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.
Tag: Blues rock
ALBUM REVIEW: The General Strike – s/t
Historically, the blues and folk rock music have always had this communal, almost spiritual connection to listeners all over the world. A genre that’s embedded in the African-American community in 19th century Civil War-era America and eventually imported by foreign distributors in the early-mid 20th century by vinyl or other sorts of cassette suppliers in the country. With bands like Juan Dela Cruz, Maria Cafra and Anak Bayan paving the way for the genre’s lyrical content and technical prowess, the power of blues and rock music have always had an effective collective effort in songwriting and craftmaking. Ever since the 70s, the blues and rock n’ roll has been well documented to a point where songs of the past and present are performed in various cultural nights and mobs all over the country. Be it from The Jerks’ “Rage”, “Giyera ng Bulag” by Kolateral or Ericson Acosta’s recorded poetry echoed in public areas in protests – later on in the years as the internet opened the floodgates for more genres to be incorporated by practitioners in the revolutionary music sector – sound palettes from different collectives like ARPAK’s “Walang Panginoon ang Lupa” and its assisting hardcore punk or experimental soundscapes or Tambisan Sa Sining’s “HINDI KO PRESIDENTE” and their selection of electronic and abrasive gabber production, both the former and latter expressed specific initiatives and emphasized on fringe genres in the 2010s. However, Blues rock five-piece The General Strike completes a trifecta of important releases, except it does not take the form of a compilation. Instead, it’s a full-length album that follows through different themes and calls from the peasant struggle, circling back to the roots of where revolutionary music has found its footing locally. An album that is 7-8 years in the making, The General Strike’s self-titled album was released last year in December at the UP University Hotel. The General Strike’s 9-track oeuvre covers important demands of the peasant struggle: anti-feudalism, imperialism and fascism, wage increase, justice for farmers who were unrightfully treated by the armed forces and the likes. Each of these calls have been asserted powerfully by the band’s vocalist alongside the lead guitarist and their harmonica player; “Sumpa” and the chant “Itigil Ang Pamamaslang, Katarungan Ipaglaban” became the album’s centerpiece; “Lakbayan” and its raging, electric guitar-thrashing outro is a moment to see live; “Pugon” and “Kawayanan” are examples of effective songwriting with melodies tied with national democracy calls and heavy emphasis on hooks for justice for the fallen Kentex workers tied together. Other tracks like “Awit ng Mendiola” and “Hacienda” underline the more intimate playing and highlight the vocalist’s descriptions of rural life and the agricultural industry all over the Philippines. Both tracks are essential in lyric-writing in contrast to the aforementioned tracks’ more noteworthy sections of raw sonics and technical prowess. Overall, all tracks never hampered one another nor did they overshadow the performances of each other. In terms of accessibility, the album’s streaming platforms will effectively reach many of its listeners all over. The General Strike’s self-titled debut is an important listen. The self-titled album is essential in terms of learning from mass organizations and it should be championed for its longevity after 7-8 years of performing live. Support the art & the artist: