Tag: Sabaw Sessions

  • SABAW SESSIONS: Michael Seyer

    SABAW SESSIONS: Michael Seyer

    Michael Seyer, Do You Have What It Takes To Be A Man?

    Interview by Faye Allego

    Music has been a diary for songwriters for centuries, and Michael Seyer is no different. But how does a man write his legacy?

    Memory is ever-changing and sometimes fails to hold still. However, when used in music, we can preserve them forever. In his latest release, Michael Seyer introduces an amalgamation of his memories and experiences on boyhood vs manhood, family, love, and ghosts in Boylife. For nearly a decade, Seyer’s rise from the bedroom music scene has been unhurried and steadily paced – his distinct lo-fi, jazz-tinged dreampop and vintage soul sound originated from his 2016 debut album, Ugly Boy, and is further intensified in 2018’s Bad Bonez. Seyer’s diaristic lyricism, as well as sentimental textures of Japanese city pop and the reminiscent glow of early OPM influences in his 2021 album Nostalgia and throughout his discography, he never strays away from an inward gaze of his identity and perception of love. Talking to Michael Seyer from one bedroom to another at different sides of the Earth felt like catching up with an old mentor from high school, you really learn the essence of ‘dudes just being dudes’ who are really in tune with their passion. During the interview,  he mentions that music is all he really knows, and it was said in the same way that Alex G thinks he’s a very boring person, from the receiving end of things, it’s honestly far from the truth. 

    **This interview was conducted in June 2025 and has been edited for clarity and brevity.

    FA: Do you know what Lugaw is?

    Seyer: That sounds familiar. You know what? I love the Philippines. I was born there, but I left when I was three or four. So yeah, I just, I didn’t do my very best to keep the good look in my mind. 

    FA: So, Lugaw is Porridge. Where in the Philippines were you born?

    Seyer: I was born in Manila. 

    FA: Is nostalgia a recurring theme in your work? What role does memory play in how you write music or understand yourself? 

    Seyer: I write about memory for sure, but it’s not the most overtly “themed”. It’s more in the sense that I write [about] my experiences. So, in that kind of really far stretch of my experiences, are my memories. Mostly, I’m writing about me looking back at certain things, how I am now, you know? Memory drives the music. I tend to write songs or do things in a way where it’s the music that I have found the most fond in my memory; I try to make my music sound in that way, that whole nostalgia EP, I was really into a lot of the Japanese city pop and even a lot of OPM music. I have always been listening to that kind of stuff. Even as a kid, I remember listening to it. I would take things from music that have really affected me in the past and then use that as a jumping-off point. I guess for this recent album, I was writing… a good amount. One of the songs on the new album, “1995”, that’s the year I was born, [and] I wrote that song specifically about the Philippines. The way I remember the Philippines is not– I don’t have a very concrete memory of it. I left when I [was] really young, and I came to America. So, a lot of the stuff that I do remember from the Philippines is really just abstract, senses, taste, and maybe the few images that I do remember, they almost feel like an old film reel that’s [a] really colorful and nothing is really graspable. It’s really ethereal. I was trying to write a song about the Philippines with my very limited memory and my really abstract memory about it. So those are a few ways, I guess, nostalgia or memory comes into play. 

    FA: Are there any Filipino artists that are from the past or present that you’re curious about, in terms of musical influence, and your new record label, Seyerland?

    Seyer: Yeah, that’s a tough thing, right? We’re in a kind of an interesting situation with Filipino visibility, right? There aren’t many artists to really pick from, especially in my lane of music [in the West]. We have that Filipino Pride…Once anyone’s a fucking drop of Filipino, we claim it. That being said, there’s nothing there’s not much range that I could pick from. Obviously, I love all kinds of music. So I am always listening to everything, especially with OPM, Hotdog, and Bong Peñera. My parents would always play Parokya Ni Edgar, Eraserheads. Yeah, it’s… A lot of old stuff. I would love to find some artists that are more contemporary in that lane, and we don’t have that many options to pick from. So I’m just always trying to find new music. and I definitely want to encourage Filipino artists to carve out a lane for themselves, and I want to discover more artists who are Filipino [and are inclined to make] great music. Because we’re a fucking–we’re a musical culture. Nine out of ten of us can kill it in karaoke and belt out of nowhere. 

    FA: You released your new album under your new independent label, Seyerland. Are there any lessons and niches you have gained in the behind-the-scenes process of starting your own DIY label? 

    Seyer: Well, you know what? I am only a month into it. I’m not sure if I have any lessons to give anyone, but [a] part of the reason why I want to do this is because I’ve been doing [music] for a really long time– almost 10 years now, and through that process of being forged to release on my own [music], because I haven’t really had any connections. I was just someone who threw a project on the internet and then fell into this. I saw maybe a few people appreciate it, and then at the same time, this is what I love doing. I don’t have any skills besides making music. Since I’ve been doing it independently, I at least would really love to step in and give back to locally based smaller musicians and maybe equip them with small tools that help them slowly build a sustainable career that is pretty self-sufficient because I’ve atleast been able to do that, in some way, it might be relatively modest compared to what other artists have put out for themselves, but I can feel confident to say that I’ve done it myself and I own my own music, I hold no allegiance to a record label or any industry thing. And it is hard as fuck, but I think it’s worth it. In my formative years, I’ve met a lot of super impactful artists, who were cut from that same cloth, where they were like “Oh, we’re doing it ourselves, this is how you do it!” And I [am] definitely taking a page from their book in some ways. I’d love to do that for another artist.

    I think you should you should always let yourself be. Especially with being an artist or not even being an artist, but being a person, being a human. I don’t think there is a means to an end to justify humanity. I think it’s a means in itself, just by virtue of experience; there is no end goal to experience or humanity. It’s simply to be.

    FA: Boylife is an album that doesn’t insist on resolving the chaos of boyhood, but instead, embraces it. What did boyhood or “manlife” mean to you while making this album? 

    Seyer: When I wrote the first few songs for Boylife, I remember, I think one of the first ones I wrote was “Boylife”, and it had that little chorus around just saying “Boy Life” over and over again. I love that word. I don’t know why. I think it’s really random, but one of my favorite words is “boy” for some reason. I don’t know, it resonates with me, Ugly Boy. Boylife. And then I wrote that song. Usually, at least for my experience, the album process is you write the first few songs and then some of the first few songs inform the sound and the theme, and then from there, it just comes into fruition by itself. [Then,] you start to write about generally the same stuff. So I wrote the “Boylife” song, and I guess I was in a mood where I was writing a lot of stuff that was pretty related to how I see myself from a formative perspective, coming into a much older person. I just turned 30,  so it was a big one, and I’ve been doing this for a really long time, so that was on my mind. So I just continued to write about themes of youth and growing up and maturation, which is always a present [theme] in my work. There’s always that recurring theme that an artist always writes about– I’m always interested in writing about how someone’s experiences also informed who they’ve become, really.

    FA: Do you ever feel pressure to define who you are as an artist, or do you allow yourself to remain in that space between becoming and just being? 

    Seyer: Very ethereal question, huh? There’s always pressure for an artist to kind of prove themselves to other people or whatever it is, even not at a non-artist level, we always have something to prove, right? Whether it’s in a workspace or a social dynamic or an existential way, I think just us as human beings, we’re always inherently thinking about our place in the world, and it gets even worse when you’re an artist. Because sometimes your artistry is really just intimately connected with what you think and your purposes. Obviously, that’s the case for a lot of things, but I have learned that that’s not necessarily the best thing. I think you should you should always let yourself be. Especially with being an artist or not even being an artist, but being a person, being a human. I don’t think there is a means to an end to justify humanity. I think it’s a means in itself, just by virtue of experience; there is no end goal to experience or humanity. It’s simply to be. I think we should live our life that way, and it might help us be a little more radically present if we kind of approach it that way. 

    FA: That’s some George Harrison ass answer, dude. I love that. 

    Seyer: Yeah, I don’t know, man. I mean, I was, yeah. It’s my college. It’s my college fucking background. It’s fucking critical thinking and shit,

    FA: What did you major in? 

    Seyer: Creative writing. 

    FA: That’s so cool. 

    Seyer: I guess, well, I’m not doing shit with it. […] but, yeah, I fucking love college, to be honest. It’s like, you get to meet just the most random fucking people who are just the biggest weirdos! You meet people and you’re like, “dude, what the heck? Why are you this way?” I don’t know. [Laughs] Yeah, and you start to love whatever the hell is wrong with people. It’s great. 

    Whenever I go into a church, there’s always this sick ass fucking piano and a sick ass organ, and then the ceilings are so high that there’s natural reverb and acoustics that are really good. Even though I don’t believe in religion, I love the overall atmosphere. I think that is the same thing with ghosts. I don’t believe in it, but I love the idea of it. 

    FA: When you’re trying to translate something so internal into sound, melodies, chords, and rhythms, you mentioned earlier that there is that pressure to it. So, when you’re an artist, that pressure seems to amplify ten times more because it’s also essentially displaying your work in front of people to listen to and see. So, how does your songwriting process look?

    Seyer: It’s different every time, really. Sometimes I start on the guitar, sometimes I start on the piano, sometimes I have a phrase or there’s something I want [just] to write about. It really differs so greatly between songs that I really could not tell you one definitive answer. I think it always starts with making the time to do the “thing”, right? So, yeah, I’m pretty good at that. I mean, I was better when I was younger, for sure. Now I’m just like, you get old and you have baggage. But I think, generally, I’ve been pretty good with– no matter what it is–taking the time to allow yourself [to create] a time frame to put yourself in front of whatever it is– the computer, the guitar, the piano, just to do your due diligence and let the thing come out, I guess. 

    FA: Yeah, practice makes perfect or intense lore! You mentioned a while ago that “boy” is your favorite word and that it’s just something that kind of reappears in your head. I also noticed that one of the people in your comment section on Instagram commented that in your other songs, you use the word “ghost” a lot. Is that on purpose?

    Seyer:  I mean, I guess it’s on purpose, but it’s not intentional. There’s just some things we gravitate towards, I think most artists have these revisited themes that they go through. And I don’t know. I just, I really love the fucking imagery of a ghost and what it means just on a symbolic level. Or just the iconography of ghosts throughout. Yeah. Just fucking various cultures and shit. It’s just such a potent word. 

    FA: Do you have any ghost stories that you might want to share? 

    Seyer: No, actually, I don’t really believe in ghosts. I’m explaining this in a roundabout way, but I grew up Catholic– I don’t want to gravitate towards religion at all. Even when I was young, being brought to mass, I was a six-year-old and already thinking, “this is so fucking boring, I don’t want to be here.” When I entered the church, the air felt heavier. But I love going into churches now as an adult because even though I don’t really believe in Catholicism or Christianity, the iconography of churches, the stained glass windows, and the murals of Jesus on the cross, and the wooden pews. Yeah. All of it, there’s this atmosphere that [now] feels really great. Even being a musician, whenever I go into a church, there’s always this sick ass fucking piano and a sick ass organ, and then the ceilings are so high that there’s natural reverb and acoustics that are really good. Even though I don’t believe in religion, I love the overall atmosphere. I think that is the same thing with ghosts. I don’t believe in it, but I love the idea of it. 

    Music has always been just this overarching theme of my life that I will always have unconditional love for, but especially in making different albums, I have to constantly remind myself why I fell in love with this. And I think we can do that with a lot of things. And I think it’s a thing to remind yourself that’s worthwhile of why you love these things. 

    FA: It’s a very Filipino phenomenon to grow up practicing Catholicism. It’s also a very Filipino trait to be family-oriented, and this applies to the family dynamics, too. This is reflected in your discography in songs such as “Father”, “Chemotherapy”, “For Mother”, and even your cover of “Raindrops  Keep Fallin’ On My Head”, which was uploaded onto your YouTube Channel. What keeps you grounded with your culture, and how do you think that reflects in your music? 

    Seyer: Yeah, I mean, yeah, [cultural influences are reflected] in my music because I’ve obviously written songs about my family. I think it’s always been positive. I’m one of the lucky ones. I know there’s a lot of chaos and sadness in the world, where sometimes you don’t get the privilege to say that I have this really great relationship with my family. I really feel for that because I think anyone who is [alive and] living has someone close to them; friends, partners, whatever it is, and they see that come into play very vividly. I don’t take it for granted because I had a really great childhood, and my parents were the best. They loved me. Whenever there was something that I needed, they provided, they worked hard, and I’m truly indebted to them for making me the person that I am. They always encourage me with music, even though they were not really encouraging. They were half and half, where they said, “Okay, that’s cool, do this thing you like, but also go to school.” I think that’s reflected because most of my songs are extremely positive, and they made it pretty easy for me to feel really close to them because they were awesome parents. My parents were always very encouraging, and they made it really easy for me to be vulnerable. Obviously, I can be better. There’s always something. There’s always a next threshold to aim for. And I guess music is the way that I do it.

    FA: What has writing boy life taught you about love, not just romantic love, but familial or self or even artistic love?

    Seyer: I think even on all levels–whether it’s artistic love or loving another person or a general, platonic idea of love. And this is just speaking for me, everyone has their own philosophy that they could abide to. But I truly think love is active. I think love for anything, whether it’s in someone or an art, I think it is effort. You have to put in effort. You have to put in the time to nurture that love. Obviously, on some level, there is that unconditional love that is just working as a passive mechanism. But I think that only is nurtured when you put yourself in front of it and show up for it and are actively, radically present with giving that love some weight, you know? So, yeah, a lot of the time, making an album for me is trying to remind myself why I love music. Again, you make the thing, and then you fuck off. You go do the other stuff and experience whatever, and then you kind of at some point are, “Oh, I gotta do it again.” And it’s always this process that’s maybe, at least for me, somewhat grueling. And then you have to slowly remind yourself, “Why do I love doing this?” And then you get to this moment where you write a song, and then you go “Oh, I LOVE this, I’m kind of getting high off of this. ” Then you’re making more songs that build off those songs, and then you’re reminded again why you fell in love with this in the first place. So that music has always been just this overarching theme of my life that I will always have unconditional love for, but especially in making different albums, I have to constantly remind myself why I fell in love with this. And I think we can do that with a lot of things. And I think it’s a thing to remind yourself that’s worthwhile of why you love these things. 

    Where we are at, it’s much harder, especially with a lot of the venues– if you compare how many venues there are now to back then that are operating on a DIY level, we’re [now] living in a post-Live Nation post-Spotify realm.

    FA: How do you decipher which mediums to publish your art in? 

    Seyer: That kind of [medium] asks you to do it a certain way, to be honest. If there’s a song that I write, you can write it in, but I think at some point in making the song, there’s going to be some point where the song is asking you to do it a certain way, right? So I think that’s what dictates what medium or  at what certain process the thing needs to be made; I remember there are a few songs that I have in my catalog that were poems, […]I would just write it and I’d think: “This is kind of sucks as a poem”, and I remember taking the poem and just based off of the lyrics and put it onto a song instead. It at least felt to me a little more natural in that place. I think sometimes you can kind of tell, especially if you’re getting a little comfortable with creating art, whether or not something necessarily works in that medium. I guess I just try to trust that intuition of “Maybe it needs this certain thing and it’s not necessarily thriving in this kind of lens, so let’s put it on! If you want to put it on, you can just trash it if you want,” but yeah, I’ve done that quite a bit where it [would start as] poems and then it’s not working out and then I put it in songs or vice versa. So, yeah, just trust it, you’re good.

    FA: You once mentioned in an interview that you started making music in your mom’s garage in California. Did you dive into different underground scenes there? How do you compare that to touring? 

    Seyer: It’s interesting because I kind of grew up in a DIY scene, but I wasn’t as invested as other folks. I [gained] a little taste from DIY scenes, and then I put out my first project, and then from there, it was mostly focused on the internet DIY scenes. But, yeah, just being around music as much as I can, I’ve had the liberty to be in a lot of places and experience other people’s social bubbles. I like so many different ranges. And it’s really cool to see that little bubble and how those people operate in some way. I’d love to just experience that again. In this day and age, there’s not a lot of support, I would say. That sucks to say, right? And maybe I’m not tapped in that way because I’m sure there’s always going to be an underground DIY thing that’s operating. But I feel like, as of right now, where we are at, it’s much harder, especially with a lot of the venues– if you compare how many venues there are now to back then that are operating on a DIY level, we’re [now] living in a post-Live Nation post-Spotify realm. And also, things are just astronomically so much more expensive compared to [DIY]. Even just the idea of touring is not conducive unless you have a lot of I don’t know, support capital or whatever you want to fucking call it. So yeah, I’d love to see [the DIY scene] encouraged a bit more. It’s hard as fuck right now because we’re living in the late-stage capitalist time frame. I’d love to see the scene more encouraged because when you do see it, when you see a self-sufficient underground DIY scene, it’s really special. 

    FA: What made you want to work with Justin Quinell for the cover art of Boylife? 

    Seyer: Even before I started making the album, that [image art later used for Boylife] was one of my favorite photo images; there’s something intimate about it, but also really unsettling. It’s almost like it’s something intimate and not intimate at the same time because of how surreal it looks. That image deeply resonated with me. I was almost keeping that image in my head while I was writing these songs: what would the soundtrack to this image sound like? It was a really big help on trying to trying to craft the general sound for the album. Because I always go a little differently every album! We were entering to a more acoustic-oriented folk territory. But yeah, I really love that image, and he’s one of my favorite artists in photography. I remember when I finished the album, I was pretty head set on having that image in there because it felt so formative to what the music was sounding like. I reached out to him, and I guess he was a fan of my work too. I was really happy that he resonated with my music, and I resonated with his photography, and there was a good mutual exchange between artists that are just fucking liking each other’s work. He’s a super cool guy. 

    FA: Do you still resonate with your lyrics from your previous albums?

    Seyer: I like to page through this artist that I really love. A lot of [Boylife] is influenced in certain ways by him. I love Cody Chestnut, and he put out this album called “Boy Life in America”. Or actually, no, that’s the first track in the album. Cody Chesnut put out the album called The Headphone Masterpiece. I remember watching this interview because I love that album, and he was just talking about whenever he listens to it and when he was making it, he just heard a young man who feels that felt lost and is trying to find their place in the world. In a lot of ways, that’s how I feel when I listen back to Ugly Boy. I hear a lost young man trying to just figure himself out. I guess in that journey created some music that maybe resonated with some other folks who felt the same way. In a lot of ways, I guess this new album was a love letter to that of my first album. It’s revisiting that theme of feeling lost, but now that I’m older, I ask myself what other insights can I gain from that same sentiment? because things are really different. But very similar at the same time. 

    FA: That feeling of being lost is so evident at the end of the 6th track, “Manlife”, I’m sure that’s the interlude portion of the album, and there’s a voice call at the very end that’s, I believe, from your dad. It points out the redefining moment of reassuring yourself that you’re okay, and it’s okay to be lost. When there’s so much rubble and noise around you, there’s that one familiar voice that makes you think, “Oh, okay, I’m safe.”

    Seyer: Oh, for sure, because, you know, I think that’s such a fucking, it’s such a loaded question to unpack of what it means to be a man, you know? But at least from my experience, when I try to think about what a man is, there’s very superficial answers to that; a man could be someone who has power. A man could be someone who makes a lot of money. A man could be someone who gets chicks or whatever, I don’t know. And that’s not any of the things that informed what manhood [truly] is. I’ve had to learn that the hard way, being a young, misguided boy who struggled with masculinity and misinforming themselves of, “maybe if I get this,” or “if I do this, it will make me more of a man,” even though that’s not really how I am inside. I’ve had to learn that, and I think most kids had to grow up and realize, and mature. When I think of what a man is, I think of my dad, because he’s just kind. He’s in touch with his feelings. He’s always been really mindful of others. I guess that’s what I was trying to do with the “Manlife” interlude. I see [my dad] as the epitome of manhood in some ways. Hearing that voice at the end is the most grounding thing when you think about such a heavy question that just bounces around in your head.

    FA: You mention on your Instagram story that John Lennon’s solo work, particularly the album Plastic Ono Band, heavily inspires Boylife and the rest of your discography. Is John Lennon your favorite Beatle? 

    Seyer: You know what? I feel on paper, it should be Paul McCartney. I like more Paul songs. But for some reason, just John is the GOAT. That’s all I gotta say. He has that thing in him when he makes a song that just feels really good. Something that an artist would make, right? So, yeah, I think technically, maybe Paul, but I love–really intensely– a lot of John Lennon songs. 


  • SABAW SESSIONS: BARBIE ALMALBIS

    SABAW SESSIONS: BARBIE ALMALBIS

    Give A Girl A Guitar And She Will Show You Girlhood

    An Interview with Barbie Almalbis

    by Faye Allego

    When adversity strikes, Barbie Almalbis’ songwriting prevails; she takes her pain and either releases, soothes, or embraces it through her words, her conversations with her loved ones, and, of course, through her impeccable skills on the guitar. Her reputation throughout the years as one of OPM’s great legends is continuously proven through her playful work ethic; From her experimental approach to her esteemed collection of instruments. It goes without showing, but taking the time to hear her mind in tracks like “Paper Doll” and “Maniwala Ka” from her previous work in Barbie’s Cradle and Hungry Young Poets to beautifully loud and honest ballads “Homeostasis” and “Platonic” found in her latest release, Not That Girl, manifests and greatly displays her genius. Almalbis’ music is for everyone and anyone who has the ability to close their eyes and feel. It is now 8:00 pm at Mow’s Bar, Quezon City.

    The night is still young, and sooner or later, the crowd from in and outside Mow’s will be hearing Barbie Almalbis perform the iconic guitar solo from Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” as well as cheering on songs from her latest album. Just beside the smoking area is the graffitied green room where Pikoy, Suyen, and members from (e)motion engine and Moonwlk have laid their bags, water bottles, broken drumsticks, and string instruments. Sitting in the corner is Almalbis and her team; In this interview, the technicolor in the graffiti all around the room comes to life as she takes on girlhood and the guitar unleashes. 

    *This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity

    FA: In celebration of Women’s Month and the release of Not That Girl, who are women in music that you look to when it comes to songwriting?

    Almalbis: The earliest ones that I really felt encouraged me to write as well [were] singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell. My most favorite was Brickie Lee Jones, and they still play up till this day. Seniors na sila, right? [laughs] But they still perform. And then there’s so many artists that they’ve inspired as well, Jewel, Alanis Morissette. There’s just so many women that I looked up to. The Indigo Girls, The Murmurs, Elastica, sobrang dami. It’s a wide range, too. PJ Harvey, Bjork, Tori Amos. I had a Tori Amos cassette that I just played every day over and over. Sean Colton.. I’m so blessed to have lived in a time where there’s just so much representation. So much music that spoke about things that I cared about. And I’ve always felt like there was a space for me as a musician and as a songwriter. So I never felt otherwise because of these artists [who] just spoke their mind and embraced their femininity as well.

    Photo from CADM/Facebook

    FA: Are there any new and upcoming acts or female artists that you’re very excited for? 

    Almalbis: Oh, yeah. Yeah, well, here in the Philippines, Ena Mori. A lot of people love her. I love her. Clara Benin. Pikoy, right there. And, yeah, Moonwlk. 

    FA: So, “I’m not like other girls” is a phrase that has a negative connotation to younger women as the label of “pick-me girls” is starting to arise, especially in the younger generation. Are you familiar with those terms? 

    Almalbis: Oh, yeah. I mean, “I’m not like other girls”. It’s like they’re pitting us against each other, right? Society has a negative view of girls, and they actually want to infect girls themselves and to think that way about others. And it can happen. It’s sad. We have to, to somehow fight it. We have to go out of our way to support each other.

    “I have noticed that the people around me that I get to work with are getting younger and younger.” 

    FA: In your new album, your title is “Not That Girl”. So what does that mean, Not That Girl? What does not being “that girl” imply? 

    Almalbis: Well, actually, I do want the music [to speak for itself]. I feel like the songs, the lyrics, the stories in the songs would better explain that. I would rather not define it in just one thing, the thing that I don’t want to be. Something like that. But the album talks about change as well. Somehow in life, you can encounter the same types of trials or the same types of challenges, but you’re not the same person anymore. You may be able to handle it better this time. It’s revisiting the mistakes that I’ve done in the past and having the grace towards myself that I can change. And extending the same grace to people. Yeah, that there’s always hope for [the knowledge] that you can change. So yeah, it’s not really a girl thing. It’s just a person thing. That I’m not that person anymore. I think that’s so beautiful. 

    FA: You’ve been performing for more than a decade, and your demographic has remained the same. The youth. Why do you think that is? 

    Almalbis: Oh, really? I’ve just not really done it deliberately or anything. I have noticed that the people around me that I get to work with are getting younger and younger.

    It’s like when I was starting, you must have been maybe not yet born. I was like, wow, these people. It’s like the next thing you know. Now we’re giggling with our friends’ kids, you know. It’s fun. I’m happy. I’m happy to do that. I think. My favorite artists are now. Joni Mitchell is probably in her 70s, 80s, maybe. She’s in her 80s. Yeah, right. I mean, but that’s not an age thing, you know what I mean? I mean, I don’t think she’s lost any connection to me with her music, right? I don’t think music has a, what do you call that? An age separation. So maybe that could be. Maybe music is a thing that we can connect through, despite how old we are. 

    FA: How does it feel to be considered one of the best female OPM icons? Do you embrace that status? 

    Almalbis: I’m grateful to be a part of that thread because I’m also a fan of music and I really so appreciate that artists who came before me, and I’m sure they’d say the same as well. We’re just happy to be making music, to be able to be free to express our thoughts. Of course, I try to not take that part of [being an OPM icon] seriously. I mean, you have to not believe your own press, right? I mean, sometimes what makes it fun for me is the music making itself and being able to share it in a venue like this tonight. Because that’s how I started out. That’s the reason why I became a musician because I enjoyed writing songs. I enjoyed playing in my bedroom, and then, a few decades ago when I made a job as well, somehow you’re thrust into a scene, right? There’s that pressure and there was a time that people would compare you with others, but over time, I mean, of course, it’s a job, and you have to be faithful with it. You want to have work, and you want your team to have work. All that stuff. I guess at one point, I could see the difference between the machinery and the purity of just loving the music. And I always want to go back to that because that’s the reason why I’m here. I think that mindset has also helped me through the waves of the industry because there was a time when people were so excited about bands, and then there’s a time when nobody was coming to the shows. But we’d play places, and sometimes there’d be five people there. After playing, we played a couple of concerts in Araneta, right? And then a couple of years after that, we would play [at venues such as] Route 196. There’d be ten people there. But I’d come home and I’d be so happy. It’s so thrilling to perform, to play music. So, I mean, I’m happy that right now the scene is so fun. There are a lot of people coming. But it’s hard when you let the success of it dictate things because you’d get sad when it’s down. So, I always just go back to why I started and that’s because I love music. Yeah, the reason why I’m doing it. 

    FA: You know, a lot of people say, especially people like our parents, they always say to “Never separate your passion from your job.” What can you say about that?

    Almalbis: I mean, I guess to each his own. I’m sure there’s going to be some wisdom to glean from that. But for me, I feel like it’s the opposite. If you imagine a world where everybody’s job was the thing that they were passionate about, then you wouldn’t find lawyers who only love money, and then justice is just something that happens along the way sometimes. Or like other professionals. Actually, this is kind of a quote from a book by Tim Keller called “Every Good Endeavor”. He said you’d find doctors whose passion is money and not really healing people or seeing people come to good health. But health just happens sometimes along the way. But can you imagine a world where doctors are those people who are just so passionate? I know doctors who are like that, and they become the best doctors. And lawyers who are like that, who are just so passionate about justice, and they become the best at it. So, for me, my dream is that it’s the opposite. It’s that people would somehow find the freedom and the support to really pursue the thing that they believe in so much that they would do without getting paid. 

    Photo from CADM/Facebook

    FA: Do you think that’s prevalent in your songwriting as well? Or is your songwriting more so diaristic to your own personal experiences?

    Almalbis: Can you explain that to me? 

    FA: So when you’re passionate about music, do you want that to reflect in your songwriting for other people to learn from as well? 

    Almalbis: Oh yeah, that’s a great topic actually. It’s something that my husband and I talk about a lot. There’s this painter named Makoto Fujimura. I don’t know if he coined it but we heard it from him. But he calls it generative art. So it’s art that generates art in others. Generates ideas and creativity in others. And my husband’s a painter. We’re always on the lookout for artists like that. Those are the artists that we want to follow on Instagram or that we want to watch. You watch their gig or you look at their paintings and it makes you want to paint. And somehow that’s something that we hope that our art and our music does for others as well. That it makes them want to go in their bedroom and write something too. But I hope that it happens naturally. 

    “You have to have at least one guitar that you can throw around. Pedals, gear, it’s all just toys. It’s inspiration machines.” 

    FA: There’s actually a movie called “Look Back”. It’s adapted from a manga by Tatsuki Fujimoto. And it talks about two young girls who are passionate about creating manga. And they grow up together, and something tragic happens. And it’s all about the love of art.

    Almalbis: Yeah, “Look Back”. I’ll check it out. 

    FA: Do you view the guitar as a weapon that encompasses your emotions when songwriting? Do you view it as an inanimate child? Or is it merely just an instrument that you love? 

    Almalbis: Beautiful. I think it’s evolved over the years. Back when I was young, it was my only friend maybe. Speaking about girls and women’s month. I love my family and grew up with my older brother. Maybe seven, eight, around ten. Maybe seven. Boy cousins. I was the only girl in the whole gang. Then I have a sister, but she’s five years younger than me. But during our adolescent and pre-teen years, we were the only girls. When we got around that age, 11 or 12, this was the 80s. People weren’t really into it [girls playing instruments and hanging out with the opposite gender] yet. They left me because I was a girl. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with them. It’s okay, they were doing guy things. That was around the time when I started playing guitar. Every day, that’s what I did. I played guitar in my room. The boys were wherever they were going. I put it down. Every day, I would play guitar. I did that for a couple of years. I started writing songs at 14. Then it became a songwriting tool for me. To this day, among all of your guitars, they’re all your friends I wouldn’t say they’re my babies because I experiment on them a lot. They can take some pain from me. I hack them. I don’t think I have a single guitar that hasn’t been opened up and changed. I want them to be their best. I want to perform using them. Make them useful. I would change things so that it wouldn’t be hard for me. 

    Photo from ellyphantart
    Photo from ellyphantart

    FA: You’re like Mary Shelley and Frankenstein.

    Almalbis: [Laughs] I’ve burned the carpet. I’ve destroyed a couple of things. I’ve had guitars that I’ve given up on and come back to. I wouldn’t touch them for 10 years. One of the guitars that I might use tonight is like that. It’s gone through so many lives. I want it to sound good. I’ve experimented with it all these years. 

    FA: In your Rolling Stone interview, you said that you fell in love with the guitar before music. What advice would you give to someone starting out with the guitar and should they go acoustic first or electric? How do you know when to tap into the world of pedals, amps, and other gears? 

    Almalbis: I would just advise using a nylon string guitar first because it’s easy on the fingers and so you won’t give up on the guitar. Naturally, your calluses will develop. By the time you move to steel strings, it will be easier. I got my electric guitar when I was 16. The only thing that was a problem with that was that it was so heavy for me at that time. It still is heavy for me, but now I found lighter electric guitars. They always say you have to have a beat-up guitar. That’s the best guitar to write songs on. One that’s not precious. You can throw it, you can put it in your trunk, you can have your car. You have to have at least one guitar that you can throw around. Pedals, gear, it’s all just toys. It’s inspiration machines. Just explore it on your own, whatever you’re curious about. 

    Just explore it on your own, whatever you’re curious about. 

    “I’ve burned the carpet. I’ve destroyed a couple of things. I’ve had guitars that I’ve given up on and come back to. I wouldn’t touch them for 10 years. One of the guitars that I might use tonight is like that. It’s gone through so many lives. I want it to sound good.”

    FA: Did you face any fears or even insecurities when it came to your guitar playing? Did you try to fix that?

    Almalbis: I’m not sure if I would consider it an insecurity, in which it made me sad or fearful. Maybe it is an insecurity, but I didn’t know what I was capable of, what I could do when I was younger. When I was in high school, I started to find music that I loved, which was glam rock at the start. I would listen to Guns N’ Roses and I would watch Slash play, or Eddie Van Halen with Van Halen, and Paul Gilbert with Mr. Big and their shredders. When I would listen to them, I would always say to myself, I could never do that, so I didn’t try.

    I just used the guitar mainly as a songwriting tool. I just knew a few chords and I would just write. I wrote the first album of Hungry Young Poets just using chords.

    Photo from ellyphantart

    I never thought of myself as a guitar player doing lead or anything like that. But I didn’t really want to or something. I was happy doing what I was doing. It was when John Mayer came out. He had a cover song of Stevie Ray Vaughan. This was in 2001, maybe. He had a cover of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Lenny. I found it really beautiful. It was a bit slow. I just said, “That’s so beautiful, let me try to play it”. I just broke it down to chunks. I realized I could do it. I was so excited, I called my brother into the room and said, “Look what I can do”. Then I approached everything else just like that. If I’m interested in something, I just slow it down, try to learn it. Then I realized I could do it. The things that I thought before weren’t accessible to me, I could build it slowly. But it wasn’t a frustration or anything. It wasn’t like I dreamed of doing that. I thought it wasn’t possible. I guess it was just a fun process for me to learn it and then slowly incorporating it into our music. It’s like leveling up. It’s like a game. It’s like a new thing that I can do. You’re just curious. Then you realize you can do it. Like a guitar or singing, you can keep practicing, you get better and better. I’m sure in some way there is. You can get better at rhyming, or faster at arranging songs, or finding out why this song works or not. But I feel like so many people write so many great songs when they’re just starting out. The beginner’s mind. Like Firewoman, I wrote that. It’s one of my favorites from Hungry Young Poets. I wrote that when I was 19. I hadn’t gone to a songwriting class or anything like that. I had a lot of emotions, and I just poured them out. So for me, even with Not That Girl, it’s probably the 10th or 8th album that I made. But I feel like what I like about it is because I’m able to go back to how writing was like in my teens.

    Which is I have so much emotion, and I just want to get it out there. So it’s different from playing guitar, where you develop your skill year after year. For me, it was songwriting. Even the last couple of years, there was a season where I couldn’t write. I was scratching my head. How did I write those songs again? What makes a good song again? It’s like you can’t just really pin it down. Who me? Yeah, so it’s like that. It’s a different journey. Different beast. Actually, with this album, Not That Girl, I’m so happy with the process, working with Nick as well, and writing the album. Because that’s how I remember it. I remember how to write in my teens. It was just [that] I had so many feelings and I just needed to process them through music. I didn’t need to be creative, even to invent anything. I didn’t have to think of a story. I just had to write down what I was going through that day, what I was thinking about. That’s it. 

    “Our perspective and our experiences are very unique to women.” 

    FA: Do you think it correlates a lot with girlhood? And womanhood specifically?

    Almalbis: Of course. Because I’m really just writing from experience. Our perspective and our experiences are very unique to women.

    I’m just expressing that. Of course, my best friends, we laugh about it. We can relate to each other’s songs. We would chat with each other, and we’d say, “I love you”. And then he’d be like, “yeah, platonic. Make sure. Just making sure.” Yeah, because we’d be so effusive with our feelings. I guess we’re at that age where all my friends are like, “I love you so much. I miss you so much.” He’s like, “yeah, platonic.”

    FA: There are so many thematic elements in your songwriting, especially in Not That Girl. Even in Hungry Poets era or Barbie’s Cradle. Do you think that in your songwriting, do you always think of the themes?

    Almalbis: I don’t. I don’t. In life, I don’t plan. Also, in songwriting or making an album, I have no plan. I don’t sit down and think of a theme. The opposite way would be like, you have an album title and then you have song titles, and then you’d stick to that theme. For me, it’s the total opposite. I’d sit down with no plan and then I’d write the songs one song at a time. I’d finish a song. Sometimes it’s hard for me to pick a title because I have to find something that somehow makes this song sound cohesive. I hope somehow the song ends up being cohesive that I can think of a title. And then at the end of it, when I have all the songs together, I’d be like, I hope I can find an idea that kind of ties them all together. 

    FA: When people tell you their interpretations of your songs, how does that make you feel? 

    Almalbis: I’m happy I embrace that. It’s just my experience, but I’m happy to share it with other people. Even for me, I can go back to my old songs and it might mean something different for me now. So I don’t really pin it down to what I thought of, what I was thinking of at the moment I was writing it. I’m open to that. I think you can say the same for guitars as well. Picking them out for the first time, it’s kind of like, just see what works for you, right? 

    FA: If a younger woman came with you, for example, if someone had you as their guitar hero and you were with them in a guitar store, how would you assist them? 

    Almalbis: Really, I would just– you have to really try it out and listen to what you like.

    Every guitar, even if it’s the same brand or the same model, every guitar has a different voice. That’s why I don’t like ordering guitars online, even if it has all the same specs, because you have to hear it, and if you don’t like that voice, then you’re stuck with it. 

    FA: If you go to a guitar store, do you play your own songs on the guitar when trying it out? 

    Almalbis: No, I just play random chords.

    Photo from CADM/Facebook