Written by Elijah P. PRAY is one of those Manila rap outliers who know how to play the game from the very beginning. On his debut project ‘THANKGOD4ALLDIS$WAG,’ he walks in already dressed for the role: “gangway” street styling, flex-first instincts, and a slightly pitched-up delivery that turns his nasal cadence into its own signature. The tape runs under 20 minutes and barely lets any track breathe past the two-minute mark, which is part of the point. This isn’t a rap “album” in the old sense. It moves like an Instagram timeline refresh: fast, glossy, and prepped for replay. For all its iced-out production luster, PRAY’s strength isn’t merely identifiable trap aesthetics. He understands how to sit inside production and steer it. His ear works like a DJ’s. The beats across “MONEY COUNTER,” “RA$TA,” “F*CK AGAIN,” and “$YRUP TSAKA DOPE” hit that sweet spot where rage energy and cloud-rap drift start bleeding into each other; Trap hi-hats flare up, melodies blur into neon haze, then PRAY slides through with a calm, almost smug control. He raps like he’s narrating a lifestyle he’s already living, pitching into his dreams he hopes to buy into. He even plays a Kodak Black sample of “counting money” as one of the “freakiest things” he’s ever done. Lyrically, he plays the expected cards: money, lust, lean syrup-soaked bravado. Still, the project doesn’t collapse under cliché, because PRAY knows how to sell a line. His hooks land, his timing stays sharp, and his vocal tone has enough character to keep the tape from feeling like another copy-paste flex mission.With all its charismatic end result, THANKGOD4ALLDIS$WAG won’t convert the experimental rap purists, and PRAY isn’t aiming for that crowd anyway. This is music for the city’s wired-up nights, for kids who treat Instagram as a moodboard and ground zero for the come-up. PRAY enters 2026 with real potential, and this debut proves he can get ahead of the game. Support the art and the artist:
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ALBUM REVIEW: Darla Biana – Iridescent
Written by Noelle Alarcon House music is always a danceable delight; an air of familiarity is constantly present in the candy-colored soundscapes. It just invites your body to move and let the bouncing vibrations thud through your veins and lead you to the dance floor. A rapid attack on all your senses at once, the genre is a vessel for enthusiasm, accented by the occasional syncopated beats and punchy synths. Darla Biana’s debut passion project, ‘Iridescent,’ flickers between the realm of house and the adjacent classifications its wide panorama encompasses; described as the artist’s challenge to herself, created in just three months, it’s an ambitious, headfirst dive into the creativity a deck and a few beats can afford. There’s a template to the genre Biana pursues throughout the album, which makes her vision easy to audibly sketch out–like the minutiae pleasures of driving across cubed, 3D streets in video games from the early aughts or even the trance-inducing techno horns that are emitted from the complex insides of holographic CDs. ‘Iridescent’ is frank and straight to the point, with Biana’s invitations for romance coated in the relaxed lilt of her voice. The record doesn’t need a million ways, nor words, to express self-confidence and infatuation; Biana merely uses the music to punctuate what she means and to begin her sentences. In “Love You Down,” she says it like she means it–she will love you down. Plain and simple. The relaxed harmonies that follow the utterance of her promise and the four-on-the-floor beats are enough signs of the commitment she offers to the table. In accordance with commitment, it’s praiseworthy to note this album’s commitment to pushing Biana’s incredibly specific vibe. There are two interludes in its 33-minute runtime: “Make You Mine,” an appetizing opening that kicks off the album with hypnotizing vocals and pulsing D&B percussion, and “One Day,” a similar, 58-second break that signifies the transition of the album’s subject matter from falling in love to being in love with yourself. For a debut project, ‘Iridescent’ is like a designer’s first sketch that’s come to life–a piece that knows which elements to take from the avant-garde, and what its limitations can bring to life instead of restricting. However, there are instances when the production overpowers Biana’s vocal color, leaving her vocals floating, wandering across the track instead of becoming one with the music. There’s an admirable devotion to staying musically cohesive, yet it could have touched on the adjacent possibilities of exploring dance aside from sticking to similar beats. You can never go wrong with the glitzy, bouncy glamour of house–it just so happens that as versatile as the genre is, it’s also one that needs to embrace its malleability and constantly be kept up with. Darla Biana shows in her debut that she can–she just needs that extra boost, that liveliness brought upon by variety to continue. ‘Iridescent’ is house, definitely–but it’s a “house” that’s a little more lived in, a bunch of tracks to dance in your bedroom to. Support the art and the artist:
EP REVIEW: Cream Flower – Orbital Wound
Written by Faye Allego There’s a certain adrenaline rush that emanates from the psyche whenever one is en route; it’s a rush that can capture anxiety, urgency, or even the sense of ‘gigil.’ Cream Flower’s ‘Orbital Wound’ EP is exactly what should be queued during moments of movement, whether it’s commuting, traveling, or simply walking down a footbridge. On their third EP release, Celina Viray and Jam Lasin step into a wider sonic terrain, loosening their grip on shoegaze familiarity to explore something louder, stranger, and more expansive. They blend riot grrrl rage with explosive urban paranoia, crafting songs that feel perpetually in motion and perfectly suited for city wandering. Even amid the chaos and noise, the duo injects an unexpected motif: if a stray cat crosses your path, this EP insists you bring it to the vet. The first three tracks form ‘Orbital Wound’’s most immediate stretch, buoyed by an upbeat momentum and Viray’s vocal effects that sound like it’s being broadcast through an airport PA system. “Cat Distribution System” and “Fever Dream” have a distant, metallic, and half-instructional tinge to them. The choice of turning the voice into the form of a public announcement rather than a private confession shows a sense of urgency that isn’t found in the typical dreampop soliloquy. The sense of radio transmission becomes even sharper on the second track, “Dahas,” where radio static and intergalactic textures are lured in, giving the impression that the band is trying to communicate across impossible distances. The song is displayed like a broadcast meant for extraterrestrials, only to reveal itself as a message addressed directly to us as the listener. The lyrics cut through the noise to confront the realities, inconsistencies, and outright outlandish absurdities of the Philippine zeitgeist under the government’s rule. It initially sounds alien, but the repetitions gradually sound something more familiar: uncomfortable truths hidden within signal distortion. Chillingly, the EP turns subtle and dreamy with its fourth track, “Orbs.” There, Viray and Lasin introduce acoustics that were absent from the beginning tracks, and lyrically, they tap into more introspective lyrics. In “Orbs”, Viray warps time and perspective as she describes being “engulfed in a fever dream.” The lyrics suggest a fractured sense of self, as if the speaker is watching their own thoughts from a distance and turning into never-before-seen shapes and geometric patterns. What’s interesting is that the last track of the album, “A Violent Cry”, beheads all forms of stillness from the previous track, and the listener is put right back in that state of adrenaline that was introduced in “Cat Distribution System”. It’s loud in every sense of the word, but not flashy or indulgent, where it becomes an earache. By the time the EP moves beyond its opening run, it’s clear that ‘Orbital Wound’ is both an experiment in sounds and a tool in communication through noise, humor, and paranoia. The urge of wanting to hear more after the last track is ever-present, but in the meantime, aggressively slamming the repeat button will suffice. Support the art and the artist:
EP REVIEW: Clay Birds – a separation from vanity
Written by Anika Maculangan Founded in 2022 by Sam Slater, Italy Jones, Aron Farkas, and Jack Von Bloeker in Mission Viejo, California, five-piece skramz band Clay Birds is onto their sophomore EP, a separation of vanity, a palimpsest which gleams with dissonance and introspection, intimate as it is liberating. separation of vanity begins with “an intuition of morality”, a track that immediately sets you into a dirty basement, sweat flying from slamming bodies of a mosh pit, the heaviness of stomping feet on broken floorboards. The song carries a weathered subtlety, like a memory half-sung on a battered Telecaster; its bitter, wistful texture echoing the kind of late-night conversation you’d only dare to have beneath a spray-painted-over bridge, when it’s too dark to see each other’s faces but too honest to look away. As the EP progresses, Clay Birds’ sound is revealed not in nuance but in imperfection, sharp energy that’s like being pushed off a bike or your heart racing through the seams of a t-shirt. Every song is peeling away, a slash into the emotional undertow of being young. The tracks pose as an unraveling, taking you through the architecture of what has come undone. Each song arrives unearthed, dismantled, plunging you into its entropy. The music doesn’t come out as complete or polished. Rather, it seeps through, and invites people to bask in the mess through the acceptance of being unfinished together. What you hear is reminiscent of cut-short and picked-up conversations from venues, voice calls, and basement shows. It’s built with the rigid kind of faith that only exists between people who’ve gone through the same pain and somehow ended up at the show. Spoken in glances and gestures, in the nods around a circle pit, in the soothing silence when the set ends, it’s a project that insists: you’re not alone. These are not songs sung over a crowd but with them, music which depends on the listener’s openness to feel, to shatter, to mend in tandem. There’s a very real sense of every single line having been written in a room full of friends screaming the same thing at once, each of them taking the words because they’d written them themselves. The EP is not simply a recording of hardship; it’s a recording of being close enough to another person’s agony that it becomes your own. It’s not catharsis by distance but radical empathy. Even with its rough-around-the-edges demeanor, this is hardly a “noise” EP as you might anticipate. The language itself is the heft in this case, pulling on you instead of shoving away, evoking the spirit of unity. This culture of sharedness is at the center of the band. On their Bandcamp, there is a short sentence that reads: “Birds of the same feather flock together.” It’s a slogan, naturally, but something more. It reads as if it’s a manifesto. Clay Birds traces back to a more wide-ranging Gen Z DIY skramz ecosystem where communality is at the backbone of everything. Whether it’s through collaboration or collective effort, it’s in these relationships that the scene is rich, not competitive but cooperative. Pilfer their overlaps with bands like Composition Booklet and Kiowa, who the band shares members with. Not to mention their joint release with Knumears, where the sky meets you. By the same token, there is their commitment to DIY. Take for example their 2022 cover of iwrotehaikusaboutcannibalisminyouryearbook. The clip is didactic in its austerity: a cymbal to which a microphone is duct-taped, an unadorned, visual paean to the spartan aesthetic that characterizes the scene. DIY in this instance isn’t about utility but about authenticity, about not sanding off what makes the music sincere. Although considered one of the younger generations within the scene, Clay Birds continues a philosophy that has defined the scene for decades now: vulnerability, urgency, presence. It’s this devotion that brings their music back to haunt you long after the final note has disappeared, leaving not just sound, but the sense of something real, something felt behind. A band that challenges you to listen with more than your ears, but with whatever is still left of you that aches. Their cries form not chaos but concord, a solemn pact that, despite everything, the kids are alright. Why do I like it? Because it allows me to think out loud, and more importantly, do so alongside others. Not to be heard, but seen. Which reminds me — this is what life is all about. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: .foollstop – L
Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Fallen angels—once held in the heavens, now cast down, wandering in the aftermath of their descent. .foollstop’s “L” is shaped in a similar sentiment, an anthem of loss, reflection, lost in the reverie of ill-fated romances. San Pablo’s .foollstop has released their initial shoegaze track, a year elapsing since their live debut at Mow’s. The euphonious mix of the instruments, Huwakin’s and Ice’s vocals are cascading rivers of tears that transcend into sound, echoing throughout the song. A touch of rap alongside shoegaze is featured in the second verse, which is not something you hear in the genre every day; The monologue section before the breakdown of “L” is a bursting bottle loaded with emotions that erupts in the ending, drowning in tremolo-picked guitars and layers of vocals. Taking a glimpse at their “L” demo in Sining Shelter’s compilation “tunes for a true home,” the band slid the key into the right lock in the final version by incorporating more audio tracks in the mix. “L” weaves biblical metaphors into its narrative, portraying the perspective of a fallen angel caught in a fleeting situationship. Just as the fallen angel once knew the embrace of heaven, the narrator reflects on the short-lived moments of a love that couldn’t last. You may interpret various words from “L” such as “loss,” “ love,” or “limbo” but you can not associate the band’s debut with “loss.” Unlike the fallen angels, .foollstop’s wings chose to soar and may further introduce something of substance in an uncertain future. Support the art & the artist:
The Flying Lugaw presents: THE 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰
The year was met with an overwhelming amount of new artists releasing amazing tracks everyday. 24/7 we are experiencing another golden age of local music from Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao. We have surf rock riding the waves in the lo-fi scenes, electronic music merging with the alternative and grunge community, and hip-hop greatly influencing pop music for the better. It’s that time of the year to celebrate the greatness that is the Filipino Music scene, both from the mainstream and the alternative. These are the songs that have caught our attention and hopefully they get to catch yours. Hear everything from January to December 2024. 40. r0xxy – Fashion Killa (jk) Clocking in at about a minute and a half, “FASHiONKiLLA” waits no time in grabbing your attention and stringing you along for a little ride. Alongside ethereal and lush beats, the character r0xxy portrays here is swag, in all sense of the word—striking as the type of guy walking inside a grocery store in a full-on silver chrome hearts drip. He knows he is cool, he makes sure you understand that. And then, in between the busy dairy and meat produce section, he’s gone just as quickly as he arrived, leaving you interested and asking for more. Link: https://soundcloud.com/r0xxstvr/fashionkilla-prod-fuctjin 39. Polkadots – unstuck (aly) Straight from the Bay Area, Polkadot is back with another tweemo soundtrack befitting the precipice of a new year. Four years after releasing their debut album “Feeling Okay,” they teased their sophomore album “…to be crushed” with a track called “Unstuck” following their lead single “Pulling Threads”. Unlike the songs in their first album, “Unstuck” banks heavier on the angsty, emo sound with heavier guitar riffs, fuzzy distortions, and profoundly reflective lyricism from Daney Espiritu. The track is vulnerable and honest to boot, with poignant melodies and nuanced vocals that aren’t meant to get easily “Unstuck” in your head. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVSipia8gUI 38. Arkyalina – readmymind (elijah) “readmymind” is a diary entry written in digital ink. You get flourishes of guitar, Tavin Villanueva’s frustrations translated in the ether, and earnestness addressed via audio call. The track is 2-step crossed over with shoegaze influences, wandering and glitching into the world of Arkyalina’s mind palace. We just so happen to live with it. Link: https://open.spotify.com/album/5hNFl261HfMy1ZB7dvDus3?si=1a7e35bec89a4f0e 37. A piloto – in light (anika) Picture this: you’re a stem major, who’s truly an art student at heart, but the world keeps pitting against your favor. In light calls for poetry written on converse, the guidebook to surviving your early 20s when they tell you to cut your overgrown hair. If an ‘angel lost its wings’, A piloto reignites the ability to fly. Fuzzy with reverb and overdrive, “in light” beckons to the feeling of burning the midnight oil at Mow’s, all the while wishing you didn’t have to go home. Think stickers on a Stratocaster, timeworn. Link: https://soundcloud.com/user-877377412/in-light 36. Uncertain specimen – I knew you then I knew you now (anika) Primarily a soundcloud-based artist, “I knew you then I knew you now” is a synthwave project at best. Uncertain specimen, clearly functions within a tiny keyboard, and that’s where a lot of its DIY aura comes from. Lots of bells ring in this track, as if a ringtone you would have picked up from an old Nokia. Link: https://soundcloud.com/uncertain-specimen/i-knew-you-then-i-know-you-now 35. Lomboys – Spartan (elijah) Rhythmic chants are heard across the streets of Palangoy, Binangonan, Rizal Province. “AHU! AHU!” were made clear through small alleyways and eskinitas, but we’re not talking about actual Spartans charging towards an army. These are real life gangs arriving on the street like it’s a normal Sunday afternoon. “Spartan” by Lomboys could either be the equivalent of The Imperial March in boom bap form or the natural progression of Rizal’s storied rap history re-emerging into the scene. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUnszWGjRlM 34. YiYi – Jasper Jeans (jk) Among the standout trends of the year, it seems that a cultural shift has gone towards making “cringe” and “heartfelt” art once again. Despite being overly simplistic and soppy, “Jasper Jeans” allows us to view it as an edge. Showcasing how a little goes a long way, the track wears its emotions on its sleeves for all of us to see and it’s nothing short of endearing. For YiYi, sentimentality is a bullet that pierces through all. Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/2EfCPxDimVgTqzATke3dSp?si=752bcf0652c945bd 33. Felip – envy (elijah) Felip belts out a remark that could win a breathing contest, but this isn’t just a casual braggadocio. He’s an equestrian reaching a higher bar for the sole purpose of being the dark horse of his own league. SB19’s Felip balances elegance, opium-pilled juvenile astonishment and a brash presence that’s far away from his boy group image in “envy”. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zq2l7PJJFMI 32. Shanni – Kdrama (anika) In a world of ‘fandoms’ and whatnot, it’s easy to daydream your idealized version of a story. “Kdrama” is a track that extends those feelings toward longing, yearning, and wishing for a happy ending where everything falls into place. Endearing and melodious, Kdrama sets the tone for seeking the ethereal within reality. That experience of binging on a Kdrama with someone, one episode to the next, as the rest of the world fades into a standstill. Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/7xOdR15gtoAH1B4KYkcDqR?si=08533594885049c4 31. Cherry Society – Recluse (jk) If there was one song that Kat Stratford from 27 Things I Hate About You played after her iconic poem scene, it would definitely be Cherry Society’s “Recluse”. This is the main appeal of the track; the deliciously lively instrumentals and feminine angst dialed up to 11 create the perfect backdrop to having your weekly “nobody likes me” moment. Being the band that brands their music “adjacent to a 2000s teen movie soundtrack”, the quartet knows exactly what kind of music they want and is not afraid to make it. Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/2OC4bmeBYQ7Nn6GOEyMlOB?si=8b10e7521dae473f 30. dizzy.FM – mary_jane (+ku1buk0l +mr.kupido77 +peew33 +ocsiber! (prod. sandin x wintfye! x warheart) (louis) This song can only come from a vape-doused romanticism. It is the sonic equivalent of typing too much
SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Hakushi Hasegawa (Japan)
Within the spaces of Jazzy and glitchy art pop that has spurred within the deeper subsections in Japan, there have been artists that are willing to become enigmatic in breaking apart usual melodic structures and getting ballsy in experimenting beyond usual musical instincts and embracing extremities between the chaotic and the orderly. Nowadays, there are more of those acts seen and heard than ever, creating music that dares to change expectations in a way that’s simultaneously playful and joyous. Hakushi Hasegawa has shown to embrace this, with a discography that spills into the distorted and the comforted. Starting off in the late 2010s, their two EPS, IPhone 6 and Somoku Hodo EP immediately display the musical prowess that Hakushi Hasegawa puts into their work: playful jazz and IDM instrumentations careening to-and-fro, vocal work spilling through the mix with their bare delivery, and song structures that either spelunker into its wild adventure or stick into its linear path with efficiency. ‘Somoku’ and ‘Ta hui xiaoxi’ from the latter EP show these elements in spades, with the former song thrumming along the shifting grooves yet always coming back altogether on the striking hook. The latter song takes its 7-minute runtime for the drums, pianos, and synths to rattle off in various directions, just before it goes into spirals into a blissful tune past the 5-minute mark. This, however, only starts where Hakushi Hasegawa directs their sound to its present stasis, as their debut album in 2019, Air Ni Ni, expands upon what they’ve showcased on their past EPs. The overall compositions get more wilder and fractious, textures burrow more towards glitchy electronica more than ever, and Hakushi Hasegawa’s control of their song structures have more dynamic swells that can build up from rapid fast rhythms to settling melodic exhales. Overall amplifying Hakushi Hasegawa’s compositions into exciting experiments, such as the overwhelmingly stuffy drum layers of ‘Evil Things’ and especially ‘Itsukushii Hibi’ that soon goes to its grand solos on the back half, the slumbering grooves of ‘Stamens, Pistils, Parties’ that don’t go away from its tempo, and the generally windswept wildness of ‘o(__*)’ and ‘Desert’. Things changed drastically for Hakushi Hasegawa for the next couple of years. Releasing the cover-heavy Bones of Dreams Attacked! that features Hakushi Hasegawa’s prominently plaintive yet wondrous skill as a pianist and being part of Porter Robinson’s Secret Sky DJ Set in 2020; performing for Flying Lotus’ THE HIT back in 2021; joining the Brainfeeder roster, performing on Fuji Rock Festival, and soundtracking a TV Drama and a Fashion Show in 2023. Yet, the most noteworthy shift comes through with them showing their appearance as a way to redefine their identity – an aspect that Hakushi Hasegawa has also rummaged over in their past interviews as well as their overall songwriting, painting imageries of natural landscapes amidst details of the body shifting into an amorphous form. That recent redefinition spills forth to their recent album, Mahogakko. Showcasing a redefinition of Hakushi Hasegawa’s familiar musical sensibilities as they take their compositions into a balancing act of pretty tones and blasting rhythms amidst songwriting that has a much eccentric and curious texture towards motifs of love, the outside world, and the body. It merges the intimate with the frenzy that gives many of the songs a defined momentum as they glide from gleaming piano sections to spontaneously ragged segments. For a project that runs just over 34 minutes – their tightest album to date – Hakushi Hasegawa provides just enough time and attention for these songs to veer off into their distinctive melodic pockets. ‘Mouth Flash (Kuchinohanabi)’ has its glitchy rhythms shake asunder as the bass lines are tossed around, with Hakushi Hasegawa’s huskier singing makes for an enticing track. The punchy percussion of ‘Boy’s Texture’ adds a destabilizing tone to the otherwise remotely gorgeous vocal swells and gentle acoustic spills. ‘The Blossom and the Thunder’ fits its title as it provides a clear picture of its two contrasting sound palettes: the hushed beauty coming from the vocals and muted sonic backdrop from the first half, slowly transitioning into the jittery synthetic breakdown of the second half that softens down for its sullen ending. And ‘KYOFUNOHOSHI’ brings back the wilder jazzy spark of their past projects as the horns and drums rapidly stomp along, gradually getting overwhelming over time. While those spontaneous chaos is fun to listen to, the more solemn and constrained songs reveal a softness that Hakushi Hasegawa has opened up to in clear sight, exposing more beauty and variety in its relaxing state. ‘Repeal (Tekkai)’ and its bare soundscape allow their voice to seep through, their singing expressing a weary mood to their timbre. ‘Forbidden Thing (Kimmotsu)’ and ‘Outside (Soto)’ continue for their voice to flexibly express freely, as the former song’s gorgeous piano cascades them conveying a fleeting, yet yearning tone to their singing that’s elevated through the panting drums and layers of harmonies on the vocal melodies, and the former song modulates their voice to a heavier delivery, matching the song’s grand scale. Piling upon spikier effects and samples to complement the confident piano and vocal melodies, ending the album with a heap of strident confidence slipping through Hakushi Hasegawa. Like the album cover of Mahogakko – alongside the rest of their projects – there is a shifting nature to Hakushi Hasegawa’s entire work that never stays in one place. Constantly expanding off their jazz and glitch niches, a facet that allowed them to break through into a bigger net of musicians who have experimented in the general jazzy and electronic scenes. This release, it reveals Hakushi Hasegawa shedding away from the familiar into the new, redefining themselves and taking new avenues for their sound to other flexible tangents. Their overall discography may carry a constantly flashy and chaotic mood at first, but pay close attention to the details, and their magical wonder will reveal itself to you.
TRACK REVIEW: RONAN – INSOMNIA ft. Shuichi
Written by Louis Pelingen For those who are not aware, before his Kailan cover was put out, Raccoon Eyed Ronan debuted on SoundCloud with ‘INSOMNIA’, a mostly decent R&B cut that was underpowered due to the rough production and mixing & mastering elements. However, after the Kailan cover did get a lot of buzz around the indie circles – which has led to Raccoon Eyed Ronan now working under Twin Plaza Recordings – he eventually touched up this song with Shuichi helping along. And surprise to nobody, it’s essentially an improved version thanks to the hypnotic production with all of its psychedelic atmosphere from the synths and horns paired with the impeccable mastering allowing the course grooves to swell and then explode wondrously at the end. And for a song that’s about holding on to a relationship and asking with genuine care if there is a possibility of fixing said relationship, both Raccoon Eyed Ronan and Shuichi delivered exponentially where Ronan’s somber yet heartfelt vocals contrast well with Shuichi’s desperate expressiveness that works with how the instrumentation spills forth after his verse. There are a lot of welcome additions to this new version of ‘INSOMNIA’ that puts Raccoon Eyed Ronan as an artist to look forward to. Since now that he is under Twin Plaza Recordings, there is so much potential waiting to be seen here that it’s exciting to guess wherever he will go from here, especially with his brand of R&B that he can present with potent sincerity and layered melodic and production taste. For the time being, this track and the Kailan cover stand strong for what spark he’s yet to unleash, a spark that will keep us wide awake in the near future. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: Lola Amour – Raining in Manila
Written by Elijah P. Metro Manila hitmakers Lola Amour have changed musically, literally. From shifting band members to constant codeswitching in songwriting here and there, the funky pop outfit are trained to release one single at a time. One hit after the other, the Al James collab “Madali” was almost getting there, which is by the way their most technically robust, while “Fallin” was still riding on the cheese, but “Raining in Manila” is a whole different offering. You have senti-tracks that act as fodder for the label while you have refined genre tracks with pop sensibilities that have successful appeal. This band chose the latter. This is the band that isn’t just compartmentalized with their vocalist Pio Dumayas. There’s no separation anxiety happening nor any solo spotlight, instead, we get to see Lola Amour work like an actual band in their latest single. “Raining in Manila” nearly does not drag as their previous singles years ago. Assuming that their lineup change has anything to do with the sound they’re persistently tweaking, Lola Amour’s hit the jackpot at the seasonal turn that’s lowkey a love letter written for their previous band members who are on the other side of the planet. The band plays with the theme of a cheese-driven weather parochial along with their tasteful selection of keyboard licks, sharp bass lines, and saxophone parts, all hitting the spot. Minus the Dilaws and the Sunkissed Lolas, scene virtuoso Lola Amour and “Raining in Manila” is a step in the direction for the band who are moving to become the biggest pop band heading to the mainstream. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Kelady – BABAE
Written by Louis Pelingen In the first track, “Diaspora,” Kelady’s grandmother emphasizes the connections within the family. The track “We could separate but for me no separation I don’t like… If we separate we are dead already no more.” further imparts that message passed down from grandmother to grandchild. It’s a message that comes applicable to dozens of people and the diasporas that they belong to, embracing the heritages and identities of different cultures. For some, it may take a while to immerse themselves in the heritage of their homeland, but that heritage will always be there with them as they grow older. Never separated, always rooted in their daily lives. For Kelady, she pulls together her debut record BABAE as an ode to the diasporic community that she grew up in, tying it down with varied soundscapes and deliveries. Whether that be an interlocking acoustic cover of Bato Sa Buhangin by Cinderella and Lovers Rock by Sade on ‘Bato Sa Buhangin / Lovers Rock’ floating through Kelady’s graceful singing, embracing her natural brown complexion on ‘Papaya (Remix)’ through a bass-heavy dance beat, embedding kulintang gongs on ‘Funnie’ and ‘Clutch’ within fractured beats and fervent rap flows, and even singing and rapping in Tagalog on multiple songs of the album, it is Kelady’s way to further immerse herself with her Filipino roots. More importantly, the record embraces the close familial bonds with her mother and grandmother, allowing their feminine presence to guide her own feminine spirit in its vulnerable and confident stride. That bond and spirit are always found in the record, encapsulated clearly through the interludes with Kelady’s grandmother vocalizing her brief thoughts and the acoustic songs like ‘Anak (Child of my Heart)’, “Baby Blue,” and ‘Sunrise’ that showcases her mother’s care on her presented through Kelady’s lilting vocals. It extends even further as Kelady embraces that feminine spirit through the processes of love and loss. On one hand, she vocalizes her confidence in “Keh Lah Di” and “Like Me” that’s filled with effortless intonations and bouncy, tropical grooves. But on the other hand, she also vocalizes the focus on healing past the relationship turmoils that open up on songs like “Funnie” and “Kulog” through the soothing acoustics tracks that back end the album, specifically “Babae” and “Sunrise”. In concept, Kelady weaves together these narratives embracing her diasporic identity as a Filipina-American artist and the close bonds she has with her mother and grandmother with a sonic presentation that’s varied and open, allowing Kelady to paint that picture where both themes are heard with care and detail as she leaps towards soul, r&b, and hip-hop. However, in execution, the album ends up cracking on the seams. Filled with ideas that may connect together, but a lot of elements that unfortunately distract from the record’s overall vision. Within the 21 tracks that total the 42-minute runtime of the record, there are a lot of rigid textures, underwhelming melodies, and clumsy performances that hamper a lot of the songs that already run short, to begin with. Songs like “Barkada” and “Kulog” for all of their bombast show those weaknesses upfront, from the thin-sounding synths and drums, dull melodic lines and choruses, and Kelady’s flows and monotone delivery that doesn’t consistently sound as sharp. While the songs that lean on breezy tones are a comfy fit for Kelady’s potent singing given the more developed melodies to boot despite the aforementioned rigid textures, leaning on her upper register tends to be pitchy and lacks the tightness that she’s yet to refine upon as a singer. Overall, BABAE is a project that does involve a lot of care towards the narratives that Kelady wants to pull through, given that this debut LP took 4 years to be made. From some angles, you can see how the message works when she embraces her diasporic identity and familiar feminine presence pulsing through developed melodies and warmer textures that allow Kelady’s voice to calmly wave through. But as much as she expands beyond that, the record unearths its limits and its weaknesses. Flimsy and stiff beats, limp melodies through short song lengths, and Kelady’s low points as a singer and rapper overall flood the peaceful garden of heartwarming odes of her diasporic identity and femininity with vines that could’ve been trimmed away. Despite the low points that hold this record down, Kelady has put her heart and soul into this record, and hopefully, she proceeds with a future project that allows her spirit to truly bloom. Support the art & the artist: