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: EP Review
TRACK REVIEW: Paper Satellites, BABYBLUE – Onodera
Written by Lex Celera Since their last project, Manila Meltdown in 2022, Paper Satellites has grown to a four-piece, with vocalist Jyle Macalintal, drummer Aaron Escueta, and bassist Paulo Carpio joined by Martin Cruz on the guitars and synths. Onodera, their newest release, continues their constant experimentation by taking a step further and recruiting another collaborator, producer BABYBLUE. Onodera is an impressive result of two collaborators putting their best foot forward and blending both the sounds that they have been known for to create something new and worthwhile. Listening to the album from beginning to finish is a tranquil experience that is not bereft of any exciting turns. “Onodera” is a mosaic of rhythmic pirouettes – a worthy prelude to what is to come in the rest of the EP. There is an addicting quality in how the song constructs itself with sound elements that swell and evaporate as it goes on. “Alipin” follows up with a polished dance-rock record that ends in undulating synths. Despite feeling like a mishmash of different styles, both parts are equally enjoyable. Released in February 2024, ahead of the rest of the EP, “Dapithapon” is an easy-listening record with a catchy tune that’s perfect for afternoon drives. “Dama” signals an emotional downturn without putting on the brakes, driven by lyrics that have enough oomph to be echoed into an anthem – a good swing that would make the EP’s closer, “Paggising,” all the more worthwhile. “Paggising” fully embraces the club-readiness of the whole EP with its synth-forward rhythms and floating vocals. In that regard, it reads like recent Up Dharma Down records. The likeness to electronic music is emboldened by how patient “Paggising” and the whole of Onodera in terms of building itself up into natural, enjoyable melodic arcs. The excitement never falters even when you can imagine the song ending sooner. Whether intended by its creators or not, I find myself thinking of the early 2010s in this record. There’s a little bit of Two Door Cinema Club, a little bit of Tycho’s Dive. You know how during those days you’d either listen to Skrillex or Boards Of Canada? Listeners of both will cling to this record like glue. It’s visceral but tranquil, and ultimately a well-bodied source of bops that won’t be out of place on either the dancefloor or a quiet headphone experience. Thankfully, the whole EP’s proximity to that era never reaches stomp-clap-hey status. For all of the EP’s achievements for the band – their first EP fully in Filipino and their first collaborative EP, – Onodera will be remembered for how it finds the sweet spot among both artists’ comfort zones, and how easy they make it feel. It shows that it pays off to be confident in exploring new sonic territories, despite the gestalt sadness in its lyrics. It would not be a surprise if Paper Satellites moved on to a different sound in the future, but should they choose to lean toward the direction of Onodera, I’d be the first to say that they would not be wearing out their welcome. Support the art & the artist:
EP Review: LU – Not Fragile, Just Tired
Written by Aly Maaño As 2024 came to a close, some of us couldn’t help but be in a somber mood. Aside from the festivities and family reunions, we also needed to prepare for a new transition which can often put us in a state of reflection, regret, and second-guessing. In her debut EP, Not Fragile Just Tired, 22-year-old LU sends us into a spiral of emotions on the precipice of a new year. Growing up in Aurora province, LU is no stranger to seeing gigantic sea waves off Baler’s coast, but when the tides of melancholy hit, surfing through the turbulence may not be an option. Sometimes, the waves roll in on you, each as strong and bold as the last. The EP’s opening track, BLAME IT ON THE BEER, sets a downcast tone, with its introspective lyrics, distorted riffs, and powerful guitar breakdowns fusing into a melodic, post-rock treat which is highlighted by the cacophony of aggressive guitars and LU’s haunting vocals towards the bridge. Lyrically, the same level of anguish is felt in LIVE FOR WHAT but it possesses more pop-rock sensibilities due to its consistent mellow and jangly sound, serving as a momentary crash in preparation for the next track. The great wave of desolation peaks at LINES, a song featuring Yusilo. In this track, LU finds herself in a tornadic waterspout of her own emotions, clashing with Yusilo’s heavier guitar textures and progressive rhythms. At this breaking point, LU further showcases her expressive vocal prowess with Calvin Borja, Yusilo’s frontman, impressing us with his vocal dynamic and range. As if all hope is lost, the track abruptly ends after the outro, signaling the end of the storm. While the first three tracks were all guitar-heavy, the latter half of the EP features acoustic tracks like CONTROL and KINDER. The soft plucking of guitars along with LU’s hushed voice evokes the quiet, calm, and desolate aftermath of the first act. The mood picks up again at ASTERISK, ushering upbeat drum patterns and grungy guitars. But this hopeful undertone doesn’t last for long. As if to harness the sea’s agony, the last track transitions mid-song to a subdued atmosphere with the lyrics building up to LU’s pleading screams, “I wanna give her the world,” which continues like a prayer to whoever may listen. LU’s first EP is brimming with potential. Their evocative vocals and contemplative lyricism are far from being one-dimensional and the fresh elements in her sound don’t fall off the bar either. LU sings about the transient nature of emotions much like the quavering sea, with its waves present and passing. Not Fragile Just Tired represents the rising and ebbing tides and each track is a wave-sound bearing a satisfying symphony. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: Pinkmen – Neptunes
Written by JK Caray Following a string of single releases spanning a couple of years, Offshore Music’s Pinkmen finally released their debut EP after a period of constant track launches within the past year. Far past their 2019 hit ‘Hanggang Sa Muli’, Pinkmen had the better part of 5 years to focus on progressively honing their distinct style within the music scene; however, the question still nags a few, was the long wait even worth it? The answer whether or not it was lies in Pinkmen’s dedication to their latest release ‘NEPTUNES’. With a runtime of 35 minutes, the EP begins with the track ‘Historical Revision ’24’; a reprise of their catchy political 2021 single ‘Historical’, consisting of even more tongue-in-cheek references and quips. ‘Di Pa Rin Sapat (Ang Sahod)’ drives the band’s stances even further, carried by vocalist/lead guitarist Giro Alvarado’s moving and powerful vocal performance over a somber instrumental that reflects the common folk’s everlasting problem. Third on the list, “Lately” includes droney, weeping guitars that decorate a thick wall of sound. The dense ballad structure makes it an unassuming first listen, yet it turns into a sentimental banger upon multiple listens, enough to be a solid pick for a break-up playlist. Oddly enough, ‘Art Song’ breaks the immersion that came from the earlier tracks. Its position momentarily skews the flow of the album, due to its nature of being a ‘nonsensical’ song, as it comes directly after two earnest ballad songs. Nevertheless, Pinkmen proudly wears their influences here, with the track being eerily similar to a ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’s song. In ‘Hourglass’, bassist Mark Armas animates the song forward with his highly infectious grooves and licks. Arguably one of the more enjoyable moments of the EP, the track seamlessly blends elements of neo-psychedelia and disco to form a fresh and distinctively unique sound. ‘Habulan’ sells a rich narrative as it features local rockstar Ely Buendia’s signature poignant songwriting at the center of the song. Themes of ambition and longing make up for an empowering track that makes ‘Habulan’ an anthem for hope and resiliency. Lastly, NEPTUNE’s last song ‘Miscom’ stands out as the resonant end to the entire release. Evocative and nostalgic, the song banks on classic feel-good musical conventions—jangly guitars, dynamic drums, and compelling chord progressions—paired with bittersweet lyrics to deliver that familiar sense of melancholy. And it succeeds in doing so, with the entire track sounding like a trip to the past, a chat with people you’ve sworn to hate but have since forgiven with time. After years of waiting, we could only hope for the band to continue riding the momentum of the ‘NEPTUNES’. This release marks a milestone in their discography and has shown the band that they could make it; because now that they’ve proven themselves capable, nothing’s stopping Pinkmen from getting to higher heights. Support the art & the 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:
EP REVIEW: LONER – DROPSTAR
Written by Jax Figarola Stepping back from the energetic beats and quicker rhythms of drum n’ bass in Lean Ordinario’s sophomore album ‘Make Noise,’ LONER—his solo project—ventures into new territory with five tracks of mellow techno-trance music in his third album, ‘DROPSTAR.’ This shift in genre reflects the influence of Metro Manila’s underground rave and club culture, which has surged in popularity post-lockdown era. Transitioning from syncopated breakbeats and heavy basslines to faster tempos and ambient synths, LONER charts a new course while maintaining a kinetic pulse that keeps his old fans in the scene engaged. His shift from creating drum n’ bass, which is a genre relatively uncommon in the Philippine electronic music scene, to a more conventional blend of house and trance might initially seem like a move towards the familiar. Yet, ‘DROPSTAR’ defies expectations, proving to be anything but ordinary. While it might lack the novelty of his earlier work, it certainly rises above mediocrity. LONER still embraces the fast tempos characteristic of his previous releases, but this time, with a spirit of experimentation. He incorporated elements of house music, crafting seamless, repetitive melodic pounding of kicks and hi-hats against rich ambient synths, creating beautiful instrumental interludes. Furthermore, his charismatic and resounding vocals, especially on tracks like ‘Stop Playing’ and ‘Don’t Wanna,’ fit well in the project’s theme of noncommittal love and situationships. His voice feels like an invitation to an intimate, late-night dance—just you and LONER, lost in the rhythm, filled with moxie and mutual infatuation. The serene four-on-the-floor drum patterns where his vocals are absent offer a refreshing change of scenery. Beginning with the pre-game energy of ‘Stop Playing’ and building up to the dreamy crescendo of ‘Figure It Out,’ the album evokes a hypnagogic state on the dance floor. Each track during its instrumental passages offers a corrosive and psychedelic moment, transporting the listener to another world. My personal world was under the mushrooms in a forest, where I danced with Pinoy gnomes to a storm of spores. Despite the project’s brevity, clocking in at just under 15 minutes, ‘DROPSTAR’ quickly becomes an earworm especially after repeated listens. Each track, while distinct, contributes to a cohesive whole art piece. The ambient synths that dominate when vocals are absent beautifully complement LONER’s voice when it reappears, peaking the dance experience in standouts like ‘Bahala Ka Na’ and ‘Figure It Out.’ Despite the seemingly minimal production typical of trance, the production in ‘DROPSTAR’ is anything but minimal—it’s a profoundly sublime art piece in its entirety. With his amazing past releases and this new project, LONER’s contributions to the Philippine electronic music scene truly deserve applause. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: Yaelokre – Hayfield
Written by JK Caray Keath Osk, more known by their stage name Yaelokre, has captured the attention of the Medieval fantasy-loving, Renaissance Faire attending part of the online community—garnering millions of streams, likes, and even a fandom of their own. An all-around storyteller, weaving stories through music, art, and performances, the artist first showed promise through their single “Harpy Hare”. After a few months, Yaelokre follows up with their debut album “Hayfield,” the prologue to their ongoing musical centered around the world of “Meadowlark”. Depicted with gorgeous art and a strong stylistic direction, it’s clear that “Hayfields” is part of the love project that Keath Osk has been brewing for years. However, it is still the kind of art that can be hard for some people to digest due to its perceived peculiarity. As for the music itself, “Hayfields” is a tight and cohesive concept EP, with influences that range from The Oh Hellos to AURORA. Although it suffers slightly from its unpolished production, the picturesque storytelling paired with the eloquent almost Nordic style of singing proves effective at showing the points across. “Hartebeest” for one sets a thrilling introduction, hyping up the entire album aside from its cryptic lyrics. In it, the scene is vivid: it feels like running in a mystical forest that promises one-of-a-kind adventures. “Harpy Hare”, the more known single, is a catchy stomp-and-holler song about an overprotective mother told through interesting symbolisms and metaphors. The track carries the energy that Hartebeest starts with and adds more to it; Yaelokre’s headstrong voice being the center of the song, every word pristine. In “And the Hound”, the blistering tempo mellows down as it goes to a more ballad approach, featuring the most moving and most powerful vocal performances of the entire EP. Here, Yaelokre boasts their prowess in songwriting, the lyrics being equal parts morbid and captivating. The closing song “Neath the grove is a heart” starts with gentle flutes and builds up the song along the way. Compared to the other songs, the song is much lighter yet still as grandiose. Warmth is felt across the beating of its drums and the harmonious vocals in the end, innocent and magical. It is an enchanting ending that calls back to the start of the EP as it includes leitmotifs of “Harpy Hare”, and “Hartebeest”, further hammering the feeling of going home. By now it’s obvious that this kind of project does not mix well with some, but Yaelokre’s instant rise to success may have exemplified the amount of naysayers. Scrolling through the comment section of some of their posts, a horde of people express their disapproval of the concept calling it “cringe.” While the question of it being cringeworthy is subjective and varies from person to person, is it bad to just have whimsical fun? “Meadowlark” as a whole is a world built on childlike wonder, a time where judgment was not yet commonplace—would it hurt for us to revisit what it felt like back then? Sure, Hayfields and the rest of Yaelokre’s works may not be for everyone, but when it does hit, it hits you hard. Support the art & the artist:
EP REVIEW: Yung Masa – MY KARMA RAN OUT
Written by Elijah P. Being a jack of all trades can take you somewhere, especially when you can balance out the dynamics of being a producer and a songwriter. These particular skills are something to masterfully juggle throughout your entire career span. Moreover, up-and-coming rapper and songwriter Yung Masa takes on the challenge of balancing different subgenres of rap in his debut EP titled “MY KARMA RAN OUT,” teetering with synthpop, drum n bass, digicore, and 2020s anti-pop sensibilities, mixing them into this cauldron of a project. The end result? A hot mess scattered by a relentless number of influences that don’t consistently gel well. “PRELUDE (could’ve been)” is an opener that overstays its welcome, while “GOODBYE” expresses my excitement for this EP to be over—not to mention the weak hook and singing. “DOWN” has harmonies that yearn for a Christmas Time remix from Alvin and the Chipmunks, while “RUN!” wishes to write like contemporary local rappers that sound like RB Slatt. However, “LOSE MYSELF” and its overall production could have defined the EP as a whole, with emotionally resonant vocal delivery and drum patterns that pay homage to 2020’s electronica. However, one takeaway the listener can get from this album is to not mistake all the futuristic, cyborg, Blade Runner-like visuals for actual material substance. “MY KARMA RAN OUT” was a frustrating listen from front to back. Sometimes the possible influences can get in the way and act as a detriment to its content. It’s like Mokujin except the impersonations don’t fully resonate to render the journey victorious. Its punches are weak, the lyrics are out of it, and the bar is extremely low for the remainder of this debut EP. Yung Masa’s “MY KARMA RAN OUT” should be renamed to a different title; maybe “My Originality Ran Out” is more fitting. Link:
EP REVIEW: BINI – Talaarawan
Written by Louis Pelingen With the news of BINI breaking new grounds on the Billboard charts and eventually dethroning Ben&Ben on Spotify in terms of being the most streamed OPM group in around 2 years, it showcases a grand successful milestone not just for BINI themselves, but for the P-pop scene in general: a hurrah for a lot of P-pop and K-pop fans where they celebrated the return of Bubblegum Pop in the mainstream local scene given the acoustic folk-pop chart dominance for a long time now. Although the Bubblegum Pop sound has been boiling in the local indie spotlights if you know where to look, there is still value to be had towards this groundbreaking success of BINI as it gives a fresh coat of paint to the local mainstream music scene right now. This all leads to the first EP of BINI, Talaarawan. To start, the performances and the melodies have a solid foundation throughout the EP, allowing the collection of cheery P-pop songs to feel vibrant and well-composed. The performances naturally carry off the loose and charming tones that are not just embedded into the hook-driven melodies, but also the writing and instrumentation that also surrounds them. While they do stumble a bit whenever they break out on the rap verses, they do at least manage to keep up the upward optimism that remains quite infectious. However, for an EP that is described to encapture the breadth of emotions and stages of life and love, that essential idea starts falling apart really quickly with a few glaring issues that sadly overshadow the melodies and the performances. The lyricism, despite the passing metaphors that differ from song to song, does not have enough intriguing flair to go alongside it. As it immediately goes into romantic platitudes where the sense of yearning and empowerment blurs into one another, Talaarawan lacks any detail that can open up the emotional depth of the writing, making it less special. Besides the writing, a lot of these songs still carry the same mixing issues as the previous BINI projects, where cuts like “Karera” go a bit too loud in the mix, “Pantropiko” and “Na Na Nandito Lang” having similar loud mixes and then some, and the inconsistent vocal fidelities that create a big distraction on those two songs. But this all rolls into the big frustration of this EP: the production. From the general synthetic instrumentation to the stiff and dated production choices, they never really allow the melodies to properly pop off and the vocal harmonies to be as stellar as they need to be, eventually taking away the brisk vibes that these cuts are going for, especially on “Pantropik” where the synthetic textures completely blemish the summery tone of that song. However, there are still moments of passing quality that BINI still pulls through: The effortless opener of “Karera” where the performances just go off amid the decently bubbly beat; the melodic glimmer on “Salamin, Salamin” remaining really sticky even despite the bass rhythms getting a bit janky on that song; and “Diyan Ka Lang’” that closes off the EP on a good note with enough remarkable synth lines that blend well with the retro-inspired drums. Even with all of that, there is a big missed opportunity for BINI to take a drastic swerve in terms of their sonic palette, especially when their shift in sound from project to project has always seen slight changes, taking the safest tangents instead of diving into fascinating genre influences and experiments that the contemporary K-pop scene has currently embraced. Because, if they did manage to take that colorful array of genre elements alongside production and writing refinements, it could strengthen the concept of this EP, where the variation within genres and production textures paired with the solid vocal and melodic foundations at the core can be an absolute boon to BINI. But, Talaarawan as a whole just does not go there. Instead, in every passing good note there are disheveled musical scribbles that overshadow the better aspects of the EP. Stuck in a stiff sound that doesn’t allow BINI to encapsulate the set of emotions they wanted to express in these diary pages, they at least managed to land on the important emotion that will guide them onward: joy. Support the art & the artist: