This song caught my ear last night while trying to unfollow some Facebook friends who flood my newsfeed with their spammy "like and share" posts. It's from Cheats, a seven-member indie-rock group from Manila fronted by real-life couple Jim Bacarro and Saab Magalona. Their bio says their influences range from LCD Soundsystem to Radiohead and the Spice Girls, but this particular track reminds me of The Joy Formidable.
My first apartment was in Malate, and calling it “small” would be generous. I lived there with two girls and one guy, and to this day, I genuinely don’t know how we all fit. It felt like a magic trick. Or a health hazard. We were a musical mess. One roommate lived and breathed ’70s classics. Another was permanently blasting Korn and Slipknot. One survived solely on cheesy love songs. And me? I was floating somewhere between new wave and folk rock, pretending that made sense. Somehow, despite the noise and the chaos, we all lived together in this weird, mismatched harmony. No murders. No lawsuits. A win, honestly. My music taste now is nothing like it was in my twenties. Not even close. But I’ll always be grateful to Jacqueline for introducing me to this song in particular. It was playing when I woke up from a very memorable sleep in 2002. I was 21, half-awake, probably confused about life, and that song stuck. It still hasn’t let go.
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