Here's my review of their latest album...
Rating: 7.1/10
When career-defining debut record Bamboo’s As the Music Plays first came out, we’ve already hinted that the stadium-sized anthems and spectacular rock antics will serve as a take off for a few more albums in the future. In just five years, they’ve built a career out of conjuring epic renderings of life, social issues, love and awakening. They’re like, aspiring to be the Michael Bays and Spielbergs of pinoy rock, churning out hit after hit, anthem after anthem, nonstop.
A lot of people, mostly fans, viewed it as an earnest pronouncement of sticking to the trademark sound, a facet they shaped early on their rocky ‘Maya days. That of course isn’t a bad thing—especially for a band that does it outstandingly. But it does invite negative impressions especially if the album is played in a long haul.
On Bamboo’s latest record and fourth to date, Tomorrow Becomes Yesterday, you’ll hear the same pace, melody and arrangement over and over, that rehashed context of social empowerment in messianic hooks and uplifting arena-choruses, that sonic compartment that sealed Red Hot Chilli Peppers, 311, Sting, Gary Valenciano, James Brown, Bob Marley and old Rivermaya in the mix. It’s nothing but old Bamboo histrionics, for better and worst.
Building on the gains of its predecessor albums, Bamboo safely devices its anthemic stance on songs like “Kailan,” “Last Days on a Cruise Ship” and ‘Kalayaan,” inarguably, the most memorable tracks in the fourth record. Ira Cruz’s guitar playing, as usual is compelling, over-the-top and tight as ever, Nathan Azarcon brings funky bassline in the groove foundation and of course, scene-stealer Vic Mercado blends aggression and subtlety in his drumming. Although it turns out to be Bamboo Manalac’s weakest vocal performance so far—surprisingly less powerful and less angry, he still has some moments—when he does his best Francis M. rap-sung vibe or simply when he tries to burst out in the swelling chorus production.
At their most restraint, Bamboo delivers arresting melodrama that instantly sticks out to the generation of music enthusiasts. As attested by songs like “Blown Away” and “Nobody Knows,” they can create moments-filled ballads with such amount of ease. Ira’s enticing guitar solos on “Nobody Knows,” in particular, showed effacing statement of poignancy and profound sense of loss. Brilliantly executed, yet, it doesn’t intend to sound grand or too tad.
While the album’s greatest triumph is its relative leanness and its spirit to stay true to its roots and distinct music style, some of the songs pale in comparison compared to the standout tracks. Seriously, it’s hard to buy the rap-rock-reggae-funk hybrid thing repeatedly rehashed over and over—not if it offers fresh musical ideas or some special hook to play around.
But still, it’s Bamboo: so far, the biggest and most influential band that came out in recent memory. You could not fault them for not turning into radical reinvention for their name depicts an entire space of comfort and assertiveness. After all, they’ve crafted songs that inspired an entire legion, rich and poor, critically bent or casual listener. And maybe, we should just take it from there.
