Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Alt-fusion Wuji Wuji has always been a six-piece defined by motion. Their sonic palette constantly twists, turns, unravels like a loose thread, and is always in flux. From jazz-funk rhythms to the dreamy allure of city-pop, now they’ve peeled it all back, exposing ”NOVISION,” a six-track extended play hot out of the oven: fresh, with a warm, experimental bite. This sophomore release is a deliberate act of destruction and reconstruction, preserving some past elements but shedding the hip-hop influences entirely from “NOSOUL.” Drenched in brooding basslines and reverb-heavy guitar, “Times a Crime” and “Push & Pull” carve the emotional core of the EP. The title track “NOVISION” is to surrender to zero gravity, lost in the space of vocal layers and synths that hum like a distant past. It projects exactly what it needs to: a sense of suspension before the EP concludes, acting as a transition to the second half. “Careless” and “Words Hurt” leave things taut, not unresolved. These tracks lay a pivotal point in the EP, deliberately placing the listener in a state of emotional inertia and reflecting a measured evolution in Wuji Wuji’s sound. “NOVISION” was created during a period of identity struggle for Wuji Wuji, a bold, risky move that marks a turning point in their discography, defying expectations that they would lean further into the city-pop path laid out by 2023’s “Kanluran.” But that shift isn’t a misstep; Instead, it reflects their growing curiosity in production and willingness to explore unfamiliar territory. Wuji Wuji doesn’t just change direction; they embrace uncertainty as part of the process. Whether this marks a sound caught mid-metamorphosis or a new era, “NOVISION” proves that the group admires movement more than comfort, and that’s exactly what makes them worth following. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
REVIEWS
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:
SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Thee Marloes (Indonesia)
A close look at Indonesia’s rich history reveals specific moments in its music deemed significant in the past. The Pop Kreatif scene in the 70s – 80s, the existence of bands and musicians like Koes Plus and Chrisye, and the distribution of bootleg tapes of foreign music that influenced so much of Indonesian music, are big examples of that. Despite the negative economic effects that came from the harsh political climate throughout the Old Order and New Order regimes as well as shaky record label deals that stifled the proper archival of older Indonesian music, the modern methods of compilations and online uploads of records and songs released in the 60s – 70s still gave them their spot to echo. Once a figment of the past, it is now slowly being brought to the present once more. In the city of Surabaya, Indonesia – a home to significant names of the Indonesian music scene such as Ervinna and Dara Puspita – lies the band Thee Marloes, signed under the Big Crown Records label. Comprised of Natassya Sianturi (vocalist & keyboardist), Tommy Satwick (drummer), and Sinatrya “Raka” Dharaka (guitarist & producer), the members crossed paths through their passion for music, Natassya’s performances in local shows and Tommy and Sinatrya’s constant band & DJ pursuits have allowed their paths to meet. Natassya’s love for retro soul and pop has established what Thee Marloes will eventually become: classic soul with the city of Surabaya filling its identity. ‘Perak’, their debut album, becomes the band’s firm statement of who they are and what they bring to Indonesia’s musical landscape. Lush soul with scoops of jazz rhythms and pop hookiness, all tied by the fragments of love-driven stories that light up the streets of Surabaya’s cityscape. A combination of local and universal elements held together through warmly cushioned production and especially Natassya’s serene singing. Her voice deftly weaves across English and Malay, bringing such kindling flair to songs like ‘Over’ and ‘Nona’ where she soars around pretty backing vocals, and ‘True Love’ where she opts for an alluring voice that effectively pulls you into the song’s humid atmosphere. But, of course, the band’s instrumental chemistry is also something to behold. Their flexibility allows more supple charm to be embossed in these compositions. Whether that be the shuffling rhythms shown off in the drum and bass rumbles of ‘Midnight Hotline’ and ‘I Know’, the psychedelic dazzle of ‘Logika’ coming through the organ sounding keys and simmering grooves, and the relaxing affirmation of ‘Not Today’ with the soulful layers of bright keys, simple drum patterns, and gentle guitars. Their melodic variations add more elegance, leaving more color to stew within the record. The album title, when translated, means ‘silver’. An apt word for what Thee Marloes has displayed with their debut album thus far, approaching the spirit of the city of Sarubaya and the familiar beauty of soul and R&B with malleability, further shaping themselves in the process. ‘Perak’ only adds another page to Indonesia’s vibrant music history. A reminder of soul, disco, and funk music that once permeated their past, giving life for those genres to breathe with excitement today.
SABAW SESSIONS: OZO
As Joshua Kabuhat returns to old roots and rewires his approach to reach the pinnacle of his musical maturity, OZO welcomes everyone to the table.
EP REVIEW: Jess Connelly – fool’s gold
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol The interlude of “fool’s gold,” the latest EP from R&B singer-songwriter Jess Connelly, is a song that speaks of unconditional love. In under two minutes, she lays down creeds of a committed monogamy with somebody in spite of the vultures circling around them. The lyrics sung are the words we say to a lover when we know there is trust between the two of you, when acts of love need not be asked and feel like they just fall into place. But putting it another way, these are the things we say to ourselves when we hold on to a stagnating relationship, when complacency sets in, and feelings turn lukewarm. Now you’re desperate to keep the relationship steady, but you know it’s not getting any better, what with the permeating silence and all the lit matches ready to catch a moth. The honeymoon is over, which is why it makes sense that Jess named this track “indelulude.” This interlude is the turning point that bridges the two halves of a collection of songs in which Jess details the life cycle of a love that’s too good to be true: a rendezvous with a flame too thrilling to pass up on, too selfish to settle down with, but too powerful to forget. “fool’s gold” delivers this story upon a backdrop of class and elegance that we’ve come to expect from a Jess Connelly project, provided here by long-time collaborator LUSTBASS. The moody atmosphere of the music and the greyscale cover art bring a noir feel to the EP, especially with the live instrumentation of the opening track “flow.” The sense of space brought by recording a live band, drawn particularly from the cymbal-heavy drumming, complements the feeling of wonder and excitement in wanting to get close to someone new, as though we see two people cozying up to each other at a bar. But it doesn’t take long for mischief to set in. On “fool me twice,” we find that this new person has wandering eyes, and we get a feeling that what the two have between them may not be as serious as she had hoped it to be. Nevertheless, she sticks around for a while, spellbound by a one-sided fling with somebody she couldn’t refuse. But after this hallucination drifts in and out for the last time on “indelulude,” Jess has decided enough is enough. “never fall in love again” talks about the aftermath of this love affair, in which she makes it clear to her former lover that he will feel the absence of her unconditional love. But that doesn’t mean his absence hasn’t affected her either: after getting into a few rebounds, she reveals she might not be able to find true love just yet. The final stage of grief is acceptance, and in the closing track “let the bird fly,” Jess confesses that the time she spent with this man was unforgettable. Over a jittery drum break, we see her rekindle things with him despite everything she learned about people like him throughout this EP. This is the part where the real delusions set in, where acceptance is taken as a chance to blindly start over with someone who will never change and has taught another to do the same. Likewise, “fool’s gold,” in its intoxicating drama set to a warm, cozy score, is a project you will come back to again and again. Jess Connelly’s impeccable writing and composition, combined with LUSTBASS’s ear for space and instrumentation, have produced the perfect soundtrack to get you through a failed relationship, where you’re hung up on the things that could’ve been with someone you needed to get away from. Which brings us to the waltz-like beat at the end of the EP. It goes on for a few bars until it abruptly stops, slowing down like a record no one wants to hear again. Did Jess break the cycle? Were the events in the last song just all in her head? We can only guess the answers to these questions because the story is over. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: unikko ijo – kung ipagdaramot ang nadarama, saan ba tayo pupunta?
Written by JK Caray With worn-out confessions scattered across his discography, unikko ijo’s brand of writing has earned him a special place among yearners who cover his songs on a dying digicam or create intricate lyric art that gets passed around their timeline. But after half a decade of writing unrequited ballads, the solo artist seems to have hit a checkpoint. His latest album entitled “kung ipagdaramot ang nadarama, saan ba tayo mapupunta?” shows a different resolve from the same artist who understands a little more about what it means to love. “malayo sa lupa ang bituin” starts the album at its lowest point, thematically. The blaring electronic pianos set an alluring backdrop alongside his defeated quips as unikko ijo contemplates whether it’s worth it to keep loving. Amidst its catchy melody that predates virality, the song also asks the most important question yet, “itatago nalang ba ang nadarama sa iyo?”. Throughout the album, he gradually builds up his answer. Halfway, songs like “kakaiba,” “matiwasay,” and “sapat nang hindi ka magsalita” fluffs up that familiar melding of Manila sound and lo-fi bedroom pop unikko ijo’s known for. The production is much more polished while retaining those intimate imperfections that drive home the sincerity in his words. As always, the solo artist is effective at building choruses that plant themselves in your eardrums. The simple song structure in the form of drum loops and hooky guitar riffs serves not only as a vessel but as the driving force for his talent at infiltrating your emotions with his intimacy and relatability. In “Hiwaga”, we get unikko ijo’s answer in the form of a question that bears the name of the album. “kung ipagdaramot ang nadarama, saan ba tayo pupunta?” shares the sentiment that fruitless longing gets us nowhere. Those unspoken words, stolen looks, and hidden letters all turn to rot on their own. In hoarding your feelings and creating your own stories, you’ve built an inescapable tower, becoming a reminder that self-contained devotion can be selfish. What good does our silent pining do if it’s not to be seen? To be felt? To be transformed into another thing? Where do these intense emotions linger if not become the catalyst of our self-destruction? It may sound harsh for some and inspiring for others, but this is a truth that most of us have forgotten. After all, what use does love have if not shared? The key to all this seems obvious. A line in “malayo sa lupa ang bituin” goes “babaguhin ko ang sarili ko”, a phrase that explains how the singer-songwriter sees the shift in his perspective that led to this album. At a glance, unikko ijo may seem like the type of artist who only has one gimmick, but this release reveals how he is capable of pushing the envelopes of his niche. “kung ipagdaramot” is the kind of album that emerges when an artist becomes aware of the clichés that surround his music and evolves along with it. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
EP Review: SAJKA – Weed&Melodies
Written by Nikolai Dineros Another breakout song in the charts, and Imperial Manila is put on notice by the South yet again. The culprit this time is one Bacoor representative, SAJKA (Sajka Jamaiah Formaran). Though his hit single “Nicotine” is making huge waves in local hip-hop’s algorithmic sphere, SAJKA brings more to the table than TikTok-core bait. Perhaps SAJKA’s table is one filled with residues between tiny crevices and paper rolls rather than ashtrays because “Nicotine” is thematically the farthest you can get from understanding the artistry SAJKA is trying to achieve in his latest EP, Weed&Melodies. The EP is a reggaeton project at its core with the occasional nods to afrobeat and funk, courtesy of Southrow Music producer ODMADEIT. There is no fine print. It is mostly weed and all melodies. Adjacencies to the respiratory system and bad habits aside, the EP is packaged, rolled, and passed along as a THC trip, with explicit references to cannabis use and its effects, and without a single care about the forces under the state’s payroll. SAJKA even takes you on a ride-along in the standout track “Masid.” While the concept is solid on paper, showing SAJKA’s strong potential as a genre-crossing visionary, the EP sometimes falls flat in execution. As a post-release single, “Bogsame” shows signs of fatigue from its initial run, with the song having offered barely anything that hasn’t already been explored in other tracks released prior (you may also look up tracks “Up and Down” and “Masid” that capture the same vibe but better). Even as an opening track, the candidness mixed with the self-indulgence of the ‘me and my friends are high as fuck’ attitude runs its course as quickly as it was introduced, only to make a better comeback in subsequent songs. SAJKA, however, stands out when he fully embraces his reggae calling. “Horns” and “Burnin Paradise” are great displays of the artist in his element, paying homage to the genre he’s inspired by without losing authenticity. There is still the curious case of the EP’s journeyman single. Despite the thematic incongruence already discussed above and the subtle genre shift, “Nicotine” — a hip-hop song first, a reggae song never — is still far from being a black sheep figure in the track list. Its success in the charts is undeniable, and its placement is only to the benefit of SAJKA, as it turns people’s heads to him and his more divergent undertaking. Hence, it plays the journeyman role. But given the state that it’s in, sticking out like a sore thumb in the track list, it is rather interesting that it even exists in the first place. With just as much grasp of information as a common listener, I can only theorize as to why that is the case, of which I have a handful: First, “Nicotine” is an early prototype of Weed&Melodies before they went full reggae, and it somehow made the final cut. Secondly, reggae — even with its hip-hop overtones — is a hard sell, and “Nicotine” was used as an anchor to make it palatable for their target audiences. Lastly (and on a less serious yet more absurd note), tobacco may simply have a larger revenue share than weed in the Philippine stimulants market with more regulatory backing, thus attracting more potential listeners from a larger consumer base. SAJKA is on a path of reinventing himself from just another laidback rapper in Cavite’s already saturated scene with like-minded contemporaries to a convention-breaking fusion artist. With a heavy background in hip-hop and a growing appreciation for adjacent genres like reggae, dance, and funk, “Nicotine” may just be part of the equation to a bigger calling that Weed&Melodies alludes to. Who knows? It might take a few more ‘hits’ before SAJKA reaches that eureka moment. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: BABY FREEZE – LIL ICE
Written by Faye Allego In scorching hot weather and immense humidity, stepping outside the house feels like it’s destined to sizzle your skin. That isn’t the case for Baby Freeze’s new single, “LIL ICE.” Maybe she’s gifted. Maybe it’s Never Paco’s mixing and mastering. Or maybe she knows how to make a bop that’s simple, fun, and well-witted. Produced by NOIR and wearing eyeshadow that screams a metallic Dior shear meets Re-l Mayer from Ergo Proxy in the track cover art, Baby Freeze not only turns daily affirmations into a catchy tune with her latest track, but coldly presses two questions: are short-form, Y2K-inspired tracks just a nostalgic trend, or can it carve into its own genre? And is it still transgressive when a woman who is unapologetically herself wants the drop bars about owning her own starpower? “LIL ICE” is a fresh example of balancing intuitive songwriting with dance floor appeal; while lots of short electronic hip-hop anthems come to a staggering halt just as the singer is about to reach a lawful bridge, Baby Freeze heatedly affirms the repeat button because every bar like “front row seat and they all fall in line/ and they causin’ a commotion every time they see me smile” bites back without any need for an extension. Perhaps overthinking is unaffiliated with her. Anything a woman raps about that even has a droplet of braggadocio is automatically subject to being labelled as polemic writing. “LIL ICE” is a clapback or a breezy self-affirmation anthem; her carelessness about being a spectacle of negativity reflects the hater and not her talent. An inkling of risk arises as the track fits into the genre of speedy songs masked with the early 2000s cyber aesthetic; the risk of blending in with the influx of this popular happenstance might cause her talent to go unnoticed. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: He Forgot He Died – I’ll Be Fine, I Guess
Written by Noelle Alarcon Surrender to the sound. That’s what He Forgot He Died, also known as Tadako, wants you to do. Proudly bearing the title of slowcore, the artist embraces the qualities confined within the genre. It takes from the definitions and descriptions, but “I’ll Be Fine, I Guess” is far from inauthentic. Running a little over 40 minutes, his musings find shelter and comfort in the classifications of his music. Like most songs under the slowcore umbrella, those that make up “I’ll Be Fine, I Guess” accompany and encourage introspection; the discovery of your innermost self. Tadako utilizes the thicker strings of the guitar to echo the weight of vulnerability. This release is as raw as it gets. In “night,” the fourth track of the album, his fingers sliding up and down the frets accompany his somber singing; slightly grating, yet comfortably a sign of his humanity. In “2:34 am,” the crickets and raindrops whisper along the sound of contemplation that drones on. The album’s greatest strength is its candidness; it’s like a friend confiding in you and opening up so you can confide in them too. Though most of the work consists of wandering, with wistful emotions speaking for themselves along the strings of the guitar, it has its moments of upbeatness. They do not reflect vibrance in the traditional sense, though. When there are drums, the ride cymbal and the kick drum are most audibly prominent. They sound more like a heartbeat drumming up during uncertainty; like how the artist admits he doesn’t know where to start in “time.” It’s a skill derived from noticing the littlest details that he’s able to communicate shared anxieties through sound itself. Tadako’s subdued vocals capture the intimacy of his work. His words are simple and read like diary entries; these thoughts don’t rise above the mix, like how vocals usually would. They float through the weighted soundscapes like thoughts at the most quiet hours of dawn; fleeting and indecipherable, honest and filled with regrets. “I’ll Be Fine I Guess” is so undeniably human that it’s heartbreaking, moving, to face the depths of life head on – ”tell mom I’m sorry,” he sings. “I’ll Be Fine, I Guess” explores what there is to do and who to become. It’s an album that knows what it is supposed to be by an artist who loyally sticks to the sound he wants to pursue. In a fast-paced world, people discourage staying in their own comfort zones. This album is a comfort zone worth revisiting and relistening to when things get heavy, especially for fellow advocates of the slowcore genre. The trademark simplicity it carries makes it a sonic shoulder to cry on; an effective set of tunes ready to serve as company. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Voision Xi (China)
Shanghai is a bustling area in China, a dazzling cultural cradle where so much creative artistry has thrived the most. Music, especially, had a prominent presence in the place since the 1920s, acting as the origin place of Shidaiqu – a genre that intertwines Chinese folk and Hollywood film music – as well as the main area for Western jazz to proliferate in the country. Those western influences never strayed, but kept in close distance within so much of Chinese music. Despite the difficulty in opening up people’s perspectives towards Jazz, the jazz scene in Shanghai continues to prosper and branch out into its own territory, letting newer musicians experiment with the genre and bring something unique out of it. Enamoured with the Jazz scene in Shanghai, Voision Xi has set a mission to immerse herself within it, eventually heading there after college to explore her musical endeavors. Despite being self-taught, meeting various musicians while working behind the scenes of JZ Club has trained and taught her immensely, allowing her to jump out into the spotlight in 2015 with Little Happiness Group, a small jazz band that comprised of her and other jazz musicians such as guitarist Zhang Xiongguan and Xiao Jun, saxophonist Li Shihai, and others more. Working together for 3 years has eventually led to their only release in 2018, ‘DEBUT’. A short EP that twists the melodic foundations of tracks like Nick Drake’s “River Man” and Stevie Wonder’s “Cause We’ve Ended As Lovers” into something vibrant. Brewing these classic songs with a different arrangement altogether, a variation done well by Voision Xi alongside the rest of the fellow jazz musicians that have worked with her on this EP. That experimentation only goes deeper, following things up in 2021 with the ‘4 loops in her way’ EP that displays her curiosity with ambient soundscapes. Using nothing but the OP-1 synthesizer and the Ableton Live software to create small, yet expressive ambient pieces. A testing point to her progression as an artist, a tease to how she’ll eventually blend her jazz influences with ambient tapestries. All of this eventually leads to Voision Xi’s debut album in 2022, ‘Lost For Words’. A grand self-expression that pulls so much from her gradual exploration as an artist, bringing so much of her experiences, emotions, and voices that swirl into a lot of fascinating ventures across ambient, folk, and jazz palettes, releasing so many words and expressions worth hearing. Further accompanied by various musicians – names like Kaidi Tatham, ILL MO, and Little Happiness Group being some of them – that amplify the album’s thematic concept. Providing so much distinctive moments across the otherwise impeccably rich record, from the vocal thrills that’s accompanied by nimble guitars and delicate woodwinds on “Monday Spirit”, Voision Xi’s spoken word and ILL MO’s rap flow blending immaculately across the lush jazz flourishes of “Butterfly, A Hyaline Beauty”, the soaring rock crescendos that gives “Magnetic Field” its pulsing rhythm and “Turn on the Planet” a spacious expanse across its lilting ambience, the jazzy freakout that occurs on “Hypnotist”, the lilting samba jam on “Ladders”, and the hypnotic ambient escapades that opens up on “Wolverine (Silent Chaos)” and “Crystalline Improv”. Skyrocketing Voision Xi’s artistic potential into the stratosphere. Her unique experimentation holds no bounds. Her approach to her sound continues to flourish two years later, following up with her sophomore album, ‘Queen and Elf’. It’s a record that still embraces her jazz roots, but there’s more focus on soothing walls of ambient electronics that colors the melodies with quaint pensiveness, one that makes sense within Voision Xi’s introspection surrounding holding onto our overall emotions amidst the process of letting go and coming back, a constant experience that inevitably comes with getting older. It’s a tangled emotion, yet Voision Xi manages to create a clear picture of that feeling through the set of lively electronica and gorgeous Bjork-inspired a cappella that blushes up the tender jazz compositions. Songs like “Birdling”, “Prelude To A Fortune”, and “Southern Shanghai” are trickled with liquid soundscapes, with electronic bits and swells adding more to their ethereal aura. Jazz leaning cuts such as the Bossa Nova of “Leaf Sheep”, the sweeping instrumentation of “No.8 Signal”, and the buoyant rhythms of “Muse (For Joyce)” are vivid in their melodic compositions, Voision Xi’s masterful production work amplifies the organic texture that the melodies bring to the table. The most entrancing moments in the album are the slow-building ambient tunes that open to an even evocative section. “How Do You Hold A Moonbeam?” is laced with cooing harmonies, accompanied by bright pianos and grooves just before Voision Xi’s vocalizations push further into the forefront. “We Could Be Shy” brings along woodwinds and pianos that gently accompany the drawn-out vocal lines, leading to the back half where the jazz restraint breaks apart into this post-rock progression with plenty of bright crescendos and soaring vocals. And “Kagi” takes its 6-minute excursion to explore, with cascading synths and pianos enveloping the vocals into a mystical cocoon, giving the path for the woodwinds to swoon. Eventually lifting up the grooves and the vocal harmonies to a heavenly sway. Voision Xi’s overall discography can only come from someone whose passion for jazz and electronica is treated in a way where experimentation and thoughtful observation are a must. An expression of her unique creative spirit that passed through so many experiences working in the Shanghai jazz scene and learning with jazz musicians in the local and international scenes, finally giving her the confidence to voice out her extraordinary talent and pulling together some of the vibrantly impressive jazz records in the 2020s. Constantly playing and touring, Voision Xi never stops exploring enticing soundscapes, opening more ears to what Shanghai’s jazz scene has to offer.