Written by Louis Pelingen The story within Sad Songs and Bullshit hasn’t ended just yet. When Juan Karlos released the first part of Sad Songs and Bullshit, it showcased a soaring high in terms of streaming metrics when “ERE” broke through the local Spotify charts, proving that he can still make songs that can still slide into everybody’s playlist and listening routine where they can sing along to that ridiculously effective hook, but the music and narrative just does not follow through in the same way. There are a few quality standouts where the potential can be pieced together such as “Paruparo” and “Gabi,” but the oversold performances paired with the non-descript sound and the broad post-breakup narrative where Juan Karlos starts getting way self-pitiful just creates a sour touch that makes the album quite messy to go through. So to follow through the first part, Juan Karlos managed to put the second part of Sad Songs and Bullshit, finally completing the overall picture of this arc. If Sad Songs and Bullshit Part 1 relied upon its bombast to carry through Juan Karlo’s attitude with this breakup, Sad Songs and Bullshit Part 2 saddles its sound within a generally low-key and intimate foundation, eventually creating a followthrough where the sadness takes place after the bitter emotions of part 1. However, just like the first part, the overall array of these songs doesn’t have enough interesting flair to provide. Still carrying the tepid display of acoustic folk-pop that just got way overdone to the ground, specifically with cuts like “Limang Taon” where the inclusion of that zapping synth that doesn’t add to the ending, “Bukas” with its middling shuffling tune, and “Tanga Mo Juan” ending up coasting along even if the presence of backing vocals does add more to its melody. While there are still some variances within this sound alongside Juan Karlos’ adopting a restrained vocal performance that does make some decent enough flair to these songs – the prettier spare flourish of “Kasing Kasing” where the solid grooves and vocal harmonies from Juan Karlos and Kyle Echarri carry some charm, “Tulog Na” where Juan Karlos carries the 2000s pop rock tune really well as the guitars and drums provide some warm texture, “Baka Sakali” with its inclusion of solemn horns is a welcome addition to that song, as well as parts of “Medyo Ako” with its blurry textures and “Bagong Simula” with its bare guitar melody that could’ve worked better if the low end is mixed a bit better – the sound palette just carries a consistently dull note that doesn’t do much with the composition and instrumentation, pushing them back into the background more than ever. And if the sense of sound and instrumentation doesn’t do much for the most part, the narrative certainly doesn’t either. This album continues where it left off in the 1st part, still shouldering the lingering feeling of the overall breakup and where Juan Karlos slowly picks up the pieces of himself as he focuses more on recovering from that breakup. Reflecting upon the overall situation, meeting with that ex after what occurred with the tension now resolved, and finally, moving forward to start anew as he falls in love once again. It’s a clear and simple resolution to the overall arc, but the writing just doesn’t do enough to expound on that in general. Amidst all the bitter attitude that still puts Juan Karlos in a frustrating position where the reflective aspect only comes through in bits and pieces, there is not enough detail to show more layers during this recovery. Sadly, the lack of detail as it relies on broad emotionality is a characteristic that plagues every single song on the album, where a lot of the quaint lovesick moments start to become generic, and what should be a down-to-earth meditation on this heartbreak just comes off as a brief “aha” moment that never goes deeper into untangling his internal musings and emotions. Letting it deflate the impact within this arc as a result. As a whole, Sad Songs and Bullshit Part 2 may have pieced together what Juan Karlos wants to impart within the entire picture where he works through this entire breakup with irrational bitterness and quaint sadness, but there is just not enough distinctive lyrical throughlines and compositional heft to help deepen what Juan Karlos has gone through, where as much as the hooks can stick the landing, the consistent mildew instrumentation where there are only a tad few cuts that really sticks out, the shaky performances that can get more oversold than good, and the generally underwritten writing that relies on the bitter and sad tones without adding dimensions that can deepen the impact and emotions to the story. The second part does balance out the bullshit with the sad, but the overall picture just comes off deflated on an overall scale. With these pieces connected all together, Sad Songs and Bullshit is indeed presented with songs that are both sad and bullshit, just executed in a frustratingly one-dimensional package. Support the art & the artist:
Tag: Ballad
ALBUM REVIEW: juan karlos – Sad Songs and Bullshit Part 1
Written by Louis Pelingen The recent meteoric success of Juan Karlos stemming from one of the singles on their recent release, “ERE,” – enough to build enough traction to debut at no. 177 on the global Spotify charts – signifies how ingrained he has been in the local scene for the past couple of years. Despite some shaky conflicts that occurred before, when he eventually stepped into the broader swells of pop rock carried through his emotive delivery and songwriting ever since he and his band started off with ‘Buwan,’ it garnered widespread interest for Juan Karlos to keep going along on their overall grand yet simultaneously dull and stilted sound. It is a sound that is starting to feel rather frustratingly overdone in recent memory, expansive and well-produced but lacking in interesting songwriting throughlines. Despite the success, the band’s new entry in their catalog is deeply entrenched in post-breakup frustrations Juan Karlos has gone through, laying down these love songs initially written for a compilation that eventually became rather bullshit to him after his breakup last year. Hence, these melancholic songs are now packaged on Sad Songs and Bullshit Part 1, the first installment of a two-parter project dipped in a baffling release strategy to slice the 18 written songs into two parts instead of picking the strongest songs to make a focused release (even if this strategy has started to work for the band given the success of “ERE”) all centered on amping up the overall display of catharsis from this heartbreak. This project is confident in putting up these raw emotions in the open, presenting an attempt from Juan Karlos to make it closely personal as he belts out strings of crowd-ready hooks toward this post-breakup narrative that has struck the mainstream local scene time and time again. Yet, to be blunt, this approach starts to hit clumsy and route results, where the blatant move to lean towards the 2000s era sonic palette from the instrumental tones just falls short in a lot of its ideas, where there aren’t that any interesting swerves on either melodies or production. The other reasons this record does not stick come from Juan Karlos’ vocals and songwriting, where his emotional bellows start to get overbearing, and his songwriting leaves nothing but the surface-level poetry surrounding him circling around the heartbreak in a self-important framing. His shouty croons on the pop rock swell of “Time Machine” and “ERE” become a head-scratcher, especially with the latter track where his delivery of the profanity on the hook only sounded silly rather than convincing. The acoustic heartbreak reflection on “Lumisan” is a bland Ben&Ben takeaway due to those vocal melodies. And the adult-contemporary cut of “Manhid” is nothing short of anything special despite the well-produced shuffling melodies. But the tracks that make this overall narrative quite sour are the piano ballads “may halaga pa ba ako sayo??” and “Tapusin Na Natin To” featuring Paolo Benjamin, from the details that only imply a guarded deflection on dealing with this heartbreak to Juan Karlos’ vocalization at its very worst, tends to push further to the point of being obnoxiously overdramatic. And those tracks eventually color a lot about the record, even with the gorgeous Sufjan Stevens-esque acoustics of “Gabi” featuring Zild and “Paruparo” or the communal vocals that help elevate the title track. Whatever quality they do have just gets stifled overall. Stacked to the gills with uninteresting elements culminating in a lackluster project coming from the soundscape that leans on 2000s sonic aesthetics without any interesting melodic or instrumental flair, vocal emotionality that only gets overdone and annoying, and, of course, songwriting circling around reflections on Juan Karlos’s past relationship delivered with a pompous and shallow affair that serves to deflect around it. Though given the title itself, it sure is rather apt to call it that, an album with many underwhelming sad songs and a lot of self-important bullshit. Support the art & the artist: