ALBUM REVIEW: Bipolar - Up Dharma Down

GENRE: Electro/Indie/Neo-Soul
RATING: 9.3

Up Dharma Down’s fervent adoration for thriftshop soul, rocktronica and droning soundscapes makes for a thrilling listen. Call it perfect latte soundtrack to futuristic, high-end Manila or the sound art that Thom Yorke wished to unearth post-OK Computer, the foursome’s sonic experiments brim with so much stylistic tendencies, earning them critical respect and international accolades from Time Magazine, MTV Advance Warning and BBC Radio.

Fast forward 2008. Up Dharma Down just released its make-or-break follow up to the brilliantly exhausting Fragmented, the debut record that combined genre-mashing expertise with earnest pop vibe.

What seems to translate into another episode of genius becomes Up Dharma Down’s tight spot: follow up record Bipolar isn’t in any detail, their ticket to sophomore jinxdom. Instead of recreating their bits and pieces of organized riot, Armi and gang veered from the formula that made the first record triumphant in both critical and commercial aspects.

Evolution Dharma
The intense menace gushing over ‘gazer-pop melodramas “Maybe” and “Pag-Agos” evolves into downtempo, Radiohead-approved ballads while the radio-courting, 70’s soul revivalism in the same league as “Oo” and “Lazy Daisy” slots in post-rock instrumentation and brooding ambient textures for a retro-modernist effect. As a result of growth as band vocalist, Armi Millare has also lessened her tendencies to oversing—like Macy Gray taking an overdose of Prozac on “Sleeptalk” or Jill Scott panicking on having a bad hair day (“Malikmata” and Maybe”).

Peculiarly, the trademark components of the debut record are not recycled on Bipolar, the band’s “second first album.” However, the band’s first outing, Fragmented offered nothing but heavenly greatness and the idea to topple its production merits might just lead to frustrating remorse.


Apt Follow-up
High expectations aside, Bipolar succeeds as an apt follow-up to Fragmented, mainly because it doesn’t aspire to be a clone of its previous masterpiece. It isn’t afraid at all to be grating, bold and vulnerable to criticism. As the band goes out of the comfort zone to seek for breathing spaces and worlds unexplored, they discovered growth—one that is sincere and self-serving, not ambition.

Compared to the previous output, Bipolar appears to be subtler, bolder and more cohesive as a collection of songs. It feels as if Up Dharma Down is trying to lean for slight reinvention in form, while still keeping their identity as style troubadours of the local indietronic scene. Although it lacks the hook-laden appeal and diversity of its famous elder sister, it has the sense of urgency that makes it bulletproof for downcast comparison.

Tight, fast-paced psychedelia
As a fresh alternative to the already fed-up, ear-clanging experiments of their prime, the teaser single “Every First Second” has the band upping the ante for straight-up, rock anthem and pace-setting angst. Though, given the gravitating energy, Armi is still as perversely soulful as ever and the band is still as compromised with mixing dissonant rumbles, head-bop melodies and speed. It’s the closest thing that they could offer to modern rock—well, this or the turbo-charged, psychedelic soul of “Two,” which has beatmeister Ean Mayor donning his inner Vic Mercado—drumming crazy and psychedelic at 250kph.

While “Every First Second” and “Two” espouses the climaxing build-up and fast-paced groove of “Maybe” and “Pag-Agos”—from their debut record—both songs have distinct personalities: “Every First Second” is more rock-oriented and organic, while “Two” aims for a progressive, career-defining sound— kinda like Radiohead and Deerhunter inviting Aretha Franklin and Tricky for a twisted jam.

Perfect pop songcraft
In another daring attempt, Up Dharma Down opts not to recreate another “Oo,” “Lazy Daisy” and “We Give In Sometimes”—the gripping, mellow anthems that showcased their extremely emotional side. However, with their drive force and creativity on hand, they could still dish another perfect pop songcraft in the making. This time around, it’s no longer that similar laidback blueprint that had the rest of the gang incorporating vintage sounds with tight electronic samples and quirky beats or the other way around, just digging plainly the entire course of their roots influences—jazz, rock, soul, funk and blues.

In the case of “All Year Around,” “Blessed” and “Unspoken Definites,” the familiar ground has now morphed into atmospheric, mood-trotting soundscape that’s still as easy listening and pop as their previous hit singles. “Taya” follows the newly set reference, but with an echoey chorus and ethereal vibe to boot. It could’ve bee be a good addition to Portishead’s groundbreaking new album, Third—if it is only less conscious in sounding too loose and accomodating.

“Oo” in the making?
But the real scene-stealer that could nudge the throne of “Oo” as the group’s biggest hit single of their career belongs to the lamenting ode “Sana.” The track starts off with arcade beats and 2 tone keyboards that sound more embarrassingly gothic than discordant, and surprisingly unravels as an anthem potential after first few seconds of bleakness and blankness. When Armi starts singing the first line, “Nilibot na ang buong mundo / Di pa rin ako nakukuntento,” the world instantly feels her desperate, wounded tone; its moroseness sinking in and out of Carlos’ spiraling guitar riffs and the group’s melancholic space. There are no tacky pronouncements of mental helplessness, no profound statements or anything that is forward-thinking. It's just Up Dharma Down revealing their downer soundtracks for the lost souls.

And we hope, the world is listening.