Written by Noelle Alarcon Dream pop quintet Megumi Acorda has come a long way since their debut EP ‘Unexpectedly,’ released in 2018. Said EP turned the five-piece into one of the most quintessential introductions to the local underground, best known for their ability to capture the sound of heartbreak and longing. This time, with the launch of their latest EP ‘Sun Blanket,’ Megumi Acorda is still the face of the enigmatic ache that comes with yearning, just with the warmth of the sun possessing each track now. It’s evident in the way they changed up the pangs of their hazy, jangle pop-influenced releases with grittier, power pop-derived riffs and more beats per minute than usual. Megumi Acorda’s use of guitars is known for its capability to audibly spell out what it means to pine; to set your heart on someone (or something). The signature fuzziness of their riffs is often praised thanks to the complexities of sound the pedals are able to concoct. There’s a richness in their instrumentals, humming low and fully, that vibrates at the same frequency as the listener’s deep-seated, unspoken feelings. The band is able to shine on such feelings with their light, pulling you out of the darkness. In this EP, the strings don’t drive for the entirety of the songs; they’re happy to be along for the ride. Albeit the simplicity, the licks are just as impressive and catchy as heard in the energetic opening of “Task Kitty (Save Me)” and the jumpy drag along the frets that beep around in “YRU.” Sporadic poppiness aside, when the tempo slows down, the classic Megumi Acorda sound is more apparent. The tracks teeter along a journey of acceptance and fulfillment; the rhythm section and the occasional flourishes that accompany it are telling points of inflection. There are drum fills and basslines bouncier and more jittery than you’d expect from Megumi Acorda, like the bright icebreaker for “Soft Pins.” When it comes to songwriting, the band never disappoints, always so open and overflowing with raw emotion. “Copeland Heights” is a track more aligned with what people are usually more familiar with when it comes to the quintet. Acorda’s soft spoken vocals float along the track, enunciating the desire to endlessly soak in someone’s warmth. “‘Cause I’m scared of the days I’ll face without you / What a gift to have basked in your sun.” Putting ‘Sun Blanket’ next to the rest of the band’s discography, there’s quite a noticeable contrast when you compare it with their other music–but it’s a delightful step into a new direction, laden with optimism for what’s to come. When Megumi Acorda cast their net far and wide, they caught sentimental, audible treasure, turned golden by the sun. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: Sun Blanket by Megumi Acorda
REVIEWS
TRACK REVIEW: Man Made Evil – Dear Baby From Malate
Written by Noelle Alarcon So far, the 2020s have proved to be an era engulfed in the novelty of remakes. It’s evident in recreations of films from decades ago, the return of cuts and fabrics popularized by your parents’ generation, and the like. In this age of pastiche milked dry by major corporations, it’s artists like Man Made Evil that show everyone how authenticity can breathe new life into the past. ‘Dear Baby From Malate’ is over five minutes of stripped-down brilliance; a track mixed like a live performance. The instruments are put together in a way that sounds like you’re right next to them, welcoming and fitting for the romantic swagger the song’s words carry. Its singsongy background vocals add to its chummy appeal; a song that is as catchy as it is intricate. The track’s brash vocals mesh together perfectly with its guitars, which let overdrive take the reins in shaping the body of the song. It’s reminiscent of local 70s acts like the Juan Dela Cruz Band, whose discography carries both bark and bite. Similar to its predecessors, “Dear Baby From Malate” is also hinged on creative riffs, a smug, patterned rhythm section for support, and incredibly casual lyrics. Just when the song calms down for its soft “ooh, ooh, oohs,” it lets loose some more, until the audible release of energy fades to its eventual end. “Mapa rockers man o punks na long hair, tiyak hindi lahat wagi diyan,” sings the band, their easygoing, “it is what it is” attitude towards love infectious. Passion oozes out of the track, from the earnest references of their inspirations to the witty tongue in cheek it carries throughout its run. ‘Dear Baby From Malate’ is a reminder to take it easy; authenticity will always get you by, in the end. “Ganito talaga sa mundong ibabaw.” SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: Dear Baby From Malate by Man Made Evil
TRACK REVIEW: geiko – No Way Now
