Plaka Notes #9: Sad Girl Hours by Jayda

Without thoroughly changing her formula, Jayda Avanzado returns with her most mature-sounding—and arguably her most feisty—record yet.

I know it’s kind of in vogue to rat on “nepo babies” for daring to be born into privilege, but you have to give it to Jayda for at least not leaning too much on her parents.

Sure, these things happen with regularity in Philippine entertainment: two artists start a family, and their children follow their footsteps. In Jayda’s case, it’s singers Dingdong Avanzado and Jessa Zaragoza, both known for their well-received ballads, although the former was part of the 1980s wave of adult-leaning pop prominent at the time—“Tatlong Beinte Singko” is very much of its time—and the latter led the “jukebox revival” of the 1990s with her powerful, sultry image. I mean, I can’t be the only one who sang her iconic “Bakit Pa” with an exaggerated R sound as a kid?

I suppose it’s inevitable that in family with such musical pedigree, Jayda would end up doing the same. I remember watching her on TV for the first time a few years ago and really being drawn to her voice, just as powerful as her mother’s but with a modern, cool sensibility like her father. That said, if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t immediately realize she’s their daughter. She quickly dropped her last name and, wisely, took pains to be a performer of her generation rather than her parents’.

But it didn’t come instantly. I suppose it’s yet another vagary of Philippine entertainment: the tendency to be conservative, to go for what’s familiar and proven. I’m not looking for Jayda to be revolutionary, to upend her origin story for the sake of being different, but, I mean, she’s young! But then, her voice kind of defies that. It’s clearly the selling point of her 2018 debut, In My Room. I enjoyed it when I listened to it the first time—I reviewed it on the old music blog and said as much—but my 2024 tastes now tell me the EP feels a bit old-fashioned, a bit of a straight-jacket. I can’t help but hear Jayda wanting to break free, more or less.

Her first full album, 2021’s Bahagi, somehow pushes forward. There’s a bit more post-millennial pop, but the folks at ABS-CBN producing her record have always been chronically stuck in sweeping ballads. (Of course, things are a little different now, but there’s a reason why Bini is phenomenally successful in a way other musicians signed with Star Music can only dream of.) There’s a reason why the straight-up spunky “M.U.” and the closing ballad “Buksan” stood out to me: they were different—one was a bit dance-y and the other had an interesting guitar intro—but organically so. The songwriting also feels a little less elementary, undoubtedly in part due to her dad Dingdong helping out across the record.

Now, admittedly I haven’t really kept track of her career, so I was a bit surprised when I watched her on It’s Showtime a few months back and heard her be referred to as the “Pambansang Sad Girl” (National Sad Girl). Now, I’m 35. It’s a ripe age for yelling at clouds. That’s a thing now? And then, I realized that her songs have always been about yearning and longing, about lost loves and “the one that got away”. That monicker was a way to articulate a niche she ended up carving for herself, although, again, as a card-carrying cloud yeller, I can’t help but go, “but she’s pretty—guys would be mean to her?”

But, yeah, it’s a good way to articulate her sound, especially now that she’s under a new record label—Republic Records—and released a new album, Sad Girl Hours. See, it’s even in the freaking name.

The interesting thing is, again, this album isn’t revolutionary. This isn’t a sea change in Jayda’s sound and themes. But what a difference a fresh set of ears make. She still sounds like she’s straddling several generations—you can say it’s because heartbreak is just so damn universal—but I can’t help but hear a freedom across the record. Let’s be honest. ABS-CBN’s Jonathan Manalo is responsible for a lot of good tunes, but sometimes he just epitomizes radio-friendly pop’s tendency to be bland, and it doesn’t feel like a good fit. I can’t find much about the lead producer of this record, but this Casey Sullivan fella just adds a bit of flair to things.

End result: Sad Girl Hours is Jayda unleashed, or at least beginning to be. I don’t think I’ve heard her growl, but growl she does in the second half of the record. I mean, sure, she’s not the “Pambansang Angry Girl”, but I appreciated hearing some more frustration in her voice. I mean, trust me—you start off sad, and then you get angry. (Side note: as of this writing “Rocket Science” has the least number of plays across the album on Spotify, but I think it’s a pretty well-crafted song. Maybe the quintessential one of the record?)

But again, this album isn’t revolutionary. Sometimes songs sound just okay, while others don’t quite work the way they should, like in “Sad Girl Anthem”, which I feel disrupts the flow the record was quite meticulous with. But then, you listen for the feels, to adopt a younger generation’s parlance. The fresher take—both in production, and in Jayda’s more mature lyrics—means the listener can approach these universal sentiments with a new ear, too, and likely be more receptive to it. It also allows Jayda to forge further into a career without leaning too hard on the goodwill her parents have established (although, like in her last release, her dad co-wrote some of the songs). Come to think of it, that’s the most difficult part of this juggling act: being your own artist. I think Jayda’s coming along that path quite nicely.

Now, I’ll go listen again to “Loved For Once”.

You know, if a guy sings a song along these lines, they’ll be made fun of, because we should be men! Dust yourself off, move forward, there’s a lot of fish in the sea! We can feel unloved too, you know.

It’s that universal. See?