Written By Lex Celera Leading up to its music video release, KAIA released a number of one-minute “concept films” on their social media accounts, featuring each member depicting potentially romantic moments gone awry. And while the promotional videos are just long enough to capture the feeling, KAIA’s “Tanga” unpacks this romantic type of love with nuance without losing the sheen of its pop structure. Within the highly engineered lens of pop is a fantastical but relatable world built through image and sound, cultivated during and in between music releases, “Tanga” checks all the boxes of what is serviceable and “radio-friendly.” The single is catchy, it has earworm-worthy chorus and showcases upbeat rhythms. For KAIA, “Tanga” is a boon to its music catalog, sitting pretty beside “Walang Biruan.” While the latter pushed KAIA sonically, “Tanga” remains decisive in fine-tuning their sound. Zack Tabudlo’s mastery of examining expressions and receptions of love and putting them into words without sounding preachy leads to a satisfying pop track. More than lyrics, the harmonies are satisfyingly layered and the adlibs are discreet but playful. It’s safe to assume that these additions to KAIA’s repertoire are a result of close collaboration with the more experienced Tabudlo. What’s most compelling in “Tanga” is the levity created between the twee lightheartedness of its melodies and the abject sadness presented by its lyrics. Why do we carry on with unrequited love or romance beyond red flags? In “Tanga,” anger at the act and love for the other can happen at the same time. These themes are explored but never really go anywhere. And that’s fine. What matters for KAIA is one-minute moments and three-minute odes to these moments, portraying a feeling that can be sustained upon multiple listens. KAIA’s charm shines bright in “Tanga,” and while admittedly safer than their past releases, forms a full-bodied discography thanks to its well-considered lyricism and composition. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
REVIEWS
TRACK REVIEW: Ame – Ipagpatawad Mo
Written by Louis Pelingen In treading back towards the nostalgic 60s rock ‘n roll, Ame manages to fit themselves well, as their musical prowess shows how well-equipped they are in approaching this sound on“Ipagpatawad Mo.” From Zarviel’s hollering vocal presence that firmly cries his call for affection, the blustering blues rock progression and wild guitar solos, stomping drum rhythms, as well as the occasional bright piano lines and vibraslap rattles. They all check out the boxes of what makes that era of rock ‘n roll quite compelling and runs with an all-killer, no-filler direction. The other part of what allows the tune to punch through is the production. Having Max Cinco and Paulo Agudelo doing most of the production duties alongside Sam Marquez handling the mixing and mastering duties means that most of the instrumentation lets their vibrant melodies shine through without overlapping with one another. The emphasis is on “most” however, where despite the already colorful mix, the dynamics could’ve been just a bit more spaced out, as the bright piano lines do get trampled over with the low-end and various guitar sections being so flashy and excessive. “Ipagpatawad Mo” is the kind of nostalgic callback where it’s clear that the band knows enough of the sound to recreate it with good intentions. It’s a straightforward attempt for sure, yet it allows Ame to flex more of their musicianship as they stray away from the mild pop soundscapes that they’ve started with. That shift to explore more melodic intricacies is, at the very least, a kind of forgiveness worth accepting. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: SOS – It Was A Moment
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol Starting off your band’s much-awaited sophomore album with lines like “I wrote some lyrics but it’s ten years later / I’m always worried that I’m past my prime” is a ballsy move when it’s been eight years since your first. Even more so when you’ve added these lines to a song you’ve been playing for more than a decade. A close up of the artwork for 2017’s Whatever That Was flickers on an old TV in a sunlit living room, as though that period in the band’s career were glory days they can only reminisce about. You could be forgiven for thinking SOS is staging a farewell, but this is the façade of nostalgia and reflection they have formed over their brand new album It Was A Moment, and that includes the opening track “Amore”, which finally saw completion after being a long-beloved live number by fans of the band. One listen and you can see why people have been clamoring for this for years: an energetic jangle bounces off from everyone in the band, amping things up with a rousing chorus that just makes you want to dance. All of that is very much intact here in the definitive version of “Amore,” except the uptight, aggressive iteration once heard at Route 196 and beyond is nowhere to be seen. Roberto Seña, along with fellow guitarist Andrew Panopio, has seemingly traded his fuzzbox for cleaner tones, has given the song a carefree environment to live in, and not only did the two of them make space for an acoustic guitar, apparently, there’s a synthesizer now? Outside of its nostalgia-tinged cover art, there’s hardly a trace of the band’s distant past in It Was A Moment. For the last eight years, many things have happened within the SOS camp. They did side projects outside the realm of rock n’ roll. They opened a recording studio above the sandy shores of Elyu. They even signed a brand new record deal, on James Reid’s Careless Music label, of all places. Somewhere in the middle of it all, after more than a decade of playing the same old song, they finally decided to fuck with the formula. 2020’s The Other Side saw SOS dabble with disco beats, synth layers, and a softer approach to their music. While a cynic can dismiss the EP as a mere experiment at a time where their guitar-based alt-rock would’ve felt out of place, it was otherwise a necessary shakeup in their musical palette. And now, with the addition of keyboardist Ram Alonzo into the lineup, SOS has turned the cozy, colorful landscape of The Other Side from a brief excursion to the first phase of an artistic evolution. You can hear them take the next few steps into this path on songs like “Roses”, a respectable synthwave track about trying not to ruin a new love affair, and “I’m Kidding,” an anthemic exercise in irony with a sing-along chorus about bottling yourself up and never saying what you really feel. After these two songs is the pensive elegy to lost youth that is “It’s History”, which also affirms you, the listener, that in spite of your failures, all of that is in the past and that you’re more than just your shortcomings. While these three songs showcase Seña’s eloquent way with words and imagery, musically, something is amiss. Despite superb performances by the band, held together by Anjo Silvoza’s melodic bass lines and drummer King Puentespina’s steady but dynamic drumming, these are moments in which SOS seem like they aren’t willing to change up their sound much. They feel more like a compromise between slightly less jagged guitars and marginally pop keys, ultimately stalling the record after the shot of adrenaline that is “Amore”. Where SOS really shines in this record is when they fully commit to challenging their artistic identity. A hi-hat-heavy drum machine and a floaty synth line welcome listeners to the smooth R&B number “French Exit”. Seña sounds so seductive and self-assured as he sings about a casual love affair and how he’ll leave a lover before they even know it, a far cry from the jittery expressions of 2017’s “Favoritism”. Meanwhile, on “Money,” a rigid but groovy electro-funk beat coexists with frustrations toward someone else’s attitude towards money, especially when Seña talks about the frustrations of being a musician in today’s economy. While the song is sullied a bit by his overzealous vocals, it offers an otherwise noteworthy insight on being a struggling artist today. These two songs highlight SOS’ potential in holding their own across other genres, reaping the rewards of their expeditions outside the band’s walls. The back half of It Was A Moment, then, is further proof of how far SOS can break the lyrical and sonic barriers that have been placed against them. For one, “Please Lang” and “Seryoso,” the band’s first Filipino songs, show Seña successfully making his ramblings shine in our own language, his acerbic tongue more potent than ever as the Taglish words help him convey the strongest emotions in the simplest of words. Meanwhile, the remaining three songs give us a vision of what a fully-electronic SOS could sound like. Two of these, “Yumi & The Apocalypse” and “Love Kept Us Warm,” show two sides of a doomed relationship: wistful hopelessness faces off against cautious optimism in an atmosphere of sparkling keys, unrelenting drum patterns, irresistible chord progressions, and even a fadeout that’s delightfully-’80s. The title track that closes the album sees the band complete their transformation from guitar heroes to electro-pop stars through a moody number on the end of a relationship that should’ve been taken seriously. Regret permeates the song’s sparse instrumentation that recreates the lightheaded feeling of being alone with one too many drinks, the bridge even introducing chopped-up vocal samples straight out of mid-2010s Tumblr. However, it feels as though there’s more to this than meets the eye, with all the talk about phases and the references
ALBUM REVIEW: Linger Escape – We All End In The Same Place
Written by Faye Allego At midnight, gasping for air, wondering where life will take on, emptiness appears in a dreamlike sequence. It’s peculiar, it’s suffocating, but it has always been familiar, like the hand of a lover who swore to hold on tight when diving deep into the trenches. Well, Linger Escape holds a requiem for that feeling in their debut album, We All End In The Same Place. In the world of nu-gaze, it’s easy to put on a respirator to filter out the fumes of repetitiveness found in shoegaze and other genres that fall under that umbrella; that repetitiveness being the same knobs of emotion being turned on the guitar pedal, the longing, the distortion, the buzzing, the fizzling, the static, the reverb, all of it. Perhaps, things don’t have to sound unique to be good, or the very essence of repetitiveness is not inherently bad, and that is where Linger Escape proves that those fumes aren’t toxic at all: In “Nothing”, the 2000s Nu-metal riff seeps in and blends with the honesty found in the lyrics. Instead of pairing the growling vocals with a sensual approach, the low-frequency phone call effect used in the primary vocals instead creates a dichotomy of past versus present, or, bringing emphasis to the lyrics “still digging for the bones, of what once was, of what has been”. Their most popular track, “Whisper”, thrusts a knee-jerk response to the listener prompted by the change in atmosphere. The song takes you to outer space where everything is uncertain, and all there is left is to ponder, once the riff glides into climax, the song ends as if the listener is taken through a metaphysical spiral, circling through the axis of experiences, memories, and so on. We All End In The Same Place is an 8-track album where the first half seems as though the band is hurriedly yet slowly establishing their true voice, presenting their sonic capabilities through varied quirks and sequences in the guitar distortion and the heavier percussion. As the latter half of the album proceeds after the 5th track, Linger Escape progresses and establishes that unflinchingly honest voice and sound. In “Gone”, the longest track on the record, the band unleashes the restraint of complex emotions that are evident in “Kin” and “Vermin”. Unfolding into a slow yet cathartic release with the soft yet stern meddles of the drums and the guitar as raw as the vocals, the listener is almost compelled to feel doom that the song will eventually come to an end. Will they be in the same place as they were before? Only time and the act of submersion into nostalgia can tell. As the album ends with “Bloom”, Linger Escape’s evolution is palpable. A sense of finality hits, and everything makes sense: the very sequence of before, during, and after. Shoutout to all the Life Is Strange fans out there. This is Max Caufield as an album. Overall, this album paves the way for the Bicol Shoegaze scene. It isn’t just a debut album; it’s a statement of intent. The four-piece doesn’t shy away from merging different sounds into one nostalgia-core mood board, and it doesn’t try to reinvent the genre either– they hold a mirror, albeit smudged and fogged, and let the listener look into its depths and take a deep, long breath. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: &ND – quarters
Written by Anika Maculangan Like specks of sunlight huddled in one dark corner, “quarters” read like that old photo booth picture, that long-lost receipt, or that tattered candy wrapper at the bottom of your pocket. The tracks, if anything, feel homesick for another universe. Infused with ethereal accents and soft imprints of shoegaze, certain tracks, especially “2nd room”, a lengthy 7-minute song, are perfect for spacing out in the middle of Maginhawa, as a flurry of pollution fills the lungs with something ambivalent. Despite its longevity, through drifting and spacey lyric composition, the song seems to defy all odds of time. This seems to be the case for &ND, even with other tracks like the remastered version of “Best of Luck” which boasts a duration of 5 minutes, which somehow, one way or another, manages to distort our concept of how long a moment lasts. It seems like making something fulfilling amongst a sea of boredom, like when you’re in your living room sofa, and you turn the TV on to satiate the room with sound, just to reckon with the emptiness. Quarters is meant for those who were aficionados to the likes of Ourselves the Elves, amidst the height of Armi Millare, when everything circumvented within the seams of moonstruck yet hard-boiled indie ballads. Blurry images layered over thick pastures of grain, the EP recovers what was lost prior to the pandemic — that hypermnesia for hopecore edits and patch tattoos, riddled with a plethora of late nights by the fluorescent glow of Angel’s Burger. The EP, finely drawn in its faded outfit, ceases to ever decline when it comes to the long-standing culture of diaries and sundried flowers plastered against cigarette butts. Therefore, ultimately, makes the statement that while we are moving forward, we are still, at the end of the day, figments of an old cast, begging to break loose. It goes without saying that a throwback like quarters, gives a nod to ‘those days’ of once being a student and stocking up on caffeine, all the while tracing back one’s roots amongst the tangled cords of an earphone. More fluid in their approach to genre, this indefinite notion provides the ability to delve into other sonic characters in the future. “quarters”, unlike other projects loosely borrowed from shoegaze, touches on the genre lightly, permitting more capacity for revisiting its tonalities within their own terms — these terms that immerse its toes into dream pop, bringing more uplifting, effervescent qualities into their sound. The EP is a stand-in for sensations of a lost memory, as it sings “If I were old, old to stay/I would love to lay and just wait”, exemplifying what it means to have a doubled intuition for recollection toward an echo, acting as a souvenir to what led us here. “quarters,” in its stillness, flows with reverb and resonance that can only match the waves, one sweep lesser of a tide. &ND feels like a reactionary project to the post-Megumi Acorda generation, amplifying that accent of unmistakable transcendence. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: sumther – forget
Written by Elijah P. sumther’s latest track “forget” sounds like the best kind of house party—the one that spills from a cramped Tomas Morato club into school hallways and basketball courts, chasing sunrise with reckless abandon. Known for his intimate plugg experiments, the artist sheds his bedroom producer skin here, embracing a bigger, brasher sound that crackles with the energy of someone discovering their voice at just the right moment. Where his earlier Soundcloud loosies reveled in microgenre nuances, “forget” plays like a manifesto. sumther was trading pluggnb’s melancholy for a swaggering, synth-drenched anthem about moving on (but only after one last dance). The genius lies in its duality: it’s a breakup song disguised as a party starter, with lyrics that sting even as the 808s and the piano lines dare you not to move. The production expands his world beyond sub-bass corners. Snares and synths ricochet like sneakers on gym floors, melodies shimmer like spilled vodka under strobe lights, and sumther’s delivery—part-sung, part-rapped—carries the giddy exhaustion of someone who’s stayed up too late feeling everything at once. It’s a coming-of-age moment bottled in two-and-a-half minutes: proof that his knack for earworm hooks (that chorus lingers like next-day confetti in your hair) could propel him from niche favorite to undeniable mainstay. If this is sumther unchained, imagine what’s next. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: .foollstop – L
Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Fallen angels—once held in the heavens, now cast down, wandering in the aftermath of their descent. .foollstop’s “L” is shaped in a similar sentiment, an anthem of loss, reflection, lost in the reverie of ill-fated romances. San Pablo’s .foollstop has released their initial shoegaze track, a year elapsing since their live debut at Mow’s. The euphonious mix of the instruments, Huwakin’s and Ice’s vocals are cascading rivers of tears that transcend into sound, echoing throughout the song. A touch of rap alongside shoegaze is featured in the second verse, which is not something you hear in the genre every day; The monologue section before the breakdown of “L” is a bursting bottle loaded with emotions that erupts in the ending, drowning in tremolo-picked guitars and layers of vocals. Taking a glimpse at their “L” demo in Sining Shelter’s compilation “tunes for a true home,” the band slid the key into the right lock in the final version by incorporating more audio tracks in the mix. “L” weaves biblical metaphors into its narrative, portraying the perspective of a fallen angel caught in a fleeting situationship. Just as the fallen angel once knew the embrace of heaven, the narrator reflects on the short-lived moments of a love that couldn’t last. You may interpret various words from “L” such as “loss,” “ love,” or “limbo” but you can not associate the band’s debut with “loss.” Unlike the fallen angels, .foollstop’s wings chose to soar and may further introduce something of substance in an uncertain future. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Jamey – Do You Wanna Be Alone?
Written by Elijah P. Jamey’s music knows emotional storytelling, personified by drum breaks that hit like heartbeats, vocals that ache with raw vulnerability, and a relentless search for connection in the face of lost love. Their latest track, “Do You Wanna Be Alone?“, is an electronic music delight that shifts gears effortlessly—starting as a quiet, collected two-step before exploding into an operatic trance journey. Jamey’s vocals are the driving force, turning the intensity a notch and making the experience feel nothing short of epic. The track keeps you in the dark, basking in the glow of its instrumentals and vocal presence. The buildup is a seamless work of electronica. There are no instances of it sounding disjointed or forced. Jamey’s vocal work elevates the atmosphere, delivering a “one-time-big-time” effect that lingers long after the track ends. The nocturnal ambiance they create is immersive, wrapping you in its moody embrace for the entire three-and-a-half-minute runtime. “Do You Wanna Be Alone?” doesn’t just explore the dusky road to salvation—it walks, step by step, with an honesty that’s both haunting and cathartic. Jamey’s ability to blend vulnerability with grandeur was something to witness. It’s not just a song; it’s an emotional journey that solidifies Jamey as a force to be reckoned with in the pop landscape. They manage to make a love-sick tune that doesn’t succumb to a diatribe. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Lara – Disambiguate
Written by Faye Allego It’s not unbeknownst that everyone has been stuck amid uncertainty and ultimately seeks comfort in the limerence shoegaze and dream pop emit. Five years of amalgamating ten tracks that challenge the umbrella terms under indie-rock, Lara’s debut album, Disambiguate, intimately transfigures their sonic ability to provide solace amidst uncertainty. A question riddled with intimidation crawls: how intimate can Lara get? As an introductory instrumental track, “Flight Patterns” defines the essential stylistic sounds of dream pop– it invites the listener to the parameters of psychedelia through its behind-the-pocket drumming, synth work, surging waves of the guitar’s overdrive and modulation, and the mixings in post-production don’t ruin its essence of fuzzy shoegaze. Following the hearty motifs of melancholia in the first track, we are introduced to Jedidiah Tabago’s vocals for the rest of the album. Tabago’s vocals in itself are not bad, perhaps a broader vocal resonance while singing longer notes could help his vocal abilities stand out more. The instrumental tracks of “Ambiguate” are loyal to the artist’s thematic vision of love and loss; “Sonoluminescence” in physics is the emission of light from imploding bubbles. Lara forms cavitations and fulminates an otherworldly auditory panorama, lighting up an entire city in their crystalline song craft and fully understanding the assignment when it comes to instrumental tracks in post-rock albums. However, the poetic dexterity found in the lyrics all throughout the album is splendid to the ears and further uplifts Lara’s song crafting. In “Countenance” the lines “Indulgence of each other is our delight / Savor every second if this” use sensory language to illuminate the listener’s auditory experience. The lyrics and its execution hit the brain’s neuron like Cupid and his bow in the way this song elicits lust. Though the album remains cohesive despite the vouch for experimentality in the spectacles of the Indie Pop/Rock genre, “Peaks” explores the ambiguity of noise haphazardly. Although it is a fairly good track, it isn’t sonically incohesive; the rather unserious approach to the ad lib/sound effects such as “bruh”, “yahoo!”, and Minecraft noises used ruins the flow of the album due to its Aphex Twin-like approach and distance from the limerence the narrator in the earlier and later tracks seems/seem to be going through. However, the atmospheric endeavors emulated bring justice to the experimental pathway they are in: “Loss” stands out softly. Both versions included in the album exhume a hopeful gesture toward the arbitrary happenings in life but in actuality, it is a story where the narrator follows a path down the “what could have been versus what actually happened” lane. Nearly twelve minutes of both versions combine to answer the question of intimacy these twenty-somethings showcase in their sonic ability, that the passion is ever present and it is engulfed with thought, and purpose, and disambiguates the oneness of life. Overall, Lara’s debut album is purposive and promising. Their ability to diverge from various sonic fields is frisky yet intimate– although their vocal work could use some improvements to justify their simple yet superb lyric ability. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: Chinese Garden – In Hiding
Written by Elijah P. There is something spellbinding about Chinese Garden’s debut single, “In Hiding.” From the first note, the track pulls you into a world that’s haunting and hypnotic. The lead vocalist’s longing, almost yodeling runs are the centerpiece, weaving through a sonic landscape that feels both intimate and expansive. Twisted electronic textures flicker in the distance, while sparse, echoing instruments create a sense of unease. Meanwhile, the loud, fuzzy guitar in the foreground anchors the track, giving it a visceral edge. The band’s mellow arrangements and poetic syntax feel tailor-made for the yearning hearts and restless souls of “In Hiding.” The production teeters on the edge of collapse, like a glitching computer on the verge of melting—yet it never loses its grip. Instead, it adds a layer of unpredictability that makes “In Hiding” all the more compelling. Bright, shimmering guitar tones cut through the haze while the delays stretch into infinity, creating a dreamlike atmosphere that’s hard to shake off. “In Hiding” speaks a language that resonates with dive bar scenesters and acoustic purists who’ve embraced the digital age. It’s a track that defies easy categorization, drawing comparisons to Phoebe Bridgers and Snail Mail but ultimately carving out a sound entirely its own. By the time the song ends, it’s clear that Chinese Garden isn’t just another band in the indie crop—they’re a unique force that’s unafraid to blur the lines either from the organic and the electronic, the nostalgic and the futuristic. The track lives in between. Support the art & the artist: