Some bands are born in garages. Others form in the haze of drunken parties or from the disbanding of earlier dreams. FIGVRA began at home—literally.

The name “FIGVRA” (pronounced as “figura”) came out of a casual discussion at home between Josh and his partner Zab. They were kicking around ideas with their original bandmates, searching for something with meaning, something that stuck. “FIGVRA” is a stylized version of figura, a word that means to represent or symbolize. And that’s exactly what they do: represent stories, feelings, and sometimes even the messy chapters people try not to talk about.

Josh, the founding member, had just exited an old band and found himself aching to create again. He missed the buzz of live gigs, the thrill of building progressions, the collective energy of being with a band. So, like many 21st-century musicians, he took to Facebook. A quick post in the North Studio group and the wheels started turning.

The first two people he tapped? Longtime friends and high school barkada: Cath and Weng. Both could sing, both could play guitar, and both had something to say. What followed was a chaotic yet beautiful unfolding—an indie band where everyone had their own taste, their own story, and somehow, it all made sense.

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The Origin of “Figures”

Ask them about their first song, and they’ll point to “Figures.” Not released. Not even played in gigs anymore. But ask any member, and they’ll remember it vividly.

“It started from chikahan lang sa house nila Josh,” Cath recalls. Zab had written the lyrics, passed them over, and something clicked in Cath’s head—a melody, a vibe, a tone. From there, everything started falling into place. The band shaped the song together, each with their own interpretation of how it should feel. Josh laughs, remembering how many versions they ran through. “Ang dami na naming playstyle na nagawa dun,” he says.

Even though “Figures” hasn’t officially seen the light of day, it was the foundation. It was FIGVRA learning how to make music as a unit.

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Drama. Always Drama.

What fuels their music is what weighs them down in real life. Every song is born from something they went through: heartbreaks, anxiety, growing up, slipping into adulthood, and trying to hold it all together.

“100% personal,” Josh says. “Para samin, imbes na damdamin lang namin nang damdamin, isusulat na lang at tutugtugin.” Zab pours her emotions into writing. Cath does the same. Even Wendell and Josh, self-aware and laughing about how “madadrama kami lahat,” take those same scars and turn them into sound.

But they’re not trying to sell sadness. There’s no grand design to make you cry or scream into the void. They just want you to feel something—whatever that may be.

“We don’t have a target mood or message,” Cath says. “Ang gusto lang namin, maramdaman ng tao yung naramdaman namin.”

And that’s the beauty of FIGVRA’s process. It’s raw emotion, distilled into melody.

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Songwriting is a Three-Way Street

The songwriting process often starts with a spark from Zab or Cath. A lyric. A concept. An emotion too loud to ignore. Then comes the back-and-forth. Zab explains the mood. Cath crafts the tone. Josh fills it in with rhythm, progression, the glue that binds it. Then, they pass it on to Ed and Weng, who throw in their own flavor.

Every band member has different influences. Different sounds. Different musical roots. But that’s not a problem—it’s part of the identity.

“Lahat kami may kanya-kanyang input,” Josh says. “Pero we always base it sa emotion ng kanta. Kung pasok, yun ang ginagamit namin.”

Cath is especially careful. Protective, even. “She’s fragile with her songs,” Josh explains. Not in a delicate way—but in the way someone gets when a story is too close to the skin. “Dapat ramdam mo talaga yung story at emotion.”

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Live Shows, Fails, and Favorite Tracks

Live gigs are where the band breathes. They prefer big crowds now—not because of ego, but because there’s room to move, to play, to feel each other out. “Mas nakaka-build ng confidence and chemistry bilang banda,” they say.

Still, the early shows had their fair share of chaos. Unknown13? A disaster. “Walang nagkakarinigan,” Josh recalls, laughing and cringing at the memory. “Nawalan ng timing si Ed sa Pantropiko, si Mama Yuuri pa yung nag-aalalay!”

But from every embarrassing moment came growth. From each set, a tighter band.

Fans, on the other hand, have gravitated toward “23”—their debut single. Josh says it best: “Kahit di na kami 23, may impact pa rin siya.”

“Easy,” however, holds the most weight live. It’s their latest single, and for Cath, it’s the hardest to perform. She wrote it back in 2019, during one of those moments when life gets too heavy. “It always has been,” she says. Adulthood just made it heavier.

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The Bigger Picture

For FIGVRA, the local indie scene is overflowing with talent. It’s just not always acknowledged.

“Sobrang ganda ng indie bands sa Pilipinas,” Josh says. “Ramdam mo yung impact, yung emotions. Hindi ko lang alam kung anong problema ng Pilipinas na hindi nila ma-credit or ma-acknowledge yung mga ganitong scene.”

But they’re not bitter—just passionate. There’s pride in being part of something underground, something you have to discover to appreciate. “As a listener, ang dami mong madidiscover na artist na ang gagaling,” Josh adds. “And as a band, ang dami mong mapupulot.”

Cath’s current favorite? NOA (Night Over Alaska). As for Wendell—he’s a die-hard December Avenue fan. “#1 fan siya ni Zel,” Josh jokes. Josh himself wants a collab with Fiona or Kamikazee. The dream isn’t far-fetched.

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What Comes Next?

They’re currently wrapping up their third single. That’s all they’re saying for now. “The rest, secret muna!” Josh teases.

But whatever comes next, one thing’s certain: FIGVRA will keep writing, keep feeling, and keep sharing. Not because they have to—but because they need to.

You can follow them here:
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And you should. Because FIGVRA isn’t just a band. It’s a mirror—reflecting back all the emotions you’ve buried, all the stories you didn’t know you needed to hear.