Written by Louis Pelingen “No Way Now” is a song that has more weight to geiko than anyone else. A change in tone and sound where she confronts a connection that used to be endearingly close but is now tousled and cut away, a narrative ruffled through shuffling, dreamy pop-rock flutters that’s additionally produced by Jad Lara. Adding light percussion, glossy synths, and reverbed guitars that complement geiko’s more somber singing, just before the guitar solo swerves and she starts releasing her anger at that past relationship. Whilst not exactly a remarkable song – drums sound lighter than they should, chorus doesn’t hook strongly, and geiko’s release of anger stumbles more than it is anguishing – the gradual change of her sound ever since the release of “Palapit Sa U” offers growth for her as a musician. Perhaps, in wading through the past, she ends up somewhere refreshing. Growth ends up like that, after all. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
SABAW SESSIONS: Hazylazy
Approaching Antagonisms The singular author of his work, Jason Fernandez, is a textbook solo artist. His brainchild, Hazylazy, remains his closest collaborator, revisiting the Antagonisms demos he released from his bedroom years ago. Written by Hannah Manuel Born in the post-internet age, Hazylazy is the project of Tagalog native Jason Fernandez. An indie rock internet secret of the early 2020s, Jason made waves in the (then online) scene as the solo mind behind The Resentment Segment. Tracks like Ultrawanker and Juxtapose were the lockdown anthems that eventually funneled crowds new and old back into dive bars and in-person gig venues. With Antagonisms, Hazylazy reemerges transformed, putting together years of musical exploration into a cohesive and deeply personal thesis. The genealogy of Hazylazy precedes the act itself. Spending his formative years in Laguna, Jason found his first audience performing with his five schoolmates at fairs in the local Catholic school circuit as Serotonin. In step with the rise of indie bands all over the country, led by the likes of Autotelic and Ben&Ben, the six-piece Biñan-grown band had the classic OPM toolkit at their disposal while somehow still maintaining impressive individuality for an adolescent outfit. Part of this ought to be due to Jason, who composed the original pieces they performed in between covers. Initially writing songs in the drum seat of the band, Jason first made his way to the mic when the band’s vocalist quit. This late 2010s indie rock sensibility transforms into something more atmospheric toward the latter part of Serotonin’s lifespan. When the band quietly dissipated into college and work, the singer-songwriter took to SoundCloud for a new solo project, where a trajectory of his work remains in view today. From chillwave to jangle pop to neo-psychedelia, Hazylazy is heavily inspired by the wild array of musical inspirations Jason holds dear. A multisensory and multidisciplinary trip, Antagonisms is the matured mastery of Jason’s exploration project years in the making. The singular composer and producer of the album, Jason’s closest collaborator is himself. Many of the tracks are years older than they let on, beginning as demos back when Hazylazy was still in its seedling stages. With an ethos of total authorship and a creative control of the acoustic environment he molds, the indie rock auteur revisits old compositions and converses, eventually completing a years-spanning project long awaited since his last release four years ago. He orchestrates his listening experience down to a T. From the warm decay of lo-fi synthesizers, to drumlines—a channel he is well acquainted with—like heartbeats in their earnestness, the time it has taken to get him here is a reward made even riper for those who were there with him from the start. Back in time, it was impossible to imagine Hazylazy as real. The adulterated frequencies of the real world were seemingly not the place for Jason’s ethereality. The boundlessness of the net—its lack of physical constraints, its endless archives, its potential for anonymous reinvention—serves Jason well, so well that it is easy to conflate it with the separate and equally boundless entity that is his mind. As time and a return to on-site gigs permitted, the underground bore witness to a new master. From an etiology of melancholy, Antagonisms arrives noisily and unapologetically, not giving a fuck about what the world thinks, blazing a trail through it anyway. A storied creation and a boundless frontier, Antagonisms is something to look forward to on the live stage. **This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. HM: There are songs in Antagonisms and related to antagonisms written with years in between them and the final album. Specifically, the tracks “Another Self-Loathing Demo” and “ANTAGONISMS” which were released four and three years ago, respectively. Hazylazy: Yes, which is funny ‘cause “ANTAGONISMS” did not make it to the album. But “antagonisms”, it latched on as a name. Nagkaroon pa nga ko ng iba’t ibang album names in mind, and I was trying my best to not use antagonisms because I was telling myself na “Ah may nakarelease na track ng antagonisms, yeah, whatever”. But I figured if that’s the name that works, so be it. I just went for “Antagonisms” even though there already is a song called “Antagonisms” and wala siya sa mismong album. HM: Is there any relation between the two “Antagonisms”? Hazylazy: It felt like [the song] started the new sound for me? That’s when I separated from the previous sound, which is the sound that most people have heard from the Resentment Segment, and “ANTAGONISMS” was a big jump from what I usually make. It was a good starting point too, in a way that song started everything. And then lyrically, the album of Antagonisms fits the title. Parang kumbaga the “ANTAGONISMS” as a single, the one on SoundCloud, the sonic aspect and the lyric aspect don’t really fit in the album I’ve made, so I didn’t think to put it in. But looking back, the title really worked with how the lyrics were written: unapologetically saying anything, unapologetically following the sound that you want, not caring about what other people say to me. It’s like being antagonistic in a way, putting yourself first, being selfish quote unquote. HM: The singly credited composer, writer, and producer of your project. These are songs you’ve written with years in between them. Hazylazy: Yes, years apart but it’s not as if I’ve been working on those songs for the whole time interval. I just let it sit there and then when I decided I was gonna start recording the album that’s really the only time I revisit the song and there were changes here and there but not so much. I would say just production wise, na may onting adds lang and onting subtraction of things HM: In a way you’re revisiting a past iteration of yourself as well, in the year you first created those demos. As the sole auteur to your music, what is it like collaborating with a past
EP REVIEW: (e)motion engine – tell me how you f(e)el
Written by JK Caray How does a song mirror one’s life? (e)motion engine’s debut EP ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ doesn’t really give you an answer, but it provides a slate for you to write on. 6-piece indie rock outfit (e)motion engine has been all over the scene. From the release of their first track “mlb” dating back to 2024, the band has quickly cultivated a dedicated fanbase. After a year of teasing tracks, their newest EP ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ only pushes them further into their growing success. If you’ve gone to a few of (e)motion engine’s gigs over the years, you’ll know the kind of dynamic energy they bring to a set. With engaging performances that often result in a moshpit here and there, it’s a wonder that they’ve managed to record the same kinetic vibe in their EP. It’s another wonder that they’ve managed to be sonically consistent with the rest of their portfolio, mostly attributed to the edgy pop punk sound that permeates through all their songs which is a nod to their emo roots. (e)motion engine’s identity is deeply engraved into their music that it doesn’t just sound the same, it sounds uniquely them. ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ reads like a diary. At times it feels alive, as if someone occasionally peeking through the drum beats. Each song acts as a journal entry, capturing the essence of being in a certain moment. It’s filled with different scenarios that may conjure up a memory or two; “milk” is the entry for when your mind betrays you as you remember somebody you shouldn’t. On the other hand, “keep it in” is a track you want to expel some pent up energy, while “mlb” celebrates the beauty of life and the privilege of seeing it blossom in front of you. Not all of it has to be profound, much like how every day can’t always be exciting, but it speaks true to the human experience. Throughout the EP, (e)motion engine carefully tiptoes the line between telling a story and letting the listener fill in the blanks. At its very core, the tape hinges on your vulnerability to trust in it. It’s the record that you go to at the end of the day, like the vent folder in your notes app or the childhood blanket you cry to. It wants to make you feel seen. Now it’s up for you to decide, are you willing to ‘tell me how you f(e)el’ or are you still scared to make it real? SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: D Waviee – Epitome
Written by Jax Figarola One should always listen to a trance album with an open mind, open heart, and an open area to move freely and dance. D Waviee’s ‘Epitome’ reads less like an album than a carefully staged rite of passage. Rite of passage (detachment, liminality, incorporation) in a way that the album stages a formal emotional transition for its listeners. Only at first, it might seem like a collection of tracks produced over time by D Waviee and simply arranged for the release of her sophomore album, but the first few tracks already interrupt the flow of mundane daily sounds. As an independent producer, she fashions her sets into ecstatic incantations; on record she does the same and invites listeners to a manufactured liminality of a dissolving material world. Yet, the texture of music, as an art form, remains in this world. The opening title track performs this perfectly: voices layered like organ lines, a fractal cascade, and a wind that seems to hug and lift you, until you register that you are not dancing alone, but part of a constructed sociocultural matrix that accepts music as cathartic like the rave scene. “Blizzard,” a techno-trance wink at Far East Movement’s “Like A G6,” and the light “Moody,” steer the album to a Jersey-club glitch vogue realness, which feels like walking into liminal geography. And if rave culture has always flirted with ritual, the album makes that flirtation explicit. There’s a temporary suspension (or detachment) of the social selves that makes it possible to enjoy yourself with a new sense of belonging. Therefore, midway through, ‘Epitome’ sharpens into a focused body of art. “Put It Down – Femme Queen Edit” in its Jersey-club, explicitly queer choreography, and vogue-ish punctures pivots into her most dangerous and most thrilling track “Electric Erotica,” which as a track feels like being fucked in all holes by a bionic octopus. Here, the body transforms into a site of ambiguous desire. The track is not sexual, but it is sexualized in a way that feels intentionally destabilizing, suggesting that the body in trance is neither wholly male nor female, but a porous, androgynous surface for electronic music to latch on. That interface is programmed to give temporary liberation, just as the track is programmed to put you into a sexual-psychedelic trance. Thus, the concept coheres from the fifth track to the eleventh. D Waviee’s techno flip of Pette Shabu’s “COA” starts the sequence to the project’s most successful continuity exercises. “Shot Para Igat” is libidinal and kinetic with all the moaning sounds and it feels like reaching the climax. However, the record jolts toward an awkward “Green Light (Extended Mix),” almost like an interstitial pop serenade in the middle of a ritual, as “818” and the ending “Bleach & Tone” tilt the project toward memory work. The latter, with its dusted PS2-era textures and pre-rendered nostalgia, performs the incorporation phase: the collective spirit, after its temporary detachment, returns altered to the world and carries a residue of the night as memory. There is a delicate, enchanted quality here — an insistence that communal dance can rewrite how we relate to technological and cultural memory, as if those PS2 textures remind us of the manufactured nostalgia’s power to anchor us back into our own living reality. The project may occasionally feel disembodied, and it’s a part of its strategy as much as its weakness. This made the opening songs read more like experiments. Further, sounds and the self become more fidgety, and the records become very danceable. In this sense, ‘Epitome’ is less about individual tracks, but about what the listener performs for themselves. The album becomes a mirror for how one carries the energy to a liminal space that they enjoy. Like any other dance album, it’s a highly participatory work. D Waviee’s performance ethos posits that euphoric dance is something made, not merely found. Raves’ socially unrestrained atmosphere already captures the spirit of trance music. It is through the act of assigning memory to her music that the listening experience shifts into something more joyous and sustaining than simply dancing. Lastly, there is a sense of alchemy in how D Waviee, as a producer, turns influences of different genres (Jersey club, acid trance, techno) into tools for communities to use to map the sounds that reconfigure social intimacy. If trance is a practice of temporary unmaking, D Waviee’s ‘Epitome’ is the night’s manual. It needs you to surrender your social script, to accept a shared illusion, and to step back into the world with a new, quieter devotion to your body, to the people who moved beside you, and to whatever tenderness the music carved through your night. D Waviee was able to turn sexiness into cathartic communal love for electronic dance music. It’s the reason why trans is a near-homophone of trance. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: Epitome by D Waviee
ALBUM REVIEW: zayALLCAPS – art Pop * pop Art
Written by Faye Allego If the very peak days of MYX were still around, zayALLCAPS would take that television channel by storm with his musical endeavors, but in this era of DIY, the listening experience of ‘art Pop * pop Art’ is more than enough. In his third studio album, zayALLCAPS seems fun but careful; It’s camp, it’s arbitrary, and it isn’t indulging in the Y2K music nostalgia for the solemn sake of doing so. Zay couldn’t be more clearer: It’s art, and it’s pop. Simple as that. On shuffle, ‘art Pop * pop Art’ is as if your ears are tuning in on different circles of people whom you’ll find at a gig with an hour-long DJ set: “MTV’s Pimp My Ride” is playing when guys in loose jersey shirts are rolling their bodies near the turntable, presumably having the time of their lives. In tracks like “PROCESS,” multiple rhythmic melodies come in like a triple threat – the threat being that Zay stays true to his