Written by Faye Allego Without a shadow of a doubt, Ely Buendia has an iconic and notably one of the most recognizable voices in OPM. His wordplay, chord progressions, and a whirlpool of psychedelia you feel after reaching the coda is top-notch during the Batang 90’s era of OPM. But now I ask myself: Is there a dark cloud of doubt in his newly released record, Method Adaptor, in the rearview? When Buendia released “Bulaklak Sa Buwan”, his lyricism shone through, continuing to create parallels and paradigms conveying themes of delusions, misconstrued mindsets, and the irony of fantasy. That being said, this body of vulnerability as a whole could constitute as a throwaway Eraserheads mixtape from the ‘ole Cutterpillow days. The lead single itself is a wonderful homage to the batang 90’s sound. It surely brings exuberance to fans who have been there during Buendia’s early rise to fame and have witnessed his impact on the OPM genre in real-time, however, like (almost) every artist who goes solo after years of being in a successful and impactful band, their past reputation precedes every lyric their future solo albums has to say. In Method Adaptor’s lead singles, you hear what Buendia feels, but do you feel it too? It’s there to sing and dance along to, but not enough to swoon over Buendia’s typical magical ingredients that make his songs linger. In multiple interviews pertaining to the release of Method Adaptor, Buendia created this album out of reflection on fame and life- and the stresses that come with it. It’s an inside look into the mind of someone who spent a long time pondering what it means to have lived a life ruled by youth, art, and irrevocable passion. In tracks like Faithful, however, it seems like the thought was there, but emotional umph was stagnant. In fact, he even communicates this precariousness in the same track: “There’s so much that I wanna say/ I just don’t know if I can say it this way” The narrator of the song is tired and in limbo, yet, the tune he plays lives on, almost never-ending. As one may know, if it’s Buendia on vocals, it’s almost guaranteed that the listener will hear an upbeat hymn that may tell any story out of the ordinary. A great example of this out-of-body experience that you feel when listening to Buendia’s voice actually comes the song titled “Shallow Breathing” from his debut solo album, “Wanted Bedspacer”. With Method Adaptor, “Tamang Hinala” is a song that exemplifies Buendia’s lyrical and instrumental devices and approaches that fuel this album. You get a repetitive yet addictive chorus as well as verses that show off stimulating cadence such as “Ang tanim ay siya ring aanihin/Guguho ang kastilyong buhangin/Madulas ang balbas parang Hudas/Ganyan lang talaga ‘pag minalas”, Every instrument seeps perfectly into the chorus without sounding overpowering or underwhelming. The appeal of tracks like “Chance Passenger” or “Deadbeat Creeper” is colorless to the point where certain verses like “And you wear your spirit well /Satisfy the clientele /Make me want to set her down” as well as vocals that are bordering on the stringy spectrum that confuse the narrative of the song. It feels like I’m reading a notes app poem- there’s nothing wrong with a notes app poem, however, translating feelings of desire into melodies is critical to transform filler songs into album staples in an album like ‘Method Adaptor’. Alternatively, if Buendia continued or even interweaved his experimental sound and velvety vocals highly executed in his previous songs, namely “Monday Mundane”, “Hotchik”, and of course, “Ligaya”, I could have understood and truly felt the thematic undertones of reliving youth, regret, grief, and desire more deeply. Overall, Ely Buendia’s distinguished and seasoned love for songwriting is definitely evergreen and everpresent, his music legacy will always be a pillar of inspiration for generations to come, but his reflections seen in his second album, Method Adaptor, seems to translate into feelings of muffled confusions that almost glaze over what could have left a lasting memory of his caliber of a voice and mind. Support the art & the artist:
REVIEWS
ALBUM REVIEW: Haley Heynderickx – Seed of a Seed
Written by Louis Pelingen Looking back on Haley Heynderickx’s debut project is like observing a seedling grow into a lively tree, as there are a lot of elements within the record that keep on growing the more time passes by. Spanning across the pastoral writing wherein despite the generally loose themes – there is enough captivating poetry wading through, the rich performances that Haley Heynderickx offers with her striking vocals, as well as the well-produced and well-composed melodies that have enough enticingly warm progressions to allow them to stick a lot deeper. Since then, there has been a quiet period after I Need To Start A Garden, just before this year where she finally pulled together her sophomore record, Seed of a Seed. Within this long-awaited project, more awe-inspiring elements serve as an overall refinement of Haley Heynderickx’s debut output. The production is now much more organic in its mix where the expanded instrumentation and vocals nestle well to the point that it evokes a thrilling tone to these songs, the array of folk melodies have a lot of sticky charm from the instrumental refrains and the inviting chorus lines, and Haley Heynderickx’s presence as a vocalist soars further as she pulls more from her expanded vocal range that lands with ease – really letting these songs linger with charm from start to finish. The layers of strings, acoustics, and vocals render a harmonious touch on “Gemini” as they go on these lush melodic swings throughout the song, the ramping rhythmic shuffle of “Foxglove” that’s elevated further with Heynderickx’s rich vocal delivery, the emotive strings and the jangling acoustics on “Seed of a Seed” that never sounds so comforting on their warm tone, the glorious escapade of “Redwoods (Anxious God)” where the grand swells are encaptured by the melodic progressions that never lose their sweeping momentum, the arpeggiated guitar structure of “Jerry’s Song” that builds into this heavenly crescendo that the vocals land splendidly, and the aptly titled “Swoop” has these melodic structures from the acoustics and strings that swoops with a gleaming sway every time it goes to the chorus lines, ending the record with a gracefully strong finish. This is where Haley Heynderickx then also evolves as a writer, where there is at least a semblance of connecting themes spiraling within her mostly enthralling poetry. Still lingering within the pastoral touches that she has snuggled to a tee, yet there are some fascinating topics going through the details. The overall songwriting essentially grapples with the essence of growing older, whereas Haley Heynderickx is looking into a pastoral dream that may or may not be worth it in the long run amidst the indecisive frustration that comes with aging. Yet it is not just the only subject matter that she wanders through, where songs like “Seeds of a Seed”, “Mouth of a Flower”, and “Swoop”, there is a lingering reflection of generational divides and how Haley Heynderickx acknowledges that she is in a much better space than where her father, mother, and grandmother might have been back then. It adds an extra context to the overall themes, adding a subtle anxiousness in reflecting on growing older and looking to search for those dreams. That, paired with just how robust and big the melodies tend to be, does impart how much she is willing to be tossed over to that uncertain flow, where even if she did find a sense of gratitude on ‘Sorry Fahey’, it’s not going to stop her on reaching towards greater pastures in life. Perhaps, the big frustration within this record as much as it is enveloped with so many gleaming compositions all around it, might be in the writing itself. Not that it takes away from the refinements within, but there is that pastoral framing that creates a barrier on how much Haley Heynderickx’s reflections will stick further. Because as much as that personal arc can be traced the more time spent thinking through the concise poetry, this brand of pastoral beauty can be a double-edged sword, leading to gleaming musings that gesture towards those personal emotive touches rather than fully touching upon it. But despite those personal nitpicks in the writing, there are a lot of exceptional moments traced within Seed of a Seed. Brimming with some of Haley Heyndrickx’s strongest songs to date that come from the overall array of performances, compositions, production, and writing, this sophomore output ended up amusing. Even if the overall personal touches could have been observed with a closer look, the improvements are enough to make the project stand stronger than her debut. It might be just a seed of a seed, yet how it grows is all up to its control. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: LUSTBASS – inner space
Written by Anika Maculangan Having been in the game for a while, LUSTBASS delivers new intonations of soulful jazz and R&B modulations into the sphere of what is contemporary in style. A proclamation of lush beats, innerspace is the conglomeration of fruitful collaborations amongst the artist himself with other seminal artists like Jess Connelly, Jason Dhakal, Fern., Cavill, RJ Pineda, Waiian, Akio Rene, Nicole Anjela, and ((( O ))). Just when summer has ended, it makes us anticipate the next one even more, with this relaxed, beachy, and casual expression of sound. Effortless, wavy, and adjacent to chillwave, LUSTBASS explores the multitude of areas that the downward tempo scale of pop can encapsulate, if done right. With its easy-going, almost nonchalant ambiance, innerspace is a composed way of merging the stoical with the serene, in a more or less, leisurely mellowness. Known for his keen, cutting-edge approach to the assembly of rhythm, LUSTBASS best demonstrates this skill in this motley of modish, sophisticated indication of experience and background of joint teamwork with other fellow artists. Some tracks are more atmospheric than others like Yeyuhh, the album is transcendental in the sense that it touches every ounce of one’s attention to notation. Motioning from one switch to the next, the songs in this collection flow with immeasurable poise and flair. Not often are producers given the full stage in most cases of how we laud them in the Philippine context, but in the case of LUSTBASS, this awareness of the man behind is well apparent. In LUSTBASS’ signature polishness, it’s swift for one to recognize LUSTBASS’ appeal to reverberation from a mile away. In addition, the vocalists he collaborates with in this album, bring out even more, the smoothness of his instrumentals. Having previously collaborated with some of these artists LUSTBASS displays his propensity to apply his personal touch in all of his projects — a sharp, crisp, melodious harmony of percussion and refined grandeur. This album comprises tracks that anyone could bring with them to a vacation, and not regret it, because it’s a concise dash of opulence that is not too pronounced but just the right amount to make the sky appear broader. Brightly colored, like fresh tangerine or sand along the coastline, LUSTBASS has a certain character to his musicality, that is funky, fun, and vibrant. It instantly brings us to our feet and makes us want to start the day with an uplifting temperament. If only we could make LUSTBASS’ interspace our alarm sound to waking up every morning — so that we’d be more energized to jump back into productivity. Support the art & artist:
EP REVIEW: The Revisors – Salagubang
Written by Elijah P. The ‘90s alternative rock revival is in full swing, with Twosday channeling Britpop sensibilities, Panjia exuding youthful energy and charm, sci fye embracing grunge-era aesthetics, and The Revisors paying homage to the Eraserheads with their songwriting groove. But wait for just a second, this isn’t a dig nor a reductive statement to compare the neophytes to an already lionized four piece. In fact, they are different. “Salagubang” would beg to differ if it were to play the game. Their 5-track debut EP is worth taking into account. “Salagubang” has a bevy of tracks that aim to reminisce an era and at the same time add something new to the formula: flourishes of guitar noise in “Alina”, the mixture of sunshine pop and chaos in “Take My Hand” or the rambunctious yet wholesome demeanor of “OK Lang Yan”. – there’s so much to pick in terms of highlights. Keoni, Raco, Ninja and Zell add a lot to the table with juxtaposing sensibilities of powerful vocal melodicism and fuzzy textures that add so much personality to their arsenal. Nowadays, the music industry is filled to the brim with vocalists and bands that overstay their welcome in terms of falsetto vocals and slow intimate pacing to add some sort of dramatic yet lazy, ineffective attempts. However, the band in question did it with a fresh mind and a redecorated take on the cliches that come with the conventions of standard “OPM” singer-songwriter rock. And with the formula in mind, The Revisors played it to their advantage in “Salagubang”. There’s an entire scene waiting for them, and the current modern-day power pop/pop rock circus is in good hands with the quartet entering the fold. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Shanne Dandan – Kung Iyong Mamarapatin
Written by Louis Pelingen Post-breakups leave everyone in touch with who they are. The pronounced pang of the breakup leaves a specific question on whether or not they are still worthy of falling in love, as well as if there is still a possibility of finding that romantic presence in the future. It’s an internal reflection that one must try to think deeply not just by wading through their introspections, but also by looking for an outlet that will help them release those deep-seated thoughts. After all, the path to searching for that answer and peace is shown in different ways – through conversations, poetry, films, music, etc. In perusing through this heartbreak, Shanne Dandan uses the outlet of music to allow her emotional undercurrent to spill through. On Kung Iyong Mamarapatin, she embraces a balanced set of contemporary smooth soul and vintage Manila sound that careens through with her stirring vocal runs, paired with well-composed song structures and supple production touches to allow Shanne’s presence become languishing within these mostly pretty soundscapes. Creating a well-structured flow that provides momentum to stumble less and lets these songs glide with their comforting grace. The quicker rhythmic shuffle of “Iyakin” from the drum passages and bass licks accompanies the glistening synth patches and Shanne’s sparking vocal deliveries that always cut through the striking hook, the wistful introspection of “What do I do with you?” with the waves of sweet synths and keys flying through the gentle melodies, the soulful glimmer of “di na babalik sa’yo” where the vocals pick up a self-assuring tone that very much fits with the sharper melodic snaps of the song, the genuinely pretty cover of Cherie Gil’s “Boy, I Love You” that’s laced with charming vocal coos amidst the gentler set of grooves and synth swells, and “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin” ending the record with a newfound sense of confidence running through the layers of lead melodies, backing vocals, and soaring instrumental flourishes. This set of songs eventually builds up the arc that Shanne Dandan has placed down, focusing on moving past a break-up where she self-doubts if she is worthy of happiness and love within future happenstance despite keeping up that smile that’s ever so fragile, yet she knows that it’s a step that leads her to slowly recover. Then, after “Gemini (Reprise)” Shanne finally regains her voice where she can confront that ex-partner, leaving them behind as she now finds a sense of joy in finally being able to speak up for herself and taking the next step forward to moving past that memory. And it is in “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin” wherein, through writing these songs, it is a way for her to recognize that she is still worthy of being loved. In creating music, she can sing these songs out for herself and pave a path where she’ll finally be able to settle into a relationship that she knows she is worthy of being in. Although, as much as the melodies, writing, and performances do give this album its charm, two problems distract away from that charm. For one, there could’ve been at least a few more songs that could give more weight to the arc of the album, especially as the songwriting does go for broader lyrical details and the album is already running a bit too short to land the emotional resonance it wants to impart. For two, it mostly comes from the production and how it treats the instrumentation of the record, where the mixing only lets the drums and guitars sound way too faint, and how there are points where there’s a lack of tender textural presence that would benefit certain songs – most notably on cuts like “Kung Iyong Mamarapatin” where the stiff drums are paired with thin sounding hand claps and “Boy, I Love You” that has these shaky vocal dubs that sadly pulls away from the magnetic presence that Shanne Dandan brings through her endearing performances. By the end of that, however, Kung Iyong Mamarapatin is sprinkled with potential that Shanne Dandan has showcased throughout the record, whether as a captivating singer and songwriter elevated further with melodies worth listening to. It’s just a shame that the production and brief runtime don’t build more of the emotional staying power that this album really wants to show, especially when there are moments where that resonance shines through in spades. Moving past that heartbreak reveals something special for everyone, validating their worth in finding that newfound love, and resurfacing the joy that provides everlasting comfort. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: switchbitch – Silang
Written by Jax Figarola For rap duo switchbitch, subversion means crossing the boundaries within the existing political realities in the Philippines from the bottom up. Their debut album Silang – under the genres of conscious/political hip-hop and experimental hip-hop – focuses on making its listeners confront known truths of oppression and systemic inequality, particularly the struggles faced by them as part of the working class. They refuse to compromise their overt socio political messages with forced rhymes or flashy wordplay. Instead, relatable personal narratives of class struggle and resistance run through the lyrics that make the album symbolic yet accessible. There was no need for political jargon or buzzwords that people from all sides of the political spectrum can understand; just critiques of devastating realities that everyone endures under state-sponsored structural violence. With “Koro” as an incendiary prelude and its dense layers of bass, the urgency to address the political realities is immediately established. It meant that the album and its themes should be expected not to be taken lightly. My personal favorites are “Reklamador” and “Ano Na Plano Mo?”, both expressing the precariousness of everyday life, especially for artists and laborers trapped in a system that strives for exploitation. While Filipinos are subjected to structural violence, this system demands our survival at the cost of accepted exploitation—and how the duo transformed lament and critique into performance shouldn’t just be admired as is. Switchbitch wants its listeners to be moved to action by the intensity of the beats, the aggression of vocal delivery, and the sharpness of their lyrics. Yet Silang is not content with remaining alone in anger and resistance. The duo recognizes that vulnerability within the movement brings comfort. Loving one’s nation also means wishing that the state’s incompetence doesn’t stand in the way of personal, romantic love, something switchbitch reflects in tracks like “Irene” and “my bb.” The former, reminiscent of their song “Kang Seulgi” from the Pasintabi EP, is referential to their love for K-Pop group Red Velvet as a couple of lesbians (and really, who doesn’t love Red Velvet?). But nevertheless, it’s a pause from the relentless beats and rhymes, but the political theme never paused. Even a simple act like spending time with a loved one is undercut by the harsh realities of working and wanting money to survive in an unforgiving economy. Lastly, the title track and revolutionary song “Silang” finally anchors the album with a tear-jerking vulnerability that many activists do experience in real life. Subdued guitar strums accompany the duo’s framing of sacrifice as both an individual burden and a collective responsibility, like seeds for future generations. A vocal interlude from different comrades of the movement closes the track and the album, delivering an uplifting reminder that everything will be worthwhile in the end. The unrelenting resistance embodied in the ten songs leading up to this moment carries the weight of fear and contradictions many activists face. Yet, through this powerful project, switchbitch urges everyone to stand in solidarity with one another in the face of those anxieties, emphasizing that even in fear of the state, the collective struggle must continue. Silang performs acts of resistance not just through its lyrics but also in the structure of its sound. The dissonance, the unpredictability, the stellar beat from a tin can drums in “BoboCop,” and the chaos of the production reject the polished aesthetics in mainstream Philippine hip-hop. However, it’s imperative to understand that not everyone may want to listen to harsh political truths or find revolutionary political hip-hop albums good or listenable. But for those who have the prerogative to be moved to action, the album becomes an invitation to reflect, resist, and ultimately, reshape a future grounded in solidarity and collective liberation. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: Pinkmen – Neptunes
Written by JK Caray Following a string of single releases spanning a couple of years, Offshore Music’s Pinkmen finally released their debut EP after a period of constant track launches within the past year. Far past their 2019 hit ‘Hanggang Sa Muli’, Pinkmen had the better part of 5 years to focus on progressively honing their distinct style within the music scene; however, the question still nags a few, was the long wait even worth it? The answer whether or not it was lies in Pinkmen’s dedication to their latest release ‘NEPTUNES’. With a runtime of 35 minutes, the EP begins with the track ‘Historical Revision ’24’; a reprise of their catchy political 2021 single ‘Historical’, consisting of even more tongue-in-cheek references and quips. ‘Di Pa Rin Sapat (Ang Sahod)’ drives the band’s stances even further, carried by vocalist/lead guitarist Giro Alvarado’s moving and powerful vocal performance over a somber instrumental that reflects the common folk’s everlasting problem. Third on the list, “Lately” includes droney, weeping guitars that decorate a thick wall of sound. The dense ballad structure makes it an unassuming first listen, yet it turns into a sentimental banger upon multiple listens, enough to be a solid pick for a break-up playlist. Oddly enough, ‘Art Song’ breaks the immersion that came from the earlier tracks. Its position momentarily skews the flow of the album, due to its nature of being a ‘nonsensical’ song, as it comes directly after two earnest ballad songs. Nevertheless, Pinkmen proudly wears their influences here, with the track being eerily similar to a ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’s song. In ‘Hourglass’, bassist Mark Armas animates the song forward with his highly infectious grooves and licks. Arguably one of the more enjoyable moments of the EP, the track seamlessly blends elements of neo-psychedelia and disco to form a fresh and distinctively unique sound. ‘Habulan’ sells a rich narrative as it features local rockstar Ely Buendia’s signature poignant songwriting at the center of the song. Themes of ambition and longing make up for an empowering track that makes ‘Habulan’ an anthem for hope and resiliency. Lastly, NEPTUNE’s last song ‘Miscom’ stands out as the resonant end to the entire release. Evocative and nostalgic, the song banks on classic feel-good musical conventions—jangly guitars, dynamic drums, and compelling chord progressions—paired with bittersweet lyrics to deliver that familiar sense of melancholy. And it succeeds in doing so, with the entire track sounding like a trip to the past, a chat with people you’ve sworn to hate but have since forgiven with time. After years of waiting, we could only hope for the band to continue riding the momentum of the ‘NEPTUNES’. This release marks a milestone in their discography and has shown the band that they could make it; because now that they’ve proven themselves capable, nothing’s stopping Pinkmen from getting to higher heights. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: sci fye – who knows?
Written by Anika Maculangan For those of us who grew up in Manila — a love/hate relationship often prospers. We carry so much frustration toward the city, yet also a fondness for it. With experiences like staying past curfew, hopping on the LRT right when it’s about to be full capacity, and sipping a cold San Mig along Manila Bay, we’re mostly indecisive on what to think of it. So what comes out of our subdued thoughts when we hear a song like i hate manila from sci fye’s latest EP entitled who knows? I don’t know, who knows, at this point? Maybe that’s the solid aimlessness it tries to convey. Like a pseudo-Cobain with more of a local undertone, sci fye highlights a grimy, snappish texture. Like washed-out graffiti beneath the underpass. Or scraps of crumpled receipts and candy wrappers along the tunnel. Think baggy jeans that reach the concrete, and skateboards with loose pivots. Densely immersed in distortion and fuzz, tracks like deadbeat generation extend a darker impression of rock. Although a debut, sci fye moves itself with its own surprising capacity for good mixing and stable production — something a lot of debuts are usually still shaky with upon their onset. However, the duality that is provoked within the songs’ reverb-studded guitars and brash, shrill drums is something that can be titled as imposing, for its harsh yet punkish accents. More soppy tracks like hanggang sa walang hanggan yearn to wake up just in time to see the sunrise trickle through the seams of transmission towers and billboards. What is another thing to observe in sci fye’s debut is the different personalities that each track seems to embody, distinct from one another. Although there is still symmetry somewhere along those varieties, since they still all fall within the same relish for dissonance. Songs like whiteflower and magulang profusely releases its greatest bouts of dread and foreboding malaise toward the city’s chaos. Perhaps it communicates the desire to escape its madness. Repeating the lyrical lines “Ako’y nahihilo sa ikot ng mundo”, what we can discern is the want for a pause, a break, or a ceasing halt to all the babel. Maybe sci fye is called that for a reason, because it suggests so many dystopian themes, perhaps through the language of lengthy bridges and Brutalist condominiums. Like putting on your tangled earphones one sweaty afternoon, who knows proffers the emotive features of parking next to NAIA, to watch airplanes either land or leap off the ground. Every track is a tribute to grunge in one way or another, placing emphasis on garage-metal basslines and riffs. Sci fye instigates a static-doused tonality, one that matches Manila’s musical palette for enkindled overdrive. Gritty and loud, like the engine of a retro Corolla about to ride down Aurora Boulevard, they amp compression over to its appendages, for waveforms that defy frequency. What they ultimately bring to the table is the age of a post-Pearl Jam, or even Soundgarden noise range, making a name for its own Manila equivalent, in light of pondering over journal entries in pieces of yellow lined parchment paper. Support the art & the artist:
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.
ALBUM REVIEW: Sica – GO SEE GOD
Written by Elijah P. On “Go See God”, Sica’s faith and love for the game are at a crossroads. Tip-toeing between fame, personal growth, the trust between family and their cohorts, and the community unfolding before his very eyes. At his expense, this is a result of Sica contemplating his own position as a family man, as a businessman and as a performer. It’s one responsibility after the other, ultimately leaving all the decision-making to the high almighty himself, the central figure of the entire project. “Go See God” sees itself trying to reach a higher state, quite literally reaching billboard status, where the hemispheres of heaven are at the reach of his fingertips. Resulting in a divine intervention of events that led him to where he is today. It’s a lot to absorb and you may find it anywhere in any hip-hop project. However, “Go See God” is different in the extent of the scene today – It doesn’t flex, it improves. It’s not just “chill” for the sake of a mood algorithm. It elevates the story to different heights. The production on the one hand carries heavily. It’s told through experiments of contemporary r&b, hypnotizing passages of phonk and psychedelia, and full band live setups: a full-length record where the sonic and production choices shine through. In previous releases, the Greenhouse Records and Kartellem affiliate has always stayed sonically dormant early on in his career. Bonus track closer “Opmat” featuring Waiian bookends and at the same time starts the album in a loop proving everyone wrong mood-wise. “Hue For Ya” was a colorful, icy-cold taste test, “Go See God” was the full course. Going by the monikers “Baby Blu” and “Prettyboypacino”, he lives the life with the chalice on the one hand and a hundred bands on the other, proving that living the fast life could lead you to the grave in “Intro”; “Bukas Pa” grooves in hopes for living another day; the title track “Go See God” rides through the clouds under the influence of phonk and a tasteful string section; “Young Stunna Inalude” eases its way in boom-bap; album highlights “Bad to the Bone” and “25 (Still Alive)” exemplifies the range of Sica’s crooning and strong hook game. After sitting 36 minutes throughout the dark of its after-hours, Sica hopes that everyone listening would be praying for his soul. He himself would testify that he isn’t alone in the journey at night. “Go See God” is a redemption arc in his story, this is an address to his younger self: “Hindi ako matakot mamatay/ Takot ako kung san ako pupunta/ But fuck it baby, we still alive/ At bahala na kung ako ang mauuna”. Support the art & the artist: