Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Reuben Gonzales’ debut project ‘Keepin’ Up’ arrives somewhere between vintage pop nostalgia and the blow-burn sprawl of post-rock. A long-held memory, suspended in a grain of film—pale, worn, and hazy, where Fleeca Atmos invites you to step out of the noise of the present. Throughout the EP, analog textures, guitars, and synths conjure the ghost of a sun-faded era of pop. Rather than settling for mere retro-worship, Fleeca Atmos pulls at the edge of the sound—widening the frame to let the production breathe. The opening track, “Delorean Drives by the Old Compound,” is a poignant exploration of grief that manifests as a literal desire to outrun the clock, a fantasy of driving back to “Fairview” to bargain for what was lost. ‘Keepin’ Up’ finds its resolution in “Hermeto Hum,” after isolation through the descriptions of ‘life in space’ in “Moon’s Dust.” By going through the past, the void, and the present, the EP goes full circle, where Fleeca Atmos once begged to ‘change time’ to avoid pain, he realizes the only path he has is to change himself (“If I can change then I am free”). Gonzales writes in fragments and images, using repeated lines to act as emotional landmarks rather than a straightforward narrative. Ultimately, ‘Keepin Up’ functions as a sonic exhaling of the soul. Fleeca Atmos has crafted a debut that is both an ending and arrival. The EP proves that while we cannot drive back to the memories we’ve lost, we can find a profound, sun-drenched freedom in finally choosing to move forward. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
Tag: Chamber Pop
ALBUM REVIEW: To Love Everything Ever Again – A Post-Overdose Confession
Written by Louis Pelingen One main element that tends to surround religious music is its focus on devotion, where praises will be written and sung as a means to allow God’s blessings to reach within the human spirit–a characteristic that becomes a purposeful motif. Generally focused on that universal feeling of letting the holy grace of God seep into every individual singing those songs. Yet, what tends to be rather uncommon is writing religiously themed songs less from a devotional standpoint, but more of a personal confession. A peek inside vulnerability that grounds the religious experience, isolating itself to the individual going through the ups and downs that they encounter throughout their lives. Through Janpol Estella’s solo project, To Love Everything Ever Again, he emphasizes that fractured religious experience. Compiling waves of glitchy synths, hazy vocal effects, and chamber pop flourishes to envelop stories of fluctuating faith with weight. If his debut EP, ‘Nineveh,’ wades upon murky waters, then his debut album, ‘A Post-Overdose Confession,’ swims through it. It’s a case of delving deeper into that struggling abyss, where he confronts his religious fervor as mental health, addiction, and environmental decay become a factor of how he tries – and crashes apart – on holding onto that spiritual belief. Clinging onto it so hard for a hopeful path to come forward as he tries to remind himself of dreams he wants to achieve, until he finds out that it doesn’t come through so easily. This crushing arc eventually hits its hardest point on the title track and “Nothing But The Blood.” Both songs hit rock bottom as any sliver of peace is very much gone, but how Estella portrays God and Jesus becomes important here. God is this divine being that he thinks has given up on him and becomes the cause of the pain inflicted upon him, and Jesus is this human person whose own struggles he can relate to, and even may be a symbol of light that he could still hold onto. It’s why, despite the rewritten hymn of the latter song describing the ragged acceptance of all that pain that has fractured his faith, hope, and soul, Jesus’ presence becomes a metaphor. A symbol of a peaceful exhale that can allow him to eventually heal. This narrative perspective colors how the instrumentation and production are presented. Glitchy electronics now shamble across dance-adjacent rhythms, seething vocal effects and synths are implemented to amplify Estella’s emotional throughline, and the brighter chamber pop elements are carefully placed down with intent. An expansion and emphasis of tones that straddle between the lines of bliss and ache, a direction that firmly exposes Estella’s captivating experimental swerving in two lanes. The first is how the glitchier rhythms across “My Own Sodom” to “Need to Control” become curiosities that don’t land their fullest strides. Opening up more melodic flair, yet lacks a strong enough hook to keep it sticking altogether. The second is how leaning into those synthetic tones and focused melodic flourishes only makes Estella’s songwriting hit like heavy bricks. The scorching distortion clipped around his voice and electronic embellishments on “COP30 (Never Enough)” let his emotions become devastatingly crumbled, bursting out of the seams with every refrains; the stirring one-two punch of the fluttering raw piano recordings of “Perhaps” that transitions to the crackling synth affectations of “A Post-Overdose Confessions” becomes a quaint reflection turning evocatively solemn; the punchier drums on ‘Unreachable Serenity” contrast well around violin swells and gauzy textures; the post-rock swerve of ‘Nothing But The Blood’ that ramps up its melodic prowess, eventually going all out with the blast beats and guitar solos that revs Estella’s version of the hymn to a different level. All of it resting down to the spare organ tune of “God, I’m finally letting this go.” Ending the album where, perhaps, Estella has found that light once more. What ‘A Post-Overdose Confession’ unveils is an exploration of faith that was broken but can still be recovered, all through Estella’s ways to amplify the stories that felt more personal to him in the long run. Testing the waters on how he can deliver such emotional scope, and landing with it the most striking way possible, fractures and all. A confession as a means to accept the feeling of giving up entirely, until that light starts showing up in the darkness, where hope can blossom once again. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK Review: Mellow Fellow – Heaven
Written by Noelle Alarcon In this world, heaven is considered as the be-all, end-all of life’s course. Anything else euphoria-inducing that comes close is the nearest you’ll get to arriving at the cosmological paradise. For indie pop act Mellow Fellow, who emerged from Muntinlupa and is currently located in Canada, the agency to choose yourself is his equivalent of the bliss achieved beyond the stars. True to his name, “Heaven” opens with a mellow assortment of instruments smoothly cascading into his smooth vocals. The keyboard and the guitars twinkle along the periphery. They form the core of his trademark sound, reminiscent of the motifs that defined bedroom pop during the 2010s. The rhythm section doesn’t take a back seat, either. The thick strings of the bass dance to the variations of open-handed drumming, making the symphony full and whole. It creates an environment conducive enough to let his truth bloom across rich textures, intensified by titillating synths and alternating beats. “Heaven” is light and airy, with fierce proclamations adding a little kick to the artist’s signature cool. It propels you into the clouds through the unapologetic honesty its confessions spell out. It’s a reflection of the arduous journey to corporeal nirvana, aurally fleshed out in the highs and lows between the verses and choruses. This is Mellow Fellow’s invitation for you to ascend with him into liberation, through dropping the burdens of life that no longer serve you.