ASH'S SPRING 2023 FAVORITE SONGS SPOTLIGHT: 3rd Ave, Deadbeat Girl, P.H.0, Strawberry Launch

Spotlighting some of my favorite songs from the Spring 2023 semester!

Reviewed by Alex Han

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please support each of the artists featured in this article by streaming their music! I've provided links to the featured songs in the author's notes at the top of each of their respective reviews. 

GREETINGS TO ALL AND welcome back to NYU MTech Music Reviews! I took something of an unplanned temporary hiatus from working on this blog during the month of June, due to a couple of surprise plot twists in my life that unfortunately kept me away from my music review work. Hopefully, though, I'll be making up for that absence today! I've got a crazy long article for you all in the form of a set of in-depth reviews, looking at some of my favorite songs from the Spring 2023 semester in MTech! You all know the drill—I've spoken with some of the individual artists involved to get their thoughts on the process, and feel free to read their commentary on the tracks below! And as always, make sure to stream their music via the links I've provided below. Happy reading (and listening!) and I'll see you further on down the page!

3rd Ave - ackerman

Stream "ackerman" on all platforms (and check out its animated music video) through 3rd Ave's Linktree!

 

The illustrious career of MTech undergrad hip hop collective 3rd Ave reached another milestone early in May, with the release of their most recent single, "ackerman". Debuted on a live stage for the first time at April's MTech Invasion festival, "ackerman"'s floor-shaking chorus, complete with a chant section purpose-built for audience participation, was a huge treat to watch. Closer in spirit to 3rd Ave's debut single, "Gottem", than to their R&B fusion endeavor "how u like" and their wavy rap rock effort "FAHRENHEIT", this new single embraces a fun-loving braggadocious swagger that puts 3rd Ave's relentless chemistry front and center. I was really excited to review this one, since I'm not sure any of the other 3rd Ave releases to this point have featured primary production from TypeOh, whom I was eager to see harness his production talents in the wider scope and eclectic context of 3rd Ave.

 

 

Pictured above: Jaden Tyler (left) and TypeOh (right) performing together at MTech Invasion. Photography courtesy of Ava Joyce (@avajoycee).

 

 "The process of me making the beat actually started from searching through old Japanese samples to make a Nujabes-type song because I was going through a Nujabes phase at the time. I then came across this one song that had this flute part that I knew would sound perfect with trap drums so I transitioned it to that instead of Nujabes-style drums like I was intending to do at first." –Luke Oh a.k.a. TypeOh

Opening with a snippet of archive audio from a 3rd Ave recording session, alongside an aged, retro-traditional flute sample, "ackerman" establishes a good vibe from the get-go. Mathias, Luke, & Jaden are heard laughing and bantering as they practice and flub their lines, which helps to create a distinctly tongue-in-cheek atmosphere that calls back to "Gottem" more so than the much more self-serious "how u like" and "FAHRENHEIT". The beat drop takes us into a simple, feel-good Southern trap instrumental, anchored by a steady, full 808 and regular, ticking hi-hat loop, with the slightly woozy flute sample playing over top; for me, the sound of "ackerman" and its instrumental calls back to an era of mid-late 2010s bouncy, sample-based trap music, equal parts "Mask Off" and "a lot", sonic territory which holds a lot of nostalgia for me. TypeOh's characteristically scrappy & braggadocious vocals deliver a catchy hook, armed with quick-footed sixteenth note flows and tasteful vocal doubling that imbues the chorus with an infectious, energetic, earworm quality. Somewhat humorously, tucked away under his vocals is a sample of a sound that I'm sure all of us who went to high school in the United States recognize—that being the iconic FitnessGram PACER Test and its uniquely deadpan narrator, who repeats "down, one, down, two" in its signature monotone. This opening leg of "ackerman", including the intro and first chorus, is such a fun and enjoyable listen, and sets up the rest of the track to be a loose, hugely fun endeavor that practically promises a good time along the way.

 

 

Pictured above: Jaden Tyler delivers a verse. Captured by Alex Ehasz (@ae_taylor_photo).

 

"The beat was really simple so I wanted to add something to spice it up and I just randomly thought of putting the PACER test on it and it ended up sounding good." –Luke Oh a.k.a. TypeOh

 

"Luke first played me 'ackerman' in his dorm one night at some point at the beginning of second semester. He said he was gonna trash it but when I heard it I was like 'we gotta use that'… especially with the PACER push-up test shit in the beat it was too crazy not to use." –Mathias Quilon a.k.a. Thai Thai

One of my chief criticisms of "how u like" was the lack of a Jaden Tyler verse, and it seems that the members of 3rd Ave preemptively addressed this particular point of contention with "ackerman", as it is Jaden who takes the song's first verse. He immediately drops into a catchy flow in his characteristic near-whispered spoken deadpan delivery, which made for quite a vibe switch compared to TypeOh's high-energy chorus just a moment before. I found myself not really in love with the vocal processing on Jaden's lead vocal here, though, with the combination of the slightly telephonic frequency response and liberal use of compression resulting in some weird high-end mouth noises coming through on occasion. Still, though, I thought this verse was really nice, and definitely was a satisfying return to form after the hard-felt absence of Jaden's pen game from "how u like". Jaden's flow is irresistibly catchy, and his laconic monotone makes for an excellent contrast with TypeOh's braggadocious delivery.

 

Pictured above: 3rd Ave performing "ackerman" at MTech Invasion. Captured by Alex Ehasz (@ae_taylor_photo). 

 

"We all loved the beat as soon as Luke played it for us… This one I knew I had to rap on, and used the references to spinning in the hook as a jumping-off point for my verse. I've never really loved the way I sound when I rap so I had been and still am experimenting with my delivery, and I was very happy that the whispering sounded as good as it did." –Jaden Tyler

 

Thai Thai enters the track in force after a repetition of TypeOh's chorus, blasting in with a breezy triplet flow and a ton of swagger. He delivers bars that detail his exploits with relationships & sex, fitting right in with the track's free & easy, half-joking spirit. The nimble, fast flow switches towards the second half of his verse were also really nice, and did a lot to showcase Thai's prowess as a rapper and vocalist. I thought the vocal doubling and overall mix on Thai's vocals sounded awesome, as he manages to sound forceful and also somewhat light & vivacious all at once. TypeOh gets his own verse shortly thereafter, and I found myself a bit less enamored with the vocal mix he got; he sounds a bit thin, especially on the heels of Thai Thai's verse, and I thought I was also catching hints of some of the same mouth noise from Jaden's verse earlier in the song (all the parts appear to have been recorded on the same day in the same dorm room, and presumably on the same microphone, so that makes sense). The mixing doesn't detract too much from Luke's flow, though, which remains as lithe and acrobatic as ever, flickering in and out with the speed of a boxer's fists. A couple choruses later and the song is done, exiting gracefully just past the three-minute mark.

 

Pictured above: All the members of 3rd Ave. From left to right: Suzie Sanford, Jaden Tyler, Anshoo Saha, TypeOh, Thai Thai, nickwuh. Captured by Ava Joyce (@avajoycee).

 

"We're really happy with how 'ackerman' is doing right now… To me, 'ackerman' is our best song. I can listen to it over and over again without getting tired of it; I love that song so much." –Mathias Quilon a.k.a. Thai Thai

I feel like it's somewhat anachronistic to use the term "easy listening" in reference to unapologetic trap bangers, but "ackerman" is unabashedly smooth and infectious, to the extent that it's developed a tendency over the past couple months to surreptitiously slide into my Spotify queue anytime I'm listening to music. It represents a flippant, wry spin on the blustering & posturing that is at the core of much of hip hop, communicating a great deal of 3rd Ave's confidence and drive while also showcasing their fun-loving, good-humored spirit. I continue to be impressed by 3rd Ave's increasingly widespread output, as "ackerman" slots into their existing discography really nicely; it embraces the supremely catchy, hooky nature of the earnest R&B slow jam "how u like" and combines it with the bouncy production and white-hot pen game of the pseudo-comedy atonal banger "Gottem" to create a track that to me feels like the total package of everything that makes 3rd Ave great. Jaden, Mathias, and especially Luke, really got a chance to shine here, and they made excellent use of their time in the spotlight, gifting us with a hugely fun track that is sure to end up somewhere up high on my Spotify Wrapped at year's end. To sum it all up, "ackerman" is an insanely enjoyable track that ranks as possibly my favorite track yet from 3rd Ave, and leaves me all the more excited to see what's next in store for them.

Deadbeat Girl - These Walls

Stream "These Walls" and its parent project, the five-track extended play What Will It Take, through Deadbeat Girl's Linktree page! Also, feel free to check out my full-length review of the EP at this link.

 

It was cause for celebration when Deadbeat Girl a.k.a. Valentina Olson released their debut project, the five-track EP What Will It Take? midway through last spring. I'd been following their music for a long, long time, ever since lead single "Another Day" made its initial debut in front of a crowd for the first time during a Collegium listening session that took place during my first months in MTech. The whole EP, itself comprised of three previously-released singles out of five tracks, ended up occupying a bit of a weird niche for me, at times feeling more like a short-form compilation or bundle than a proper debut project of new material. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the project—on the contrary, the songs themselves were practically bulletproof, and made a very strong case for Valentina's myriad talents as a songwriter and lyricist. The fact that I had heard most of the songs before simply served as minor obstacle to my enjoyment of the project as a whole.

"These Walls" is the third track on What Will It Take? and is one of the two brand new tracks on the project. It's hard to remember a track that provided as thrilling a listening experience as "These Walls" did for me the first time through, in part because of its pleasantly-surprising decision to shoot for a noticeably different aesthetic and feel than the rest of the EP's solidly alternative, pop punk flavor. The track opens with a few layers of acoustic guitars outlining a simple, two-chord progression, with soft finger-picked passages and pointed harmonics in tenuous coexistence with one another; the resultant mood is equally plaintive as it is anguished, setting up the narrative and themes of the track perfectly. A kick drum enters soon after, giving us our first glimpse of the track's rhythmic pulse, pounding out a steady, albeit slightly muffled, four-on-the-floor beat that seamlessly slots into the existing 12/8 groove. It was with this four-on-the-floor kick, and the subsequent synthetic white-noise riser that drops us into the first verse, that I got my first taste of the track's ambitious fusion of acoustic, singer-songwriter indie folk with chilled-out electronica and minimalist techno.

 

"Feels so close but yet so far

I chase for freedom up until I fall

Feel so trapped inside these walls

Does anyone understand me at all?"

 

Valentina's vocals enter after the riser in what reads like a subdued, acoustic spin on an EDM beat drop. They sing from behind a dense, short, claustrophobic reverb, implying a sort of confined and airless performance space, almost like singing from inside a coffin. The lyrics embrace an earnest simplicity that pairs remarkably well with Valentina's gripping vocals; bleeding with emotion and stinging like a gaping wound, her performance conveys the lyrical themes of imprisonment with a deft directness that works very well. As the title suggests, "These Walls" is about feeling trapped in one's own mind, a slave to depression & suicidal thoughts, and about feeling forced to chase after someone else in order to try and compensate for the self-love one lacks. In keeping with this theme, I really admire the track's acceptance of imperfection. Valentina's vocals, while never sounding out of tune or lacking in emotion, have a certain shakiness to them that absolutely sells the mental health struggle behind the narrative of this track. In a similar vein, the acoustic guitars hit buzzy notes from time to time, which I thought added an interesting layer of harshness on top of the otherwise very sweet melodies and progressions—the occasional fret buzz piercing through the mix reminds me of a self-hating intrusive thought briefly surfacing above the subconscious. The narrative and emotions come through really strongly, which in my opinion made for the track's biggest selling point; Deadbeat Girl's haunting evocation of depression and suicidality gives this track in particular a very, very strong ability to pluck at the heartstrings.

The arrangement and production choices also do a lot to further the presentation of the whole thing. The same two-chord progression loops throughout the whole song, but it's never presented through the exact same sonic palette twice, with little changes being made each time around to keep the soundscape evolving and moving forward. Little, distant shakers and hollow synth pads occasionally augment the instrumental background, while various electronic sound effects & production tricks—claps, risers, filter sweeps, reverb swells—enhance the feeling of sinking ever deeper as the track plays on. Of course, Valentina themself contributes a great deal to the track's stellar arrangement as well, performing some anguished backing vocal passages alongside distantly chopped & manipulated duplicates of her vocals in parts, which I thought made for a compelling representation of the conflicting inner voices and internal monologues in one's headspace. Perhaps the most left-field sound effect in use here plays during the track's outro, and takes the form of an answering machine, playing a message left to Valentina. The disembodied telephone voice encourages Valentina that they will survive, before leaving the guitars to take us down and out of the track, ending us off on a poignant, if only ambiguously optimistic, note.

"Hey, Val. I know life's been hectic right now…

but trust me, you'll get through this.

I miss you a lot.

Call me back when you get a chance, okay?

I love you.

Bye."

Before What Will It Take? I knew Deadbeat Girl only within the context of their firmly alt-rock sound, and I never would have expected to fall so in love with a track like "These Walls" from an artist like Deadbeat Girl, but it absolutely works to great effect. Hints of Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes, and The Cure are augmented with shades of Tchami, Kilo, and Massano, all mapped over Deadbeat Girl's tortured brand of lyricism and starkly vulnerable performance. It's a very striking combination that truly has no right to work as well as it does. Seriously—this is a weird one for me, especially knowing my own musical tastes and preferences. "These Walls" has no discernible chorus, it doesn't really have a clear-cut emotional climax towards which the song builds, and it isn't conventionally "catchy" in the way I would usually want from a song. The remarkable part, though, is that "These Walls" truly doesn't need any of those qualities. It exists on the strength of its narrative, production, and arrangement, which combine to create an emotional experience so potent that the track really has no need for a catchy pop chorus to carry us through. Coming back to this song after listening to the drum & bass-influenced "When You Went", Deadbeat Girl's most recent release at the time of this writing, makes me appreciate it all the more. "These Walls" is subtle, slinking, suffocating, with a layer of tarlike malevolence bubbling just beneath the surface, and an undertone of very real existential terror that makes it extraordinarily relatable. Yes, there's very much a place in the world for the exhilarating, floor-shaking, cathartic bombast of "Another Day", and the overwhelming angst of "When You Went", but there's also just as much a need for "These Walls"—which at its core is about nothing more than the constant, day-to-day, moment-to-moment internal struggle to convince yourself that life is still worth living, and I think that's a reminder we could all use every now and again.

P.H.0 - Yè (feat. Her Dark Heaven)

 

Stream "Yè", along with the rest of its parent LP, Karma, at P.H.0's Linktree page!

 

When the genre-bending, neo-traditional, maximalist electronica banger "Ascension" arrived on streaming platforms last spring, I got my first taste of MTech graduate collective P.H.0, whose spin on a crossgenre fusion between Eastern folk music and Western trance-techno rapidly established itself as one of my absolute favorite listening experiences ever. Based in Mongolian morin khuur alongside fast-paced breakbeats and massive metal guitars, a combination that I'd worried would feel somewhat schizophrenic in nature, "Ascension" nevertheless managed to feel laser-focused and altogether airtight in its construction. It was a uniquely phenomenal listening experience that captured something ephemeral but also deeply felt, making visible for the first time a bridge connecting Eastern and Western music in a way I had never realized was possible. The eventual release of P.H.0's debut LP, Karma, only served to further solidify my faith in the group's artistry, as the LP serves up ten tracks that together form conclusive proof that the head-spinning crossgenre appeal of "Ascension" was not a fluke, making for one of my favorite albums in recent memory. Today, I'm spotlighting the third track off of Karma, titled "Yè", featuring lead vocals from Jack Doyle of self-termed heavy metal/gospel band Her Dark Heaven. As the only track on Karma with vocals, I was especially interested to see the end result. The dynamic, ever-evolving interplay between the five members of P.H.0 continues to be one of my favorite aspects of the group's music, but I remember being intrigued to see how the members of P.H.0 would go about adding a vocalist to their already very full-sounding maximalist aesthetic. 

 

Growing out of a riff established in the album's preceding track, the dreamy interlude-esque "Shin", "Yè" opens with a perfectly-executed seamless transition that takes the riff loosely articulated in "Shin" and brings it into sharp relief. Guitarist Jun Guo hits us with multiple layered parts, with heavy stereoized power chords punctuating the starts of each phrase, while a cleaner, zither-like pentatonic chordal part cuts right down the center of the stereo field, instantly creating that "Eastern folk meets metal" crossover fusion vibe that P.H.0 does so well. Little synth bubbles, presumably of modular synth artist Minghim Tong's design, flicker in and out of the stereo field, adding a nice sense of texture to the track's intro. Before long, Pierre's relentless drums slam into focus, with a complex, rapidly-pulsing doom metal kick pattern under a steady, metronomic hat line and a tight, punchy snare. Jun's guitars are a titanic force to be reckoned with, roaring like a hurricane, accompanied by screaming synthesizer leads whipping past the listener's head, plus a deliciously syncopated bassline. Even amongst the grand scale and sweeping audioscapes of Karma as a project, this intro really stands out to me as a prime example of P.H.0's penchant for the dramatic, effortlessly capturing the sheer force of heavy metal through a distinctly cinematic lens.

"A Japanese CPU dreams

Of electric sheep while the system sleeps…"

 

The verse brings a catchy, pentatonic lead vocal melody line, with lyrics that further Karma's distinctly cyberpunk aesthetic. Jack's voice is plaintive yet disconnected, floating over the instrumental with a certain apathetic disaffectedness that implies a state of greater emotional turmoil. Jack serves the track excellently, stepping into a role much more akin to that of a narrator of high fantasy as opposed to a central protagonist; his performance captures the mystical, epic flair of P.H.0's sound effortlessly. He is carried along by crunchy glimmers of synthesizer textures and a space-heavy sub bass, as the production lends us a brief moment to breathe before the hook. Octave-doubled backing vocals bring his soaring melody into sharp focus during the chorus, as Jack hits some high-pitched almost-wails that evoke a sense of distant anguish, as the drums and guitar crash together in glorious unison. The chorus is an excellent earworm, with the vocal melody, lyrics, and flow intertwining together to create a hook that sticks solidly in the brain just as well as the best of them.

 

"All I can be

Is the ghost in your machine"

After the hook, we pull back a little once again, and it is here that Chi-Chi Qiao's erhu gets the spotlight for the first time. P.H.0's unusual and eclectic lineup is definitively one of my favorite elements of the band's sound, and the marriage between the traditional folk leanings of the erhu and the futuristic beds of synthesizers employed on this track works especially well here. Chi-Chi trades melodic passages with some vocal chops, pentatonic melodies from each alternating and growing progressively more distant. Chi-Chi remains an expressive an erhuist as ever, employing trills and vibrato to give the instrument a soaring, weeping timbre that interplays really well with Jack's vocals. Chi-Chi and Jack together take the second verse, with the two displaying really remarkable melodic chemistry as they duck in and out of the soundscape in an almost dancelike fashion. Pierre keeps the momentum building with a syncopated tom rhythm before the chorus comes crashing back in, with Chi-Chi's wailing erhu passages drifting dreamily over the top.

 

Jun leads us into a sparse, halftime black metal breakdown, playing fuzzed-out, lurching melodies before the whole band pulls back once again to leave room for some soft, arpeggiated guitar layers. The whole band's sense of pacing on this track really impresses me, no doubt due to the efforts of Howard, the collective's enigmatic and mysterious (and newlywed!) producer. The emotional & narrative trajectory of "Yè" is blocked out remarkably well; where other attempts at music this heavy and maximalist might be overstimulating, "Yè" always seems to know when to drop things out and let us breathe before resolutely pulling us back in again. The buildup to this last outro/bridge sees Minghim's synth textures gradually build, layering on top of Jun's guitars, as Jack performs a really woozy, deadpan, low-octave middle eight that showcases some really impressive vocal range. We get one more moment of Jack's gripping, soaring vocals and guitar-driven catharsis before the whole track breaks down and devolves into an ultra-downtuned, slowed-down metal break before the whole thing seemingly flies apart and dissolves into the abyss, the soft rustle of distant wind taking us out of the track.

While there is no shortage of artists who continually challenge notions of genre and redefine what it means to be a musician within the walls of MTech, P.H.0 is probably one of the most left-field acts I've ever come across, in MTech or otherwise. Their proclivity for seamlessly fusing together both Eastern and Western musical ideas and stylistic sensibilities itself becomes a provocative commentary on international diaspora and what it means to exist with both feet in different worlds. As quite possibly my single favorite track by the group, "Yè" is a stunning showcase of innovative production, virtuosic musicianship, and catchy pop appeal, all while demonstrating an unmistakable foundational respect for folk music and tradition. I'm a huge fan of nostalgia in music, being myself an unabashed proponent of the current '90s emo/pop punk revivalist movement, and of the '70s brushed-soul Motown aesthetics embodied by Leon Bridges and Silk Sonic, but P.H.0 embraces something altogether more ancient and storied, capturing a long and vibrant cultural heritage with a rich, calligraphic edge that lends the music a certain fantastical romanticism. With this in mind, something tells me that no matter where you're from, you'll find something in this music that speaks to you. In short, P.H.0 is the future, and I firmly believe that we'll end up traveling in their wake one day, and I remain ever more excited to see what new ground they'll forge into tomorrow.

    

Strawberry Launch - Ready Yet

Stream "Ready Yet" on all platforms via Strawberry Launch's Linktree page! Reggie's review of "Ready Yet" is also available in our April 2023 Singles Spotlight article!

 

All photos sourced from the photo gallery available on the official Strawberry Launch website. 

 

When über-acclaimed psychedelic indie outfit Strawberry Launch released their long-awaited single "Ready Yet" this past April, I had no idea I was listening to a song that eventually would grow to be very close to my heart. "Ready Yet" was a comeback of sorts, the first new music released by the band since their self-titled EP all the way back in the summer of 2021, and I observed a fair amount of buzz on the eighth floor leading up to the release. Of course, being on the writing staff for this blog, I put a mental bookmark by the song, and pitched it to Reggie Katz shortly after its release, who wrote his own very comprehensive review of the track for that month's Singles Spotlight article. However, even after that article was published, I found that "Ready Yet" stuck around in my Spotify rotation. I just kept coming back to it. Even now, it's still there, firmly anchored in my Spotify On Repeat; I wouldn't be surprised if it ends up being my #1 most replayed song of the year at this point. So obviously, I love this song, and I'm here today to tell you why.

"Ready Yet" dives right into the first verse from its opening, with Riiza's soft vocals leading us into shimmery, psychedelic guitar strumming that serves as the main background element for much of the first verse. The combination of the big vocal plate reverb and Matrianna's huge, wide-panned, slightly chimey-sounding layers of acoustic and electric guitars puts the song smack dab in the middle of quintessentially Strawberry Launch sonic territory mere seconds in, calling back to songs like "Sophie" and "That's On Me" from their 2021 self-titled EP. Underneath the guitars, Abby delivers an steadily journeying bassline, ornamented with all sorts of little melodic runs and slightly syncopated hits that remind me a little of bassists like Mike Dirnt and J. Tyler Johnson. Riiza's lyrics here deal with the somewhat mundane, un-glamorous, harsh realities of getting older; lines like "I made a lot of friends at this bar I don't know anymore" and "My girl told me that her boyfriend wants to marry her soon/Feels just like a week ago, we're eighteen years old and new to the city" succinctly capture the grim realization that all of us, friends and family included, are aging. Benjy's drums enter as we steadily build towards the chorus, with a soft, retro-sounding kit that straddles the line between ultra-clean, reverbed, psychedelic '80s nostalgia and Motown brushed-soul grit, delivering a steady backbeat as Riiza's harmonies swell and take us into the chorus.

 

"But I never thought

I'd grow up this fast

But I'm not ready yet

I'm not ready yet

I was dying to get to this part

And now it's slipping away

And I'm not ready yet

I'm not ready yet" 

The chorus hits with a colossal presence and sense of scale. Riiza trades lines between her lead vocals and huge harmony stacks in the background, which I thought made for some really pleasing back-and-forth interplay. Some really nice synth layers also enter in tandem, courtesy of Taylor, who provides us with a rapid, Atari 2600-esque arpeggiator that rises and falls repeatedly alongside cool, ethereal keyboard countermelodies. I thought the layering present in the chorus, both in regards to the vocals and production, was a really strong aspect of the track's overall presentation; the feeling of momentum and magnitude is very well-conveyed, and the little touches, like the subtle sixteenth note tambourine tucked far in the back of the stereo field, and Benjy's delayed crash hits at certain points, do a lot to give the track an unstoppable groove that makes it ripe for headbanging. The chorus is long, too, clocking in at nearly a minute in length. The sheer length of the chorus, which might be considered to be out of place in a pop context, threw me for a bit of a loop on first listen, but I've actually come to really love that about this song, and I think the long chorus does a lot to really slam home the narrative of this track: getting older is terrifying, and I'm not ready for it yet. Suffice it to say I love everything about this chorus; I thought it was super well-executed and you'll catch me singing along anytime it comes on!

"And I've got bills to pay

And big debts of my own

Oh, I'm terrified

That I might live this life alone!"

The second verse is only a fraction of the length of the first, opening with Riiza's ruminations on her siblings, particularly in regards to their ever-changing lives as they settle down and start families. The verse reaches a climactic peak quickly when Riiza brings in chanted, shouted background vocals at the line "I might live this life alone", which I thought was a rather nice touch that communicated very well the sheer terror underneath that simple statement. The extra momentum provided to the track by the chanted vocals felt really nice, and imbued the second chorus with an even greater sense of acceleration and bombast. Following the second chorus is a bridge which serves as something of a come-down moment, as Matrianna's wavy guitar strumming comes to the forefront and Benjy's drumming goes into a soft halftime groove, and Riiza's vocals take a step back in the sound field, becoming increasingly distant and flush with reverb; she sings, "You're never far away from me", repeating the line over and over in a way that feels like trying to cling onto friends that only grow more distant with time, which I found to be a really nice touch. The bridge also brings a slightly extended ending that almost reads like a fakeout key change, where we start this ascending chord progression that seems like it's going to lead to an upwards modulation before we end up back in the original key nonetheless, which I thought was a really cool double-curveball of sorts. The track's final chorus sees Riiza really let it rip, as she releases a string of soaring melodies, reaching high into her upper range in a manner that feels truly cathartic, like a cry for help from deep within. The whole band goes halftime during the last leg of this final chorus in a moment that jacks the headbanging pulse up to 11 before everyone hits one last giant chord and Riiza's lone vocals end off the track.

 

"I feel like I'm still learning and growing with myself every day and I wanted to write about the anxiety it gives me to compare my life trajectory to those closest to me." –Riiza, lead vocalist

"Ready Yet" is indisputably one of my favorites from Strawberry Launch. (And here I was, thinking nothing would ever top "She" in my personal favorites… so congratulations to all members of the band for proving me wrong!) I rarely find myself gravitating towards pop songs that are longer than four minutes or so, and yet, both in spite of and because of the track's near five minutes in length, "Ready Yet" occupies a very special place for me. It is immensely cathartic and tugs at the heartstrings, on account of the strengths of its songwriting and production, both of which go hand in hand to create a richly layered combination thick with pathos. The sparkly, shimmery, glitter-soaked retro-psychedelic nostalgia that is the sound of Strawberry Launch resolves into a clear, razor-sharp image perhaps more so than any other song they've done yet; to put it another way, if I had to pick one single song to show to a friend and explain to them, "this is what Strawberry Launch sounds like", "Ready Yet" would be that song. The band sounds totally locked in, and all the members find great pockets to slot into and play off of one another's performances. Musically, this track is awesome; the band does a ton of little turns based off of carefully-placed pivot chords and applied dominants that keep the listener hooked in, engaged, and pleasantly surprised without the journey ever feeling overly chaotic or unfocused. The mix and master sounds wonderfully polished, and I actually really love the way the synthesizers are integrated with the guitars, creating a crystal-clear lead synthesizer over a shimmery rhythm guitar section. Taylor shines in this lead role, contributing all sorts of little melodic touches that elevate the choruses to the next level, while Matrianna, Benjy, and Abby form a juggernaut of a rhythm section that keeps the pulse of the track interesting & varied while relentlessly moving forward all the while. Of course, Riiza remains firmly entrenched in the spotlight throughout the track's runtime, turning in a spine-tingling vocal performance that feels to me like she's baring her soul—which, considering the undercurrent of existential terror in her lyrics, isn't far off from the truth. Part of me even wishes she sounded a little less perfect and put-together at times, which might have more to do with production & mixing than with performance, but as it stands, this track still makes for a wonderful showcase of her ability to assemble an emotionally gripping & relatable narrative, and convey those emotions through her performance. To put it bluntly, the entire band is firing on all cylinders here, and there's very little in the way of things I would change. "Ready Yet" is unassailable, both in regards to its creative vision as well as its execution, and absolutely deserves all the love and then some.

I hope it's clear by this point that I genuinely love this song, and I've gotten to a point where I really resonate with it personally. This is in part due to my own personal circumstances, which have undeniably shaped my perspective on the song and its meaning, so if I may write as Alex for a moment, as it were, rather than "in character" as Ash, I'd like to take a moment to talk about why this song in particular means so much to me. It was already the thick of summer, and "Ready Yet" had already firmly entrenched itself as one of my favorite songs of the year, when I received the news that due to a variety of unfortunate circumstances beyond my control, it was no longer possible for me to pursue graduate school. For most of my time in the MTech undergraduate program, the plan had always been to get my Bachelor's degree and then enter the five-year Master's degree program straight away, which would have given me an extra three semesters in college to learn more stuff and figure out my shit—and then suddenly, practically overnight, I was in the position of having to revise my entire life plan to account for the fact that I was now a mere six months away from being out of school forever. I don't think I quite fully realized the sheer severity of my predicament right away, but at some point it hit me—holy shit, I have to have a stable job and be paying bills and be moving up in the world before the year is out. I can't take shelter on the eighth floor anymore. I can't chill on the couch and chat with the studio monitor and hang out with my friends in Dolan and pretend like life isn't going to catch up to me one day. I can't delay the search for a stable career job for another eighteen months, nor can I plan on doing so with a Master's degree in hand. I have to do that shit now—and realizing all that practically seared a subsequent realization into my brain that's remained there ever since: I'm not ready yet. How can I be? I don't know how to be an adult, I don't know how to manage money, I feel like I have zero marketable skills. I'm turning 23 this July, and the prospect of sinking ever deeper into adulthood is utterly terrifying to me.

 

I think it's safe to say that my personal situation, while it doesn't change the core message behind "Ready Yet", definitely makes me resonate with it all that much more. For me, "Ready Yet" captures the existential terror of getting older in a way that nothing else really does; I caught hints of that sense of dread when I first listened to the song, but when I listen to it now, that terror exists very much on the surface of the track, shrouded as it is behind sweet, luscious guitars and bubblegum synth melodies. I've come to respect Riiza's songwriting abilities all that much more for being able to capture that great existential panic and convey it in such a relatable, catchy, earworm of a piece. Riiza's songwriting lays bare a number of unpleasant facts of getting older—the increasing difficulty of maintaining friendships, the panic of seeing friends & loved ones settle down for good, the gnawing realization that our best years are slipping away faster than we can enjoy them—and articulates them succinctly & decisively with a few bold strokes of the pen. This song certainly isn't about me directly, but it captures a harsh cross-section of getting older that I'm sure all of us can relate to, and that is a great achievement in any songwriter's book.

 

"I'm not ready yet…

And neither are you." 

Anyways, to close out my personal adage, I'm now working at Mansion Recording Studios, where I toil away the late night hours building my mastery of Pro Tools hotkeys and my skills at running vocal sessions, doing my damnedest to become a skilled and respected engineer within the Brooklyn hip hop and R&B scene. At the same time, I'm taking freelance live sound work, sometimes at bars, sometimes at outdoor venues. My luthiery side operation is slowly starting to gain steady business, and has culminated in a number of commissions for custom-built guitars I've been working my way through over the course of the summer. This means long hours (including frequent overnights), lots of manual labor (sanding & sawing wood, along with moving monitors and heavy equipment, will do that to you), and very, very little sleep—all this because I am acutely aware that I'm not fucking ready yet. Whether I'm ready or not, though, in six months, I'll have to face the storm that is adult life, and I'd better hope that by then, I've built the skills to weather that storm. After literal months on replay, I would have gotten sick of most songs by now, but "Ready Yet" continues to play in my headphones, whether I'm taking the G train on my way to Mansion for an overnight shift, spraying down a naked guitar body with nitro lacquer, or crouched down in some dingy back corner of a dive bar, testing signal flow through a banged-up PA system. I suppose that at the end of the day, no matter how terrified I am of what lies ahead, "Ready Yet" affords me the ability to take some small comfort in knowing that I am not alone, and to me, that is the absolute best example of what the experience of music is all about.

 

~~~~

Hope you all enjoyed hearing about some of the songs that defined the sound of spring for me! Don't forget to stream all of these songs, and more, and support all of the lovely artists featured here. Both myself and Reggie are quite busy these days, but I promise we'll be back before you know it! Be on the lookout for Singles Spotlight coming soon, and I'll see you all on campus in the coming months.

Happy summer and enjoy the music!

–Alex "Ash" Han

ALBUM REVIEW: P.H.0 - Karma

P.H.0's full-length debut, Karma, combines cyber-synthwave, black metal, drum & bass, and East Asian traditional music into a head-spinning, reality-warping fusion.

Reviewed by Alex "Ash" Han

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before reading this review, be sure to stream Karma via P.H.0's Linktree page!

 

FEW THINGS ARE AS EXCITING as an LP which fully commits itself to breaking genre barriers and challenging our preconceived notions of how to categorize music. In this regard, it's hard to think of a more striking example than P.H.0's debut album Karma, released at the tail end of last month. Though this album rollout took place at a bit of an inopportune time for me—mainly because I was getting steamrolled by a particularly brutal final exam period at the time—Karma has soundtracked much of the last three weeks for me, mostly on account of its insane depth and level of commitment to its crossgenre spirit. For me, this is an album which seems to throw me something new every time I put it on, with a seemingly-bottomless repository of details that speak to the amount of love & care that went into this thing.

Borne out of the collision of talents between five alumni of the MTech graduate program—producer Howard "Sen" Ouyang, drummer Pierre Zheyu Pi, guitarist Jun Guo, erhuist Danting "Chi-Chi" Qiao, and modular synth artist Minghim Tong—the eclecticism that defines P.H.0's work is evident just from the lineup. My first taste of P.H.0 came in the form of "Ascension", the lead single from Karma, which showcased an epic, larger-than-life collision between Mongolian morin khuur music, black metal, and breakcore. That song showcased a number of really compelling crossover points between the various artists in P.H.0's lineup, as "Ascension" threw us a ton of moments wherein everyone just seemed to click, their synergy propelling the song forward with an infectious and relentless sense of momentum. In short, hearing a lead single as interesting and driven as "Ascension" really got my hopes up going into Karma, and I found myself hoping that the whole LP would build on the wild eclecticism and impeccable pacing of their prior material. Suffice it to say that that expectation was definitively met, as Karma proved to be nothing less than a rollercoaster ride of mind-boggling proportions, pulling from a world's worth of different sounds to create a very compelling showcase of the artistic identity that makes P.H.0 who they are.

"To say Karma is a meticulously planned project is an absolute exaggeration, as it was initially intended to be an EP but quickly grew into a full-length album because we are an indecisive bunch with a strong tendency toward perfectionism, which can be excessively fastidious at times. However, despite resulting in a very intensive production and engineering process, that insistence on perfectionism is what made us very proud of the end product, and we are finally able to share with you our debut album: Karma." –Howard Ouyang a.k.a. Sen

 

The LP opens with "Vanity", featuring a distant East Asian traditional sample replete with pentatonic woodwind melodies and tangu drumbeats before crashing into a black metal breakdown anchored in heavy guitars and huge acoustic drums. The momentum of the pounding drums lends the LP a very real sense of urgency and energy from the track's opening seconds, blasting out of the gates with a great degree of fanfare. Pierre and Jun combine to make for a very compelling introduction to the universe of P.H.0, combining hard-hitting drumming with thick, distorted metal riffs that jacks the energy up to 11. Minghim also makes an early appearance here, contributing little synthesizer notes and sound effects that flicker in and out of each ear, which add a nice bit of diversification to the rhythmic soundscape provided by Pierre's drums. Before long, we hit a huge curveball of a sudden tempo slowdown that seems ripe for headbanging, giving Minghim's wailing background synth textures and Jun's heavy guitar a moment to shine. Soon after, though, the tempo speeds back up to normal, and Jun throws us some clean arpeggiated guitar picking over tangu drums; Chi-Chi's erhu makes its first appearance here, its weeping, singsong timbre making for an excellent break from the heavy metal wall of sound textures that defined the track's first half. Chi-Chi's erhu playing is truly beautiful, lending the track a really nice expressive and contemplative edge that serves as a nice contrast with the track's more aggressive metal leanings. Chi-Chi maintains her posture as the lead performer throughout this second leg of the track, even as the background synths begin to swell and we collapse into a section backed by electronic drums and sidechained synth bass, serving as a detour into a sort of listing, darkwave-esque groove. I thought the sidechaining of Jun's distorted chords to the kick drum was really well done here, and gave this section a really nice sort of hybrid synthwave/metal vibe I really enjoyed. In short, "Vanity" feels excellent in terms of its pacing; no one section drags for too long, and the arrangement choices made in taking us from metal to erhu soloing to synthwave feel earned and natural. The journey-like experience of this track is excellent, and it does a wonderful job at capturing a meandering, winding path through many different musical territories that sets up the ground we're to cover in the rest of the LP very well.

"…the opening track 'Vanity' started over a year ago, even before the band was formed, as Howard’s experiment with the goal of integrating Beiguan, a traditional form of music that originated in northern Taiwan in the 17th century, with laser-like guitar riffs that aim to imitate the atonality and the articulation of the suona, a traditional Chinese wind instrument commonly used in Beiguan… Jun, bringing his post-rock influences, added an ambient guitar section filled with reverb washes, which inspired Howard to add an erhu solo on top of it as well as Pierre to follow up the post-rock section with a synthwave breakdown combined with Djent-like, palm-muted riffs and a lead part played with a real suona by our friend Tong, a professional Chinese flute and suona player based here in the city. What was originally a straightforward, mosh pit-friendly experimental metal track became an amalgamation of our musical experiences spanning across progressive metal, post-rock, synthwave, and traditional Chinese folk music." –Howard Ouyang a.k.a. Sen

The LP's second track, "Shin (feat. Her Dark Heaven)", opens on a heavy, cinematic sweeping pad sound punctuated by little synth notes here and there. A distant vocal sample soon layers over the soundscape, asking, "where's the substance, the substance of the soul?", which I thought made for a nice meditative vibe. Jun plays a clean, Metallica-esque riff over a heavy, harmonically rich synthwave sub bass as the slowly-building synth arps and touches of Chi-Chi's faraway, reverb-soaked erhu build tension in the back. The track reads like something of an interlude to me, and though I'm not normally a fan of interludes appearing this early in the tracklist, the swell into the subsequent track "Yè" is amazing and works really well as a buildup within the context of the greater project's pacing.

"My life is split into two parts: during the day, I follow the rules, working along the L train between Bushwick and Chinatown. I present myself as the ideal image that my parents, who believe in the Chinese Communist dream, prefer. Every day, they remind me about my life in America—on the other side of the Earth—which they both hate and miss deeply.
At night, I tear off my stockings and immerse myself in the horror of the darkness, enjoying the collective nightmare of a surreal and bizarre humanity, as if the rules and suffering of the daytime no longer exist. I no longer remember how I clutched my visa and struggled to survive on this land, forgetting how people reminded me that different faces and voices were my sins.
At this moment, my music is my scream, it is the only language I have in my panic. It represents me, if you listen." –Danting Qiao a.k.a. Chi-Chi

Jun's riff from "Shin" continues and grows into "Yè (feat. Her Dark Heaven)", the third track on Karma. Heavy metal chugs punctuate the soundscape between shredded melodic passages on electric guitar, loosely echoed by Minghim's screaming synth textures in the background. Distant, almost-androgynous, light vocals enter during the verse, bringing a plaintive timbre alongside octave doubling and supremely catchy, soaring melodies. Vocalist Jack Doyle's vocal performance on the track is awesome, bringing a somewhat disaffected, numb-sounding emotional texture that nonetheless conveys a great deal of pathos, reminding me a bit of Julian Casablancas in the process. Amidst this titanic vocal chorus, we catch little atmospheric washes of erhu and occasional clean guitar chords poking through the soundscape, which I thought made for a really nice touch. The middle section brings a come-down moment where Jun's melodic guitar gradually builds layers on top of itself in polyphonic harmony before pulling back slightly to make room for Minghim's textural synth touches. The whole band feels utterly locked in on this track in particular, with each member seamlessly coming to the forefront at select moments and passing the spotlight around; Jun and Chi-Chi have excellent interplay as the two predominantly "lead" performers, if you will, backed by Minghim, Howard, and Pierre in equal measure. Nevertheless, the soundscape never threatens to overwhelm Jack, whose lead vocals anchor the track and provide a nice sense of pathos to play off of Chi-Chi's expressive erhu playing. In short, I thought the pacing of this track was particularly excellent, and the interplay between each member of P.H.0 was done really smartly as well. After an ending section featuring a half-time breakdown where the vocals return, the track ends and we fade out to the sound of static noise.

"The title track 'Yè' (or 'Karma' in English) and its overture 'Shin' are the only two tracks with vocals (huge props to our great friend Jack Doyle from Her Dark Heaven for contributing their angelic vocal!) that we wrote from scratch and later produced together as a group. 'Yé' started as two guitar parts written by Howard playing pentatonic scales to imitate traditional Chinese plucked string instruments, but what truly defined it was Jun's addition of an ambient guitar lead that set the tone of the track: ethereal, heavy, at times eerie, and most importantly, East Asian — and not in the Western, on-the-surface sense where we could simply add a gong at the beginning of every section or a sample of any traditional East Asian instrument on top of a heavy metal or EDM instrumental." –Howard Ouyang a.k.a. Sen

"Jiva" begins with muffled, sub-heavy, pounding drum pattern, eventually becoming ornamented with additional shakers and percussion. Jun's guitar outlines a distorted, wailing melody in Phrygian dominant mode to introduce us to the harmonic soundscape of the track, setting the mood with a rather alien and desolate vibe. Chittering percussion and ambiguously tonal synth pads contribute to the growing apocalyptic mood of the track, before we hit a short vocoder break, followed by a tempo change that speeds us up and ratchets up the energy of the track. Electronic drums and heavy bass enter in full force, taking us into another synthwave/metal crossover section featuring octave-lead guitar and swelling synth arrangements. The vocoder returns, outlining a cacophony of speaking voices, talking over one another and becoming increasingly digitized in a really cool moment that evokes a sort of robotic symphony. "Jiva" feels like a sonic hurricane, a barrage of sounds that nonetheless remains tightly focused and evocative of some really cool sonic territory.

"The modular synth and the erhu production started later in the entire production pipeline, taking place mostly at Minghim’s studio apartment where he recorded and [engineered] the erhu by himself. Minghim’s addition of modular synth and additional production works also elevate the production value of the entire record, most notably on 'Jiva' and 'Wu Wuo': for example, the fragmented, modular chaos at the end of 'Jiva', which was made using Howard’s and his wife’s recitation of a poem from the game Cyberpunk 2077, and the thick, immersive layers of textures and pads under the erhu solo in 'Wu Wuo'." –Howard Ouyang a.k.a. Sen

The LP's fifth track, "Mo", features drum & bass influences front and center, as we open on a distant, weeping string sample and an uptempo, sped-up breakbeat. Chi-Chi's pentatonic erhu melodies are once again utilized nicely over a huge sub bass and distant, wailing pads. Minghim hits us with a breakdown section augmented with stereoized downers and distant flashes of chopped-up erhu in a moment that I thought made for a really cool moment of calm before the storm. However, in true P.H.0 fashion, it isn't long before we return to the aesthetics of black metal & doom metal. Pierre brings us a rapidly-subdivded kick drum and a syncopated rhythm that synergizes well with Jun's heavy chugs. Soon, the rhythm section finds a steady, driving pulse, where Minghim gets the lead, articulating some cool, icy synth melodies over the top of Jun's wall of guitars. A really cool moment came during a 12/8 time switch, where a plucked string instrument enters the stereo field; I'm not totally certain, but I think the string instrument is a guzheng, which made for a super cool addition that feels right at home amidst the guitars somehow. I remained seriously wowed by the intersectionality of P.H.0's synthesis of traditional East Asian instruments within an electronic metal context, and I thought that the inclusion of the guzheng here was a really tastefully done example of this. Shortly thereafter, Chi-Chi gets an erhu solo where she truly shreds, playing some super impressive fast riffs over Jun's massive guitar backing. In keeping with P.H.0's signature sound, "Mo" is another track which feels like a journey from start to finish, with stops along the way in various musical landscapes which P.H.0 harnesses and makes their own.

"Maruya" is a shorter track, clocking in at just under two minutes, and opens on a distorted, warped, almost-vocal sample. Minghim's synth textures soon enter to provide a steady arpeggiated techno, acid-house bassline, augmented with pleasant dissonances and faraway flashes of percussion. The track maintains a dynamic and constantly shifting soundscape on account of the use of arrangement FX and moving filters, which I thought was really cool. Soon, we get a four-on-the-floor kick which steadily builds energy heading into a huge key change accompanied by icy, howling synth pads and a haunting, arrhythmic vocoder. The cinematic, sweeping energy of this track is truly awesome, and feels like a movie trailer-sized spin on the artistic leanings of artists like Kid Reno. The inclusion of this interlude-like track made for a nice moment of respite from the otherwise-breakneck pace that defines this LP, allowing the listener to take a breath and be quietly immersed in the heady, apocalyptic, cyberpunk world of Karma for a second, while also serving as a very compelling showcase of Minghim and Howard's talents.

"Wu Wuo" returns us to techno territory, kicking off with a steady kick pulse and warped, robotic vocal samples. The Kid Reno & Dog Collar parallels remained strong for me here, with the heavy, subby pulse of the drums reminding me a little of the Ecliptic collaboration track "jacuzzi" from Dog Collar's Jungle Fairy Tale EP last year. Flickering percussion breakbeats (maybe bongos?) pair with offbeat open hats to create an interesting cross-section of traditional music that nonetheless exists in firmly electronic territory. Soon, Jun's guitar comes crashing in, outlining an indisputably sick Phrygian riff that intertwines throughout Chi-Chi's erhu passages. The interplay between Chi-Chi and Jun is showcased really well here, I feel, with both getting plenty of chances to solo and flex their instrumental chops; in particular, Chi-Chi's rapid, nimble sixteenth note shreds made for a really cool addition. A spoken, 1950s radio play-esque vocal sample plays over a short break, proclaiming the forthcoming abolishment of worldly pleasures in a moment that furthers Karma's ominous vision of the future. Finally, there's a really cool halftime break in the last leg of the track where the guitar breaks off into syncopated chugs as Minghim's wailing synth textures take up residence in the background before the track's eventual end. On first listen, the dynamism that so often defines P.H.0's work for me felt less present here, and I felt less like I was being taken on a journey as compared to some of the other more rhapsodic endeavors in the tracklist, but as I've come back to this track more and more, it's slowly entrenched itself as being one of my favorites on the album. The apocalyptic soundscape of Karma is conveyed nowhere better than through the distant spoken proclamations, erhu shredding, pounding subs, and crashing metal riffs of "Wu Wuo", and the vibe of this track is nothing short of incredible.

"Bodhaka" is another short, interlude-style track that opens on soaring, dark-80s cyberwave synths before collapsing into a huge open fifths vocal sample that rides the line between organic and synthetic. Minghim's sound design really shines here, with a ton of cool evolving chord tones that incrementally fade in and out to keep the musical soundscape slowly yet resolutely moving forward. Around halfway through, the track enters a big switchup with a bunch of pseudo-vocal synth pads entering, accompanied by what sounds like a distant howl in the background. It's a really cool sound; I'm not sure whether its origins are organic or fully synthetic in nature, but either way, it makes for a really cool cinematic moment, a cloud-clearing rush that takes us into the LP's final act.

"While most drum parts were pre-programmed by Howard for demo purposes, Pierre, as the drummer of the band, was in charge of programming the drums, selecting kits, and perfecting the flow of the drums to make them sound realistic when they needed to. We used a mix of virtual drum instrument plugins by GetGood Drums and stock Ableton drum samples." –Howard Ouyang a.k.a. Sen

"Genko", the penultimate track on Karma, opens with a pulsing, cybernetic D minor synth groove that rather reminded me of the soundtrack to Detroit: Become Human for some reason. A lead melody soon enters over the faraway, muted pulse of the kick drum, taking the form of an erhu sidechained in quarter notes, which I thought made for a really nice touch of extra dynamism, even amongst Chi-Chi's already very expressive playing. The Phrygian zither countermelodies sound excellent in context, once again showcasing P.H.0's ability to combine melodic textures from synthetic and Asian traditional soundscapes. The track hits with a huge beat drop that takes us into a synthwave drum pattern consisting of a steadily rising & falling hi-hat pattern over a reverbed, snappy snare drum and a solid kick. The momentum of this thing feels very unwavering and purposeful, evoking images like an android factory assembly line, metallic robot arms clanging in unison up and down the way. Eventually, we break into a clanging snare with trap hi-hat rolls over a detuned synth bass and distant claps that shake up the groove a little and take us into loosely cyberpunk-ish Eurobeat territory. I thought this little change in sound selection was really nice, and made for a continuation of the previously-established vibe while still throwing us enough new material to keep us entertained. There's a nice middle section where all the synth lines slowly become more noisy, distorted, and hi-passed, before we fall back into a heavy guitar-driven section. The tempo/meter switch into 5/4 time that happens here didn't quite feel totally natural to me, though it did make the eventual return to common time amidst Jun's syncopated chugs and Chi-Chi's soaring lead that much more satisfying, so I suppose it works as a structural element. "Genko" definitely feels like an ambitious piece of work, and I really appreciated its heavier lean into the cyberpunk aesthetic of P.H.0's work—the seamless evocation of dark, neon-lit skyscrapers under a desolate, gray sky thick with smog works excellently here, and I found myself pulled even more firmly into the world of P.H.0 for a second.

With that vivid image still fresh in my mind, returning to "Ascension" felt like coming home. This song had served as my introduction to the work of P.H.0 in the first place, and it served in that role in remarkable fashion, articulating a sharp, edgy, striking picture through a laser-focused artistic vision. The momentous, cinematic, morin khuur-laden buildup right from the start of the track hits that much harder now that it arrives at album's end, and the arrival of each element one by one—the soaring erhu, the fast-paced breakbeat, the growling sub bass, the chunky, jagged power chords—feels like each band member returning to the stage at the end of the show for one last hurrah, leaving everything out there once and for all. In short, it's a listening experience of epic proportions, and its inclusion here as the last track on the album was a fitting choice. Karma goes out much the same way it came in—as the final whisper of erhu fades away, Karma cements itself as an explosive whirlwind of sounds, sandblasting its way out of the gates, whistling & howling as it whips away amidst the current, leaving behind a windswept cityscape begging for more.

"What we want is to create something new using both Western and Eastern musical elements and based on the musical framework of the East and give these historically rich and now endangered musical instruments, techniques, and ideas the representation and the reinvigoration they deserve and desperately need. We aimed to capture the essence of East Asian music not by merely adding traditional instruments as superficial ornamentation but by reflecting our social, cultural, historical, and religious experiences living in various parts of East Asia, from Taiwan and China to Japan. This very much encompasses the core theme of this record: expand upon the more Western-dominated musical palette, make musical elements derived from Western music traditions serve the musical framework of the East instead of the other way around, and develop our unique musical language, which is authentic and truly East Asian. In that sense, P.H.0 is an 'experimental' band, serving as an experiment in flipping the power dynamic between the musical framework of the East and the current musical landscape dominated by Western music traditions." –Howard Ouyang a.k.a. Sen

 

Karma is an album that exists firmly entrenched in a crossroads of sorts; the various influences from heavy metal, drum and bass, synthwave, and East Asian folk music are combined and incorporated into each other in a tasteful and natural fashion to give rise to a fusion sound that truly belongs to P.H.0 in a way not many artists can claim. Each of the contributions of P.H.0's five members feel clear and distinct, pulling from a diverse selection of different lived experiences & musical backgrounds that nonetheless come together into a cogent & cohesive whole that feels far greater than the sum of its individual parts. For me, the album experience encapsulated a really poignant summation of my own experience as a product of the Asian-American diaspora. Maybe it's the album's ability to adapt familiar Western musical elements to a distinctly Eastern context that feels very evocative of my own longing to reconnect with a culture and heritage from which I have always been distanced; as a child, my own parents made an effort to make sure I assimilated into American life, and I did so successfully, but at the cost of my connections with my Chinese and Korean heritage. My own lack of immersion into my family's culture and inability to speak their languages permanently distances me from ever being truly accepted as being a part of that society and world, and perhaps it is for this reason that I found Karma so powerful. Language might be learned, but music is universal, and as such, this album has a unique ability to bridge the gap across which myself, as well as many others, including the members of P.H.0, exist.

 

In short, this LP is incredible, and hits very close to home. From start to finish, the intentionality of this LP remains its biggest selling point; despite the huge diversity in sounds from which the members of P.H.0 pull, they remain resolutely self-assured as they forge a new path into uncharted territory. The creative vision behind this LP is truly striking—the band's goal of recontextualizing Western sounds in an Eastern framework is compelling from the outset, but it was evident even from the very first listen that their conceptualization of the sound they want to be associated with is crystal clear. Not one single track on this album feels like a half-baked idea, or a loose figment of an ill-fated artistic experiment that never should have left the drawing board. The imagery elicited by this album was also extremely strong, and I found its creative vision to be exceptionally vivid and striking as a result; the conceptualization and execution of Howard's vision was achieved remarkably well on account of everyone's careful contributions, innovative sound design, and excellent management of their own soundscape. Aside from a few minor points of contention with the mix, which are likely stemming from my own personal preferences anyways, this LP is bulletproof. Karma is likely to be one of the most striking debuts I've heard in a long time, and I fully consider myself to be aboard the P.H.0 hype train now—wherever they take us next, I'm sure that both the destination and the journey will deliver something insightful, profound, and ascendant, and I await eagerly for them to take us there.

Personal enjoyment score: 10 out of 10

Standout tracks: "Vanity", "Yè (feat. Her Dark Heaven)", "Mo", "Wu Wuo", "Ascension"