Problem with filekeeping and such, I found the actual order of the music reviews. So read this first before TYBS 26. Apologies. The good people at SONY-BMG Music Entertainment Phils were kind enough to hand over some of their latest releases for review a few weeks back. They’re great listening fare for this confused rainy season, during Tikbalang weather -- those times when it pours buckets but the sun still shines like high noon.
Popular folklore says that when this happens, two half-man and half-horse creatures of our lower mythology are tying the knot. It seems these days a lot of Tikbalangs are getting married. Here’s the soundtrack to that matrimony. Mazel tov.
GLOC-9
DIPLOMA
Gloc-9 is the hip-hop moniker of Aris Pollisco, the fastest rapper in the country. Once, they tried to measure his speed and he clocked in at 130 words in 35 seconds. Eat your heart out Bone Thugs `n’ Harmony.
His faster-than-Dawn of the Dead-zombies tongue notwithstanding, Aris makes excellent songs depicting the grit and glam of life. Emphasis on the grit, though. On his songs are people you’d likely know, the situations they get into familiar and the more sordid results of their exploits the fodder for next morning’s headlines.
On this, his third album, Aris extols his gospel of rap that’s testament to how strange daily life can be, reality at point blank range. On “Diploma,” truth slices like a fine boning knife. His vision is as unflinching as a seer gazing into a future filled with war, pestilence, famine and a ray of hope. The kind of salvation you can only attain by a tacit revision of all the shit you learned in school. We don’t need no education.
You’ve probably heard carrier single “Lando” by now, where Francis M lends his voice and a veritable who’s who of the hip-hop community appear in the music video. It’s a formula pop-rap song (think Eminem’s “Stan”) but its narrative of poverty, love and misfortune is executed with finesse.
“B.I.” is probably as close as Gloc-9 will get to something with overt themes of “the Game.” Still, this song about an overly aggressive, barely legal girl, is more cautionary than macho posturing. “Demo Tape” is meant to be an interlude but this tale of a young man trying to make it as an independent musician still comes across as hilarious and scathing.
There are some low points here, too. The Lovi Poe collaboration “Lov na Lov” is pure pop drivel. Its declaration of fairy tale romance sticks out in an album full of grit and street gospel. The Eraserhead’s revival song “Torpedo” has decent vocals from Kiko Machine’s JP Cuison, but the arrangement is lukewarm at best.
Still, these duds can’t take away the energy and raw strength of Diploma. The best among them is “Lapis at Papel” where Gloc-9 has outdone himself with its swagger and intensity. There are more shades of Eminem here as he enacts a vicious self-interview even as he combines the best of what he does: fearless confession with excellent words per minute execution.
Popular folklore says that when this happens, two half-man and half-horse creatures of our lower mythology are tying the knot. It seems these days a lot of Tikbalangs are getting married. Here’s the soundtrack to that matrimony. Mazel tov.
GLOC-9
DIPLOMA
Gloc-9 is the hip-hop moniker of Aris Pollisco, the fastest rapper in the country. Once, they tried to measure his speed and he clocked in at 130 words in 35 seconds. Eat your heart out Bone Thugs `n’ Harmony.
His faster-than-Dawn of the Dead-zombies tongue notwithstanding, Aris makes excellent songs depicting the grit and glam of life. Emphasis on the grit, though. On his songs are people you’d likely know, the situations they get into familiar and the more sordid results of their exploits the fodder for next morning’s headlines.
On this, his third album, Aris extols his gospel of rap that’s testament to how strange daily life can be, reality at point blank range. On “Diploma,” truth slices like a fine boning knife. His vision is as unflinching as a seer gazing into a future filled with war, pestilence, famine and a ray of hope. The kind of salvation you can only attain by a tacit revision of all the shit you learned in school. We don’t need no education.
You’ve probably heard carrier single “Lando” by now, where Francis M lends his voice and a veritable who’s who of the hip-hop community appear in the music video. It’s a formula pop-rap song (think Eminem’s “Stan”) but its narrative of poverty, love and misfortune is executed with finesse.
“B.I.” is probably as close as Gloc-9 will get to something with overt themes of “the Game.” Still, this song about an overly aggressive, barely legal girl, is more cautionary than macho posturing. “Demo Tape” is meant to be an interlude but this tale of a young man trying to make it as an independent musician still comes across as hilarious and scathing.
There are some low points here, too. The Lovi Poe collaboration “Lov na Lov” is pure pop drivel. Its declaration of fairy tale romance sticks out in an album full of grit and street gospel. The Eraserhead’s revival song “Torpedo” has decent vocals from Kiko Machine’s JP Cuison, but the arrangement is lukewarm at best.
Still, these duds can’t take away the energy and raw strength of Diploma. The best among them is “Lapis at Papel” where Gloc-9 has outdone himself with its swagger and intensity. There are more shades of Eminem here as he enacts a vicious self-interview even as he combines the best of what he does: fearless confession with excellent words per minute execution.
BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB
BABY 81
BRMC are known for their brand of garage, folk revival, blues clarion, heartland rock and religion-inspired lyrics wrapped in a pop package that recalls the best of The Doors, Jesus and Mary Chain, The Rolling Stones and a host of 70s space rock bands.
This album has almost been universally detested by critics who see it as a fluke in the otherwise grand and bombastic discography of the Club. True, expectations ran high after their acclaimed third album Howl, and there are undoubtedly bad tracks on this one ("Berlin" is a head scratching, trying hard rip-off of Bolan with the horrid chorus "Suicide's easy/ What happened to the revolution?" And songs like 666 “Conducer” or “Killing the Light” are pathetic attempts at gravitas), but we must not gloss over the better tracks that the trio have made here.
“Weapon of Choice” is a tasty, slow burn track that recalls the folk rock of Jesus and Mary Chain. Derivative, but enormously tasty. If paying homage to your heroes comes with this much swagger and attitude then rock needs more of it.
“All You Do Is Talk” is a touching funereal track that conjures up images of city life in time lapse: the lights of a traffic jam on a busy highway at night; the detritus of newspapers, leaves and dust in empty, early morning streets; children playing in the park; a beautiful woman sitting on a sill, whisking herself with water from a glass as the heat wave makes the air shimmer; the argument and brag of young men walking down the street. All this filtered through the lens of post-break up shock. Somehow, all this seems to make the protagonist in the song glad to be alive, still.
“American X” is sleek, pounding and psychedelic – like a stealth fighter hijacked by Led Zeppelin devotees. This must be the album’s equivalent of “Love Burns.” Though highly reminiscent of new wave, it is without pretension, posturing or agenda. Worth the price of all the other duds on this album, this song reminds you that rock and roll still works, is still one of the bastions of modern music. You can feel that groove in your marrow and Peter Hayes’ singing can hurt your senses.
At three good tracks compared to 10 poor ones this seems like a bad deal, but the album, when listened to in full, makes a kind of macro sense. The same kind that makes you not eat the marshmallow in front of you. That scenario where the guy who left promised you two, if he comes back and you’ve kept your side of the bargain. Just give it time.
Though awkward in places and sometimes stuttering like a Bowie number, Baby 81 will reward the patient listener with a revelation as precious as those gained on the open road, on top of a powerful, jet-black Harley.
~ 30
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