-deprecating, even harsh. Rather than offering clean affirmations, Ourselves The Elves wrote through the mess of early adulthood: loving and hating oneself simultaneously, navigating friendship, frustration, and moral uncertainty. Throughout their entire discography, self-love is an uneasy conclusion arrived at after sitting with extreme discomfort. It isn’t a simple commute with an extravagant destination. “It’s about embracing the self but it’s also about hating the self,” Aly says. Perhaps that realization is the crux of the Elves’ existence. 

    When venues close, what’s mourned isn’t just the loss of a stage, but the memories formed there by performers, organizers, and gig-goers alike. As lead guitarist Akira Medina reflects, the survival of any space depends on whether it genuinely serves a community. The emphasis on service–on showing up for one another– runs through the band’s history. Their collaborations, from Petersen Vargas’ film work to community-run gigs and collectives reveal a culture built less on individual ascent and more on shared emotional labor.  

    Crucially, the band refuses to retroactively professionalize their story. Even now, they hesitate to call themselves pioneers. DIY, for them, was never a branding exercise. They sustained a garden of sound and technicolor. They sustained a way of working where bands double as organizers, collaborators, and caretakers of one another’s creative lives. What Ourselves The Elves has taught the youngins of the scene is to hold on to DIY as a means of retaining agency and not purity politics, or as Ponch Salvador puts it: to be cringe, after all, is to be free. 

    In an industry increasingly shaped by speed, visibility and metrics, Aly Cabral, Akira Medina, Paula Castillo, and Ponch Salvador exemplify the DIY ethic of not relying on shortcuts nor do they treat it like a hustle. Not mastery, not dominance, care. Care for process, for people, for the slow work of becoming, If their legacy lies anywhere, it’s in proving that staying can be just as radical as breaking through. 

    FA: What were your highlights from the 2016 era of the music scene that you still wish were prevalent in the scene today?  

    ALY: I think yung diversity of events at that time,  the indie scene was thriving really well– not to say that it’s dying right now, but yun yung time na ang daming lumabas na bagong bands na sabay sabay and ang daming gigs where bands would play in the lineup along with different genres. There were also DJs, there were bands, there were electronic acts, and solo acts. So I guess mas buhay yung time before the pandemic, relatively yung music scene in general. 

    FA: Do you think that the scene is going through a “recession?”  

    PONCH: I feel like the crowd just became more inclusive and perceptive towards others that you like. 

    PAULA:  Yeah. And I don’t think that recession equates to things being cancelled and whatnot. Mas nagiging aware [of the scene] na kasi yung kids nowadays. They’re more aware of different things going on.


    I think that eventually, if a venue [at risk of closing] will survive, factors like how accessible it is to young people who go to gigs and questioning if it serves a community [will help] keep it alive.

    –Aki Medina, Ourselves the Elves 


    PONCH: I don’t think there’s a [scene] recession going on. 

    AKI: I think it happens all the time but it’s not really [a recession]. There are always changes– it could be like how active the scene is, yung venues- lalo na yung venues. Personally, we lost a few of our favorite venues due to them closing down.

    ALY: I agree with that. I mean, for sure there’s an economic recession pero when it comes to art and music. It’s affecting yung economic positions namin, it’s hard to get together all the time now because we have work and everything but we still find ways. A lot of new young artists now rely on the internet as well and social media so nag adapt yung mga artists. 

    FA:  I want to ask Aki about when venues like Red Verb Studio or Route 196 closed, how did that make you feel then and what do you think about the venue shortage now? 

    AKI:  I’m not sure about now, , I haven’t had the time to go out and explore as much personal connection [within the scene] lately. So when it closed down,  I reminisced a lot of memories there with the band and as a gig goer. I think now, I see that there are new venues popping up and a lot of younger people trying to keep these new venues alive. I think that eventually, if a venue [at risk of closing] will survive, factors like how accessible it is to young people who go to gigs and questioning if it serves a community [will help] keep it alive. 

    FA: It’s been a decade since Geography Lessons was released, what does that album mean to you now both individually and as a band?

    ALY: It’s been a decade. It’s been that long. It’s amazing that we were able to sustain this band and that friendship for longer than that. I feel like things are coming full circle because it’s also not just 10 years for our album but also for the film of our friend Petersen Vargas, which inspired the EP. And now, I still get to collaborate with Petersen and I still see him a lot more recently. So there’s a full circle feeling of collaboration and working together and all those years made me appreciate the music more – seeing how we’ve grown then as a band. 

    PONCH: It’s just wild for me. I didn’t think so many people would like an EP of all things or something like an EP would have stuck with them for so long or if they heard it for the first time. I’m still surprised to this day. Yeah, it just surprises me that people still like it or if they listen to it  or it feels so fresh to them if they listen to it for the first time.

    AKI: I think from that time it was a good exercise in learning how to be recording and releasing material. Kasi we’re a very independent band so usually we just do our do things talaga ourselves. So a lot of the stuff that we did ourselves were printing the CDs to selling it in shows. I think muntik nang di umabot yung CDs when we released it at the gig so parang it’s a good learning experience in being a band and like from all aspects, especially the songwriting and recording part. 

    PAULA:  It’s amazing to see how it resonates with younger people nowadays. Ako kasi,  before even joining the band, I was a fan of Ourselves The Elves as well. So listening to the EP back then, I could tell that it was timeless that the songwriting is timeless and it’s nice to see it resonate with people nowadays parin. So it’s nice that younger people got to still connect with it nung pandemic and there was a need to hear it or see it live. Nowadays it’s nice to experience that. 

    FA: When I watched Some Nights I Feel Like Walking by Petersen Vargas, I wanted to ask Aly what it was like to score the film with your brother as well as implementing your own personal tastes in music while also including “Force Field” by Ourselves The Elves in the film. How are you able to decipher what goes where? 

    ALY:  It’s mostly on Petersen. Since he’s the director, he guides me a lot with the music that I do. He was actually the one who decided to put “Force Field” there because we were trying to figure out what was the best music for that– whether or not I should do a score for that, so for me, the way that I score my solo compositions is not separate from the music that we do for OTE. Madali naman siya i-connect. For me, the band’s music is a continuation of what I do now as a solo artist.  

    Photo from ellyphantart

    FA: You guys have truly paved the way for the DIY scene that we know today. How do you hold space for your earlier music like the Geography Lessons EP until you released Self Is Universe? How do you feel about the mark that you’ve made on the scene today? Is it something that you guys think about?

    PONCH: Personally, I guess it’s because I don’t go out as much probably,  I seldom see DIY stuff popping up. If not I mean the shows, you know, people from like Sining Shelter a lot of those are DIY and a lot of the data are DIY. Do we want to call ourselves  pioneers of DIY? I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure other people have done that before us. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Eggboy’s record is DIY. 

    PAULA: Tsaka yung collective nila Mikey, like Ciudad. They’re also DIY. We also learned from them as well. Yeah. We didn’t pave the way in terms of DIY–I mean not us as a band but the scene that we were in before the mid early 2010s. We were not just in bands before kasi we also tried to do shows where we book shows by ourselves, like, nag organize dati si Aly ng shows, nag organize din ako ng shows before, so, it’s not just [Ourselves The Elves], it was the community then before .

    FA: How did it feel like to be a part of productions then versus now? Are there things that are different with how bands organize their own gigs?

    PAULA:  On our last show I was also organizing– we were also running the show. Aly ran the bar and then I was a part of the prod, so, I was making sure things were going on smoothly. But then again, I was still coordinating with my bandmates like their preferences or tending to people. It was really tight knit because of the lineup on that show as well. We’re also bandmates of bands that were there. Now may mga DIY shows the bands would organize it and like run it themselves. Let’s just say like there’s different skills of um shows nowadays as well. So, I can’t disregard DIY band members themselves. 


    I feel more confident knowing that people actually like the music and the lyrics even if I know my personal point of view. So like there’s comfort knowing that and that definitely helped me become more confident in expressing my feelings not just through music but like generally as a person.

    –Aly Cabral


    FA: What made the band decide not to hide their true emotions under elves, but moreso, embrace the “self” through lyricism and rhythmic experimentation?  

    ALY: Thematically, it does deal with embracing the self, but I actually think that a lot of our lyrics then are actually self-deprecating sometimes. So, I feel like it’s showing the reality of how you feel about yourself, especially if you’re going through that [coming of age] we started during college and then we were like making music that expresses your personal lives. So, at that age I feel like I also had a lot of frustration about myself and the world. So I was just trying to convey that honestly with the lyrics. Yeah. It’s about embracing the self but it’s also about hating the self sometimes if you did something wrong. 

    FA: Were there any like I know unexplainable feelings that you were able to put in songs? 

    ALY: I think yeah what I just mentioned which is the conflicting feeling of loving yourself and also hating yourself at the same time but in the end having that sort of epiphany or awakening na ‘oh in the end you’re stuck with yourself so self love parin or love wins!’ So right there all these complicated feelings now from early adulthood parang ganon. All mixed feelings like not just love but also friendship and conflicts and everything.

    FA: Aly, how did writing and journalism impact your personhood and the things you believe, which are also reflected in songwriting/instrumentation? 

    ALY: It definitely made me feel more fearless kasi knowing that I could have this channel to express my feelings honestly and share it to the world. So merong feeling of I guess feeling bold but at the same time vulnerable because these are personal feelings. So right now, I feel more confident knowing that people actually like the music and the lyrics even if I know my personal point of view. So like there’s comfort knowing that and that definitely helped me become more confident in expressing my feelings not just through music but like generally as a person.

    Photo from ellyphantart

    FA: What advice would you give to musicians in the scene who want to have a long impact like Ourselves The Elves? 

     PAULA:  I feel like number one is to find bandmates that are your friends. I feel like yun yung secret sauce namin. We are all now busy nowadays individually but I feel like I could hang out with each one of them outside music and then [my other advice is to] cultivate yung chemistry niyo as people and as bandmates inside of whatever unit that you are in [whether] as friends or as bandmates, dun niyo ma mimix yung creativity niyo or yung talent niyo together seamlessly.

    AKI: My answer is more of how to navigate the industry or like the system which people like us operate in. I think it’s important to know [how] set boundaries for yourself and know what you’re comfortable with doing, how you interact with other entities, other organizations or whatever. And if you’re not sure what you want to do, I think you should know what you’re not comfortable doing. I think it’s very important to keep yourself in check and set your own boundaries. 

    ALY: Find your tribe talaga and collective. At the same time, set boundaries with not just each other or with people in the scene, but also people outside the scene especially. Tas yung take ko naman is that I really believe in DIY honestly. Like yung saying “DIY or die”, I believe in that because we’ve been like that for years and now we’re still like that. We still enjoy it. Of course, may mga pros and cons, but feel like for me it’s the best way to go. And also other than that, it helps to have a clear vision kasi that’s going to have a clear direction where you want your music or your career to go and then everything else will follow.

    PONCH: If you want your band to just be blasting music, I think, as much as I want to do it, I’m pretty sure the rest of my bandmates don’t want to do it kasi. And it’s really for a better cause but I guess don’t do lame shit. I guess don’t do whatever seems trendy. I feel like that’s like a one way ticket to just lasting three six months [in a band]. Just be yourself. Kahit cringe siya kasi to be cringe is to be free, you know. 
    PAULA: That is so you Ponch. [Laughs]

  • SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Mary Sue (Singapore)

    SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Mary Sue (Singapore)

    The hip-hop scene in Singapore only continues to grow with every passing moment. Groups such as Construction Sight, Triple Noize, and Urban Xchange marked their impact in the 90s and the 2000s, yet it took quite some time before the culture flourished throughout the country. In the 2010s, more artists such as Akeem Jahat, Yung Raja, THELIONCITYBOY, ShiGGA Shay, and Masia One eventually made their name in the mainstream, carrying and shaping what is there to be shown in Singapore’s Hip-Hop space.

    Once the 2020s hit the surface, there came an artist who struck an abstract niche within the underground. Due to the isolation brought back in the pandemic, Siew Png Sim – with his love for acts like MIKE, Earl Sweatshirt, MF DOOM, and Navy Blue – dons the Mary Sue moniker and starts to illustrate his sound. Rougher beats, decisive flows, and pensive storytelling are the name of the game. He slowly shaped those foundations through EPs across 2020 to 2021.

    Those EPs are just a preparation for what he will be putting out since then. In 2022, he dropped his debut record, ‘KISSES OF LIFE’. Here, Mary Sue, alongside the insane row of producers and features across the world, establishes his creative tendencies in full as he lets loose personal experiences of grief and recovery, wading through the loss of his grandfather and the struggle with his grandmother’s dementia. It’s a reflection with memories that pulls him back and pushes him forward, swirling around production that’s simultaneously light and dark. “Moving On!” and “Spirits/Name” stretch out samples to a distressingly glitchy degree, whilst “Cavalry” and “Paper Generals” stall in muted but lighter beats. A juxtaposition that Mary Sue’s weathered delivery passes through without any trouble at all, like a conflicted spirit going through shades of grey.

    The following year sees him expound on his creative streak, with three albums that were released within a few months of each other. ‘For Sure’ replaces abstract collages with tangible instruments, a backdrop that soothes the ragged introspection he evokes in his bars. ‘OK!’ follows suit, a collaborative effort with other South East Asian beatmakers and musicians (Cravism, ABANGSAPAU, etc) to construct a breezier record, adorned with boom bap and pop rap to set the vibe. In contrast, Mary Sue’s collaboration with UK producer Psychedelic Ensemble flips into experimental territory on ‘CACOPHONOUS DIGRESSIONS, A RECORD OF MOMENT IN TIME,’ where the beats blare and crackle in every space, yet never smother Mary Sue’s presence on the microphone.

    His constant work ethic is showcased even further through the “Voice Memos” releases that he pushes out, where even in the midst of traveling to a foreign place, his knack for writing never stops. Recording 2022’s ‘VOICE MEMOS ACROSS A COUPLE BODIES OF WATER’ when he was in New York City for two weeks, and 2024’s ‘Voice Memos From A Winter In China’ when he was on a winter tour in China with Singaporean jazz quintet, Clementi Sound Appreciation Club. His wandering thoughts during those times are now encapsulated within these projects, containing a well of memories that he’ll cherish long-term.

    2025 is an important year that shows Mary Sue’s growth as an overall artist. With the help of the Clementi Sound Appreciation Club, these two forces managed to craft a unique spirit that shines within Mary Sue’s overall discography, ‘Porcelain Shield, Paper Sword’. In comparison with most of his works thus far, he wields a keen disposition behind live instrumentation, a distinction that propels Mary Sue’s performances and lyric-making to the next level. Diverting away from his influences and embracing a style that he can call his own.

    The album’s major perspective on a time-traveling oracle observing the ambiguous and chaotic histories of the world is greatly reflected in the writing and sound that informs this character concept. Mary Sue’s observant insight and assured delivery resonate with the Clementi Sound Appreciation Club’s burnished melodic contributions. Gentle acoustics nimble across spare horns and keys of ‘Thief and the Bell’, creating serenity curtaining the ignorant thief who stole from the village. Rumbling guitars and drums are emphasized on ‘Haste’ and ‘Minesweeper’, creating stabs of heaviness that unveil the violence unspooling past centuries. ‘Horse Acupuncture’ is swallowed up with haunting gongs around burly guitar passages, fitting Mary Sue, Agung Mango, and Nakama.’s observations of people who are shunned by those who get to control the perception of others.

    With the release of this record, it only shows Mary Sue on an upward stream; his craft within Singapore’s underground hip-hop only gets more acknowledgement and refinement. His grounded experiences only give him more to speak about, a hopeful presence that shines amidst the swarm of darkness that surrounds him. With his newfound sword and shield equipped, his thoughtful wisdom leads to wider ground being shown, then gradually explored with a taut mindset.