Indie pop-rock band Paper Satellites’ debut album, Manila Meltdown, goes straight to the heart of one’s quarter-life crisis like an overflowing shot of tequila from your college years—sometimes fun, explicitly bitter, and a precedent to honesty hour.
The album, whose story is split into two parts, starts with figurative folklore: the mythical bakunawa often associated with the sea. The opening track, “Seafoam,” is an apt set-up for the succeeding “Bakunawa,” not just because of its paired symbolism, but because we get to clear our head with a purely instrumental track before we’re forced to face the angsty beast that awaits in the songwriting.
With that said, don’t be fooled. The bright surf rock riffs and dance beats from “Bakunawa” to “Towns” juxtapose the lyrical lament that doesn’t hold back on any of the persona’s melancholy. You’ll hear of failed relationships and the weight of society’s expectations.
With “YSGFM” acting as bar closing hour, the once-festive sound ringing throughout the first half of the album makes an exit and heads home.
Enter the after-hours, where the only people still listening to this far in are those who have passed out or have gotten sucked into a reflective state, drunk on “what-ifs” and “wish-I-coulds.” From here on out, Manila Meltdown gets down and dirty with stories of heartbreak and loneliness.
By the time the album reaches its end with the track, “Slow Down,” the band’s message is clear. “Peaking at your early 20s…I guess I should have been more wary,” reflected lead vocalist and songwriter Jyle Macalintal.
While its seemingly-celebratory beat and darker themes can make for a dizzying affair for the emotionally unprepared, Manila Meltdown is a much-needed catharsis for those that can relate.
You can give Manila Meltdown by Paper Satellites, under Lilystars Records, a listen on SoundCloud.