Plaka Notes #5: Aurora by Toneejay

Toneejay's third release manages to be both his most accessible and his most anachronistic... or is it just me and my feelings?

If I’m to be honest, I’m quite nervous about this Plaka Note. I have a feeling I won’t make a lot of sense.

It’s not because I’m admittedly not that exposed to Toneejay, aka TJ de Ocampo. The singer-songwriter (and former vocalist of Munimuni) has been releasing music for the past three years or so, and you know how isolating the pandemic has been to all of us, in one way or another. I’ve heard his songs a few times but haven’t really stitched it together, at least until I saw he had released his third record, Aurora, earlier this month and decided to feature it. And then one of his songs was featured as a question on a segment of It’s Showtime, and I realized that he’s a guy that a lot of people know.

Yes, I listened to all three of his solo albums in the past couple of weeks. Luckily for this time-strapped so-called critic, his discography is easy to get behind, although it isn’t quite easy to categorize. His solo debut, 2021’s Beginning/End, is this languid, almost impenetrable affair, relying heavily on density and layering to achieve a steady, pulsing sound. And yes, it actually works. It’s not as experimental as I probably made it out to be. His second, 2022’s Kasama Kita, manages to be even more sprawling (perhaps it’s the length) but also more intimate. Paradoxically, it is the most folk-based of his releases, but it is much more open than its predecessor, and sets the stage for what’s to come. Thus, Aurora.

It was interesting reading his interview with Billboard Philippines last year, around the time of the release of the album’s first two singles, “Parang Magic” and “711”. For a guy who got started with Munimuni’s “makata pop”—his songs with the group were characterized by the use of very formal Filipino—his influences are a bit more indie, citing the likes of the Strokes and Phoebe Bridgers. Indeed, Aurora’s more pop-rock vibes makes it the most accessible of Toneejay’s releases so far, but it somehow also makes it the most anachronistic. His lyrics don’t rely as heavily on poetic language like in his past work, but he keeps the feel because of its more conversational storytelling. I understand why the generation below me likes him. It’s like he paints an ideal world they’re—we’re—all still working to strive towards.

Take “711”, which takes a pretty specific imagery to talk of a man’s dreams for his woman.

Balang araw, masusulat ko kaya
One day, will I write
Ang kanta na bibili ng bahay sa Santa Rosa?
The song that buys a house at Santa Rosa?
Maglalagay ako ng 7-Eleven sa highway
I will put a 7-Eleven along the highway
Kahit ayaw kong maging kapitalista
Even if I don’t want to be a capitalist
At bibili ako ng kotse
And I will buy a car
Kasi sabi mo bawal ang mag-motor
Because you said no motorcycles

Or take the title track, which I feel continues his streak of very strong (and rousing) album enders.

‘Pag sinabi nilang masyado kang maliwanag
When they say that you’re shining too bright
Hayaan mo lang silang masilaw sa iyong aurora
Leave them to be dazed by your aurora

The end effect is an album that inexplicably feels magical. Perhaps it’s the words. Perhaps it’s the hazy production. Perhaps it’s Toneejay’s delivery. Perhaps it’s the themes, the stories, set in the midst of a contented relationship. (“Bagong Tradisyon” is a wedding song—specifically, an immediate-aftermath-of-a-wedding song. The music video is his actual wedding video!) Maybe it’s the context. I mean, again, he just got married! I remember positing to myself at some point that songs written when you’re content don’t hit as hard—I was specifically thinking of how I was a bit more underwhelmed by Sugarfree’s Mornings and Airports than any of their previous releases—but Aurora bucks that possibly wrong thinking.

And then I realized, maybe it is my context.

I am aware, as a time-strapped so-called critic, that how I listen to an album can affect how I perceive it. I first listened to Aurora while eating nasi lemak on my first night in Singapore, satisfying my craving for beef rendang (I know it’s not Singaporean too) and bandung (I know it is Singaporean) in one go. (I then listened to Beginning/End while browsing supermarket shelves, somehow fitting my state of analysis paralysis, of not knowing what you want but knowing you want something—in my case, snacks for the hotel.)

I listened again to Aurora just before I wrote this piece, and this time I was pushing myself to do my employee duties while in the middle of a depressive spiral. Stupid, unwanted thoughts about 23 months ago, among many others. “711” is a good song, but I end up remembering being told I was an aimless person, and that I have to work much harder to get out of this funk, and suddenly I don’t want to listen to anything for fear of hearing those voices again… but I have to, at least to this song, because I am also (still) pretending to be a time-strapped so-called critic, and there is a self-imposed deadline to beat.

Essentially I am saying what I feel about this album may be different from what you feel. That makes me nervous. But then I have to let that go. Such is the risk of writing, I suppose.

By the way, just for good measure, I also listened to Munimuni’s new album Alegorya, which was released a few days after Aurora. I was meaning to go into more detail for this entry, but again, I was too busy and didn’t have much time. It’s interesting how the group continued in the poetic direction, staying in its alternatively psychedelic and rousing sound, albeit more polished and yet a little empty. Or maybe I was waiting for harmonies to kick in, which only happened in the final track, a collaboration with Barbie Almalbis.