Written by JK Caray Asian Panganay’s debut single, ‘Disconnection Notice, ‘ talks about Filipino family dynamics in an intimate, sobering way, centering on the panganay’s perspectives. As their band name suggests, Asian Panganay is an all-asian, all-Panganay, all-girls quintet. This common attribute allows them to have the personal edge that pops out of their debut single. Right off the bat, ‘Disconnection Notice’ starts strong and hollow, even vacant, though not in a bad way. A drum beat dragging itself on and simple riffs being fed through delay pedals give a sense of motion without the drive that actually brings it to life. This gives the song more dimensions in how it tackles the subject matter. The line “I don’t have anything to say/You never hear me anyway” distills all those years of neglect, accompanied by vocals that draw the line between ache and exhaustion. In a way, it acts as a parallel to the times when eldest daughters are expected to keep carrying on, even as fatigue eats them inside. For such a bold entry, the song has already generated a brand that audiences can look forward to. This can either be a pro or a con, depending on whether the band leans into it or decides to switch it up for their upcoming releases. For now, releasing ‘Disconnection Notice’ as their debut single was a necessary move to solidify the band’s striking presence in the current scene. Now that they’ve given a voice to the unheard heroes of a Filipino family, where will Asian Panganay steer the ship next? SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
Tag: Indie Rock
TRACK REVIEW: A Piloto – Asphyxia
Written by Louis Pelingen A Piloto’s comeback song since the past two years immediately wrestles with a shocking surprise splattered through his writing: an old friend just died near his neighborhood. The chills that he encounters through that information fill his entire nerves, wracking him with a desperate plea for connection that turns into solemn avoidance at the end. It’s emotionally haphazard that A Piloto expresses well, with his raw vocals just storming through all that tense situation. The frigid indie rock spirit allows “Asphyxia” to rhythmically heave, as the grooves just charge through with shaky guitar maneuvers that explode onto the chorus. It never loses its raucous flair from the start, up till its very ending. Foggy ambience and gentle guitar atmospherics now give enough space for A Piloto. He now gets to simmer what has come to pass, calmly taking his time to breathe before moving onwards, even with the ache still weighing on his shoulders. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Addy Pantig – Sandstorm
Written by Rory Marshall Addy Pantig heeds the listener with one thing: a warning. “Sandstorm” is an admonition explored through metaphor, showcasing the pitfalls of lost time, delivered through soulful blues rock, and with this being her debut single, it’s as gutsy as it is dramatic. Sandstorm paints a picture of gravitas and intensity, each line like a brush stroke to the canvas. The song is set in a room that’s slowly filling up with sand, and a girl, frozen in fear, realizes it’s too late. Addy has a knack for narrative, and her lyrics are a testament to that. Her “show, don’t tell” method of songwriting set the scene so well, and because of that, the experience lof istening to the track is nothing short of cinematic. The anxiety that comes with time running out rings through in her words and is further highlighted with the dramatic instrumental. Starting slowly with a steady acoustic guitar and vocals, with added elements joining in the setup as each bar progresses: an eerie violin, the muted drums, and the bass to carry the whole track, as if each new instrument is another grain of sand filling up the room. Then the build-up comes to fruition in the chorus, crashing down like a sudden moment of realization. The blues rock style complements the storytelling style of the lyrics well, which is prominent in blues. “Sandstorm” is an exemplary showcase of the magic she weaves into the music she has a hand in: Addy’s lyrics that bring with them storytelling and narrative, paired with the quiet yet intense passion that gilds her vocal performance. We’ve seen elements like this in her past work in different projects, and it’s refreshing to hear them still standing strong in her solo work. This track is the first of hopefully many, and will no doubt lay a great foundation for any tracks she releases in the future. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: We Are Imaginary – s/t
Written by Lex Celera For the most part, We Are Imaginary has played along the ballpark of noise pop, shoegaze, and jangly lo-fi when it comes to their sound. Each of their last four albums plays with the formula in different ways – a reflection of the band’s changing members. Early on, sometime before the release of 2010’s ‘One Dreamy Indeterminate Hum,’ the band even had to change its name. With its latest release, We Are Imaginary settles on something new and interesting, enough for it to be a self-titled album, with the record to be sold on vinyl via Eikon Records. Not only is ‘We Are Imaginary,’ their fifth album, a feat in “remaining true” to their sound, so to speak, but it is also a symbolic act to release their fifth album as a self-titled full-length album 17 years since their debut. As if to say that the band has planted an anchor against the currents of time that bears their name – a sign of confidence. It’s worth mentioning that this is supposedly the last by their longtime bassist Vhall Bugtong, who migrated to North America. The new setup includes Ahmad and Khalid Tanji as the band’s twin backbone, joined by Jerros Dolino of Megumi Acorda and Spacedog Spacecat. We Are Imaginary’s self-titled album is worth listening to not because of their proximity to bands we already enjoy–they do wear their influences on their sleeves in interviews–but to see how they’ve planted their feet in their musical journey. The band knows how to be both emotionally evocative and earnestly relatable, and it shows. The album’s sonic palette is primed by the singles that were released prior: “Pinkish Hue,” kept in their pockets since 2015, puts the band’s romantic lyrics at bay with fierce mood-driven fuzziness. “Stockholm” and its happysad structure don’t resolve themselves despite soaring up in energy. The same with “Object Of My Affliction” and its nuanced breakdown two-thirds of the way. “Greatest Kill” emerges as a track that I keep going back to; it’s built for detached navel gazing. Throughout the album, I feel a poignant dissonance. As a whole, the album comes across as concrete and certain, and well curated, thanks to its one year in preproduction. But why do I feel a permeating sense of melancholy while listening? How can the album talk about surrender and yearning while remaining measured, almost clinical, in its arrangement? Both can exist, in music and in life, which is a testament to the band’s own songwriting. Frontman Ahmad’s lyricism cut through the production in a way that they have always done it: abstract, unfettered, and accepting of its own feelings. This time, the result feels more cohesive when looked at as a full project. This band setup, this new approach to their sound, just feels right. Support the art & the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: marcel – marcel
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol When you live through cold weather all the time, you’re always going to find ways to make the warmth you get linger within you. That’s why it makes sense that some of the artists we turn to for moody expressions of emotions, be it through words or music, come all the way from frigid Canada. And somewhere up in Montreal, Johann Mendoza committed to tape sounds that would allow his feelings to circulate through the dense winds of a Quebec autumn. On the self-titled debut album of this project, marcel explores melancholia through slowcore textures and melodies—combine that with its grayscale cover art of clouds and chain-link, and you get a collection of songs that chronicles the doomed fate of young love and its complex phases. This theme is set in motion with the album opener “journal entry,” which acts as a prologue for a story of heartbreak told across seven tracks. On “just one of those days,” marcel recalls the first memory of a past lover. His lyrics on partaking in the reckless abandon of a night out are elevated by the delicate drone of a string quartet – or, at least, a guitar resembling a string quartet, which brings an organic feeling within an otherwise processed soundscape. It’s like catching the cool breeze and falling leaves while walking wasted in downtown Montreal, although the textures do overstay their welcome, to the point where it could leave you wanting to take shelter, lest you get hypothermia. But on “these rotten nails,” we’re taken away from the streets and into the rooms of two individuals processing heartbreak in dim lighting. The chemistry between marcel and guest vocalist kelly elizabeth is palpable as they sing about their perspectives on a failed relationship, though any hope of reconciliation between the two characters is nowhere to be seen: the acoustic guitar-driven half of the song dissolves into a slower, gloomier instrumental as the two singers wonder where things went wrong. It’s fascinating to hear a story being told through the contrast between two guitars that sound completely different from one another. This creative use of slowcore drones and the drama laced within the lyrics are two things that make “these rotten nails” a highlight within the project. “parc hang,” like “just one of those days,” is a song that sees marcel reminiscing about a night out, but with the context of the track that immediately precedes it, “parc hang” becomes the sound of a memory slipping away from the mind of someone who’s ready to move on. The guitars make you feel like you’re watching a videotape of a park while it’s being demagnetized – to the point where all you can see is static, and this is about the only time on this album where you’ll hear them be this distorted. The intro of “end of the line” greets us with the most ornate blend of sounds in the album. Listening to the mix of acoustic and electric guitars and a violin is like stepping into the woods for soul-searching before letting out your frustrations through a chamber-emo song. Like in “these rotten nails,” the dichotomy of sounds within this song adds another level of storytelling, and kelly elizabeth’s backing vocals – which mixes so well with marcel’s lead vocals – is the icing on the cake for another satisfying number. Because marcel mashed together sounds and genres so frequently and so well on the first part of this album, the last two songs, “porch” and “when it’s time to leave,” can be a bit middle-of-the-road by comparison. These songs play their genres straight: the twang of the guitars in “porch” more strongly suggests country-tinged Americana that is well outside the frosty sonic palette you’ve been hearing so far, and the instrumentation in “when it’s time to leave” is the clearest and barest out of all the tracks on the album. But perhaps the cleaner, less hazy state these songs are in, along with their more cautiously optimistic lyrics, represent marcel actually fulfilling his promise of moving on from heartbreak – or, at least, doing so while hoping he and his lover can rekindle the flame someday soon. Nevertheless, these are both decent performances, and it’s still nice to see the snow thaw out for the grass of spring. Though some of the slowcore drones feel like they’re holding on for too long, marcel still showed some strength as a budding singer-songwriter in the indie space with this album. It’s clear that he has an ear for making films out of the sounds he’s working with, a pen that easily captures the catharsis of a broken heart, and hands that let these two elements live in symbiosis, one track at a time. While the final stretch of songs do come off sonically inconsistent with the rest of the album, they’re still good enough to show marcel’s potential in branching out towards other genres of music, and with the core of this album being in a genre that can feel constrained within one particular sound, he might stand a chance to tell his stories well as the seasons slowly change in Montreal. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Parti. – High Action
Written by Adrian Jade Francisco Anchored in experimental math rock, parti.’s debut album ‘High Action’ is the equivalent of a cat chasing a laser pointer—you never quite catch what comes next. Across its 43 minute runtime, it thrives on a buffet of instrumental twists and turns. There’s a kind of beauty in disorder that presents itself throughout the tracks. The first half of ‘High Action’ delivers abrasive riffs and aggressive percussion that refuses to let you settle in. From the metal track “Hullabaloo” to the subsequent math rock “Milo Dinosaur Jr.,” the album already established its ability to be unpredictable. ‘High Action’ levels up its game with a barrage of Japanese-style rock guitar akin to POLKADOT STINGRAY and A Crow Is White, particularly in “Mirage” and “Antigua.” featuring snappy fretwork from Justine Tan and Pio Perez. The production lets the intricacy of the compositions without smoothing out their rough edges, packing the hooks for constant earworm. “Breach” and “High Action” serve as microcosms, concentrating the album’s spectrum of sounds on full display. “Breach” was just an appetizer—Parti. had already carved out a sound. A mix of alternative, experimental math, and progressive rock keeps you on edge. ‘High Action’ serves up the full feast of their sonic arsenal unapologetically. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: sci fye – 2092
Written by Lex Celera Who can tell the future? Sometimes there’s no point in finding conjectures to predict what can happen five, ten, or a hundred years from now. Sometimes all you need to do is imagine. One year after who knows?, Pasay-based rock band sci fye continues its formula of punk-ish, catchy rock mixed in with a lot of other elements. Since its inception, sci fye’s main proposition has been an interpretation of a subset of music acts that ended up bundled together in the ‘90s: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Green Day, Pink Floyd – you get the idea – all influential and worth remembering when listening to sci fye. It’s almost like they swiped off the dust from a CRT television set and examined it through a microscope. These influences flow off of each other in a way that outpaces their novelty while binding them to a sound sci fye can call its own. For one, it’s the technical know-how: the recording is precise, and more importantly, audibly clear, as we have come to expect from their work. Let me be clear: a bulk of sci fye’s tracks are at its most potent when heard live (always a pleasure to see them in the marquee of a gig poster) , but easy listening – say, while in a car – doesn’t diminish sci fye’s angular approaches to music. “Bastard,” a lyrical and thematic standout from the whole project, was worth an immediate re-listen after first contact, its concussiveness, borrowed from its more hip-hop elements, bouncing off the windows of the car stereo. Second, the composition of each song leaves little to be desired, and I say this in the best way possible. ‘2092’ as its individual tracks feel complete, or at least well considered, for it to go on, break down, or stop. What has been said about their previous EP could also be said of ‘2092’: while their individual tracks feel fully formed, the Album as a whole is a mixed bag, rife with textures and sounds that point towards different directions. The 4-piece has yet to transcend from its past work, but maybe transcendence is not the point. “Intro,” Good morning, ‘2092’!,” and “Western Corprorate Standoff” act as interludes between tracks but come in more as flavor text that can be excavated to find meaning, or not. It’s like laughing at the mouth of the abyss. After their EP launch on Halloween, the band thanked their collaborators and friends in an Instagram post. “We still got one more in us,” the band says. Maybe we can expect another project a year from now. At the speed they are going, music making appears to be a pressure valve they turn clockwise every now and then to let out some steam. Steam, and a lot of angst, some anger, a little bit of melancholy. A lot of anxiety. I’m not sure if I enjoy being comforted by the fact that I relate to the anxieties of the generation, as told by sci fye, to a tee: feelings of belonging (“Alien”), fraught relationships (“Drown It Out”), but mostly the dread of living in the Philippines in 2025. The title track, “’2092′,” and its frenetic fuzziness exude warmth, but the lyrics come as a lingering shadow. We all want to escape this hellhole we call the present day. What’s 2092 minus 2025? 67. Do with that information what you will. If you’re willing to rock with the supposed abject aimlessness sci fye presents themselves, it would be more interesting to see them as a prism of the present condition we see ourselves in, and ‘2092’ as yet another layer to their humor. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: Hazylazy – ANTAGONISMS
Written by JK Caray Hazylazy, Laguna-based virtuoso Jason Fernandez’s solo project, is an indie darling. His first EP, ‘The Resentment Segment’ in 2020, has since become a classic that captured the stark isolation brought upon by the pandemic blues. In the following years, the soloist had everyone’s ears on him, waiting for another release. What’s next, we collectively wondered. It wasn’t until 2025 that we finally heard a response, culminating in Hazylazy’s debut album ‘ANTAGONISMS.’ ‘ANTAGONISMS’ thrives within its lush instrumentation. Experimenting further on that hazy, dreamy sound, the album is a spiritual successor to the 2020 EP, but given more space to grow. If ‘The Resentment Segment’ bordered claustrophobic territory at times, ‘ANTAGONISMS’ flourished in its own peculiar world. Hazylazy’s vocal performance here remains static and unchanged, but he’s never been one to focus on one component more than his overall sound direction. The DIY elements of the production carry a fuzzy nostalgic sound; bringing up scenarios of indoor plastic playgrounds, liminal neon arcades, and vast green valleys under vibrant cerulean skies, only existing within its hazy, fever-dream-like wall of distortion-heavy guitars and reverberating drums. Over the course of the album, the tracks center around Hazylazy’s internal struggles. Perhaps this is another understanding of the album title ‘ANTAGONISM,’, a play on the indifference of airing out one’s inhibitions. For example, the track “WAKE AND FLAKE” talks about escapism from the mundane life and the unbreakable cycle it creates. The rest of the album operates at the same tone, glum yet desperately hopeful. A few lines from “CHASING MY TAIL” sum it up the best: “No sight of reason—No right demeanor, Believing there’s no one to hold onto. ‘Cause I wanna get my whole life together”. A record like ‘ANTAGONISMS’ happens whenever a 1:1 rendition of an artist’s idea is executed. It’s an accomplishment when an artist creates their own worlds, but to convey it in its purest form is a feat that only a few can do. In this case, it works because the album is by far the most potent version of Hazylazy. A release so personal and unapologetic, it created a portal to a land that used to only exist within his mind. Transcendental and mystical, it’s clear from the start that ‘ANTAGONISMS’ does not belong in the world we reside in. SUPPORT THE ART & THE ARTIST: ANTAGONISMS by hazylazy
TRACK REVIEW: geiko – No Way Now
Written by Louis Pelingen “No Way Now” is a song that has more weight to geiko than anyone else. A change in tone and sound where she confronts a connection that used to be endearingly close but is now tousled and cut away, a narrative ruffled through shuffling, dreamy pop-rock flutters that’s additionally produced by Jad Lara. Adding light percussion, glossy synths, and reverbed guitars that complement geiko’s more somber singing, just before the guitar solo swerves and she starts releasing her anger at that past relationship. Whilst not exactly a remarkable song – drums sound lighter than they should, chorus doesn’t hook strongly, and geiko’s release of anger stumbles more than it is anguishing – the gradual change of her sound ever since the release of “Palapit Sa U” offers growth for her as a musician. Perhaps, in wading through the past, she ends up somewhere refreshing. Growth ends up like that, after all. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
SABAW SESSIONS: Hazylazy
Approaching Antagonisms The singular author of his work, Jason Fernandez, is a textbook solo artist. His brainchild, Hazylazy, remains his closest collaborator, revisiting the Antagonisms demos he released from his bedroom years ago. Written by Hannah Manuel Born in the post-internet age, Hazylazy is the project of Tagalog native Jason Fernandez. An indie rock internet secret of the early 2020s, Jason made waves in the (then online) scene as the solo mind behind The Resentment Segment. Tracks like Ultrawanker and Juxtapose were the lockdown anthems that eventually funneled crowds new and old back into dive bars and in-person gig venues. With Antagonisms, Hazylazy reemerges transformed, putting together years of musical exploration into a cohesive and deeply personal thesis. The genealogy of Hazylazy precedes the act itself. Spending his formative years in Laguna, Jason found his first audience performing with his five schoolmates at fairs in the local Catholic school circuit as Serotonin. In step with the rise of indie bands all over the country, led by the likes of Autotelic and Ben&Ben, the six-piece Biñan-grown band had the classic OPM toolkit at their disposal while somehow still maintaining impressive individuality for an adolescent outfit. Part of this ought to be due to Jason, who composed the original pieces they performed in between covers. Initially writing songs in the drum seat of the band, Jason first made his way to the mic when the band’s vocalist quit. This late 2010s indie rock sensibility transforms into something more atmospheric toward the latter part of Serotonin’s lifespan. When the band quietly dissipated into college and work, the singer-songwriter took to SoundCloud for a new solo project, where a trajectory of his work remains in view today. From chillwave to jangle pop to neo-psychedelia, Hazylazy is heavily inspired by the wild array of musical inspirations Jason holds dear. A multisensory and multidisciplinary trip, Antagonisms is the matured mastery of Jason’s exploration project years in the making. The singular composer and producer of the album, Jason’s closest collaborator is himself. Many of the tracks are years older than they let on, beginning as demos back when Hazylazy was still in its seedling stages. With an ethos of total authorship and a creative control of the acoustic environment he molds, the indie rock auteur revisits old compositions and converses, eventually completing a years-spanning project long awaited since his last release four years ago. He orchestrates his listening experience down to a T. From the warm decay of lo-fi synthesizers, to drumlines—a channel he is well acquainted with—like heartbeats in their earnestness, the time it has taken to get him here is a reward made even riper for those who were there with him from the start. Back in time, it was impossible to imagine Hazylazy as real. The adulterated frequencies of the real world were seemingly not the place for Jason’s ethereality. The boundlessness of the net—its lack of physical constraints, its endless archives, its potential for anonymous reinvention—serves Jason well, so well that it is easy to conflate it with the separate and equally boundless entity that is his mind. As time and a return to on-site gigs permitted, the underground bore witness to a new master. From an etiology of melancholy, Antagonisms arrives noisily and unapologetically, not giving a fuck about what the world thinks, blazing a trail through it anyway. A storied creation and a boundless frontier, Antagonisms is something to look forward to on the live stage. **This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. HM: There are songs in Antagonisms and related to antagonisms written with years in between them and the final album. Specifically, the tracks “Another Self-Loathing Demo” and “ANTAGONISMS” which were released four and three years ago, respectively. Hazylazy: Yes, which is funny ‘cause “ANTAGONISMS” did not make it to the album. But “antagonisms”, it latched on as a name. Nagkaroon pa nga ko ng iba’t ibang album names in mind, and I was trying my best to not use antagonisms because I was telling myself na “Ah may nakarelease na track ng antagonisms, yeah, whatever”. But I figured if that’s the name that works, so be it. I just went for “Antagonisms” even though there already is a song called “Antagonisms” and wala siya sa mismong album. HM: Is there any relation between the two “Antagonisms”? Hazylazy: It felt like [the song] started the new sound for me? That’s when I separated from the previous sound, which is the sound that most people have heard from the Resentment Segment, and “ANTAGONISMS” was a big jump from what I usually make. It was a good starting point too, in a way that song started everything. And then lyrically, the album of Antagonisms fits the title. Parang kumbaga the “ANTAGONISMS” as a single, the one on SoundCloud, the sonic aspect and the lyric aspect don’t really fit in the album I’ve made, so I didn’t think to put it in. But looking back, the title really worked with how the lyrics were written: unapologetically saying anything, unapologetically following the sound that you want, not caring about what other people say to me. It’s like being antagonistic in a way, putting yourself first, being selfish quote unquote. HM: The singly credited composer, writer, and producer of your project. These are songs you’ve written with years in between them. Hazylazy: Yes, years apart but it’s not as if I’ve been working on those songs for the whole time interval. I just let it sit there and then when I decided I was gonna start recording the album that’s really the only time I revisit the song and there were changes here and there but not so much. I would say just production wise, na may onting adds lang and onting subtraction of things HM: In a way you’re revisiting a past iteration of yourself as well, in the year you first created those demos. As the sole auteur to your music, what is it like collaborating with a past