Written by Nikolai Dineros “Quality over quantity,” a popular adage that has guided countless artisans, artists, and authors in history into crafting masterpieces. However, it appears that Noa Mal is not a huge proponent of this. For the famed lo-fi grunge pop artist, it’s quality through quantity. “I’m the outsider, looking in” marks Noa’s return after a busy four-album run in 2023, a feat that made her stand out from the rest of her contemporaries. And much like her past releases, in true DIY fashion, she handled everything from the writing to the arrangements, and production, all the way to the promotion post-rollout. This level of work ethic is as commendable as it gets, but her 15th album release showed us that her hardworking nature is less of a flex of her discipline and more of a fundamental part of her creative process. With all the roles she assumes under her moniker—as a lyricist, musician, producer, promoter, and as the very character she presents—Noa Mal has always kept a tight grip on the self, compartmentalizing her feelings across different tracks that show different sides of her very complex personality. For example, “Someone Like Me” sees Noa claiming her many tendencies as intrinsic parts of her being, and no other person in the world can come close enough to draw a baseline similarity from which to form a connection. In contrast, “The Serpent” shows her willingness to let someone in, though not without giving caution. These are no unique concepts per se. Even in her past albums, she employed similar approaches to songwriting. While, from this example, she doesn’t steer too far from being a starkly different person from one song to the next, she chops up several aspects of her whole self and scatters them across multiple tracks where nuance can then take shape. As far as her style of lyricism goes, Noa Mal has stuck to her guns in her latest record. However, the same cannot be said about her approach to production, which showed hints of boldness and resistance from her usual artistic disposition. “I’m the outsider, looking in” is arguably the most electronic Noa Mal has ever sounded, which opened new doors to how she packages her music and accentuates her messages. For instance, the guitar work in “I Am Not Someone / Drink from the cup” reached a bellowing low that was never achieved in prior Noa Mal releases. The drum machine displayed in the album has also never sounded more artificial—and, by virtue of grunge, has never sounded more grunge. It was almost as if Noa Mal was rebelling against her past records that never attempted to go all out the way “I’m the outsider, looking in” did. Ultimately, Noa Mal’s uncontested discipline and dedication to her craft extend not only to her work ethic as an artist proven competent in releasing music in quick succession. It is also rooted in the foundations of her creativity. Every piece of music Noa Mal puts out is short and sweet, and every album release is a claim of her individuality with all its many faces, some of which look the same as another but with different intricacies tied to each layer. It is through this sheer quantity of her scattered pieces that she was able to build an image we can never mistake for anybody else in the slowcore umbrella. “I’m the outsider, looking in” provides another piece to that puzzle. Support the art and the artist:
REVIEWS
TRACK REVIEW: The Braille Flowers – The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers)
Written by Nikolai Dineros If you’re just hopping on The Braille Flowers now and this is the first song you hear from them, we won’t blame you if the dream pop aspect raises a few question marks above your head. The four-piece band started their journey by taking a dream pop-adjacent route in “Just to See You” before going on an indie pop direction in “Lately.” And now, with “The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers),” the band is pushing a flashier and headbang-worthy sound into their mix. Less delicate and more pedal-to-the-metal, “The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers)” is as direct as it gets for an alt-rock song. From the guitars that are as gritty as The Smashing Pumpkins in their “Gish” days to the shamelessly harmonic guitar fill-in licks and solo section, it’s almost as if The Braille Flowers was measuring how far they can take this loudness without steering too far from their mellower roots. Even the lyrics, courtesy of Francis Masangkay, now have more wit to them. Francis employs a less self-reflective and vulnerable approach in favor of a more playful and adventurous (yet at the same time, cryptic and self-preserve) approach without sacrificing the emotional core of their songwriting seen in their two previous releases. The band was simply having fun putting together “The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers),” continuously looking for ways to reinvent themselves. It is still up in the air how The Braille Flowers will navigate their sound with all the genres they have already explored and incorporated into their sound in such a short amount of time. If anything, they have proven themselves capable of writing such captivating songs while adopting different styles, with “The Magician Was Shot Dead (Scarlet Rivers)” being their second-most cohesive thematically, only behind their debut “Just to See You.” On one hand, their listener base may not prefer if the band continues to stray from their dream-pop roots. But on the other hand, it would be interesting to see it all come together, now that they have more than just a couple of tools in their toolkit.
EP REVIEW: Daspan En Walis – Askal Projection Vol. 1
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol When you and your friends listen to “Askal Projection Vol. 1” for the first time, it’s imperative that you lock yourselves in a room and let the first track, “619 (Comfort Zone V),” heighten the energy between all of you. You’re going to need all the power you can bottle from that song: once the members of Daspan En Walis unleash an ecstatic force of noise and grooves, you’d all be hopped up from a renewed sense of vitality, which is just what the band would love you to have. After radiating exciting sounds in different spaces up and down Metro Manila, and through a few singles, throughout last year, Daspan En Walis entered 2025 with their very first collection of songs. Listening through the five tracks that make up Askal Projection Vol. 1, it’s clear that their time cutting their teeth in the gig scene is paying off well, as they have delivered action-packed tunes that examine youth in a hopeful but serious way. The band’s roots in the hardcore punk scene means that most of their songs rarely lament the sign of the times, instead imploring the listener to take action right here and right now, and take a good, hard look at themselves while they’re at it. The fuel that drives Askal Projection Vol. 1 is a righteous form of pragmatism. On the first track, lead vocalist Myxj sounds off on people’s inability to get through their plans and problems, wailing “Walang paggalaw dyan! Gumalaw ka naman!” over the sound of chugging guitars and a hypnotic rhythm section. You can imagine people heeding the call and moshing to this at a Daspan En Walis show, but it’s a call they should all remember once they return to their everyday lives. Things slow down a little on “Therefore I Conclude,” which, ironically, is about people who never stop yapping and always shut themselves out from other people’s ideas. In a time where netizens click first and think later, it’s an indictment of the rudeness that has permeated discourse on social media, and a reminder to never get too heated too fast, or “baka’y ikaw ang mauna, una, una.” “Money Harmony,” meanwhile, calls out the bums who keep going broke on their vices. The swing rhythm the band goes into in the middle of the track makes for a delightful mockery of those good-for-nothings that keep asking other people to fund their lifestyle. This ability to sneer at the wrongdoings of the people around them really is the strength of Daspan En Walis on this EP. However, that means that when they talk about trying to get by these same struggles, it can feel as though the music’s losing a little steam: on “Compute to Commute,” Myxj, along with guitarist Randel, now plays a broke person, in the form of a salaryman trying to make sure he has enough money to pay for his commute. It’s a true tale of the perils of petsa de peligro, where Red Sting could be the only thing keeping you going through a day that seems directionless. It’s a sharp turn after three songs where it seems as though the band has got lots of things figured out, making it a bit out of place at first listen, but they make up for it with a solid performance and a very catchy chant for the coda (“Ubos na naman ang aking salapi!”), the type of which punctuates every song on the project. But the highlight within these five songs is the irresistible funk metal number that closes this EP, “143 (Will You Memorize)”, a song of unbridled love for someone whose lips taste sweeter than Mango-flavored Zest-O. Myxj delivers these fantastically ridiculous lyrics about a romance that rivals all of Lino Brocka’s movies in the best possible vessel for them: a throaty voice that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in 2000s radio. Add the walls of distortion courtesy of guitarists Leoj and Randel, and the smooth rhythm played by bassist Ralf and drummer Jhong, and you get the kind of song that would’ve had a warm, highly- saturated music video that kept airing on a certain music video channel twenty years ago. For as much as Daspan En Walis critiques the messiness of youth, they have just as much fun reveling in it. Daspan en Walis’ “Askal Projection Vol. 1” present a band determined to be an optimistic yet serious voice that’ll jolt their audience into making a change for themselves. In a way, the members of Daspan En Walis have indeed channeled the askals braving streets all over the country: strong, self-assured, and fierce enough to make you keep going, all with a big grin on their faces.
TRACK REVIEW: Fresh-iLL Club – INYAFACE
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol At last, P-Pop is huge. Ever since the genre’s explosion in popularity last year, more and more people are now finally noticing the pop groups that have been honing their craft as trainees in the entertainment industry over the last few years. But amidst the highly engineered careers of today’s Filipino boybands, there is still room for boybands of a different kind: one informed by a commitment to make art on their own terms. Fresh-iLL Club is one of these kinds of acts: the hip-hop collective with the mentality of a bonafide unit. Groups like them have the ability to mix their brash attitude, street cred, and blaring beats with the inviting excitement of pop and R&B, and after giving a taste of their sound with a bunch of singles throughout 2024, they close out the year with “INYAFACE” – a track that really sums up what they have to offer now and in the future. On “INYAFACE”, you hear everything you’d come to expect from a hip-hop group with boyband ambitions: cool, braggadocious verses, with some passionate singing for the bridge, delivered to you in smooth, dynamic flows over a siren-beat that never relents. Though in this case, the latter comes off just a little bit tame. Its ferocity is slightly diminished by a mix that dulls the song with a dollop of bass in the wrong place. However, everything else about the beat works. It allows Fresh-iLL Club to be laid back in their delivery, only going full-throttle when they need to. In the middle of the track, members Sebastian Kidd and D.Vaughn spit rapid-fire lines on just how far the group has come to this point, how dedicated they are to their craft, and how the group will become, in Vaughn’s words, “the face of hip-hop.” It’s the perfect segue to a stunning bridge where Vic Olive reanimates prime Bearface (in the grand tradition of hip-hop boybands channeling their inner BROCKHAMPTON) to brag about the collective aura all seven of them have as FC. It’s clear that Fresh-iLL Club wants to take over the scene. Like with every other future superstar, their ambitions come alive in this track, urgency weaving across the music and the words. You must pay attention. While parts of the track indicate their journey to the top is still ongoing, especially when they’re treading the ground their predecessors ran, the future is nevertheless bright for these boys, who may just stand a chance as they go into the new year. They just need to keep reaching their potential until, one day, FC will be on all y’all’s faces. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Pette Shabu – SPRAK
Written by Jax Figarola The word “sprak” means rage, and rage, after all, is and can be feminine. For centuries, masculinity has been associated with strong emotions like anger and aggression, but realizing that women are always subjected to restrictions and objectifications and all the other painful suffering a woman must endure, then rage is exactly feminine. Pette Shabu’s SPRAK is experimental, transgressive, and confrontational. She wears the beats of industrial hip hop and electronic sounds of techno, metal, hard dance, and then struts, rampages, and jerks us off unapologetically into her frenzied world. The trans goddess asserts herself in the world that her art stems from navigating a violently gendered world, all of which are etched into every synth, every guttural scream, and every angst-laden bar born from personal struggles as a queer woman. With Pette’s lyricism and wordplay cutting sharply reminiscent of FlipTop rap battles and her sound similar to Death Grips, every track demands attention to the lyrics. Naturally, what makes SPRAK so electrifying is her unrelenting commitment to confront the uncomfortable, the violence – the local political landscape, genocidal world leaders, misogyny, and patriarchy. With beats from known local producers in the scene like T33G33, Horseboyy, and Dwaviee, the intense lyrics create an even more abrasive and harsher sounds that seem aggressive to the ears. Yet, listening to her rap over the beats feels like consuming a familiar unknown ulam. You eat them anyway because suddenly you are interested in figuring out that ulam, only to find out that it’s a one of a kind food only available at a specific time and place. No one does it like her. The quick repetitive beats become listenable only because she proves that she’s the only artist capable of rapping on them. But all of this also means that not everyone wants to eat her food, as one’s first listen to Pette Shabu may be surprised with how unorthodox her art is, especially for the wider audience in the Philippines. Nevertheless, her instructions are clear: to cleanse the world of ugliness. She reclaims “pangit” and “ugly,” not as descriptors of physical appearance, but as metaphors for the different faces of her oppression. She rebukes these ugliness with extreme rage, especially after being used to describe her art by those who don’t understand her. The tracks build toward the techno track POKPOK for its climax, a personal favorite, as she spits bars that are both irreverent and deeply personal, reclaiming slurs and shoving them in the faces of those who weaponize them. Beneath the pounding bass and metallic overtones, there’s a catharsis in embodying her anger and emotions with the act of active listening to her rhymes and wordplay. And then, the momentum carries into XDEAL O BARIL and NATURAL HIGH, both techno-heavy songs that sound as though the world is teetering on the edge of collapse. The beats in these closing tracks become euphoric acts of reclaiming and manifesting, which perfectly captures the album’s push and pull between destruction and rebirth. These outro feel like a mirror to SPRAK’s broader themes of queer resistance. Therefore, it ends as violently as it begins. Pette’s art is not for passive listening, as she demands and commands us to witness her narratives of structural violence through her lens. In the chaos, there’s catharsis. In the rage, there’s declaration. And in the rawness, there’s power. The goddess rebirths the world and ascends above it, now she’s untouchable and incomparable. But then again, with such gospel from her, it’s guaranteed to have heathens who would not challenge the self to listen through the queer, chaotic sounds that she’s been through. It’s all because she’s the highest, and there’s no else like her in the Philippines. It’s because she’s Pette fucking Shabu. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: zaniel – C2 NA RED!
Written by Louis Pelingen One thing worth discussing about novelty or meme songs is whether or not they succeed with what they’re specifically trying to joke about, especially if there is something notable to the punchlines and melodic construction for said meme song to work long-term. While there are cases when the memetic humor sadly tilt into corny and flimsy territory, there are times when the artist knows their strengths and then applies them to the song so the meme eventually becomes captivatingly silly and catchy at the end of the day. Fortunately, zaniel’s C2 NA RED! falls into the latter category. What makes C2 NA RED! intriguingly stick is simply due to zaniel’s ability for composition and production, where his built-up experience of comfortably swooning over these cloud rap beats has a clarity that effectively shows up in spades for this song, showcasing the overall quality of his melodic crooning amidst the booming bass and chalky drums that’s well-blended in the mix. Said melodic crooning does add so much to the humor, adding an amount of kooky energy in simply embodying his favoritism of C2’s apple flavor over anything else and feeling exasperated when the store close to him doesn’t have the apple flavor in stock, just as he expected. Short but sweet, C2 NA RED! is a meme song that has enough charm and polish to the melodic craft, eventually enhancing the succinctly silly humor on display. Even if there is a worry that the meme will overshadow zaniel’s future work – an unfortunate side-effect to acts that are slowly establishing their music but are somehow limited by that one big meme song – the strengths that he does share in this track are at least a good presentation for what he’s capable of doing more as an artist. In the meantime, take a sip of this drink, it is certainly a flavor that’s worth gulping from time to time.
ALBUM REVIEW: Barbie Almalbis – Not That Girl
Written by Noelle Alarcon If you’ve dug into the heyday of OPM, there’s no doubt you’ve come across Barbie Almalbis ‘ truths spread across her bands “Hungry Young Poets” and “Barbie’s Cradle.” Ever since becoming a solo act, Almalbis has shown immense growth–she tells us like it is in her latest release, Not That Girl. An album created to cope with “the most challenging year of her life,” her renewed outlook crafted a path for her most introspective, experimental record yet. Enriched with producer Nick Lazaro’s background in the metal genre, they managed to create an assortment of songs that are as familiar as they are fresh. Up to its mixing, the album utilizes everything at its sonic fingertips to tell its story. “Desperate Hours” shifts between your ears, a medley of multiple instruments banging and pattering against the sustained chord progression. Her eventual relief arrives when “finally the war is over” resounds clearer than any of her other lyrics, making way for her victory. “Homeostasis” follows suit in the first track’s whimsicality, equally as synth-laden and raw. It leans a bit more towards power pop though, reminiscent of the punchiness of her earlier works. Not That Girl hinges on Almalbis’ beliefs; it is what makes it so vulnerable, yet so comforting. “I tell my soul to only seek you, it’s the only real remedy,” she admits in “Happy Sad” through her signature unique delivery. The heavy metal-inspired track “Platonic” comes afterward, coated in cloying irony. You’d expect the bass drum-filled, fast-paced track to be cynical; until you hear Almalbis sweetly affirm, “I know God loves me, because you do!” All these songs build from each other; audible renditions of her life lessons making her stronger than ever before. “All U Wanna Do” is as feisty and loud as “Platonic,” yet there’s a calmness to the wandering synths that fill in its gaps while she bares her soul. “How To Weep” and the titular track “Not That Girl” prove Almalbis’ pen game is unparalleled. The former is a somber ballad, written straight from her heart: “Nobody knows I’m grieving alone; the way it comes, the way it goes.” The latter roars and howls, taking a more avant-garde approach to the worship songs she’s been acquainted with. “Tell them I’m not who I was before, I’m not that girl anymore!” Almalbis declares, calming the fierce storm inside her. Speaking of Almalbis and being unparalleled, she’s definitely one of the most influential women during Filipino alternative music’s peak in the 1990s and the 2000s. “Needy” and “Wickederrr Heart,” the album’s concluding tracks, greet you like an old friend you haven’t seen in a while. In this case, it’s her trademark sound that we all know and love. “Needy” is a bass-driven, drum machine-led proclamation, perfect for cruising along the road as you nod along to her lyrics filled with appreciation for loved ones in life. “Wickederrr Heart” is a bouncy, pop rock denouement of self-awareness, coated in the desire to change. “I can’t love you when I’m running; I know how it all turns out,” she admits to God, showing her true colors and encouraging you to do the same. Not That Girl is a testament to the fact that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Its experimentality emphasizes its overall message. Life has its very own heavy metal highs, and sincerity-ridden, folk-inspired revelations. The ringing in your ears can seem like a catastrophic cacophony–until you take charge, and create something daringly beautiful out of it. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Bambu – If You See Someone Stealing Food… No, You Didn’t.
Written by Anika Maculangan One hard-hitting line after the other, Bambu’s words as a rap artist travel oceans just to make it into our eardrums. Timely, relevant, and empowering, If You See Someone Stealing Food…No, You Didn’t is a new release from the LA-based rapper that feels like just what we need right now more than ever. In the album, DePistola tackles issues like workers’ rights, the genocide in Gaza, corruption, and police brutality. He approaches these themes in a way that is direct, precise, and straightforward. He doesn’t sugarcoat his delivery, yet prioritizes the impact that it has to offer. Despite this emphasis, the tracks in this album, notably Steal For A Meal and PI State of Mind II have an immense sense of flow and rhythm. The beats across the tracks are potent, well-measured, and powerful, which better amplify DePistola’s fervent utilizations of tempo and melody. Despite lyrics not being available yet online, upon writing this review, there wasn’t much of a hassle deciphering the words because Bambu articulates each and every one of his messages so legibly throughout this entire album — both in form and content. DePistola raps from the heart of the Filipino-American community, highlighting what it means to have pride in one’s identity, despite geographic barriers. DePistola strengthens his listeners, which at its core, includes the youth in order to encourage them to continue to fight for human rights and social justice later along in the future. Inspiring, thought-provoking, and insightful, the content of DePistola’s most recent album brings light onto societal truths, that urge to be addressed. This exactly is what DePistola provides — a voice for those who are silenced. Through the medium of an album, he makes these stances firmly conveyed, and ensures that it’s accessible to his audience. Accompanied by various tonalities, like for instance, air instruments, even the interludes mixed into the rest of the songs evoke a kind of tough heartiness. It’s clear that DePistola doesn’t leave any empty spaces in his compositions, most, if not all of them, whole with soul and spirit. You can easily tell that he is passionate about his craft, in connection to the things that he stands for. With support from rap movements like the FlipTop community alongside the San Francisco bay area scene, artists like Bambu keep the Filipino perspective alive within this realm. He’s a promise that even abroad, Filipinos can make a name for themselves — despite all the hurdles and challenges that come along their way. DePistola speaks for those who have worked their way up to success, making something out of the value that is found in their personal experiences. Listening to this album, it’s hard not to be so attentive to the lyrics — ultimately, it’s the greatest asset of the entire project. The musicality of the album is just what you would expect from Bambu; skilled and masterful. But what shines the most is the weight that the album carries. It’s a perfect reflection of today’s faced struggles. And no, it does not mourn them, but rather, looks for solutions. However, what Bambu first does is open a discussion about them. This album is if anything, a necessity in today’s day and age. Perhaps DePistola thought it to be essential. Many rappers, local and international, can learn from Bambu’s integration of social issues into his music. He demonstrates that rap music can be used as a tool for advocacy during times of collective hardship. Music like Bambu’s unites people to help and uplift one another. It makes us realize what can be done, and how. It asks questions like “Why is this happening?” and makes the sound we are hearing more than just mere music but rather, a call for action. For that, we thank DePistola. While some tracks felt slightly out-of-place, like Tommy’s Burgers and Crazy Eyes, the album as a complete project doesn’t miss any points. Although others might find some patterns in instrumentality repetitive, one could also presume them to be intentional. Yes, these stories do need to be vocalized over and over again, as they should be until it’s brought us to acknowledge the problems that plague the world with oppression. In this album, DePistol says behind his messaging, that he won’t stop until those being exploited are given justice and recognized for their right to equity. If You See Someone Stealing Food…No, You Didn’t takes what is already there, and introduces it to a broader audience through the universal language of music. Bar after bar, Bambu proves to us that a compact summarization of what is happening currently can be put into words within the measure of 1-3 minute songs. In no way does it reduce these dialogues, but turns up the volume, for them to be reinforced on a more heightened, revolutionary scale. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Yorko – where the sky meets the sea
Written by Faye Allego Yorko’s virtuosic talent for Hip Hop and R&B shines in “Where The Sky Meets The Sea” as he opens up without fear of getting introspective in his songs; songs that took four years to make it into the final cut and four years to mark his first entry under LIAB studios. The rollout of this album in terms of aesthetics was done in a way that genuinely highlights the ebb and flow of Yorko’s vulnerability: his journal entries published across his social media pages, the scenic imagery only paired with the color hues of the sky, and the impeccable album artwork and layout done by GRAVER, Zeon Gomez, @aleng_lukresya, jadetonicc, @_niel4tienz4, and @skm2_ct have all sculpted and mended Yorko’s visions into a short anthology of memories written from the depths of Cloud 9. In his sophomore album, Yorko, who also goes under the alias Blimp Shady, takes the listener down a rather silky road with his sleek rhymes and rhythms in “Descent” followed by “Nimbus” and “Surf” which encapsulate certain Cyber R&B beats you’d expect to hear in a Blade Runner 2049 action sequence or in a niche Vaporwave Lofi Rap mixtape. In Horizon, Yorko reflects on the imbalances and harmony of life: ‘there’s more to life above the clouds/ there’s more to death beneath the ground/ take a dive headfirst/take the pain, feel the hurt/ ‘til you feel nothing no more’ these antheses with philosophical undertones become profound as Yorko takes what feels like a modern day Parable-of-Job-like approach to his storytelling. Juxtapositions that seep through the philosophical themes of the album are also emulsified in the pre/post break-up banger that is m.i.a. featuring SHNTI. Production-wise, Kashira changes the game for the DIY rap scene. You can press play throughout any time frame of this album and won’t find yourself fidgeting with the volume buttons of your device. Various influences and sonic textures from the West Coast Rap scene can definitely be heard in Where The Sun Meets the Sky, making it a flavorful homage to the entire genre itself and it’s not taking from the original and replicating it haphazardly. However, though the originality shines through, there is an inkling of that replication hazard getting in the way when you get to tracks like Ducktales, which utilises synth waves and ad libs that don’t add on to that theme of introspection and aren’t exactly elusive to hear within this genre. Overall, this album is essentially a deep-dive into Yorko’s inner sea of confusion and takes the listener for a swim back to the shore, shining under the sun with all the glistening hopes that come out of surpassing hardship all with the dreamy atmosphere engineered into the beat. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Paper Satellites, BABYBLUE – Onodera
Written by Lex Celera Since their last project, Manila Meltdown in 2022, Paper Satellites has grown to a four-piece, with vocalist Jyle Macalintal, drummer Aaron Escueta, and bassist Paulo Carpio joined by Martin Cruz on the guitars and synths. Onodera, their newest release, continues their constant experimentation by taking a step further and recruiting another collaborator, producer BABYBLUE. Onodera is an impressive result of two collaborators putting their best foot forward and blending both the sounds that they have been known for to create something new and worthwhile. Listening to the album from beginning to finish is a tranquil experience that is not bereft of any exciting turns. “Onodera” is a mosaic of rhythmic pirouettes – a worthy prelude to what is to come in the rest of the EP. There is an addicting quality in how the song constructs itself with sound elements that swell and evaporate as it goes on. “Alipin” follows up with a polished dance-rock record that ends in undulating synths. Despite feeling like a mishmash of different styles, both parts are equally enjoyable. Released in February 2024, ahead of the rest of the EP, “Dapithapon” is an easy-listening record with a catchy tune that’s perfect for afternoon drives. “Dama” signals an emotional downturn without putting on the brakes, driven by lyrics that have enough oomph to be echoed into an anthem – a good swing that would make the EP’s closer, “Paggising,” all the more worthwhile. “Paggising” fully embraces the club-readiness of the whole EP with its synth-forward rhythms and floating vocals. In that regard, it reads like recent Up Dharma Down records. The likeness to electronic music is emboldened by how patient “Paggising” and the whole of Onodera in terms of building itself up into natural, enjoyable melodic arcs. The excitement never falters even when you can imagine the song ending sooner. Whether intended by its creators or not, I find myself thinking of the early 2010s in this record. There’s a little bit of Two Door Cinema Club, a little bit of Tycho’s Dive. You know how during those days you’d either listen to Skrillex or Boards Of Canada? Listeners of both will cling to this record like glue. It’s visceral but tranquil, and ultimately a well-bodied source of bops that won’t be out of place on either the dancefloor or a quiet headphone experience. Thankfully, the whole EP’s proximity to that era never reaches stomp-clap-hey status. For all of the EP’s achievements for the band – their first EP fully in Filipino and their first collaborative EP, – Onodera will be remembered for how it finds the sweet spot among both artists’ comfort zones, and how easy they make it feel. It shows that it pays off to be confident in exploring new sonic territories, despite the gestalt sadness in its lyrics. It would not be a surprise if Paper Satellites moved on to a different sound in the future, but should they choose to lean toward the direction of Onodera, I’d be the first to say that they would not be wearing out their welcome. Support the art & the artist: