Excapelabs

Author: Labs

  • Inside Purple Tent Records: Where Local Bands Find Their Sound and Space

    Inside Purple Tent Records: Where Local Bands Find Their Sound and Space

    Tucked in a quiet corner somewhere in Bulacan is a studio with a name that feels almost poetic — Purple Tent Records. It’s not just a recording space. It’s a feeling. It’s that kind of place where musicians don’t need to wear a mask. No high-budget aesthetics, no over-the-top pretensions — just honest music-making, brewed with heart, coffee, and sometimes a little bit of chaos.

    When you ask Purple Tent what it’s like to record there, they won’t give you a corporate mission statement or rattle off a gear list. They’ll tell you it depends. On the artist. On the vibe. On the weather, maybe. But one thing’s certain — they want you to feel at home.

    “As much as possible, gusto ko na maramdaman ng artists na at home sila dito sa studio,” they said.

    And they mean it. Whether that’s allowing a band to roll around on the studio floor, sleep between takes, or have coffee-fueled kwentuhan mid-session, Purple Tent has built its identity on being a bahay — a small, simple house for big, bold sound.

    A Studio That Listens First

    No cookie-cutter formulas. No “one-size-fits-all” approach. The recording process at Purple Tent is as personalized as it gets.

    “Dahil bawat artist/band ay may kanya-kanyang genre at tunog,” they explained. “Nakikinig ako ng mga references na sikat or kilalang songs para malaman ko kung paano ko s’ya i-master ayon sa vibe ng song nila.”

    It always begins with listening. Not just to the music — but to the artist’s ideas, dreams, sonic goals. Everything from what snare to use to what kick drum sounds right for a specific track is part of the conversation.

    And for first-timers in the studio? They’ve got you.

    “Siguro matic naman din sa amin na mga producers na mag-guide at tumulong sa mga artist kung medyo nahihirapan sila sa nirerecord nila,” they added.

    You don’t walk in a stranger and walk out a star. You walk in uncertain and walk out heard.

    No Fancy Gear, Just Killer Ears

    When asked about what gear gives Purple Tent an edge, the answer was simple and a little unexpected.

    “Wala eh. Haha.”

    Instead, they believe the real magic comes from the producer’s ears — the ability to listen deeply, adjust instinctively, and bring a song to life. You can have all the same DAWs and plugins in the world, but the outcome will always differ based on who’s behind the board.

    “Siguradong magkakaiba pa rin ng magiging tunog dahil magkakaiba kami ng approach sa pag-master ng isang kanta.”

    Their process is clean and efficient. Most artists come in ready, but inspiration often sneaks in mid-recording, prompting spontaneous changes and bursts of creativity.

    Coffee, Kape, Kulitan

    If there’s one thing Purple Tent values as much as the music, it’s the connection. Collaboration isn’t some sterile, business-speak concept here — it’s food-sharing, coffee-hoarding, laughter-filled bonding.

    “Kapag may malakas mag-kape, nauubos yung stock ko ng kape dito. Haha,” they shared, clearly amused.

    And yes, direction changes mid-recording happen. A lot.

    “Madalas mangyari ito. Kapag nadidinig na nila unti-unti nang nabubuo yung song, nakakapiga pa sila ng fresh ideas para magdagdag ng flavor sa song.”

    Sometimes, all it takes is hearing a clean version of your track to realize what it still needs — a change in tone, a tweak in arrangement, or just a sprinkle of inspiration.

    A Sound That’s Yours, Not Theirs

    The line between giving guidance and overpowering an artist’s voice is one they carefully walk.

    “Importante para sa akin na mailabas nila yung bilang ‘sila’ mismo sa kanta nila,” they said. “Yung tipong kapag madinig ng listeners yung song nila, alam kaagad kung sino yung banda — hindi yung kung saan nirecord.”

    The producer’s job? To suggest, not impose. To offer a clearer vision when the artist feels lost — never to take the wheel completely.

    Even when things get challenging — like spending 16 straight hours recording or listening to the same track for days just to tweak the tiniest detail — they don’t complain.

    “Sakit sa tenga isipin no? Pero ‘yun talaga ang trabaho namin. Haha.”

    What’s In a Name?

    The name “Purple Tent” wasn’t pulled out of thin air.

    “Purple kasi it represents creativity, magic and wisdom, tapos yung tent means home. Maliit at simple na bahay.”

    And it fits. This isn’t some big-budget studio trying to compete with giants. It’s a cozy shelter built for stories — and songs — to unfold.

    From Solo Artists to the Band Scene

    Purple Tent started out producing songs for solo artists. That’s where the groundwork was laid. But now, the focus has expanded — especially towards bands in Bulacan and nearby scenes.

    “Sa ngayon gusto kong mairecord yung eksena ng mga banda dito sa Bulacan at sa mga kalapit na lugar. Kahit anong genre, G ako.”

    They’re not gatekeeping genres or handpicking only those with “industry potential.” If you’ve got passion, you’re welcome. And if you’re part of the independent band wave rising in the region, even better.

    Building a Platform, One Track at a Time

    Beyond the recording sessions, Purple Tent Records is building something bigger — a community.

    Take SpotLive, for example, a performance series they started to help artists promote their original work. It’s their way of introducing new acts not just to listeners, but to the ecosystem of musicians building their careers from scratch.

    “Para makatulong sa mga artist na makapag-promote ng mga orig nila. At isa na din dun ay para makapagpakilala at masubukan din nila dito.”

    You’ll find these sessions on their YouTube channel — humble, homegrown, but with a touch of grit and ambition that makes you want to root for everyone involved.

    Looking Ahead

    Purple Tent doesn’t have lofty promises or inflated branding language. They’re simply on a mission to help more musicians record, express, and evolve.

    “Yes! Yan talaga ang vision ko. Sana mas lumaki at makilala pa ang Purple Tent para mas marami tayong matulungan na artists.”

    And if you’re an aspiring musician reading this, they’ve got one piece of advice:

    “Gawa lang kayo ng gawa ng mga kanta. Someday makakapag-record din kayo dito. Haha.”

    No pressure. No rules. Just music — and a tent that’s purple for a reason.

    Check out Purple Tent’s SpotLive features and original recordings on YouTube. Support local. Support the sound of home.

  • SHRED Drumsticks: Forged for the Beat, Born for the Brave

    SHRED Drumsticks: Forged for the Beat, Born for the Brave

    It all starts with a strike. A crack of wood on brass, a thunderous slam on the snare, a roll that surges like adrenaline through your spine. Whether you’re playing your first bar gig in Cebu or destroying a main stage in Manila, there’s one thing every drummer needs—trustworthy sticks that keep up with your rhythm, rage, and resolve.

    And that’s where SHRED Drumsticks comes in.

    Born in 2024 right in the heart of Cebu, SHRED isn’t just another name slapped on a pair of drumsticks—it’s a movement. A brand forged in the raw heat of local gigs, sweaty garage rehearsals, and passionate drum clinics across the country. In a market where serious drum gear is either imported at insane prices or simply unavailable, SHRED made noise—loud, proud, and local.

    “We saw the gap,” says SHRED founder and CEO Jom, a drummer and gear head himself. “There were barely any affordable, quality drumsticks in the Philippines. Either you had to settle for subpar sticks or pay a premium just to get something durable. We thought—why not make our own?”

    But SHRED didn’t just make their own. They redefined what a Filipino drumstick could be.

    Why SHRED?

    Let’s talk wood.

    SHRED Drumsticks are crafted from premium hickory, the gold standard for drummers worldwide. Known for its strength, resilience, and shock absorption, hickory provides that sweet spot between control and power. Whether you’re jazzing on a ride or laying blast beats in a metal pit, SHRED sticks are balanced to deliver consistent performance every single time.

    They’re tough too—made to take a beating without giving up. And that’s actually where the name “SHRED” comes from.

    “It’s the image of drumsticks constantly smashing against cymbals and heads,” Jom shares. “They chip, they splinter—they shred. It’s destructive, but beautiful. That’s the kind of energy we wanted our brand to carry.”

    And it shows. From the first moment you hold a pair of SHREDs, you’ll feel it—the weight, the texture, the confidence.

    Built By Drummers, For Drummers

    One of SHRED’s greatest strengths isn’t just the material. It’s the heart behind the brand.

    This isn’t some faceless corporation. SHRED is powered by real musicians—people who know the pain of a cracked stick mid-gig, who’ve played cramped clubs and outdoor festivals in the same weekend. They’ve been there. And because of that, every decision made at SHRED comes from a drummer’s perspective.

    “We weren’t interested in building a hype brand with overpriced gear,” Jom insists. “We wanted something real. Something you’d recommend to your bandmates because you trust it.”

    SHRED’s models come in classic sizes—2B, 5A, 5B, 7A—all built to international specs. But unlike international price tags, SHRED keeps things accessible. You won’t need to pawn your pedals just to buy a good pair of sticks.

    Making Noise Nationwide

    In just over a year since its founding, SHRED Drumsticks has grown from a local Cebu venture into a nationwide force, currently available through four certified sellers:

    📍 SHRED Drumsticks Rizal
     📍 SHRED Drumsticks Cavite
     📍 SHRED Drumsticks Bulacan
     📍 SHRED Drumsticks Davao

    This growing presence is no accident—it’s a testament to the trust SHRED has built within the drumming community. These aren’t just resellers—they’re drummers, instructors, and gear specialists who believe in the brand’s mission: affordable quality for every Filipino drummer.

    And the plan is to keep growing. SHRED aims to expand to more provinces, partner with music schools, and sponsor drummers and events that align with their vision.

    “We’re not here to sell sticks,” Jom says. “We’re here to support drummers. That’s why we price the way we do. That’s why we’re careful with quality. That’s why we’re everywhere we can be.”

    More Than a Brand—A Community

    What separates SHRED from other drumstick brands is its vibe.

    Scroll through their socials and you won’t just see product shots—you’ll see clips of live shows, rehearsal videos, young drummers unboxing their first pair of SHREDs. It’s not curated—it’s communal.

    There’s a shared pride when a drummer says, “Gamit ko SHRED.” It’s like being part of a club that actually listens to its members. They repost drummers’ stories. They answer DMs. They watch your gig videos. They care.

    And that community-first mindset is the fuel behind SHRED’s mission.

    Built to Outlast the Trends

    Let’s face it—gear brands come and go. But SHRED isn’t just hopping on a trend. It’s built to outlast.

    Because it’s rooted in the real grind. In the soundcheck chaos. In the broken stick during a breakdown. In the after-gig kwentuhan. In the bruises and blisters of Filipino drummers everywhere.

    “We’ll keep making sticks as long as people are playing,” Jom says, with zero hesitation. “As long as there are kids building drum kits out of tin cans, or dads showing their kids how to do a double stroke roll on a pillow—we’ll be here.”

    Play Harder. Play Longer.

    That’s not just a hashtag. It’s the SHRED promise.

    #PlayHarderPlayLonger isn’t about reckless smashing—it’s about pushing yourself without worrying if your gear can keep up. It’s about durability that empowers and accessibility that includes. It’s about Filipino drummers finally having a brand that represents their hunger, grit, and groove.

    So if you’re a drummer looking for sticks that won’t quit on you—whether you’re playing blast beats in your bedroom or riding grooves on stage with your band—it’s time to join the SHRED movement.

    Because sticks may break.
    But the beat?
    The beat never dies.

    🛒 Want to get your hands on a pair?
     Find SHRED Drumsticks at any of their official certified outlets in Rizal, Cavite, Bulacan, and Davao.

    📱 Follow SHRED Drumsticks on Facebook and Instagram to see the latest drops, artist features, and exclusive promos.

    🛠️ Need help choosing a size? DM them for recommendations or to ask about upcoming restocks.

    SHRED Drumsticks
     Crafted for Precision. Priced for Passion.
     #PlayHarderPlayLonger

  • Carpathia PH: The Sudden Change of Plans That Led to Sound

    Carpathia PH: The Sudden Change of Plans That Led to Sound

    There are bands that plan for years, grind in the underground, and wait for that one break. Then there are bands like Carpathia PH, who formed not out of ambition, but out of a shared itch to play music again—musicians once active, now “napaglipasan” or resting in creative hibernation, who found their way back not through some grand design, but through jamming.

    “It actually started lang talaga as jamming,” one of the members shares through a casual Google Doc interview. “Halos lahat kami dito mga musikerong napaglipasan na, or mga inactive lang.”

    From that spontaneous reunion of passion and talent came something a little more permanent. The core began with Paul, Niks, and Rona. The chemistry clicked. Before long, the project evolved into a full band. “Then hanggang sa nagtuloy-tuloy, ayun, binuo na namin ‘yung banda at nag-commit na.”

    Welcome to the story of Carpathia PH: a band born from a love of music rekindled and a name that speaks volumes.

    The Ship That Answered the Call

    The name Carpathia wasn’t just randomly pulled out of a hat or AI name generator. It has weight, and as Niks—the brain behind the name—explains, RMS Carpathia was the ship that responded to the Titanic’s distress call. “Si Carpathia na dapat pupunta ng UK, eee nagkaroon ng sudden change of plans para iligtas ‘yung mga survivors.”

    A sudden change of plans—there’s something poetic about that. Much like how this band formed: an unexpected detour that turned into a mission. A rescue of creative selves, a revival of sound.

    The Sound: Rock, Sweet, Chill

    Asked to describe their sound in three words, they went with: Rock. Sweet. Chill.

    “Rock kasi may mga kanta kaming Gazey sounding so maingay talaga tapos may mga Punk Rock pa. Sweet is meron din kaming sweet lyrics kahit maingay ‘yung song. Then Chill is meron kaming British Indie Rock na mga song na parang pang-roadtrip.”

    In short, Carpathia isn’t the type to box themselves in. Their sonic identity is a little bit of everything: a layered, textured collage of genre fragments that all come together in a sound that’s theirs.

    Influences, Writing, and the Studio Vibe

    It’s easy to assume Carpathia’s genre—Rockgaze, as they call it—was a deliberate choice. But really, it was a compromise born out of wildly different influences.

    “Actually ‘yung genre mixes na ‘yun kasi ng mga influences namin,” they admit. “Iba-iba kami ng influences. Si Nik, pure metal. Paul is indie and blues. Si Rona, indie and punk. Si Nate naman, more on Paramore at Christian songs for church.”

    So how do they make it work? Collaboration, for one. They admit there’s usually one lyricist per song, but the arrangement process is where the magic happens: “Dun na kami nag-ci-critical thinking.”

    And when they’re in the studio? Chill lang.

    “Hindi kami tense, and ‘yung parang may hinahabol na deadline. Gusto lang namin makuha ‘yung vibe ng kanta.”

    Gears, Growth, and Gigs

    Carpathia debuted live in March 2024 with their song Lost in the Moment—a gig they treated not as a breakthrough, but as a detox.

    “Nag-try kaming mag-gig last March para patanggal lang ng kalawang at i-debut live ang isa sa mga song namin,” they share, alluding to the itch to perform and the desire to finally bring their sound out of rehearsal rooms and onto a stage.

    That same song holds special meaning for Paul. “Siguro ‘yung Lost in the Moment, kasi para sakin lang ahh… di siya mahirap talaga, oo. Pero nag-transition kasi ako from bassist to lead guitarist, tapos original song pa ‘to. So ayun, nahirapan ako gumawa ng melody. Sila Niks, Nate at Rona, parang easy lang. Hahaha.”

    And when asked what gear he can’t live without?

    “Overdrive. Klon Style na Overdrive to be exact. It gives me my signature sound.”

    Women in Rock, Covers, and Character

    Carpathia may not be a band of flashy personas, but each member brings a distinct flavor to the table. Rona, the band’s vocalist, faces the usual challenges of being a woman in a male-dominated genre.

    But instead of backing away, she owns the space.

    Nate dreams of doing a cover song with a signature Carpathia twist. Though he didn’t drop a specific title, you can sense his quiet confidence that whatever song they pick—it’s going to sound like them.

    As for Niks, the exercise was simple: describe each bandmate in one word. Unfortunately, the answer wasn’t included in the doc—but that’s probably because summing up complex people in a word isn’t really the Carpathia way.

    Behind the Chat Threads and Late Nights

    Like all bands, Carpathia has its behind-the-scenes quirks.

    Sino ang pinaka maingay sa group chat? “Si Paul.”
    Laging late sa practice? “Si Paul din.”
    Laging gutom? “Si Niks.”
    Pabibo sa stage? “Rona.”

    That last part makes sense—fronting a band isn’t just about hitting the right notes, it’s also about holding the stage with grace and presence.

    Tampuhan, Day Jobs, and Alternate Realities

    Bands fight. It’s part of the creative equation. But Carpathia handles disagreements with clarity.

    “Usually we talk about it as a band. Kung may issue, sinasabi agad. Then we listen. That’s it.”

    And if music hadn’t called them back?

    “Kung hindi kami musicians, baka office workers na kami lahat ngayon,” they laugh. “Or may kanya-kanyang small business.”

    What’s Next?

    Carpathia PH may be new, but they’re not rookies. They’ve seen the scene, stepped away from it, and now they’re stepping back in on their own terms. No rush, no pressure. Just music.

    From that first jam session to their debut gig, from gear obsessions to shared chat thread chaos, Carpathia is proof that sometimes, all it takes is one sudden change of plans to steer you toward your purpose again.

    And just like the ship they were named after, they’ve got a mission now: answer the call, show up for each other, and make music that saves—even if only a little.

    Follow Carpathia PH on social media and catch their single “Lost in the Moment” live whenever they hit the stage again. Stay tuned for their upcoming releases this 2024.

  • The Lost Boys Club: A Scene That Never Left

    The Lost Boys Club: A Scene That Never Left

    The house lights dim, the amps buzz to life, and a crowd of familiar faces, many clad in worn band tees and scuffed Vans, surge toward the front of the stage. Somewhere in the organized chaos of soundchecks and shouted greetings, the Lost Boys Club gears up for another night of defiance, celebration, and pop punk.

    Behind the posters and the playlists is Pauline, one-half of the production team that built this DIY haven for lovers of The Story So Far, Neck Deep, and the rest of the pop punk canon. Alongside Chaz, her co-conspirator and partner, they form the lean but passionate heart of Lost Boys Club.

    From Fanhood to Formation

    The seed was simple: “Ang dami kong kilala na nakikinig non,” Pauline shares, referring to The Story So Far and Neck Deep. “Super fan din ako ng TSSF kaya triny ko gumawa ng ganong event.” That fan energy didn’t stay in playlists—it evolved into an entire movement, one gig at a time.

    What started as a tribute night turned into a full-blown mission: create events centered purely on pop punk, and connect people who never grew out of their love for the genre. The production’s roots stretch back to 2018, when the scene was quieter, scattered—but not gone. Pauline and Chaz didn’t just want to revive it. They wanted to give it a home.

    Planning and Persistence

    Their recent The Story So Far x Neck Deep cover night took one full month of preparation, a tight timeline considering the scale of the crowd and expectations. Back then, Pauline still had Luna on the team—a helping hand that she credits as a big boost.

    “Ang LOST BOYS CLUB nagstart talaga ‘to sa mga pop punk bands,” she adds. And every show they mount pays tribute to that beginning.

    They don’t promise perfection. They promise to show up. That’s why, when things don’t go as planned, they adjust. Bands arriving late? They rework the schedule. Unpredictable Manila weather? They roll the dice.

    “Malakas ulan non e,” Pauline recalls of their first TSSF x Neck Deep night. “Pero sinugal pa rin namin at ayun—super successful naman kasi ang daming tao.”

    Roles and Rituals

    Today, the team is down to two: Pauline and Chaz. Between them, they do it all—posters, social media, lineup curation, sponsor outreach, on-ground logistics.

    “Sa pag-gawa ng poster and posting naka-depende kung sino ang hindi busy,” Pauline explains. She takes charge of the lineups, reaching out to bands, locking in commitments, and negotiating with sponsors. On show day, she’s at the entrance while Chaz emcees and manages the stage.

    When asked what makes a strong production team, Pauline doesn’t blink: “Dapat talaga nagkakaintindihan kayo. Dapat iisa yung goal niyo.”

    And it shows. Every gig they pull off is a small miracle of coordination, understanding, and unwavering faith in the local scene.

    Booking Bands with Intention

    For Lost Boys Club, the lineup isn’t just about who’s available. It’s about fit—musically, energetically, and ethically.

    “Kung bagay ba yung genre, masipag ba sila mag-promote, at pinaka-mahalaga if kaya nila mag-commit.” They don’t just book bands. They build lineups with heart and hustle.

    And while there are always wishlist names—Pauline mentions Urbandub as her dream local act, and The Story So Far as the ultimate international get—they’re not rushing. There’s a deliberate pace to how they grow.

    Each band that joins a Lost Boys night does so with shared intent: to bring the crowd to life, and to make the night unforgettable.

    For the Fans, Always

    The Lost Boys experience doesn’t end when the amps power down. Pauline wants people to go home feeling like it was all worth it.

    “Gusto ko ma-feel nila worth it yung pagpunta nila ng gig, worth it yung pagod at puyat kasi sobrang saya nila.” And they add flavor to the shows through sponsors—shirts, tote bags, and other giveaways—making every night feel personal and special.

    For Pauline, success isn’t measured in numbers alone. “Yung makikita mong naging masaya lahat. Bands and audience. At higit sa lahat yung walang abono haha!” The laughter in her words says it all: joy and sustainability are twin pillars of their work.

    What’s Next?

    Don’t expect Lost Boys Club to slow down. They’ve already got shows planned all the way until April 2026.

    Up next? A My Chemical Romance x The Used Cover Night this August 23 at G Malolos. Then there’s the Secret Crisis Tour—a dual album tour for Takaw Tikim (Secret Menu) and No Angels, No Gods (Equation Crisis).

    And while future plans are still hush-hush, there’s ambition brewing. “Yes meron pero quiet muna kami sa ngayon,” Pauline teases.

    What she can say is this: the long-term vision is rooted in purpose. “Magiging tulay pa rin kami para makilala ang mga banda or artist na gustong ibahagi ang craft nila. Hanggang magkaron ng sariling pangarap yung mga anak namin.”

    This isn’t just about the now. This is legacy-building disguised as gig production.

    When Kids Crowd Surf

    Asked what she’d do with an unlimited budget, Pauline doesn’t aim for lasers and pyros. Instead, she envisions something for all ages.

    “Gagawa kami ng event na hindi lang pang adult, yung mag eenjoy din yung mga kids.” It’s not a marketing stunt—it’s personal. “Kasi lagi namin kasama mga anak namin sa mga gig.”

    Her voice carries the joy of someone imagining a better version of the scene—one where the next generation grows up on live music, not just YouTube clips.

    Good Chaos and Great Advice

    One of their wildest experiences happened just this July 5, during the Batangas leg of the Secret Crisis Tour. It wasn’t the crowd or the logistics that stood out—it was the kindness.

    “Grabe yung pag-alaga nila sa amin,” Pauline says about Hardcore Hope, the co-prod that night. “Pagdating namin don meron ng food tapos meron pa kaming libreng stay. Talagang, makikita mong mahal na mahal nila ang eksena.”

    That kind of hospitality isn’t just rare—it’s unforgettable. And it fuels them to keep going, despite everything the scene throws their way.

    So what advice does she have for those who want to enter the production world? Pauline doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Dapat buo ang loob niyo at mahalin yung mga banda, manonood at mga venue.”

    Then she drops the foundation of it all: “Apat na pondasyon ang kailangan para manatiling nakatayo e. Ganoon din sa music scene—productions, bands, audience, at venue.”

    If one falls, the whole house shakes. But if all four stand strong, the scene becomes more than a trend. It becomes a home.

    And for the Lost Boys Club, that home has room for everyone—old fans, new bands, future punks, and maybe even their kids.

    Because the scene? It’s not lost. It just moved to Malolos. And it’s louder than ever.

  • Behind the Song: Laki sa Layaw by Mike Hanopol

    Behind the Song: Laki sa Layaw by Mike Hanopol

    I’m not a music critic. I just love listening to songs that say something real, and Mike Hanopol’s “Laki sa Layaw” does that in a way that still hits today, even in 2025. I grew up hearing it at family gatherings, late-night jeepney rides, or even during quiet moments when the radio played old Pinoy rock classics. But recently, I listened to it again—really listened—and it felt different. It felt more personal, more reflective.

    “Laki sa Layaw” isn’t just a catchy tune. It’s a story, a wake-up call. It speaks to something I think a lot of us feel but don’t always say out loud: that too much comfort can mess you up just as badly as too little.

    From the first verse, Mike Hanopol paints two sides of life: “May mga taong lumaki sa hirap, merong laki sa layaw, puro sarap.” Some people grow up struggling, others grow up spoiled. We’ve all seen both sides, especially now when social media shows everything—people flaunting their stuff, their vacations, their expensive hobbies. It’s easy to get jealous or annoyed. But this song reminds me that having it all doesn’t always mean you’re happy.

    When I hear, “Kung siya’y titigan mo, akala mo kung sino. Hindi na bumababa sa kanyang trono,” I imagine someone so caught up in themselves, they forget the world around them. I think we’ve all met that person. Maybe it’s a friend, a family member, or even ourselves at some point—too focused on status, too proud to see reality.

    That’s what makes this song so relatable even now. It doesn’t feel outdated. If anything, it feels like Mike Hanopol wrote it for today’s generation. Think about it: with influencers, TikTok stars, people chasing clout—it’s easy to grow into that “laki sa layaw” mindset without even noticing.

    What really hits me is the part about vices: “Hindi pa makuntento sa kanyang mga bisyo. Nilubog pa niya ang sarili sa putik.” That line feels heavy because we’ve all seen someone drown in their own bad habits. Sometimes, we’re the ones doing it. Whether it’s drinking, spending, gambling, or even just wasting time, there’s always that temptation to fill the void with things that don’t really satisfy.

    And yet, the song doesn’t feel like it’s judging. It’s not saying, “Look at this bad person.” It feels more like it’s asking, “What now?” There’s this line in the pre-chorus: “Meron pa kayang pag-asang magbago ang taong lumaki sa layaw?” That question sits with me every time I hear it. Can someone spoiled by comfort still change? Is there hope for people who’ve lost their way?

    Honestly, that’s what makes this song so emotional for me. It doesn’t give easy answers. It just leaves you with the weight of that question, making you think about your own life.

    Listening to it now, as an adult, I notice how these themes show up around us. I see it in people who seem to have everything but still feel empty. I see it in friends who used to be so driven but got lost somewhere along the way. And sometimes, I see it in myself. When I catch myself getting lazy, getting entitled, I remember this song.

    That’s the thing: we’re not immune. Even if you grew up “lumaki sa hirap,” once you start tasting a little comfort, it’s easy to forget where you came from. That’s why songs like this matter. They ground you. They remind you to stay humble, stay real.

    What’s also cool about “Laki sa Layaw” is how it doesn’t just live in the past. Today, in 2025, it feels like it could play in the background of a TikTok video showing the rise and fall of someone famous. Or maybe it could be a soundtrack in a documentary about the dangers of too much fame too soon. It speaks to both old-school and new-school listeners.

    Even the chorus, with that simple chant: “Laki sa layaw, laki sa layaw, jeproks.” It’s easy to sing along, but once you know what it really means, it sticks with you. It’s not just a fun line; it’s a warning wrapped in a groove.

    So what does “Laki sa Layaw” say to us now, in 2025? For me, it’s a reminder to check myself. Am I becoming too comfortable? Am I chasing things that don’t really matter? It’s about balance—enjoying what you have, but not letting it control you.

    It also makes me think about the people around me. How can we help those who’ve gotten lost in their own comfort? How do we reach out without sounding preachy? The song doesn’t give clear steps, but it does start the conversation.

    At the end of the day, that’s why I keep listening. Not because I’m looking for music critic-level insights, but because this song makes me feel something honest. It’s raw. It’s real. And in a world where so much feels fake or filtered, that matters.

    “Laki sa Layaw” isn’t just about the past. It’s about now. It’s about us. Whether we admit it or not, we all have a little “jeproks” in us sometimes. The important part is remembering we don’t have to stay that way. We can choose to change, to grow, to step off that throne and get back in touch with what really matters.

    That’s the kind of message I’ll keep coming back to—whether I’m listening in a quiet room with headphones on, or with friends in a car ride home, letting the song play as we all quietly think about where we’re headed next.

  • When the Music Finds You: How Songwriters Cabalen Sparked My Own Journey to Uplift Local Artists

    When the Music Finds You: How Songwriters Cabalen Sparked My Own Journey to Uplift Local Artists

    In a small corner of Angeles City, under the warm glow of restaurant lights and the hum of quiet conversations, a spark was born. That spark would later become the Songwriters Cabalen Community—a movement that grew not just from music, but from a need: a need to be heard, to be seen, and to be connected through stories and sound.

    I still remember attending one of their shows back in 2023. At the time, I was drifting—curious about the indie scene but unsure where I belonged. I wasn’t a performer. I wasn’t even from Pampanga. But something about that night stayed with me long after the last chord faded. Maybe it was the honesty in every lyric, or the way the crowd leaned in—not just to hear the music, but to feel it. That night lit something in me, and it’s what eventually inspired me to start my own platform: a space where local and indie artists could share their stories, their songs, and their journey.

    But let me take you back further—to where it all began.

    A Space That Didn’t Exist Yet

    When Michi moved to Pampanga in 2019, she noticed what most people wouldn’t. Pampanga had talent. It had culture. It had music. But it didn’t have a space—a real, tangible space—for local songwriters to connect, collaborate, or even just be heard. If that space existed, it was buried too deep for newcomers to find.

    So, Michi did what many dream of but few actually do—she built the space herself.

    With experience organizing live music events in Manila, she knew what it took. But this time, she wasn’t just building a show. She was building a community. She reached out to fellow creatives who shared her fire: Rey Bonaobra and Michael Kevin. All it took was one question:

    “Do you want to perform live?”

    Sometimes, the biggest movements begin with the smallest invitations.

    Camalig: Where the Dream Took Root

    Thanks to the support of Ms. Bennylee Baltazar, that dream found a home at Camalig Restaurant in Angeles City. The venue was perfect—not too big to be overwhelming, not too small to feel limited. It was intimate. Real. A place where original music could echo off the walls and into hearts.

    In February 2022, the very first Songwriters Night happened.

    From the outside, it might’ve looked like any other acoustic night. But if you listened closely, you’d know this was different. This wasn’t about cover songs or top hits. This was about truth-telling. Raw. Honest. Vulnerable. Every artist brought their own story to the mic, and every listener walked away carrying pieces of those stories with them.

    The format was simple—but the feeling? It was electric.

    From Gathering to Community

    One night became another. And another. The crowd grew—first with friends and family, then strangers who came back every month. It wasn’t just the performers who felt at home anymore. The audience did, too.

    And that’s when it became more than an event. It became a community—the Songwriters Cabalen Community.

    Month after month, the shows continued. Each one brought new voices, new songs, new layers of emotion. No two nights were the same, and yet the feeling was always familiar: you belong here. Whether you were a seasoned songwriter or someone still scribbling lyrics in a notebook, the message was clear—your voice matters.

    Eventually, the community found a new home at LaVerne, where the stage got a little bigger, the sound a little louder, but the heart stayed exactly the same.

    The Pause That Made Space for Reflection

    Then came December 2024.

    After nearly three years of soul-filled shows, the Songwriters Cabalen Community decided to pause. It wasn’t a goodbye. It was a breath. A moment to step back and ask the hard but necessary questions: What have we missed? What can we do better? What do we want this to become?

    As someone who had quietly followed the journey since that night in 2023, I felt the silence. And oddly enough, I found inspiration in it, too.

    In that pause, I realized how deeply I believed in what they were doing—not just hosting events, but honoring journeys. Songwriters Cabalen wasn’t just a stage; it was a reminder that stories matter. And that every community, no matter how small, deserves to be nurtured.

    That’s when I knew I had to build something of my own.

    Building Something Because They Did

    I didn’t have a venue. I wasn’t an event organizer. But I had something else: a deep love for indie and local music, and the desire to make artists feel seen.

    Inspired by the structure and soul of the Songwriters Cabalen Community, I started laying the groundwork for a platform that would give voice to those often overlooked. Not just performances, but stories. Not just promotion, but connection.

    Because if a single night at Camalig could move me this deeply, how many more people could be moved if only they had access?

    That’s the magic Songwriters Cabalen showed me: the importance of giving artists space—to speak, to stumble, to grow, and to shine.

    A Comeback Rooted in Purpose

    Now, after months of silence, the music returns.

    On July 12, the Songwriters Cabalen Community comes back with a show at LaVerne. But it’s not just another gig. It’s a new chapter—wiser, stronger, more intentional. The community has learned from its pause. And now, it’s singing again with more heart than ever.

    This isn’t just about artists anymore. It’s about everyone—the dreamers, the fans, the quiet listeners in the crowd who find themselves reflected in someone else’s lyrics.

    Because Music Is Never Just Music

    Songwriters Cabalen didn’t just give musicians a mic. They gave meaning to original work. They created a space where vulnerability wasn’t just accepted—it was celebrated.

    And for people like me, who don’t always know where they fit in the music scene, that kind of authenticity is rare. It’s what planted the seed in me to help artists tell their stories—to build something, however small, that honors their voice.

    Because communities like Songwriters Cabalen don’t just change the local scene.

    They change people.

    They changed me.

    And that’s why, when they rise again this July, I’ll be there. Just like before. But this time, not just as a listener—but as someone carrying their legacy forward.

    Because when a community is built on passion and purpose, it never really fades.

    It just waits for the right moment to sing again.

  • SETSUNA: Isang Taon ng Liyab, Dalangin, at Ahon

    SETSUNA: Isang Taon ng Liyab, Dalangin, at Ahon

    “Liyab.”
     “Ahon.”

    These weren’t just songs. They were the spark.
    The firestarter tracks. The first two songs lit the fuse and marked the birth of Setsuna.

    A year ago, the band was just an idea—driven by late-night talks, deep scars, old friendships, and a hunger that refused to die. Now, on July 7, 2025, they celebrate their first anniversary. Not with ego, but with a quiet kind of pride—the kind that comes from doing something real. Something honest.

    And those first songs?
    They still burn.

    The Spark: Liyab and Ahon

    “Liyab” was never just a song. It was their story-in-progress.

    At first, it was supposed to be on the first record. But the band quickly realized: this track wasn’t finished—because their story wasn’t finished.

    “Nagbabago yung lyrics palagi,” they admit.

    “The song is about our journey—nagbabago yung phase and challenges, kaya nababago din yung sulat.”

    So they made the call: Liyab will be finalized on the second album, where it can carry the full weight of everything they’ve been through.

    That left Ahon to lead the charge—a battle cry for anyone climbing out of their own personal abyss. A song that struck a chord so deep, it recently reached a milestone 200,000 views on YouTube.

    Therapy, Not a Trend

    “Hindi talaga namin naging option mag-stop,” they say. And you believe them. Because when they talk about their music, you don’t hear metrics or marketing plans—you hear therapy.

    Every jam session is a breath of fresh air after long work hours. Every rehearsal is a reminder of why they started in the first place. These songs they write and play together aren’t just noise; they’re lifelines.

    Kahit mahirap. Lalo na sa logistics.

    They’re scattered across different cities. Some in Pangasinan, others in the city. Each practice means traveling for hours, sacrificing personal time, making room in a calendar that’s already bursting at the seams. But they do it anyway. No grand speeches. Just pure dedication.

    “Kasi prio namin is work and family. Kapag may hindi available, hindi namin pinipilit. Basta kung kelan lang pwede.”

    It’s that kind of groundedness that makes their journey even more powerful. This isn’t blind ambition. It’s sustainable passion.

    The Songs That Followed

    After Ahon came the third official track: “Silaw.”

    Silaw was like a flare gun fired into the night sky.
    A warning. A confession. A moment of clarity in a world full of false lights.

    It came fast and hard—and fans felt it.

    Then came Dalangin, a softer ache. A whispered prayer for something more. For healing, for forgiveness, for peace. It was raw and vulnerable, just like the nights it was written in.

    Finally, they dropped Harinawa. An old word, rarely sung, now reborn in melody. It means sana, hopefully, may it be so. A word that sounds like longing—and lands like hope.

    Each song painted a different piece of their emotional journey.
    None of them were easy. All of them were real.

    The Rise of Ahon: 200K Strong

    In just one year, Ahon didn’t just rise—it soared.
    It became a battle cry for fans, and recently hit a massive milestone:
    200,000 views on YouTube.

    The photo says it all: a child holding a flame, symbolizing innocence, strength, and the spark we all carry in dark times. It’s more than a number. It’s a reflection of how many people found something in that song—something worth holding onto.

    “Di namin namamalayan na naging effective pala sa’min ‘yung ganong way.”

    They didn’t chase virality. It just found them.

    A Band of Many Roots

    Each member brought history. War scars. Reputation.

    Mighty Ji is a fixture in Pangasinan’s live scene.
    Toshi earned his stripes in the underground rap community, making waves with every bar. His group, Plan B, didn’t just stay underground—they broke through. Signed under Sony Music Philippines, they brought major-label energy to the mix.

    “Parang each of us may kanya-kanya kaming connections.
    Kaya napag-sama-sama na lang namin siguro,” they say.

    So when did they join forces?
    It wasn’t just a band—it was a collision of worlds.
    A meeting of minds sharpened by years of grind.

    Sacrifice in the Silence

    Asked if they ever felt like quitting, their answer was simple:

    No.

    Because every time they make a song, they feel something real.

    “Kasi ramdam namin sa mga nagagawa naming materials,” they explain.

    You can feel it in the pain of Silaw, the longing in Dalangin, the fire in Liyab, the redemption in Ahon, and the quiet hope of Harinawa.

    These aren’t singles. These are confessions. Diaries. War cries.

    The Backbone Behind the Band

    Setsuna didn’t do it alone. Never claimed to.

    Special thanks to:

    • LOIS Jeans – Style with soul
    • Point B Studios – Where rawness met polish
    • Radio Manila Music Group – For amplifying their voice
    • Grand Escape Films – For giving the songs a cinematic pulse
    • Papsys HQ
    • Cavern Band Studio
    • Jojam Music Studio
    • North Studio
    • Istakap Records
    • Groovelabs Productions
    • Excapelabs

    These names aren’t just credits. They’re co-architects of the fire.

    What’s Next?

    More. But not faster. Just deeper.

    If Year One was about lighting the fire, Year Two is about learning how to keep it burning—without getting consumed. There’s no hunger for mainstream. Just a hunger to heal, connect, and create songs that sound like real life.

    Final Words from the Underground

    Setsuna didn’t arrive with a bang. They arrived like a flicker.

    But flickers can become flames. And flames?
    They spread.

    Happy anniversary, Setsuna.
     Here’s to more liyab, more dalangin, more ahon, more silaw, and more harinawa.
    More songs for those of us still trying to rise.

  • ROCK REWIND at G Malolos: A Night Where Bulacan’s Indie Scene Found Its Home

    Last night at G Malolos Bar and Resto, something beautiful happened.

    It wasn’t just another gig. It wasn’t just another lineup of rising bands. It was a moment — a pulse — that proved Bulacan’s indie music scene is not only alive, but thriving, united, and finally finding a home it can truly call its own.

    Despite a gloomy start that morning — the kind of July rain that makes event organizers clutch their phones a little tighter — the skies eventually cleared. But our doubts didn’t. Hours before the first band was set to play, the question hung in the air: Will people even show up?

    At 8:00 PM, we got our answer.

    Like clockwork, people poured in. Fans, skaters, musicians, students, creatives, and longtime friends of the scene arrived in waves. In a matter of minutes, the empty tables filled, the bar buzzed with anticipation, and the lights of G Malolos seemed to glow just a little brighter.

    A Bar That Feels Like Home

    G Malolos Bar and Resto only opened its doors last May 4, 2025. In just a couple of months, it has grown into something more than just a venue. It’s slowly becoming the nucleus of a movement.

    Sir Melvin, the man behind G Malolos, wasn’t just looking to build a business. He had a vision — one rooted in the idea that Bulacan artists shouldn’t have to keep running to Manila just to be seen or heard.

    “Lumalayo ‘yung mga banda natin para lang makilala,” he said during a quiet moment between sets. “Pero bakit hindi tayo gumawa ng space dito mismo sa atin? Dito sa Bulacan. Sa Malolos.”

    That idea stuck with all of us.

    And last night’s ROCK REWIND, presented by GrooveLabs Productions and co-presented by Blast Beat Studio Armando, felt like the first proof that it can work.

    The Crowd That Stayed, Sang, and Sweated

    By 9 PM, there was barely space to move near the stage. The crowd wasn’t just present — they were with the bands. Singing back lyrics, raising phones, nodding in rhythm, even closing their eyes during guitar solos. You could tell these weren’t strangers — they were locals who understood the stories behind the songs.

    Some came from Malolos, others from as far as Meycauayan, Sta. Maria, Bocaue, Guiguinto, Balagtas, Calumpit, and Plaridel. Each town had its own wave of artists and supporters, all converging under one roof. G Malolos turned into a melting pot of musicians and music lovers — no egos, no hierarchy, just shared love for the scene.

    The Bands That Lit the Stage

    It would be impossible to talk about the night without mentioning the heart of it all: the bands. The lineup was stacked, with each act bringing their own sound, their own stories, and their own crowds.

    Leen PH opened the night with soft echoes and raw honesty, a sound that made the entire venue lean in. Amere followed with a set that felt like a scream and a hug at the same time — their blend of softness and grit made the crowd sway and shout in equal measure.

    Tahan brought a refreshing fusion of your favorite songs way way back. Like way way. ENAMEL filled the room with emotion-heavy melodies that lingered even after the music stopped.

    Rooftop Reveries and Forsomereason both gave the kind of performances that turn casual listeners into loyal fans — tight sets, clever songwriting, and a deep connection with the crowd.

    The Conflicts made sure no one stayed still — their energy shook the floor.

    Sumo Wrestling PH gave a performance that was part poetry, part protest — a reminder of how personal music can be. Camaraderie played with a kind of synergy that only comes from true friendship and shared passion.

    And there’s Captain Jack PH

    The band, known for their emotionally driven songwriting and relentless energy, played like it was their last night on Earth. With every scream, every riff, every beat, they told stories about pain, identity, addiction, and healing — all wrapped in metal and melody. They made the stage feel sacred.

    TRICK PRJCT and Ella. , loud, unapologetic, and full of swagger — the kind that leaves your ears ringing in the best way possible.

    More Than a Gig, It Was a Gathering

    When we started GrooveLabs Productions, we dreamed of nights like this — where the scene felt like a family, where artists didn’t feel like they were shouting into a void, and where the audience didn’t need convincing to care.

    We’ve knocked on doors, looked for business owners who believed in the scene as much as we did. Some listened. Most didn’t. Until we met G Malolos.

    Sir Melvin’s openness, patience, and willingness to listen to artists made all the difference. He didn’t just provide the space. He provided the belief.

    Now, G Malolos is hosting more productions. More events. More bands are reaching out. Word’s getting around.

    And maybe — just maybe — we won’t have to keep looking for Manila’s approval. Maybe we can build our own community here, strong and loud, in the heart of Bulacan.

    What Comes Next

    The success of ROCK REWIND isn’t just about last night. It’s about momentum. And this time, it’s pointing inwards, not outwards.

    Instead of asking who’s next to play in Makati? we’re asking who’s next to headline here at G Malolos? Instead of trying to blend in with bigger city lineups, we’re carving our own path. And last night proved that the audience is ready — hungry even — for more.

    There’s power in proximity. When the scene is here, in your hometown, everything changes. The gigs aren’t just performances — they’re reunions. The venues aren’t just stages — they’re safe spaces. The music isn’t just background noise — it becomes your story.

    Final Thoughts

    ROCK REWIND was more than a title — it was a reminder. That every band started somewhere. That every unforgettable song played for the first time in front of a small, supportive crowd. That before the streams and Spotify stats, there was a bar, a mic, a guitar, and a room full of people who just got it.

    And last night, at G Malolos Bar and Resto, we saw it all happen again.

    We saw Bulacan’s past, present, and future — all in one room. All in one night. And we’re just getting started.

    To every artist who played, every person who came, and every dreamer who stayed until the last song — thank you.

    The scene is alive. The scene is home.

    And it lives right here in Bulacan.

  • Letter Day Story: Living Every Note Like It’s Their Last

    Letter Day Story: Living Every Note Like It’s Their Last

    It’s almost surreal to sit down and write about Letter Day Story again—this time as a feature. I still remember watching them live during our Eto na Nga! production with Groovelabs Productions last year. Sila ‘yung klase ng banda na kahit matagal mo nang hindi napapakinggan, isang tugtog lang, and it all comes back. Sobrang bait nila in person, too. Kaya when the chance came up to do a feature, I didn’t hesitate. And now, here we are.

    In a sea of new faces and shifting sounds in the local music scene, Letter Day Story stands tall—quietly and steadily making music, unshaken by trends, and guided by something far deeper than fame.

    From Conservatory Classrooms to Center Stage

    Back in 2002, a group of students from the UST Conservatory of Music came together, bonded not just by friendship but by a shared itch to create something of their own. The lineup may have evolved over the years, but what hasn’t changed is their dedication to music—and to each other.

    The heart of the band beats stronger than ever with Dex on vocals, Oli and EJ holding down the rhythm and soul of the group, and Niko, the newest official member, who’s no stranger to the family. “He’s been our long-time sessionist—around a decade na rin,” they shared. “Finally, now, he’s officially with us.” Niko’s quiet loyalty and consistency through the years earned him a place not just on stage but at the very core of LDS.

    Together, they’ve weathered it all—grief, change, and countless milestones. And through it, one truth remains: LDS is nothing without its members.

    Their big break came in 2008, when they joined and surprisingly won Nescafe Soundskool. “We weren’t even aiming to win,” they said. “We just wanted to enjoy playing our music on stage and perform our original song, Ikaw pa Rin.” But fate had other plans. What they thought was just a finalist roll call turned out to be the awarding. They had won. And with it came a deal with Sony Music, leading to radio tours, out-of-town gigs, albums, and collaborations with names like Gloc-9, Yeng Constantino, and even the late Pepe Smith.

    It was a whirlwind, but it was only the beginning.

    Music That Mirrors Life

    When you talk to Letter Day Story about their music, you don’t get canned answers or vague inspirations. Their songs are lived-in. They’re part of their journey.

    Take Mithi, for example—one of the band’s most meaningful tracks. “When Dex wrote it, the message really mirrored our band’s own struggles,” they shared. “There were times when even our parents didn’t believe in what we were doing. They’d say there was no future in this.”

    Mithi became more than a song. It became their reminder to keep going.

    Then there’s Sama-Sama, a song about staying together, weathering everything as a unit. “There’s even a line at the end of the song, a chant that goes sulat araw kwento,” they said. “That’s letter day story—our name and our story.”

    It’s rare to see a band that writes not just about life, but through it.

    From Covers to Craftsmanship

    The band’s evolution wasn’t just emotional—it was technical too. They started out doing covers but quickly found themselves wanting more. They wanted to write. Create. Innovate. That hunger led them to work with producers and artists that would shape their sound.

    One key piece of their story was their guitarist, Notnot, who passed away in April 2024. Long before that, though, he had carved his mark not just as a musician, but as a sought-after sound engineer. His work with IV of Spades, Juan Karlos, Gloc-9, and others reflected just how far he’d come.

    “His work was highly regarded,” the band shared, their pride evident even through typed words. And even in his absence, his spirit lives on in their new material. DSY (Dahil Sayo) was his last song—and what a beautiful, aching piece it is.

    The Indie Life and Its Realities

    Since parting ways with Sony in 2011, Letter Day Story has been an indie band in every sense. No label. No hype machine. Just passion, persistence, and presence.

    “Being independent now is much better than before,” they admitted. “Back then, it was hard for our music to be heard unless a big label signed us to get on the radio. Today, there are so many chances for indie artists. We can create and release music whenever and however we want.”

    Still, the road isn’t easy. Getting on Spotify’s top playlists, competing for organic streams—it’s a different kind of hustle. One that doesn’t always come with instant results.

    “We can’t control trends,” they added. “But artists shouldn’t worry too much. The most important thing is to love music and love what you do.”

    Then and Now: From Jumping Crowds to Phone Lights

    If you’ve ever been to a Letter Day Story gig, you know the kind of energy they bring. Rehearsals aren’t just for precision—they’re about heart. “In the actual show, we play from the top of our lungs,” they said. “Making music is a huge stress reliever and a source of pure fun.”

    Back in the 2010s, their crowds were often fully immersed—jumping, shouting, singing along. These days, things have shifted. “Most people in the crowd are now holding up their phones,” they said, noting how the digital era changed how we consume live music.

    But they’re not bitter. In fact, they’re grateful. “Even new generations who are watching or hearing us for the first time show us love. And our old fans… still manage to love and support our music and our band.”

    Next Collabs and Big Dreams

    The band remains wide-eyed when it comes to today’s scene. “We’d love to collaborate with artists like One Click Straight, Zild, Blaster, Dionela, Skusta Clee, and Setsuna,” they said. Their tastes reflect the openness they’ve cultivated over the years. Pop, R&B, hip-hop—it’s all music. It’s all art.

    And yes, they’ve got new music, too. After 13 years, they’ve released DSY and just dropped NUNG IKA’Y NAWALA last June 27. It’s a track born from heartbreak, about being left without answers, and the slow process of letting go.

    More singles are on the way. A promo tour is in the works. Studio sessions are ongoing.

    Letter Day Story isn’t slowing down. They’re just getting better at telling their truth.

    Staying Lit, Staying Inspired

    So, how do they do it? How do they keep the fire alive after more than two decades?

    “It really comes down to having the same mindset and heart,” they said. “Even with our different professional day jobs and family commitments, we still make time for music and truly enjoy it.”

    That might just be the secret. Not chasing trends. Not trying to one-up themselves. Just showing up—with full hearts, loud amps, and a willingness to grow.

    NUNG IKA’Y NAWALA: A Visual Story of Letting Go

    Released on June 27, NUNG IKA’Y NAWALA is more than just a single—it’s a gut-punch of a song that lingers. Written from a place of quiet heartbreak, it speaks to the pain of being left behind with no closure. “When someone leaves you for no reason, and you’re left searching for answers,” the band shared. “You try not to give up. But in the end, the pain is so deeply shattering that you finally let go.”

    And just as powerful as the song is the music video that goes with it.

    Directed with striking emotional weight, the official music video brings the story to life—capturing the emptiness, longing, and slow-burning grief that follows a sudden goodbye. It’s intimate, cinematic, and quietly devastating in all the right ways.

    If you haven’t seen it yet, now’s the time:
    Watch “NUNG IKA’Y NAWALA” on YouTube

    Whether you’ve been with Letter Day Story since the beginning or you’re just discovering their music today, NUNG IKA’Y NAWALA is the kind of track—and video—that pulls you in and stays with you.

    For the Fans and the Future

    “To all our longtime amazing fans,” they wrote, “thank you for continuously supporting us and for never forgetting our music! It means so much that you’re even sharing our songs with your kids.”

    Their message to younger bands is simple but weighty: “Never think that moving forward with music is only about chasing fame. Focus deeply on your craft. And love your passion.”

    As for their legacy?

    They want every performance to matter. Every moment to count. “Pour your soul into every note you play and every word you sing,” they said. “Let your passion ignite the stage.”

    That’s the kind of legacy that doesn’t fade—even after the lights dim.

    Letter Day Story is now streaming on all major platforms. Their latest single “NUNG IKA’Y NAWALA” is out now.
     Catch them live, if you ever get the chance. I know I will. And if luck’s on our side, maybe we’ll get to share another production stage with them soon. Eto na nga, diba?

  • SETSUNA: Seize the Moment, Burn With It

    SETSUNA: Seize the Moment, Burn With It

    You know a band is serious when they name themselves after a fleeting moment.

    SETSUNA, a NuMetal band formed in 2024, might be the new kids on the block, but they’re already making waves in the local scene. A unique mix of heavy riffs, rap verses, emotional release, and live chaos—that’s what you get when you listen to or witness SETSUNA. But behind the sonic force and blazing logo (yes, the fire emoji is deliberate) is a story that spans multiple cities, genres, and life experiences.

    This is a band born not just from music, but from persistence, timing, and that one perfect moment when everything finally clicks.

    A New Chapter, A Familiar Struggle

    The spark that ignited SETSUNA began quietly in 2021. Back then, Mark Quintero—also the bassist of Nobita—was tapped by their manager Joel Ellorin to start a new band. Mark wasn’t starting from scratch. He knew the scene, he knew the sound, and most importantly, he knew the right people.

    He hit up Mighty Ji, a guitarist from Pangasinan known for his versatility, and someone who had already been toying with the idea of forming a NuMetal group with DJ Rua, then based in Denmark.

    “Actually, matagal nang idea ‘to ni Rua at Mighty Ji,” Mark shares. “Nung 2021 pa nila naisip pero ‘di pa nag-materialize. Nung nakausap ko ulit si Mighty, ayun tuloy-tuloy na.”

    The concept was still up in the air when, in June 2023, Mark invited rapper Toshiro Kier to join the band. “Akala ko drummer role ‘yung offer,” Toshiro laughs, “’Yun pala magra-rap ako. Surprise!” But he said yes—and that unexpected twist became part of the band’s evolving identity.

    By December 2023, DJ Rua had returned to Manila. Mark invited him to officially join the project. And by early 2024, the skeleton of SETSUNA was starting to grow flesh.

    “January 2024, kami nila Ji, Toshiro, Rua—nagsimula nang buuin ‘yung concept at tunog. Pasahan ng demo, gawa ng material. Hanap pa ng iba,” says Mark.

    Then came vocalist Marka Krus, a familiar name in the Valenzuela band circuit known for his covers of nu-metal giants like Disturbed and Korn, and drummer Daniel Arzadon of Galigo Tribe. The final lineup clicked in June. By July 2024, SETSUNA had its first rehearsal.

    What’s In A Name? Everything.

    SETSUNA is a Japanese word meaning “a moment” or “an instant”—the fleeting nature of time and how each second counts.

    “Si Mark Quintero ang nag suggest ng name,” they share. “Ang SETSUNA kasi, it’s about embracing that moment. Every gig, iniisip namin na baka ‘yun na ‘yung huli, so todo bigay. Laging 100%.”

    And that moment? They want you to feel it too.

    “Kaya fire ‘yung logo namin,” Toshiro says. “Kasi ‘yung music namin gusto namin sumindi rin ‘yung mga tagapakinig. Gusto namin mailabas nila ‘yung pain, galit, struggles. ‘Pag nakita naming nagwawala ‘yung crowd, ‘yun ‘yung palitan ng energy. ‘Yun ang SETSUNA.”

    Meeting Halfway From All Directions

    The band is scattered geographically—Marka is in Laguna, Daniel and Toshiro are in Pangasinan, while Mark and Rua are based in Valenzuela.

    “Logistically challenging,” admits Rua. “Ang layo namin sa isa’t isa. Pero once nagsama-sama kami, grabe ‘yung energy. Worth it lahat.”

    They may not hang out daily, but their dynamic is built on constant check-ins, memes, group chats, and occasional tapik sa balikat moments.

    “We always check on each other,” says Daniel. “Mental health sa banda is not just a side topic. Parte siya ng process namin.”

    The Sound of This Generation’s Pain

    When asked how they’d describe their music, they don’t hesitate:

    “We are the New Generation of NuMetal in the Philippines.”

    Their influences are obvious to the trained ear—shades of Slipknot, Korn, Papa Roach, Slapshock, and Greyhoundz. But SETSUNA doesn’t just copy. They reinterpret. They infuse each breakdown and scream with their own experiences.

    “Lahat ng kanta namin, may pinanggalingan,” Marka shares. “Personal stories talaga. Hugot kung hugot.”

    The songwriting process is collaborative. “Walang one-man team dito,” adds Ji. “Pasahan kami ng ideas, minsan lyrics lang, minsan riff. ‘Pag nag-click, boom. Tapos na agad isang kanta.”

    First Steps and Festival Fevers

    Despite being a young band, SETSUNA already found themselves on a big stage early on. Their first live performance? A massive festival gig.

    “Puto Festival, December 2024,” Toshiro recalls. “Kasabay namin si Flow G. Andaming tao. Kabado kami, siyempre. Pero pag akyat namin ng stage, wala na. Rock out na!”

    Every gig they’ve done since then has been special. “Wala pa kaming one year na active,” says Rua, “pero lahat ng tugtugan, parang milestone agad.”

    No Surrender, Just Volume

    With every step forward, SETSUNA has had to fight resistance. The NuMetal scene isn’t exactly thriving in the mainstream local circuit.

    “Back in 2023, ang daming nag-doubt,” says Mark. “Tahimik ‘yung eksena, lalo na sa heavy. Wala masyadong naniniwala sa idea namin. Pero sige lang. Gawa lang.”

    Quitting was never an option.

    “Hindi namin naisip sumuko,” says Ji. “Alam na namin na mahirap ‘tong path na ‘to. Pero mahal namin ginagawa namin.”

    That love fuels every rehearsal, every sweaty session, every setlist.

    What They See in the Scene

    SETSUNA sees promise in the Philippine indie scene—across genres and regions.

    “Ang daming bago,” says Daniel. “Bulacan, Laguna, QC, Pangasinan—ang daming prod ngayon. Iba’t ibang tunog. Alive na alive ang indie.”

    If they had their way, they’d want more support, more unity, and less gatekeeping.

    “Let people play what they love,” Marka adds. “Kahit anong genre, basta totoo.”

    Fire Still Burning: What’s Next?

    The dream isn’t just to play. It’s to keep playing.

    “Our main goal this 2025 is to release our album,” Mark says. “Tapos sana maka-tugtog kami sa mga lugar kung nasaan ‘yung mga dragon namin—our fans.”

    Fans can also look forward to a collaboration track with Sir Ian Tayo, as well as upcoming gigs announced through their social media.

    “We’re planning something huge,” teases Rua. “So abangan niyo. Ilalapag namin lahat online.”

    Fuel from the Fans

    SETSUNA doesn’t take their growing fanbase for granted.

    “Kayo ang gasolina ng apoy,” says Marka. “Every message, every comment—binabasa namin lahat. Pinaparamdam niyo na worth it lahat ng pagod.”

    The gratitude is as fierce as their sound. For SETSUNA, every headbang from the crowd, every lyric sung back, every cheer—it all matters.

    And while moments may be fleeting, this one they’re holding onto tightly.

    Follow SETSUNA on social media for updates on shows, releases, and new music.
    Let the fire spread. Let the moment burn. Let it be SETSUNA.