RA Rivera is your favorite director’s favorite music video director. Check his YouTube channel and you’ll probably find your favorite band’s videos from the 2000s or 2010s. Through every project, Rivera’s fingerprints are clear: the DIY attitude, the handheld camerawork, the rough but intentional color grading, and the raw social realism that anchors his work.
Before becoming one of the country’s most prolific music video directors, Rivera was one of the creative minds behind cult TV shows like Strangebrew as a director and Manic Pop Thrill as a writer, which distinguished his tongue-in-cheek, absurdist take on alternative media. His wacky educational shorts and music videos would go on to influence a generation of filmmakers, shaping the visual identity of Philippine alternative culture. On November 5, Rivera noted that his YouTube channel had just turned 19 — nearly two decades of uploading and archiving his own work, ensuring it remains accessible to younger artists and fans alike. His output has become a living archive of how Filipino music has evolved in tone, humor, and attitude.
Through these videos, Rivera’s legacy comes into focus: a filmmaker who never took himself too seriously but treated every frame with purpose. His humor was sharp, his DIY edge unmatched, and his understanding of Filipino culture deeply intuitive. Whether through satire, simplicity, or chaos, Rivera turned music videos into a language of their own. A place where absurdity met truth, and the line between underground and mainstream didn’t matter.
Here are five music videos that define Rivera’s legacy as one of the country’s most singular and inventive directors.
Radioactive Sago Project, ‘Astro’
Radioactive Sago Project was never meant to be subtle, and “Astro” captures that chaos perfectly. Rivera’s direction taps into the group’s anarchic jazz-rock spirit, throwing together action film shots, handheld cuts, and mundane settings that feel both real and surreal. Featuring Ramon Bautista as the protagonist, the video turns social satire into performance art, filmed with a sense of deliberate imperfection that amplifies its absurd charm. Like much of Rivera’s work, “Astro” thrives on its contradictions: both cinematic and scrappy, serious and hysterical.
Up Dharma Down, ‘Oo’
“Oo” marked Up Dharma Down’s entry into the mainstream, and Rivera matched the song’s emotional weight with understated visuals. The video is almost bare in its simplicity: focused on the band’s performance inside the studio, the play of light and shadow, and Armi Millare’s piercing vocals. Rivera resists the urge to overdirect, instead allowing the music’s vulnerability to carry the piece. The minimal direction is what makes it powerful. No gimmicks, no narrative filler — just a band at their most honest. “Oo” helped establish both Up Dharma Down and Rivera as storytellers who knew when to pull back and let the moment breathe.
Cambio, ‘Patlang’
“Patlang” captures a supergroup at their most exposed and human. With Kris Gorra-Dancel, Ebe Dancel, Diego Mapa, Raymund Marasigan, and Buddy Zabala in the mix, Rivera chooses intimacy over band spectacle. Filmed in a dark basement, the video frames the band as a reflection of a relationship falling apart. Rivera’s camera lingers on glances and small gestures rather than performance. It’s a minimalist setting that highlights emotional dissonance, proof that Rivera doesn’t need elaborate setups to say something profound.
Pedicab, ‘Dito Tayo sa Dilim’
If “Patlang” was Rivera’s subdued side, “Dito Tayo sa Dilim” is his full-blown madness. Working with his own band Pedicab, he leans into absurd humor, green screens, and intentionally movie magic that somehow make the video unforgettable. It’s a visual extension of Pedicab’s dance-punk sound which was frenetic and playful. The DIY aesthetic feels like a dare to the overly polished landscape of early 2000s pop visuals. It’s goofy, self-aware, and entirely unpretentious. Rivera takes the band’s oddball charisma and multiplies it into something comedic.
The Itchyworms, ‘Beer’
“Beer” remains one of the most iconic Filipino music videos of its time, not because it’s high-budget or flashy, but because it nails the irony perfectly. Rivera treats the track like a mock beer commercial, featuring overly dramatized sequences, an absurdly sincere band performance, and painfully funny beer brand montages flashing on the screen. Every frame plays up the contrast between the song’s melancholic lyrics and the ridiculousness of its execution. The result feels both nostalgic and biting, like a time capsule of early-2000s OPM humor.
