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:
REVIEWS
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:
EP REVIEW: SUYEN – SUYEN IMNIDA
Written by Louis Pelingen For many people born in the early to mid-2000s, the knowledge of living in their early 20s in the year 2025 is a pressure that can’t be shaken easily. Time is running past them quickly, requirements and responsibilities are stacked high, and the world is opening below their feet so much that it is hard to keep up with its tide. It’s an overwhelming time to grasp what’s happening in front of their eyes, but sometimes, it’s important to live through it and find something to cope with amidst that exhausting part of their lives. To SUYEN, she faces that exhaustion by picking up her red guitar and unleashing her feelings through her debut EP, SUYEN IMNIDA. Assembled as a timestamp of her young adult emotions, she waddles through pieces of pop rock with bits of brit-pop shimmer and twee sensibilities as the cherry on top. She’s yearning to cope with the pressures she carries as a 21-year-old, her passions lie through her girlish delivery that showcases her exuberance. The title track plays with her name being mistaken for her identity through nimble guitars and playful vocal deliveries. “Tampo” glimmers with the additions of rondalla amidst admirably lilting tones, and “Bente” stomps with its staccato keys and flaring guitar passages that build into a riotously joyous chorus. While the small-scaled scope allows SUYEN to release all those bubbling feelings from her sleeves, her stumbling points can be quite noticeable. Her production with the assistance of Zild and Sam Marquez may provide snappy flair to the melodies, yet the inconsistent mixing doesn’t give them many favors. Vocals tend to be in a tug of war with the guitars, leading them to be pushed either in the front or the back in the mix. It’s also evident that SUYEN is still curious about gauging her vocal presence to the music at large, sometimes capturing the sense of yearning and playfulness decently, but not exactly working well when trying to be enticing on “Something ‘bout u“. This follows through with the overall sound itself, embodying 2000s pop-rock flourish very well. Yet the lack of a distinct melodic core leads to SUYEN wandering within this general sonic palette: texturally full, but sometimes becoming musically dull. For what it is, SUYEN IMNIDA opens the gates to where SUYEN’s ambitions will lie – a snapshot of where she was in the past and a reminder of the roads that will open up for her in the future. The journey into the bewildering 20s may be scary to some, but for SUYEN, with her red guitar in her arms and a cheery demeanor on her face, is enough to take on the world ahead of her. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Kremesoda – For Years
Written by JK Caray Sunday morning radios. Long car rides. Drifting in and out of a dream. There is a certain common feeling that arises among the three, a feeling so fleeting that a word has yet to be made to name it. It’s a moment that occurs whenever drowsiness masks a profound sobriety. Kremesoda, a Metro Manila-based 5 member band, defies it all and effortlessly expresses these complex sensibilities in their much-awaited debut album, “For Years”. The album consists of eight tracks and is a vibrant roulette of different sounds and styles, with some alluding back to the act’s past releases. “FOMO,” for example, reminisces their City Pop roots within the framework of a mellowed-out and hazy memory, while “Fleeting” features catchy 8-bit melodies alongside tight, upbeat drums. It’s that moment when you groggily wake up early from the blaring alarm sound, desperately trying to recall the dream you were having just a few minutes ago. The third track, “Far-fetched” borrows a few twangy guitar elements from Surf Rock and infuses it seamlessly with their mellow Indie tune. Meanwhile, midway through the release involves an interconnection of themes between “City doesn’t love you” and “Terminal”. In “City doesn’t love you”, the band calls back to their first single release “City Lovin” but this time, the vibe is completely different — tender yet harsh, its indulgent riffs paired with spiteful lyrics. “Terminal” quickly picks up these embittered feelings with more of a cynical attitude, deeply affected and aching to hurt back. The title track standout, “For Years,” provides a break from all the antagonism and goes back to the melancholic side of the release found in the earlier parts of the album, capturing the feeling of driving out to the countryside while hopelessly pining, patiently waiting around for something that was never meant to be. Ultimately, the final track “The Door” presents two options: to get out or to stay in. Opting to stay, the track reinstates the themes of longing and desperation found within the entire release. “For Years” is a long time coming project. After Kremesoda’s first single back in 2017, the band has been steadily releasing singles and garnering attention from the music scene. In 2020 however, the band abruptly seemed to disappear. Now, after four years of inactivity, “For Years” serves as a triumphant comeback to remind us that Kremesoda still stands as a force to be reckoned with. After all, the quintet has been here for a long time — they have gone through multiple eras, they have seen the ever-changing landscape of the underground OPM scene and they have performed in some now-defunct venues, but even after all that, “For Years” is shaping up to be their most substantial release as of yet. “For Years” carries a tone that signifies maturity in their artistry and the sonic cohesion they’ve been chasing for a long time. Along their journey, they’ve picked up bits and pieces, creating a decoupage of all the things that they encountered. Finally, after years of exploration, they come out emerging on the other side with a distinct tune that’s hard to put into words — one that is uniquely theirs, uniquely ‘Kremesoda’. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: Zack Tabudlo – Diving
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol For a while, it seemed as though Zack Tabudlo’s stardom would go on forever. His style of charming pop and R&B tracks dominated the airwaves as the nation shifted back to normalcy from the pandemic, an imperial phase helped by the fact that he would constantly put music out, dropping a new single or album every few months. Lately, though, he couldn’t seem to land a hit song as easily as he used to. His star has been slowing down, and so has his output: he only released four singles last year. But after keeping a relatively low profile for the last few months, Zack is back, and upon brokering a deal with an American record label, it looks as though he’s taking a shot at a big comeback. And just like how it was a couple of years back, he didn’t waste any time. He’s got a new song out. Some might think that Diving sounds just like any other R&B track you can find at one of many chill playlists at your local streaming platform, but this does have enough of that Zack Tabudlo magic that they should probably pay attention to this one. Here, that magic is at its best; you got everything you’ve come to expect from his music, from his vocal melodies and the guitar lines that complement it to his soulful vocal range that goes all the way to an enchanting falsetto (which only shows up once in this song), to his lyrical mastery with the subject of love, which in this case is the tried-and-true topic of obsessive frustration over someone who’s love may not be true at all. It all comes together to form that kind of pop music realism that’ll make you believe this guy is riddled with jealousy and heartbreak and couldn’t snap out of it. As far as heart-rending songs of woefully unrequited love go, this hits all the right spots. While Diving may find itself lost in the shuffle of newer, shinier releases, it has, at least, enough defining qualities to make for a unique listening experience should it find its way to you. Play this a bunch of times and you’ll be reminded of just how good Zack Tabudlo’s music was when you had his music on a loop a few years ago, or caught it at a mall or the radio or TikTok. Will this song immediately help him set the world on fire again? Probably not. But it’s intriguing enough that once it gets pushed to a streaming service playlist in America, someone out there could hear and enjoy it to the point where they’ll soon find themselves diving into a whole world of music they’ve been missing out on. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: