Written by Elijah P. There are albums that collect singles, and compile every banger made by a band for the rest of their career. And there are albums that are built by the brains of musicians that are far better than their past material, way beyond that they are just artists inevitably shelved in online streaming platform playlists forever. Enter Blaster Silonga, the 23-year old composer of their own works that are as complex even if their solo career has spanned less than a decade. In “My Kosmik Island Disk”, the debut album of solo artist Blaster Silonga, there seems to be a hiding “clock”, ticking in the distance as every moment bursts in sonic technicolor. But whatever that imaginary metronome might be, there’s a lot to take in his debut album – that is, dissecting this album and its admirable elements. As the runtime justifies its lengthy tracks, Silonga and the company have built themselves a magical portal that will become known eventually in ‘OPM’ worldbuilding. Released in October 2022, this was a year-long pursuit for Blaster and the Celestial Klownz, studying every missing element that would shape their musicianship and their relationship as band-friends-partners. As Silonga puts it, the “lonely island” is brimming with mercenaries taking fellowship under the wing of the de facto captain. There’s a lot to take in for a solo artist releasing their debut album that’s nothing but influences worn on his sleeves, and honestly, there’s more to it than meets the eye. There are musical influences transformed into something more aesthetically consistent, and in return, the 9-track album came out of the ashes; newly inspired music based from the past, for the future. Tracks such as “NARARARAMDAMAN” and “DISKO FOREVER” are pop medleys jammed into one compact sheet note each: odd time signatures, guitar riffs on top of other riffs, sudden stops that call for an explosive instrumental outro, psychedelic hooks that are sung in either low and high timbre, and many to mention. “MAGUNAW NA ANG MUNDO” and “KOSMIK DREAM” are complimentary tracks that are meant to sit right next to each other; interludes like “ARMONYA” and “PRELUDE IN Eb MAJOR” are also standalone highlights that callback to Silonga’s knack for anything epic, both in a visual or sonic sense or in other words, “MY KOSMIK ISLAND DISK” is refined than it is flashy compared to the yore of their roots. Little tiny textures of synths are scattered like Easter eggs, flourishes of baroque-styled operatic synths and backing vocals are cued in moments that are in need to emphasize Silonga’s emotive expression (hear: “SA HULI ANG PAGSISISI” or “DISKO FOREVER”) and the results are less dizzying and more meticulously curated. “MY KOSMIK ISLAND DISK” is a treasure of cross-cultural influence assimilated in the lens of a solo artist whose ambitions are far greater than they were in the past. May it be inspired by the dusty crates of Cubao Expo vinyl or the neverending shilling of mid-2010s freak-pop, the album is a showcase of greatness, not a vulgar display of musical showboating. Blaster Silonga and the Celestial Klownz are building what remains and what holds for the music community at large. Support the art & the artist:
Tag: Album Review
ALBUM REVIEW: O.I. Research Partners – Speed Milk
Written by Elijah P. It is believed that Nueva Ecija-based art collective O.I Research Partners have found recordings of a different universe consisting of space cowboys, hieroglyphic spaghetti westerns, and literal drum machine worship. These findings are said to be secured somewhere in their facility, preserved to age like the best milk in town, kept sacred like genres that are made to be published by your nearest DIY label online. Label it as a psychedelic hyperdrive or a Filipino western dashing downwards a dune; “Speed Milk” is the complete package. O.I Research Partners is DIY written from top to bottom of every page in their playbook. Whether it is true or not, O.I Research Partners’ debut project “Speed Milk” have struck gold. There is marriage between fragmented recordings of Eva Yu’s cryptic narration of the world before her while Vik Laugo’s constant guitar switch ups and manipulated kraut-y influences. “Smell My Badge” has Ennio Morricone and Bad Lieutenant fragrance smothered over Laugo’s breath. Fuzzy freakout and folk passages explode all over the place in “Stage Warner”. “We Like Speed” and its rush of dirt vomiting out of the amplifiers is partially eerie and thrilling to hear in your speakers. Accompanying the music is also Eva and Vik’s exhibited visualization of their worldbuilding, an initiative that is to a certain degree impressive and intriguing: Horses stuck in the middle of a lava river while picture frames of a cow hang beside it, stonehenge prophecies on a drum head etc. The possibilities for the couple’s imagination could reach an entirely different universe at this point. O.I Research Partners have imagined a future wherein it is possible to live both sonically and visually. Musically, this is the future that we depend on even if it takes a fantasy research crew or a concept album made by mad scientists. Listening to music casually can be all fun and games until you find out there are badass cowboys living on drug-spiked milk. O.I Research Partners are the real deal. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: Spacedog Spacecat – Fuzz Sounds
Written by Nikolai Dineros Spacedog Spacecat’s debut ‘Fuzz Sounds’ is a celebration of one of rock music’s most unique and divisive effect sounds: the fuzz. Notorious for its rich, grainy and exuberant tone, the fuzz box has been a staple among musicians across the decades. It is everywhere: from the early years of rock to the inception of metal (and by extension, many doom metal bands going forward), the grunge era, and literally every Jack White song ever. Spacedog Spacecat’s assemblage of fuzz-filled tracks is fun, colorful, and upfront. Each song features not just one, but multiple layers of fuzz pedals across different instruments. On paper, this may be overbearing, but the band knows that the unique thing about the fuzz is that it does not rely heavily on mid controls, which makes it a versatile effect that works on the foreground as much as it would in the background. The opening track itself, ‘Beach, etc.’, puts you right into the action with a gnarly intro riff that is elevated by synths and more layers of guitars that are drowning in the same distortion but to varying degrees – and with a bit of reverb to shake things up a bit. ‘My Midori’ and ‘Jay Muscis’ are two of the more palatable songs from ‘Fuzz Sounds’. The former stands out for its sweet melodies and its ever-present aggression, striking a nice balance between the two, thereby creating something reminiscent of twee pop, while the latter borders between power pop and shoegaze with its dense production and energetic instrumentals that are endearing to hear, nonetheless. In ‘Chronic Non-Surfers’, the band asks, “what else does go well with an ensemble of already thick and saturated guitars?” To which they answer, “Violins!” If anything, Spacedog Spacecat knows that paying homage to the fuzz pedal should not be hard. For all we know, they might just be having the time of their lives on this album. Because whatever they come up with, that Big Muff pedal is still going to electrify the entire crowd. The rest is up to one’s creativity, which is easier said than done. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: Ruru – Glorious Miscellanea
Written by Louis Pelingen It has been two years since Ruru put out her 3rd EP, ‘The Odds,’ a short project that finds her inching toward jazzier blends in her melodies while retaining her lo-fi bedroom pop sensibilities and distant, fractured musings on the relationships that she describes in her writing. More so, it felt like her debut album was on the wings of being done, only possibly hampered by the pandemic interjecting every musician’s plans to release their records, delaying their supposed release dates for the next two years. And it was the case for Ruru herself, spending most of her 2020 and 2021 trying to finish her debut record that’s hanging by, which only increases the curiosity of what strands of sound and themes she will branch out next. Because as much as her brand of fuzzy bedroom pop combined with themes surrounding relationships and the personal reflection that comes with it is appreciative, it can start to feel a little stale once this palette has been repeated. And for Ruru’s debut record, she sure has switched that palette in a significant way. If ‘The Odds’ is the teaser for something new in Ruru’s growth, then ‘Glorious Miscallanea’ is embracing that growth. Said growth is shown in all aspects of this record. The instrumentation has been expanded further, bringing in more touches from the violins and woodwinds to help complement the organic texture of the guitars, drums, and synths. The polished production helps out the instrumentation and vocals give that needed fuzzy warmth that has been in Ruru’s pocket in her past EPs. The melodies and tunes have gotten more glee and energy to them now that Ruru has embraced more jazz and funk tunes in her sound, oddly reminiscent of acts like Dijon, Remi Wolf, and Japanese Breakfast. Ruru’s vocals have gotten more presence, allowing her softer vocal timbre to glide through the airy compositions pretty well. And the lyricism does step up as well, and while it still touches upon familiar melancholy, that melancholy is more internal this time. Focusing more on personal struggles throughout the scattershot moments in life and the numbness, disconnect, and frustrations that come with it. While it may not compose an arc that comes through, it does fit the meaning of the album title, where the collection of these small and mundane miscellaneous moments in life creates an emotional tension that takes time to process and reflect upon. Due to these improvements, the songs have so much spirit to them that it makes you want to return to their sweetness even more. ‘Chewing Gum’ with its jaunty grooves and woodwinds, ‘Strange World’ with its starry-eyed watery synths, ‘WYWD’ with its blissful tone from the reverbed guitars, glittery synths, and especially from Ruru’s hypnotic use of her falsetto, ‘Eyes of a Blue Dog’ with its soothing tune from the horns and the watery guitars, ‘It Matters Until It Doesn’t’ with these jaunty funk and jazz melodies from the woodwinds, guitars, and drums, ‘Jigsaw’ with the glitchier melodies from the percussion and sound effects that climaxes to Ruru’s mystical vocal harmonies at the end, ‘Serious’ with its summery and blurry cascades of guitars, and ‘Non-satisfaction’ wonderfully closing off the record with a lot of sweeping synths, guitar passages, and vocal overdubs. Even with the thin texture of the strings and some of the synths that can be distracting in some songs, and the fact that the momentum can slip away from the back half, those issues are still compensated with just how fleshed out these tunes are. While songs like ‘Moonbeam’ and ‘Snoozers’ don’t stand out as much as the rest of the songs, there are moments that still make them decent songs in their own right, with ‘Moonbeam’ coasting through those moody strings and ‘Snoozers’ using its brief runtime to showcase the wavy synths that are used majestically. Ruru’s debut album manifests a different splash of textures and colors in her already vivid world. Polished production that brings out the clarity of the vocals and instruments, Jazzy and Funky compositions along with additional instrumentation that provides sweetness and warmth to the melodies and performances, and songwriting that explores the scattershot moments in life and the whirlwind of emotions that comes with it. It’s a project that picks up pieces of memories and makes a collage out of them, a collage that is majestically put together. It’s a glorious miscellanea indeed, and it may hint at what else Ruru will create from these pieces in the future. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Aviators – Analogies of Love
Written by Elijah P. Wearing a pair of aviators at your local shade shop is a very Liam Gallagher thing to do, especially for Britpop tribute band Aviators – consisting of members John and Arvy. Their attempts at Alex Turner-isms aren’t taking off the tarmac like their other British colony favorites in their debut record “Analogies of Love”, released under Tarsier Records. For the remainder of 2022, they’ve been busy releasing half-enigmatic imagery of their upcoming record. That is to say, Aviators have kept themselves in the confines of an edgy image yet a prim and proper getup of gentlemen rocking the night out at some speakeasy bar somewhere near Legazpi Village. For a band that’s well-worn like their contemporaries, you’d expect a suave, technical performance licking all over this record. But nope. This is the complete opposite of expectations exceeding, or even, succeeding at the very least. It’s 11 songs that span like a purgatory of rehashed ideas of the 90s or what the Arctic Monkeys call a “conduct a sing-along” to the past. “Analogies of Love” is Pulp without the anthemic pulse, Oasis without the stadium rock. Aviators are painfully formulaic, like Franz Ferdinand. Throughout the entire tracklist, there’s no life in their drum machines; If there’s any clear indication as to where this album is going, it’s the lingering, almost suffering vocal performance of John Roxas. “Analogies of Love” is riddled with one-noted performances: guitar solos aren’t as prominent, backup vocalists barely did their job to highlight the choruses, and the drum machine barely has a character of its own. If there’s anything that’s slightly positive or gives any merit to, “Okay (Means Everything” is smack in the middle but somehow showed a sign of life in the album that’s been playing dead for almost half of the time. The tacky drum machine patterns and guitar strums elevate the performance slightly. But other than that, every single track decided to become filler and homages for the rest of its 36-minute runtime. Aviators’ “Analogies of Love” is an album that’s barely shown its potential, rather it’s a supplement of something that was done to look like it was made in the past and resulted in something to look past its forgettable elements. LINK:
ALBUM REVIEW: Cowboy Country Club – Signs You’re Getting Older
Written by Louis Pelingen Country music is the genre that has received some weird looks from a lot of people due to its traditionalist thematics and usual country twang that may put the listeners into a narrow perspective of the sound unless they dig into the scene itself. It can intersect itself with different genres such as folk, hip-hop, and rock which can expand the style of this genre effectively. And while a lot of the themes relate to an older audience, they can still resonate with the younger audience provided that the tunes, instrumentation, and songwriting can elevate themselves to grab them. The fact that some of the country artists today represent the People of Color and the Queer community that is creating outstanding country records that tell their own stories shows that the genre is evolving with time. In the Philippines, It’s a genre that you may not hear that often in the bustling cities but you can hear more of them once you’re in the provinces, specifically in the mountainsides. The genre does overlap with the Philippine folk scene where the themes of traditional values as well as methodical melodic compositions slip through from time to time. There is one band that does try to explore the genre in interesting ways, and that band is Cowboy Country Club. As the name suggests, they’re essentially a 3-man band that dabbles in folk and alt-country. Their debut record in 2017 showcased an interesting balancing point, where the front half dabbles in animal collective-esque folk landscapes filled with sharp synths, eccentric vocal takes, and guitar textures that ramble and spike across the songs, wherein the rest focuses closer on rollicking country melodies that still keeps the eccentric synth choices. It’s a debut album that has interesting compositional and production choices which do lead to some conflicting issues, where the vocals bring volume but not enough charisma, the synth work that can get garishly annoying quickly, and the sudden split between freak folk and alt-country tracks implies whether or not the band wants to indulge in its freak folk compositions or the alt-country compositions. 5 years after that record, Cowboy Country Club has answered that lingering question with their newest album, ‘Signs You’re Getting Older’. As the title suggests, it’s a record that shows the band maturing not just as musicians, but also as explorers in the country genre that they’re prominently showcasing in this album. This sign can be seen in the presentation of the sound of the record, where the synths and eccentric vocal plays of their debut are pushed away and give way to the intimate and stomping country styles that the band is riding on. While not expansive and risky in sound as their debut, it’s more consistent and more polished. There are issues that are both new and old, the vocals can still have their overpowering moments that focus more on volume rather than tone, some synth textures used still do not fit with the rest of the instrumentation, and there are instances where melodies could’ve used more punch and wonderful transitions, especially in some of the guitars and drums. Issues mentioned beforehand do show up on a couple of songs, but it’s pretty present on ‘Chances Go By’ where the overpowering vocals and unfitting synths that are both sharp and farty just make the song pretty difficult to get through. For a record that focuses on the trek of getting older and the aspirations of trudging forward amidst all odds, the band manages to stick the landing, giving a wonderful array of tracks that touch upon different country sub-genres while also improving on their vocals, melodies, and production work. ‘I Am The Only One’ showcases the country twang and rock smolder playing in different worlds that coalesce in an explosive finish, ‘Dyson Sphere’ goes into Honky-Tonk with the shuffling grooves, ‘Immaculate’ takes off with an upbeat tone from the vocals and the glimmering tone of the guitars, ‘King Sheep’ goes for a Nashville Sound style where the acoustic guitar twang and shuffling bass and drums are complemented nicely with the sweeping strings, ‘Lie Awake’ with its rumbling guitar melodies amidst an understated tone of the vocals, and ‘Squirrel On The Line’ that goes into Neotraditional Country may as well be their best song to date with the spare piano, pleasant guitar strums, and the additional strings and synths help out complement one of the best choruses they’ve put together in a while. Songs like ‘Truckin’ and ‘The Devil Will Always Be Watching’ are decent enough songs due to the country-rock smolder on the former and the impactful hook on the latter, but they don’t stand along the rest of the tracks besides those qualities. While this record does not exactly showcase any creative risks in the country scene that they are pulling from, the maturity, consistency, and improvement from their debut record to this record are enough to acknowledge the journey and the growth that comes from it. There might be disappointment towards the band for not going deeper into the freak-folk eccentrics, but there’s also an audience for leaning into country music that tends a bit more intimate and a little bit older. I suggest giving this a shot, for there might be songs that may resonate with you. And if it does, it may show the signs of growth you’ve had over the years, and it will make you go back to these songs for the rest of your lives. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: TNG – GAD
Written by Elijah P. TNG is a six-piece post-hardcore-slash-screamo outfit that doesn’t mince words, not for their track titles at the very least. They are the Bulacan locals ready to bring you into their communal experience – a phrase that’s always been highlighted via their socials ever since the inception of their formation. Composed of members from seasoned math-rock and easycore bands from their neighboring towns, TNG released “GAD”, their highly anticipated debut ever since they’ve teased the recordings in live shows. The experience is what sells the band properly. If it weren’t for their live appearances, then TNG would be just another screamo band circulating in the ether, lost in translation. “GAD” acts not only as mere evidence of their live shows but also as permanent imprints of what they could leave in the scene alone. As a six-piece, they’ve been known to cross paths in many music communities in just a span of one casual gig weekend after the other, this album is a 10-track course meal of what they could offer week in and week out. If their live shows wouldn’t convince you enough, then “GAD” acts as proper anticipation for the celebration: build-ups that don’t pull their punches, crescendos that don’t bore, and poetry that keeps you on the edge of your seat while in uncontrollable tears. Tracks like “now (end)”, “eve”, “orb” and “oui” experiment with emotional threshold; Their lead vocalist Alden trading vocal barbs with the rhythm guitarist and lead guitarists intense progression, may it be a quiet preface to an explosive climax or a haunting radio transmission by the outro. Wherever you look at it “GAD” knows when to stop, listen and observe everything that surrounds them sonically. With every minute that passes by their debut record, a memorable guitar bursts through a flammable moment of catharsis: “cty” short for “close to you” is a callback to the classic Carpenters track and their eventual recontextualization of the iconic intro riff; “fee” without any hesitation starts and stops the aggression, ends with a hopeful note for a lover waiting to see the sun shine again, only to realize that they are the beacon of hope they were looking for. The overlooked theme of optimism not only slightly manifests in TNG’s ethos but also in the band’s entire definition of their following moving forward. Seeing “GAD” in its most raw, authentic, and complete form, is a celebration that deserves a warm embrace after listening to the entire album from start to finish. The end product of this album is nothing short of an experience wrapped with so much weight and assurance all at once. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: ena mori – DON’T BLAME THE WILD ONE!
Written by Elijah P. “There’s a fire in my kitchen” Ena opens the album with arms as wide as an eagle spreading across the pop concrete. Then all of a sudden, the album now opens a portal. To what seems to be an unintentional anachronism, Offshore Music‘s Ena Mori isn’t a fool to trick us into such sonic nostalgia. Saying that this release is a statement has already run its course in many other publications. “There’s a fire in my kitchen” Ena sings wickedly for less than a minute. It says more than just a “statement”, but rather, what comes next is an experience succeeding many pop records’ longevity. It’s a sure shot from the get-go. “Don’t Blame The Wild One!” is an album that succeeds sonic barriers never before bent in any album ever locally from both an emotional and production standpoint. It asserts pop dominance. Ever since releasing her debut EP at the start of the lockdown, her debut album this time around is expansive, more fruitful, and less banal. By the time this writing is published, the debut project has already gone outside of streaming platforms, acting as a nomad in territories where it was never before tapped by Ena’s refreshing brand of pop music. Performing the songs live all over the Luzon region, the last leg of her album tour stops right at her hometown of Las Pinas. This alone proves that Ena’s not playing around. Not for the rest of “Don’t Blame The Wild One!” 10 tracks at the very least. As the pop-sphere is still in this state of stasis post-Sarah G’s Tala, the well ran dry, and the arrival of Ena Mori’s debut “DON’T BLAME THE WILD ONE!” is an impactful listen from start to finish. But like her album tour, there’s a lot of territory waiting to be uncovered in each listen. Highlights like “TALK! TALK!”, “OH, BLEEDING HEARTS?” and “A HIGHER PLACE!” begs the question that pop structures are supposed to be limitless. With the assistance of her producer Tim Marquez – his production works like a surgical music technician, making sure that there is indeed no musical template to abide by. Symphonic soars and flutters — rhythmically in motion — corresponding to every hook. Ena responds by shouting, yelling, harmonizing and screaming at the top of her lungs to achieve such lengths; Vocal gallops over crushed mallets of kick drums and time reversed-ocean-wave synths; Lyrical phrases calculated over every left turn in the production. What the listener would pick up from all of these spots is that Ena Mori is a jack of all trades. A pop star whose moments are savored by devils in the detail – the devil being a random plugin avoiding a pop cliche. Recently released singles like “RUNAWAY HOLIDAY!” and “SOS” have monumental hooks and driving melodies — the usual boxes that are already ticked, only to be boosted by Ena and company’s envelope-pushing production. But as the highlights glossed over in the debut album, there were moments where the second half of the album starts to slightly go downhill. Lowlights like “WHITEROOM” and the reimagining of “FALL IN LOVE” are tracks that meander after the fantastic 4-5 track run midway in the album. Arguably, these might be track arrangement issues, but by the end of the day, these are tracks that could’ve been emphasized as pop bangers rather than straight-up non-single filler. The last half of “A HIGHER PLACE” ends abruptly, heading straight into “SOS” with no prelude or any build-up whatsoever. If the result was truly intentional, then some listeners would beg to differ since it had the most invested Ena has ever been in terms of vocals. Regardless of whatever intent and purpose this album delivered, it has heart, if not value to Ena’s moment of solidifying her identity as an artist. The debut project has a lot of sonic territory covered, layer after layer, production texture overlapping the other. It achieved something great, but there needs to be more than what was already out. Like any other listener’s natural curiosity: will there ever be more to hear? more to hear besides what was already done? The answer to that query is simple: Don’t blame the wild ones for pushing what’s new. Ena’s only burned the kitchen, she has the rest of her house left to bring it all down. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Basalt Shrine – From Fiery Tongues
Written by Nikolai Dineros With towering layers of distorted guitars, a consuming diabolic ambiance, and the seething, almost theatrical, vocals – Basalt Shrine paints a gloomy backdrop of the occult through a mix of funeral doom, sludge metal, and many more. Basalt Shrine is a five-person supergroup consisting of members from Dagtum, The Insektlife Cycle, Surrogate Prey, Abanglupa, Malicious Birth, Imperial Airwaves, and Kahugyaw – some of which have their own share of crossovers among members, like the Vivo Brothers Ronaldo and Ronnel, who are widely known for their joint works on Dagtum, The Insektlife Cycle, Imperial Airwaves, and most recently, Abanglupa. With them are Bobby Legaspi and Rallye Ryan Ibanez, who have shared the studio as members of Surrogate Prey. ‘From Fiery Tongues’ marks Basalt Shrine’s debut album release. The album, in a way, highlights many of doom metal’s rudimentary concepts all the while crossing boundaries through well-paced progressions and abrupt switch-ups. The transition from the opening track ‘Thawed Slag Blood’, a dark ambient tone-setter to the record, to ‘In The Dirt’s Embrace’, a stoner-ish black metal and drone fusion, is a prime example of the former. There is nothing particularly new to this structure in metal-based projects across the board that it has almost become customary for just about any band nowadays to feature a slow-burning opener. It is also worth noting that ‘In The Dirt’s Embrace’, while it is diverse in style with elements of stoner, drone, and black metal simultaneously thrown into the mix, the song is more of a 12-minute odyssey compartmentalized into two different chapters, each with their own cohesive song structure enough to make for a separate track, than a long-winded melting pot of the same two or three doom riffs that loop ad nauseam. The transition is abrupt, but it gels nicely, somehow. ‘Adorned For Loathing Pigs’ shares many similarities with ‘In The Dirt’s Embrace’ and the title track that comes after it. But unlike the other two songs, it has a more cohesive structure akin to a progressive metal song with a continuous flow. The title track, ‘From Fiery Tongues’, on the other hand, is more traditional in design with an infectious riff so well put together that it will linger on the right side of your brain hours post-listen. It easily has the catchiest – and therefore most memorable – riff in the entire record. And because of that, ‘From Fiery Tongues’ is a personal favorite of mine – quite the ingenious decision by the band to name the entire project after this song, actually. And while I do not recommend listening to an album by bits, ‘From Fiery Tongues’ is what I would consider a good starter to any newcomers to the heavier sides of metal, whether it be doom, sludge, or black metal. In contrast, the closing track ‘The Barren Aftermath’ is just that; a barren aftermath. In my defense, after three hard-hitting, bloodcurdling songs, it’s hard to top what the band has already showcased three songs prior, as far as my expectations go. The album closes out in a calm and collective manner and it seems like the proper way to go. A lukewarm reception seems expected. Who knows what coaxed the Vivo brothers, Legaspi, and Ibanez to start a new band to add to their already expansive backgrounds of projects they’ve started or worked alongside with? For all we – the spectators, the regular consumers of their media – know, they might have just decided it on a whim, perhaps over a bottle of beer. But Basalt Shrine is certainly one band to look out for. What a kickoff that was to one of the Philippines’ most ambitious crossovers in the underground metal scene in 2022! Support the art & the artist: https://basaltshrine.bandcamp.com/album/from-fiery-tongues-2?from=embed
ALBUM REVIEW: Orange & Lemons – La Bulaquena
Written by Elijah P. 15 years is barely one-fifth of a century; trends and events have passed, figures have become monuments, culture has turned itself to the past and we’re here struggling to become a blender of something that happened 30 years ago. The veil of “OPM” is showing itself to become a rehash of what has been and what was. Indie pop, or pop music in general, has slowly become stale. Alternative music has become the starter pack of many younger listeners. The internet has inevitably redirected our view of alternative music forever. However, for seminal Bulacan indie-pop troupe Orange & Lemons, you’d expect them to dish out something different, all the while picking up where their influences have left off in their latest album titled “La Bulaquena”, their first album in forever. The 10-track album is no way of showing merely tributes to legends and name-checking every little detail behind the scenes. It doesn’t pull off any excuses, Orange & Lemons simply show and not tell. The new album – although vying to become a balance of traditional instrumentation and modern flick of anglophile-inspired indie-pop – has no shortage of melodies through and through, but at what cost? The answer: this is Clem and company’s attempt at reinventing the genre rather than paying true homage to it. All of the tracks circle back to the meaning of what it was like to become scholarly of what is viewed to be archaic in terms of technique and sonics. But that isn’t the lone goal according to the band. O&L loyalists may be surprised by the first couple of tracks. Like this isn’t any “Hannggang Kailan” or another “A Beginning of Something Wonderful”; it’s donned differently with less buttoned-polos and posters of your favorite slick-back C86 vocalist. “La Bulaquena” is treated with amplification of its traditions, wherein examinations of rondallas and kundiman as a whole are done like a pop quiz. The album is expected to behave like a gentleman in barong outfits, but rather Castro, the Del Mundos, and Neroda act as if this is what they have and they do it on their own terms respectively. The album clearly doesn’t imprison itself in its resources, especially with the title track, “Ikaw Ang Aking Tahanan” and “Yakapin Natin Ang Gabi”. There are tracks that exceed everyone’s expectations: headbanging to bandurrias couldn’t be any more exhilarating and refreshing. Although there are tracks that stand out positively, there are others that are entertained as fillers, covers that are fit for a venue of seekers of kundiman, and actual placeholders in a museum. The album, from front to back, face value to its lyrical depths, is conserved as one that wouldn’t come out as rather more innovative or bold; It’s an Orange & Lemons album without their classic setup and yet the entire project keeps within bounds of their familiar sound, even after their 15-year absence of releasing newer material. It is music that wouldn’t come across as material that would pave any of its contemporaries forward, but rather it crystallizes the thought of traditional music not exceeding its expected use. “La Bulaquena” has no tricks or rather little progressive ideas that are enough to gauge another project that would push the kundiman sound to another level in the future. The project needs a little bit of push in sonics: a little more outsider material and fewer instruments that are kept dusted on the inside. Orange & Lemons have accepted that challenge and the result came out well, but remembering it as a body of work barely makes sense in this wide collection of music released this year. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: