Written by Anika Maculangan Ligaya Escueta’s latest album entitled Dollweb is a means to commemorate the occasion of turning 18 — a pivotal moment in one’s life, with lots of changes to come. Not to be fooled by her gothic aesthetic, the album comes to one’s knowledge in the vein of ‘coming-of-age’, as one follows through her journey of self-discovery and reflection. Escueta’s music career launched as early into her life as she was 13, being mentored by some of Manila’s household names such as Acel Bisa-Van Ommen and Mikey Amistoso, who have helped her flourish over the years as a musician. From her first single The End to now, a full album, one can clearly acknowledge how much her sound has evolved. In Dollweb we notice vocals to be more concise and polished, demonstrating how much more care was taken in mixing and production. It’s also to be noted that Escueta’s instrumentals have become more complex and multi-layered, contrary to her earlier songs, which were more humble and simplistic. Her rise and growth as an artist is comparable to other musicians like beabadoobee, who started as a young creative making music out of her bedroom, to playing for larger audiences. It’s a sense of progress that’s inspirational at best, since it allows for listeners to follow them through their success as an artist. By listening to Dollweb, it’s still detectable that Escueta is just like every teenager who garners some influence from bands like Weezer and Blur — although, that’s what makes the album all the more genuine and authentic. Dollweb doesn’t try to go beyond itself, it sticks to where it came from. Just by Dollweb in itself, we can envision what Escueta’s bedroom looks like — band posters splattered across every wall, a tower of effect pedals in one corner, and a diary of collages, journal entries, and lyrics laying by a desk. Escueta doesn’t feel like a ‘distant’ artist, introducing that sense of truthfulness in almost every song she conceptualizes. All of the emotions and thoughts which she expresses in her tracks stand out the most for their validity — as they convey in such accuracy, the confusion and messiness that is to be met upon entering youth. While more synchronicity could be tended to in the future, these small flaws are what makes the album true to where she is in life right now. We mustn’t forget that at the end of the day, she is just 18, as we all once were, and nobody is ever perfect at that age. If anything, the slight malfunctions, mostly in musicality such as late tempos and missed beats are what furthers Escueta to being an honest artist. Someone much younger than her could be streaming her music, and realizing that there is no inherent requirement to immediately be immaculate. She also informs her audience that it’s never too early to start. While it’s hard to be taken seriously as a young musician most of the time, she proves otherwise. One of her tracks Laughing in Milk had managed to be released under Tenzi Records, and by that time, the local scene had already gained familiarity with her music. Dollweb is her most cohesive project, exemplifying just precisely how she wishes to develop her music moving forward. At the moment, her sound is reminiscent of other dollcore-adjacent artists like Lalleshwari (Katie Jane Garside) and Solya, however for all we know, this could shift at any given moment. We can see that there’s a lot more definite room for exploration, as Escueta still has the freedom to better solidify her sound. For now, she has Dollweb to concretize her presence in the music scene. She’s one of many, who represents the younger generation of the local community, and it’s always exciting to have that glimmer of hope — that there are up and coming musicians who the torch can be passed onto. What Dollweb provides is a promising future — that edgy undertones within the indie rock scene will persist. Dollweb is an album that speaks the veracities of adolescence, from the most anguish-ridden to the most delightful. It brings all of these mixed elements into one collection of songs and brings the listener back to those days — when everything seemed so mundane yet complicated. The album justifies these encounters and experiences, making it all the more vital for younger listeners, who need something to connect with — amongst the vast pool of musicians, who cater more toward older generations. Support the art and the artist:
Tag: Anika Maculangan
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: LUSTBASS – inner space
Written by Anika Maculangan Having been in the game for a while, LUSTBASS delivers new intonations of soulful jazz and R&B modulations into the sphere of what is contemporary in style. A proclamation of lush beats, innerspace is the conglomeration of fruitful collaborations amongst the artist himself with other seminal artists like Jess Connelly, Jason Dhakal, Fern., Cavill, RJ Pineda, Waiian, Akio Rene, Nicole Anjela, and ((( O ))). Just when summer has ended, it makes us anticipate the next one even more, with this relaxed, beachy, and casual expression of sound. Effortless, wavy, and adjacent to chillwave, LUSTBASS explores the multitude of areas that the downward tempo scale of pop can encapsulate, if done right. With its easy-going, almost nonchalant ambiance, innerspace is a composed way of merging the stoical with the serene, in a more or less, leisurely mellowness. Known for his keen, cutting-edge approach to the assembly of rhythm, LUSTBASS best demonstrates this skill in this motley of modish, sophisticated indication of experience and background of joint teamwork with other fellow artists. Some tracks are more atmospheric than others like Yeyuhh, the album is transcendental in the sense that it touches every ounce of one’s attention to notation. Motioning from one switch to the next, the songs in this collection flow with immeasurable poise and flair. Not often are producers given the full stage in most cases of how we laud them in the Philippine context, but in the case of LUSTBASS, this awareness of the man behind is well apparent. In LUSTBASS’ signature polishness, it’s swift for one to recognize LUSTBASS’ appeal to reverberation from a mile away. In addition, the vocalists he collaborates with in this album, bring out even more, the smoothness of his instrumentals. Having previously collaborated with some of these artists LUSTBASS displays his propensity to apply his personal touch in all of his projects — a sharp, crisp, melodious harmony of percussion and refined grandeur. This album comprises tracks that anyone could bring with them to a vacation, and not regret it, because it’s a concise dash of opulence that is not too pronounced but just the right amount to make the sky appear broader. Brightly colored, like fresh tangerine or sand along the coastline, LUSTBASS has a certain character to his musicality, that is funky, fun, and vibrant. It instantly brings us to our feet and makes us want to start the day with an uplifting temperament. If only we could make LUSTBASS’ interspace our alarm sound to waking up every morning — so that we’d be more energized to jump back into productivity. Support the art & artist:
EP REVIEW: sci fye – who knows?
Written by Anika Maculangan For those of us who grew up in Manila — a love/hate relationship often prospers. We carry so much frustration toward the city, yet also a fondness for it. With experiences like staying past curfew, hopping on the LRT right when it’s about to be full capacity, and sipping a cold San Mig along Manila Bay, we’re mostly indecisive on what to think of it. So what comes out of our subdued thoughts when we hear a song like i hate manila from sci fye’s latest EP entitled who knows? I don’t know, who knows, at this point? Maybe that’s the solid aimlessness it tries to convey. Like a pseudo-Cobain with more of a local undertone, sci fye highlights a grimy, snappish texture. Like washed-out graffiti beneath the underpass. Or scraps of crumpled receipts and candy wrappers along the tunnel. Think baggy jeans that reach the concrete, and skateboards with loose pivots. Densely immersed in distortion and fuzz, tracks like deadbeat generation extend a darker impression of rock. Although a debut, sci fye moves itself with its own surprising capacity for good mixing and stable production — something a lot of debuts are usually still shaky with upon their onset. However, the duality that is provoked within the songs’ reverb-studded guitars and brash, shrill drums is something that can be titled as imposing, for its harsh yet punkish accents. More soppy tracks like hanggang sa walang hanggan yearn to wake up just in time to see the sunrise trickle through the seams of transmission towers and billboards. What is another thing to observe in sci fye’s debut is the different personalities that each track seems to embody, distinct from one another. Although there is still symmetry somewhere along those varieties, since they still all fall within the same relish for dissonance. Songs like whiteflower and magulang profusely releases its greatest bouts of dread and foreboding malaise toward the city’s chaos. Perhaps it communicates the desire to escape its madness. Repeating the lyrical lines “Ako’y nahihilo sa ikot ng mundo”, what we can discern is the want for a pause, a break, or a ceasing halt to all the babel. Maybe sci fye is called that for a reason, because it suggests so many dystopian themes, perhaps through the language of lengthy bridges and Brutalist condominiums. Like putting on your tangled earphones one sweaty afternoon, who knows proffers the emotive features of parking next to NAIA, to watch airplanes either land or leap off the ground. Every track is a tribute to grunge in one way or another, placing emphasis on garage-metal basslines and riffs. Sci fye instigates a static-doused tonality, one that matches Manila’s musical palette for enkindled overdrive. Gritty and loud, like the engine of a retro Corolla about to ride down Aurora Boulevard, they amp compression over to its appendages, for waveforms that defy frequency. What they ultimately bring to the table is the age of a post-Pearl Jam, or even Soundgarden noise range, making a name for its own Manila equivalent, in light of pondering over journal entries in pieces of yellow lined parchment paper. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: Austri – the place where birds meet
Written by Anika Maculangan The place where birds meet, Austri’s first official EP release, takes one on a roadtrip across SLEX, through every province, with no destination in mind. It’s the stops at gas stations, piling up in the 7-eleven, and camping out at the back of the car, that tracks like “Circling” reminds us of. Purely acoustic, with the undertone of ambient tonalities, this is Austri’s initial venture into making music of his own. Once just making covers of Elliot Smith’s “Between the Bars” and The Microphones’ “My Roots are Strong and Deep”, it seems so that Austri has taken it upon himself to try his hand at finding his own original sound. His discovered sound, as demonstrated in this EP, is melodically tame, exemplifying a tender and gentle temperament. Perhaps still a bit demure and modest, from being the introduction to hopefully, many more music to come. Austri’s vocals, crisp and mellow, are able to counteract the deep essence of the lyricism. “Learn to live but first learn to die” he sings in “Thousand Winds,” which evoke the rest of the EP’s blithe and carefree nature. Austri takes risks in this EP, especially when it comes to the honesty he brings forth in his music. In the build-ups that progress to grander compositions, Austri links his folkish tendencies to more of an indie pop disposition. In this harmony of warm cadence and soft inflections of resonance, there is reference to the migration of birds — how they never stick to the same place, and are constantly moving from one place to another. In a similar sense, we too, humans, have this penchant for change. As time goes by, we find ourselves at different places, depending on where the wind takes us. In this EP, this is what Austri seeks to make us realize. It’s the wooden plaque or wall decal you’ll see somewhere, trying to pull you into being motivated and inspired again. Something that says life is a journey or whatnot, that feels cheesy at the moment, but holds its own true merits. Who knows, maybe in that moment, you actually did need the reminder, and you were only too stubborn to see it for its genuine validity. This project feels personal and intimate, and for Austri to confide in his listeners, feels like a special privilege of sorts, as we hold the key to this secret garden. It’s a kindred level of frankness we can also garner from other artists such as the likes of Adrienne Lenker and Phoebe Bridgers.The place where birds meet is an insightful look into what it might look like from above, from a bird’s eye view. It brings into perspective how things may appear on a larger scale, when looking at the bigger picture. For someone making their debut, this is the exact enthusiasm they may need to keep that ambition going. In Austri’s case, the sound of trees rustling and birds chirping somewhere in a wheat field is what incites his creative engines to turn. Though a subtly calm setting, this environment is what brings out these profound introspections from Austri’s end, unleashing a candid and sincere collection of songs. What The place where birds meet brings to the table is simple and light accents of sound which we need more of these days, most especially during these typhoon-ridden times. It’s home, it’s refuge, it’s a passage away from the noise. Support the art & the artist: