Written by Faye Allego Picture this: You’re twelve years old, your parents run an internet cafe down the street and you borrow your Kuya’s PSP 3000 to play The Sims 2. Your best friends come by to play the bartender game on Y8.com while Kuya is on an extreme DOTA battle. You’re not too keen on the fact that it’s the first day of school when you wake up but at least you’re having the time of your life now and who knows, maybe your mom might pack you Yan Yans or an extra bottle of Yakult for lunch tomorrow. You didn’t think of it then, but amidst all of the popular mid-aughts games, excitements, and leisures, “no one knows where they’re really going.” That lyric from Ruru’s new single titled “Liminal” transcends me into this portal of, well, liminal spaces. Spaces I had never thought would be so empty, yet full of life in retrospect. The song is upbeat, it does not contain the subtle mood of tragedy commonly heard in wistful chord progressions and melodies, however, the lyrics say otherwise. The song’s lyrics as well as perhaps the lack of strings, share key elements seen in the Hauntology genre; in the sense that something “lost” from the song’s features is haunting. Aside from channeling how the song feels sonically, this song looked like a kaleidoscope of every single one of those dreamcore, corecore, weirdcore, and vaporwave aesthetics I’ve seen across social media. Any lyric can be used to caption a liminal space photograph and evoke the feelings of longing for something you didn’t realize you’ll never get back as an everyday, mundane feeling. The worst part is that “something” can be everything from the past. In Ruru’s words, “We’re just way too in our heads/ Passing on acquaintances/ Some days I’m not quite myself / Yet I’m on my bed…” Liminal is also one of those unique tracks where you don’t need to actually feel a certain emotion when listening to it despite the existentialist lyrics. It’s a song that could pass as an Animal Crossing tune on a Nintendo DS. It can be your go-to shower song, or the absolute final song you choose to go on your Instagram story when posting to a monthly wrap-up collage template. I’d love to hear this track be a part of an album that explores the genre of Hauntology or even avant-garde electronic music that we don’t typically see in OPM. Additionally, the cover art for this track could pass for an album cover itself! It looks like Ruru’s self-portrait is taken from a driver’s license, exemplifying adulthood or the oversaturation that can suggest the technicolor that life brings in the mundane. Or maybe she just looks really good and so does her music. That’s what I think. Cheers to more Ruru! Support the art & the artist:
Tag: Faye Allego
TRACK REVIEW: Chezka – Fire Near a Toddler
Written by Faye Allego Chezka rose to virality on TikTok when she first released a video snippet of “Fire Near a Toddler” a couple of years ago. Since then, it has amassed over 600k views with thousands of comments coming from youngins who relate heavily to Chezka’s lyricism pertaining to losing hope in love because it was never taught in the first place. Despite “Fire Near a Toddler” being Chezka’s only song out on streaming platforms as of the moment, it is evident through her TikTok that she is a seasoned songwriter who has already figured out what her sound is and what she wants her lyricism to convey. When I listened to this track by Chezka, all I could remember were the origins, evolution, and importance of Bedroom Pop. As her fans are awaiting an album announcement, Chezka’s sound could potentially change, but I think it’s safe to say that her ability to just grab her guitar and sing lyrics with such intensity in emotions brings out a lot of Bedroom Pop elements. Most, if not all Bedroom artists we grew up listening to have grown to become major names in the industry and have shifted and experimented with different genres, but one thing they all have in common is that they all started out online, with a guitar on hand or unrefined productions on GarageBand, sharing their music through video form on platforms like YouTube and now TikTok. “Fire Near a Toddler” exhibits so many themes in under four minutes. It is impressive that Chezka’s storytelling ability invites the listener to a space of vulnerability with no shame. Her writing skills also allow the listener to come up with their own interpretations, I mean, her TikTok comments sections are almost filled to the brim with folks professing their relationship to the song as well as why that song relates to their particular situation. How comforting it is to see community being built upon a single song. Speaking of building, my only critique is that the buildup lacks a bridge, rendering the thematic feelings of anger a bit disconnected. The hollow, emptier parts of the track only justify the lack of meatier rhythms (i.e. electric guitar), however, the lack of a bridge still benefits the track because the listener’s attention is directed toward the lyrics. Many songs that are first teased on TikTok tend to focus on the peak of a song whether it be a high note or a guitar shred, yet, in Chezka’s song, it’s the storytelling, rhyme, and double meanings in her lyricism that strike appeal. So, how did Chezka write a song about feelings I didn’t even know I had with such precision? I think it’s safe to say that her precision comes from the art of self-awareness when it comes to love and longing. It is evident in the rawness of her storytelling that this artist possesses a songwriter’s vital ability to showcase vulnerability with no secrets intact. May she continue to pick up a pen and a pick whenever her writer’s cloak decides to visit her. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Bling – PURE BLISS NO WORRIES
PURE BLISS NO WORRIES is the second album released by Bling, a Filipino-American band based in Los Angeles. Irony is an ever-present theme throughout this 26-minute record. The grainy noise gradually builds up together like an anxious thought, unlike what the album title suggests. Another irony is that “build-up” never reaches an apex. The tracks feel like they are itching to be listened to on a train ride – only that the train ride could be destined for a train wreck. It’s one of those albums that you listen to as background music while attempting to do something productive, but unlike the productive mind, I worry that PURE BLISS NO WORRIES doesn’t add anything new to the table. Compared to their debut album titled “fuck”, Jinro Yo and Lianna Gutierrez’s vocals seem much campier and arguably more lucid in their sophomore record. The drums by Nick Castillo carry each track with fluidity and match well with the strum of Jaed Noleal’s guitar. If only the rest of the album used the sonic experience that was applied on the third track, ix3Chocolaté, we could have hopped on a bedroom rock road trip that either went down the “core memory” lane or the “headbang like no one is watching” route. Nevertheless, each instrument and modulation used in this record are easily malleable to make longer tracks like Patiently Waiting a memorable listening experience. I hope to hear something more similar in their future work so their sound appears to smooth out the grainy noise. The aesthetic choices of Bling’s attempt at a blissful theme such as the Angel Numbers present in the track length (Say Hi 2 Forever is 2:22, Nowhere… is 1:11, and RiskOne is 3:33) solidly create a mist of bliss. My question is, will that mist diffuse quickly? Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Memory Drawers – Memory Drawers
Written by Faye Allego Picture this: It’s 2014, your entire personality is based on photos of succulents with a VSCO app filter that is reblogged on your Tumblr page, a poster of Unknown Pleasures hanging by a thread (in this case, tape that has lost its purpose of sticking on the wall above your bed), and your element of mystique is buried with every emotion that bedroom music playlist makes you feel. Although the pleasure of being an angsty, indie-music-centered-teenager back then is a well-known phenomenon, Memory Drawers seems to bring back that unique feeling of individuality and whimsicality in their long-awaited debut album. It goes without saying that this album perfectly fits in the dreamscape milieu of Indie Pop. The lyrics, composed by Kevin Ingco and Paula Castillo, read like a prologue to a retrospective novel about one’s memories of youth that were never to be just written in a diary tucked away in a drawer. Found in the final couplet of Lovingly, Andrea Alegre sings: “Didn’t think, didn’t think I’d hear a word/ Said ‘There’s nothing left for me, in this world, in this world.” This alone uses repetition in a way that isn’t – for lack of a better word – repetitive to hear. This track along with others such as Luuv and Esc Esc Esc feels like changing the color of my laptop’s cursor to black and opening a blank document to write whatever I want at the expense of depression and for the sake of expression. However, I find myself asking if every track creates cohesion to the album and builds an overall narrative, or if it is just a polished compilation of their past, tempting the listener for upcoming endeavors that may sound even better in that said dreamscape milieu. Nearly a decade has passed by since Hart found its way as the first track of Memory Drawers. The original version first appeared on SoundCloud and was later revamped to fit the precision found in Ingco’s mixing, and the mastering by Diego Mapa. The same can be said for the following track, Maybe, originally released in 2016. I hesitated at the thought of these songs resurrecting on the debut album instead of leaving them as hidden gems to be found on their own. The last track, …For Any Of This, was also previously released as a single but now acts as a beautiful epilogue through its upbeat nature that makes you feel like you’re knee-deep into the night; as if Ingco and Castillo along with Alegre’s voice planted a Whomping Willow that would later produce seeds for a mystifying glowing Willow throughout all these years (not to mention the album art looks like a tree’s growth rings). This is the “upcoming endeavor” I mentioned earlier. Indeed, I yearn to hear more.