Plaka Notes #24: Maduming Timog by Hev Abi

Or, I write about an album that shows more promise from one of Filipino hip-hop's biggest names, never mind that hip-hop is a blind spot and I don't quite know where to start.

I’ll be honest with you: I will not call this an album review, and I will not let you call this an album review.

You see, hip-hop has always been my blind spot. I didn’t grow up with it; my only exposure growing up was limited to what was popular on top 40 at the time, and generally, I didn’t really like it. As a kid who involuntarily listened to a lot of smooth jazz and 70s and 80s pop, hip-hop—or at least the version that was popular at the time—never jived with what I liked listening to, what I was used to listening to.

It’s not that I avoid the genre. There is some hip-hop that I do like, and I am trying my best in recent years to have a better appreciation of the production and storytelling inherent in it. (And I’d say that I’m seeing more of the genre in my playlists, or at least those songs are getting close to being included.) Indeed, as I was planning the Once Monthly, one of the recurring features I had in mind was called “Hip-Hop is Nicksy’s Blind Spot”, where I have people suggesting albums for me to listen to, and I report back with my thoughts. It’s still just an idea, because I don’t think I’ll get enough suggestions for it to be sustainable.

And yes, I have written about hip-hop on the Once Monthly before. I did write about Gloc-9’s latest album a couple of years back. But the thing is, he’s a rapper who’s adjacent to the alternative bands I listened to in high school and college. Even the biggest name in Filipino rap, Francis Magalona, benefited from that. When it comes to what I’d call the “sound of the streets”, though, I would be utterly lost. Maybe it’s my sheltered childhood; maybe it’s my white, middle class tastes. Out of a sheer lack of exposure, and perhaps my unwillingness to break out of these shells, a significant chunk of Filipino music has been off-limits.

So, here I am, attempting to make sense of Hev Abi.

Simple, really: his latest album, Maduming Timog, is the most noteworthy new release of the past few weeks. It is noteworthy because the rapper also known as Gabriel Abilla is one of the biggest names in Filipino music today, dominating streaming services and, at one point, having five of his songs on the Billboard Philippines charts. Just because I don’t hear his songs—even in, err, organic encounters—doesn’t mean I would never acknowledge him.

And besides, that thing about five songs? There was significant coverage around his debut record Kung Alam Mo Lang. I listened to that and two of his more prominent EPs, both independently released: Pautang ng Pag-Ibig and Sakred Boy. I can trace not just the evolution of his sound, but also the point when he stopped just aping his influences and truly forged on a synthesis that’s very much his own.

What I also liked in that record is his storytelling. Sure, the album’s theme is pretty universal—they’re love songs, pretty much! But—and perhaps this is novelty on my end—I appreciated the specific scenarios and the different approach to the lyrics and rhymes. I’m not going to lie; Hev Abi had me all throughout, pretty much.

That made Maduming Tunog a bit of a disappointment for me. I was surprised to then hear a record that suddenly felt distant from me, and just when I was more willing to try to meet him halfway.

Maybe it’s the narrative. Named after Timog Avenue, a center of nightlife in Quezon City, the album is a sprawling narrative of a night out. At 51 minutes—a quarter of an hour longer than its predecessor—perhaps it’s too sprawling. But sonically, it does see Hev Abi shift into something more glittery and closer to the mumble rap wave I had also missed a few years ago. It makes the story more difficult to follow—I know it sounds like a nitpick—but it does drench the whole thing in a haze of the Weeknd-esque euphoria and confusion that seems apt for the setting… I think.

And this is where I start having misgivings about my ability to do this review again. This is not the life I am exposed to, nor a life that I lived. It’s not just a class thing, but an experience thing. I never went on nights out. I lived far away; it was never an option. I never had the experiences Hev Abi raps about, nor the worldview that has accumulated along the way. It’s safe to say I could be categorized as one of those people who hate the idea of the “geng-geng” hanging out at Bonifacio Global City. (I’m not, in reality, but you get the point, right?) Hearing him embrace the character of someone looking for, um, one adventure after another made me wince in a bit of discomfort. Come to think of it, that’s a good thing—that means he really hasn’t drastically changed his lyrical style, even if the production has.

But, again, it goes on for too long. Maybe it’s one of those nights out that do end in the morning, where a lot of things happen and you wake up with no recollection of it all? Am I overthinking this? I am overcompensating, right? I am certain I have a “sun is rising” vibe on “Hangga’t May Oras Pa Ako”, which appears towards the end and feels like a moment of clarity after almost an hour of vibe. Not that he’s changing his ways—no, he’s defiant.

Nevertheless, you’ve got to be excited. If Hev Abi’s going to be my first dip into this side of Filipino music, then it’s not a bad start at all. Here’s a guy who’s not staying still, constantly pushing his sound, giving fans and newcomers alike something new to look forward to. Maduming Tunog sees a foray into English tracks, as well as a boatload of collaborations, including a surprising (but not really) one with Jess Connelly. Two alien worlds colliding, because they always had a lot in common. Me, not really hoping to jump in and be accepted, but just keen to understand it more so I don’t look like an idiot the next time. I hope I did this some justice. I will do better next time.

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Also on the Once Monthly

Playlist #38 very belatedly jumped on the “me in 2016” bandwagon, although I did talk about a lot of other (time-related) things there. Also, the playlist, oddly, has a lot of new music in comparison.

The latest in my Dispatches from the 63 series questions the idea of the “spirit of EDSA” and ponders whether we should give it up, just in time for the 40th anniversary of the People Power Revolution. I worked on that essay for months, and am particularly proud of the “nerd” angle. I mean, nerds and geeks, represent!

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