Instagram username, “Swagalog101”. Dare I say, he has the full potential to bring back the term “Jeproks/Jeprox” through his amalgamation of Jodeci influences in his more sensual sounds. zayALLCAPS pays no cap on that production. Who knew aggressive autotune that sounds like a talk box blended with smooth harmonies into a foamy mic could sound so orgasmic? The thing is, autotune discourse is so overtly tired, but tracks like SATURN (ft. Anto The Wayward) bring plus points to those who simply don’t care about the “correct” usage of autotune. Zay oscillates between tracks through the velvety theatrics of autotune without sounding too hazy or, for lack of a better word, monotone. It’s not a watermark that defines his artistry; however, through the funky textures of “rWm”, this track proves that autotune can be an extension of his persona, bringing prismatic bursts into the listener’s ears without drowning in reverb or harmonies that sound like a repeated Coca-Cola burp. The only downside is that lyrically, Zay keeps it rather dull; “Friendz U Can Kiss” (ft. Frizzy) tries to juxtapose well with the sharp engineering of the album’s seductive yet upbeat production, but the rhythms from the rhymes that match the melody seem to be its only saving grace. In tracks like “Love In U,” lyrics like “Minimizing my synonyms I incentivize a new beginning/Who said I couldn’t? Regrouped I’m super in it/I run the ship like a troop and I’m the new lieutenant/ Had to switch it up staged a coup that’s how I reinvented” bring that campiness element to the song and the album because visually, it seems impossible to mentally illustrate these lyrics in a more retrospective sense, since the synths already provide the fun, lighthearted atmosphere. Nevertheless, the lexis and rhythm bring out the colors within its blues. At its best, ‘art Pop * pop Art’ is a kaleidoscope and a rotating disco ball where sparkly theatrics cast a bright reflection and bursts zayALLCAPS’ sheer personality. The recycling of nostalgia doesn’t exist in any part of his art and succeeds at making art very pop. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: art Pop * pop Art by zayALLCAPS
EP REVIEW: my cat wrote this song – i would spend my 9 lives with you
Written by Adrian Jade Francisco As of late, a wave of local skramz acts has surfaced in the local scene, with raw-knuckled DIY outfits like Ghost Stories, Limbs, and adult sunday school in the mix. My cat wrote this song’s ‘I would spend my 9 lives with you,’ however, is a warm blanket in the form of a lo-fi sound. The bedroom skramz project draws from the spirit of Your Arms Are My Cocoon through subtle acoustic guitars, twinkly synths, and vocals that feel like crying into your phone at 2 A.M. Tracks “hanger” and “chi chi!” curl up in your ears as a clingy cat would and refuse to let go due to their lo-fi melodies. The EP’s production holds onto constant vulnerability from start to finish, even as the screams scrape the surface. “Flutter_fracture” and “a place to lay your head” showcases this balance of fragility and ferocity that is heard throughout ‘i would spend my 9 lives with you.’ My cat wrote this song’s five-track debut succeeds in carving out its own intimate corner amidst the cathartic aggressions. The project knows when to nuzzle and when to dig its claws in, ‘i would spend my 9 lives with you’ hums like a lullaby, but hits like a midnight meltdown. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: i would spend my 9 lives with you by my cat wrote this song
EP REVIEW: RamonPang – The Answer Breaks
Written by Louis Pelingen LA-based musician RamonPang is a lover and educator of electronic music. His short-form content alone shows his firm testament to providing a history of the development of electronic music. He imparts curiosity for everyone to keep an eye out for experimental music and bridges a space for new people towards the beauty and ethos of the genre. All delivered with insight, open-approachability, and passion that drives him forward, especially as a Filipino making waves within a mostly westernized genre such as IDM. Those characteristics also apply to his music as well. Major influences such as Aphex Twin and Four Tet have paved to what he wants to create in his own music: colliding unpredictable edges of IDM with the inviting structures of EDM. A staunch set of elements that never breaks apart within every project that he has pulled together thus far. 2021’s ‘Nature System’ is sleek and eclectic in its flexible melodies and otherworldly textures; 2022’s ‘Third Places’ focuses more into the communal space, sweeping up soulful samples and saturated mixes into nervy dance grooves; and 2024’s ‘Life Cycle Waves’ is elastic and varied, where walls of prickly IDM and meditative ambiance contort on one hand and meld on the other. A year later, what does the ‘The Answer Breaks’ EP add to RamonPang’s discography? Simple: a set of lean, accessible cuts that’s just as shiny and punchy as ever. Each track transports to a grounded, yet breathtaking soundscape. “The Answer” hypnotizes with that female vocal looping across textured drums and fizzy synth lines. “Broadcastyl” is dreamy and energetic in its buildup. Shimmering synth pads and jazz samples allow the steady breakbeat to unleash its energy, capitalized further through the guitar passages that rev in its melody. “Daly City Skyline” sets the stage for ’90s breakbeats to slide in. Pulsating acid synths and crashing drum rhythms gradually energize, similar to a race car willing to exhaust all of its gas just for a thrilling chase. ‘Brand Blvd’ puts everything into a calming finish, where inclusions of kalimbas add a playful charm around rapid rhythms and swells of glacial synth waves. While the sonic display of electronica that RamonPang exports into the EP doesn’t expand much in comparison to his past works, the tight approach to melodic making is a focus worth highlighting. An experimentation that never leaves RamonPang’s lucid soundscapes, only deepening the way he arranges his compositions. The answer may not exactly break new ground, but its compact structure is enough to leave a pleasant impression. Support the art and the artist:
EP REVIEW: ARKYALINA – Underneath Your Jagged Lines
Written by Louis Pelingen The moment that Arkyalina — also known as Tavin Villanueva — put out “readmymind” last year, it showcases just how much young acts like him are willing to synthesize different points of influence and make it their own. Cementing their own sonic identity and stylism that never compromises their passion and their intensity as musicians, both in recording and live performances. As someone who has seen him perform live, intensity is indeed the emotion that he pulls off well, all paired with scarlet red visuals and a sharply detailed mask that complements the jagged guitar work, skittering beats, and burnished vocals that he exposes in his performances. After releasing a couple of singles that now lead to his debut EP, ‘Underneath Your Jagged Lines’, something has shifted between last year and now. There is an adjustment towards how Arkyalina delivers as a vocalist and as a producer, providing more emphasis on build-ups and pulsating electronics to give his voice more space to play off with. The rhythmic shuffle of “Gaze (By Your Side)” and the squealing EDM pads of “Wish” are prime examples of this, where Arkyalina pairs back his intensity and allows himself to unravel in it, carefully crafting sharper melodies along the way. Of course, that guitar-driven, vocally fervid side of him is still here. Besides the already stellar “readmymind” with all the layers of chalky drums and blurry swells of strings that give Arkyalina soar vocally, “Ersatz” and “Remembrance, a tragedy” deliver in this front as well. The former’s rampage of guitar riffing leads to one glowing crescendo, and the latter’s weighty drums and guitar rumbles only amplify his anguished singing and screaming. Those contrasts do make some sense as Arkyalina unveils the tension within his writing. Detailing a post-breakup relationship that’s weighed on a lot of give and takes, with him giving so much of himself to the point that he is stuck in a rut. Never exactly willing to let go, as he reminisces on the time that he and his ex have spent together and reminisces about the moments where both of their flaws have been shown. It leads to Arkyalina constantly being in this push and pull stasis, constantly stretched apart by his internal angst and melancholy, but even then, he shows that he still cares about that relationship at the end of the day. As noted on the last track, “Remembrance, a tragedy”, he tries to reach out, acknowledge his mistakes, and hope that there’s still a chance to recoup from those mistakes. Even if such chances of reconnecting might be too late to be considered. While this overall theme can justify why Arkyalina’s decisions in his vocal mix and delivery are a bit more meticulous and submerged as he is swimming through his own emotional headspace, it can also lead to those choices exposing some of the EP’s weaknesses. “Ersatz” is lacking one more verse to really make its crescendos hit even harder; the glitchy, gauzy flair on “Everything Falls Apart” blurs so much that the melody washes out from one way to another; and the attempt for this weary vocal timbre amidst the heavier production mix on “Black Sea” becomes one note, especially as Arkyalina’s delivery doesn’t exactly vary and the buildup to that scream on the end of the song is so faintly heard. But, overall, ‘Underneath Your Jagged Lines’ is defined by choices and shifts that are intentionally thought out. Filled with meticulous mixes and vocal tones that emphasize the EP’s reddish intensity and bluish melancholy, all of which put Arkyalina in a space where there is still a lot of traversing to go into, recognizing the highs and lows that he must confront and refine upon. In wading underneath those lines, the waves will smooth their jagged edges, turning them into a more resplendent texture. Support the art and the artist: