2025 was the year when Filipino releases delivered a pile up of songs that refused to sit still. Every corner of the scene felt busy: Bands rebuilt after long silences, producers cracked open new micro-genres, and rap collectives pushed out tracks that sounded like they were recorded five minutes before upload. Even the legacy acts rolled out fresh experiments that made audiences reassess what they are still capable of.
Nowadays, most local artists have returned to habits that shaped their earliest wins: smaller rollouts, tighter communities, and songs built to live beyond a playlist shuffle. Physical media crept back into view; scenes on Discord and Telegram nurtured their own cult favorites, and local touring got louder. The result is a year where everything feels discoverable if you dig even a little, and the digging feels worth it.
You can hear that range across these tracks. There are kids barely out of high school writing with more bite than their elders. There are veterans rewriting their playbooks, and songs shaped by memes, protests, heartbreak, chaos, and sheer stubborn creativity. If there is any through line, it is that Filipino music is more boundary-pushing than ever. 2025 proved the scene is wide awake, and nobody is waiting for permission to make a classic. — Elijah Pareño
The SXSW Sydney debutante smells like 21st-century teen spirit
In 2025, Ligaya Escueta released her sophomore record Dollweb to celebrate her 18th birthday. In her first year as a legal adult, the indie rock songwriter made her overseas debut at SXSW Sydney.
“Novelty” is an earworm, building upon the tried-and-tested indie palette of loud-soft-loud dynamics and call-and-response vocal lines. It’s also a love letter to an unbearable awareness of coolness as currency, and the scrappiness of Pixies and early Eraserheads.
She has another version of “Novelty” online, eschewing sugary melodies in favor of grunge angst. Even the riff’s cadence resembles “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Her perceptive lines, like “In my world there are some things we don’t like / Like the ‘R’s’ in Mars and stars and scars in all the songs we sing,” still work. I imagine her as the kind of person with notebooks upon notebooks, with a hunger for writing songs whether anyone’s listening or not.
In an age where roll-outs and numbers cripple creative processes for musicians young and old, “Novelty” is a reminder that naïveté is a wonderful thing. Escueta is brave for holding onto the honesty of her first record Living is a Dying Art, being the wiser this time around. — Mariah Reodica
Punk blues for the daily gig commuter
Daspan en Walis turned a phrase most people associate with schoolyard crushes into a rock chant that hits like a motorcycle engine warming at dawn. “143 (Will You Memorize)” carries the spirit of Manila’s late-night streets, where people chase adrenaline. The band leans into blues rock swagger but keeps the energy closer to punk, which gives the track a rougher kick. The guitars spit fuzz, the drums stay restless, and the entire performance rolls forward like it refuses to lose momentum.
What makes “143” stand out is the urgency that runs through every section. The band plays like they are running out of time, which gives the track a punch that lingers long after the final note. It is a love song sharpened by noise and speed, something built for people who want to feel alive for three minutes straight. — Elijah Pareño
Pandemic solo project turned full-fledged pop-punk cinema
emmabot came back swinging with “C.O.T.Y.,” a title that spells out the ambition before the first chord drops. The track explodes with guitars that feel lifted from a basement punk show. Vocalist Sab Morado sings with enough force to make the entire song lean forward, and that tension builds until the final seconds.
The atmosphere recalls early pandemic experimentation, when the project first took shape, but this version of emmabot is sharper and more fearless. The guitars snarl, the beat keeps shifting, and the vocals push everything to the edge. It is a comeback built from instinct rather than nostalgia, and that decision makes the entire track feel more dangerous in the best way. — Elijah Pareño
Beloved indie quartet leaves childish things behind
The indie-alternative group Kremesoda underwent a transformation within seven years. Their 2025 For Years record, a suave sound-tapestry that interweaves threads of indie rock, soft jazz and lounge, is a far cry from their decidedly more Wanderland-core 2018 EP Out of Range. There’s something to be said about how artists grow, the lost years of quarantine, and how we navigate the fog of memory.
“Past Lives” is the sonic equivalent of a Casablancan martini with extra olives, a meditative ballad that relishes in the ache of nostalgia. Why do our bones ache when we look back? How heavy is the weight of seasons? Kremesoda would do well not to look back too much, however, as they forge ahead and anew, with an evolved songwriting sensibility, as refined as a running river water. — Jam Pascual
Apple-flavored artistry uplifted to memehood
In 1938, in an attempt to create a stimulant for the nervous system through the study of acids and sugar-binding molecules, chemist Albert Hoffman synthesized lysergic acid diethylamide, or LSD, which shook up the field of psychedelics forever. In 2025, in an attempt to craft a diss track for green tea-flavored C2 (a bitter drink that has no business being as earthy as it is), rising artist zaniel synthesized a cloud rap, pluggnb power-bomb — an ode to the classic apple-flavored red C2.
The track, cerebrally groovy and melodic in a T-Pain kinda way, blew up Philippine meme-space as an ascendant, auto-tuned earworm. The kenkoy artistry of “C2 NA RED” lies in its lyricism: It tells the story of a man who discovers, to his sublime chagrin, that his favorite sweet treat is out of stock. Despair! A profoundly unserious track, even aling tindera’s “Wala nang red! Green na lang!” is jammed through the pitch-corrector.
In this age of hitmaking, nothing is viral because everything is viral, and meme songs are full-fledged pop songs and vice versa. Sometimes, you just accidentally make LSD. — Jam Pascual
Hip-hop’s newest rookie keeps his eye out at the game
“KODAK BLUE” moves with the kind of tension that comes from someone who has watched ambition turn sour in real time. Gaspari raps with the stare of someone measuring your intentions before you say another word. The track opens with a line that feels like a warning shot, and the rest of the verse builds a slow, heavy pressure.
Gaspari studies the psychology behind ego, hunger, and the false confidence that grows when shortcuts start to look like opportunities. “KODAK BLUE” hits because he delivers each line with bite, almost like he knows how the story ends before the beat drops. The track is sharp, condensed, and tougher than it first appears, which makes Gaspari one of the names everyone should be watching closely. — Elijah Pareño
Ely Buendia meets budots? Iconic
Having released Ely Buendia’s solo “debut” album Method Adaptor just last year (he doesn’t consider Wanted Bedspacer a real debut), the Eraserheads frontman followed it up with a remix collection almost halfway through 2025. Among the lineup of remixers, the legendary and indefatigable budots pioneer DJ Love, handpicked to put his “tikno” (Pinoy techno) spin on “Bulaklak sa Buwan,” one of the album’s standout tracks.
Filled with the genre’s hallmarks — the tiw-tiws, horns, or even its gyrating rhythm — the choice to let DJ Love play around with the track seems the only right one. Here, “Bulaklak sa Buwan” only gains more potency with its censure of demagogues and other snake oil salesmen of the sort. It’s not just there to be quirky and danceable; it takes on a sound born in the streets, and just perhaps, a credible voice to lambast the powers that be — even sans the political intent. — Paolo Abad
Bars that are ‘once in a Century Tuna fish’
While not as audacious as her 2024 rap album, SPRAK, Pette Shabu does try — and succeeds — in this linkup with Sydney-based Australian-Filipino trio mel.wav. When she starts spitting with such impeccable timing, heralded by sirens, mel.wav’s house track turns from serviceable boogie to electrifying that you’d wish it had lasted longer. “I’m a once in a Century Tuna fish / at ikaw ay dati ka pang siglo / and you’re mid to low and a weak ass bitch / I’m using hands ika’y maeelbow,” Pette spits and, in doing so, immediately makes her mark. She totally owns that one minute given.
Pette remains unapologetically incendiary with her bars: “Touch me parang klepto, nakawan sa Recto / ganon ang epekto, kapag ako nagpatibok sa puso niya, parang intro sa Miss Gay, / parang pengkay, gustu ku ng MUA MUA MUA.” It’s tempting to call her the headliner here. But as a supporting act, she has restraint to not steal the show. While in SPRAK, the floor was fully hers, collabs like “I Wanna” show how unstoppable Pette can be, time limit or none. — Paolo Abad
Throwin’ it back in the face of hypercapitalist excess
The global girl group namedrops Tesla, fried chicken, and Hollywood hedonism, in an overture to a bootylicious parody of popular culture. KATSEYE, led by their Filipina member Sophia Laforteza, had a meteoric rise to fame under the tutelage of K-Pop titan HYBE. The impeccable precision and the top-notch training of arguably one of the world’s global soft power leaders, South Korea, set them a cut above the rest of Western pop.
You either hate or love this song. But a lot of its lovers were once haters, initially baffled and finally converted by its irresistible catchiness.“Gnarly”’s concise runtime (barely over two minutes, just two rounds of a verse-pre-verse-chorus without a bridge in sight) is packed with quirky details, whipping out a generated smart assistant’s voice and sampling a medieval sword being unsheathed.
It’s an utter embrace of meaninglessness. It’s pure spectacle, free of the pretensions of being profound. Almost as gnarly as pop machinaria itself. As a Filipina with a global presence, Sophia transcends the tokenistic Pinoy Pride narrative that has been a double-edged sword for how local talent has been positioned internationally. Whatever category she falls under — Filipina, Asian American, diaspora, POC, and others — she’s unanimously Sophia of KATSEYE. — Mariah Reodica
Dreamy Davao indie squad making the mundane things sound catchy
Davao City has spent the last decade reshaping the country’s independent sound, and the arrival of tuesday trinkets pushes that shift even further.
“Cigarettes, Beer, and Stray Cats” introduces the quartet with a clarity that hits harder than most debuts coming from Mindanao’s regional center. The track lives between indie pop shimmer and dream pop haze; its guitars glimmer without softening the pulse, and the vocals carry a homesick confidence that feels familiar to anyone who has stayed up too late thinking about where their life is heading.
tuesday trinkets show how distance shapes perspective. They sit a thousand kilometers away from Manila’s gatekeeping machine, which gives them room to build their sound without absorbing the usual industry noise. “Cigarettes, Beer, and Stray Cats” works because it is simple without being naive, and sentimental without leaning soft. — Elijah Pareño
A shot in the arm for Manila’s nightlife
Picking a standout song in D Waivee’s sophomore album Epitome is like trying to pick a favorite explosion in a New Year’s Eve firecracker show. Nearly every track in that record is an electronic rave-rager laced with distilled diesel.
But “Progesterone” stands out as an especially layered track, with staccato vocal chops and sylvan synths twisting around each other like DNA double helixes. The thing about D Waivee’s music though is that desires a dancefloor, a runway, a summoning circle — any platform of revelry will do, just to get the body moving.
Not all clubbing is revolutionary, but all revolutionary clubbing has dancing. With “Progesterone,” one cannot help but feel embodied, incarnate, present. — Jam Pascual
Power pop is back? Actually, it never left
Anybody who sets out to entitle a song an acronym is in for some rough competition. It must be either an inarguable truth of the human condition, such as when Wu-Tang Clan preaches “C.R.E.A.M.,” or a bold proclamation, like when Rina Sawayama tells a dude to “S.T.F.U.”
Power pop outfit Novocrane handily accomplishes both with “FOMF” — “fuck off my face!” — a jubilant rallying cry for setting one’s boundaries the fuck up. Dynamic and playful, Kai Sevillano and the rest of their crew display a kind of once-in-a-generation songwriting proficiency we’ve heard from scant other chart-dominating bands like Fountains of Wayne, or The Click Five.
In a better, more just world, Novocrane would be rocking ‘90s MTV shows like Alternative Nation or Total Request Live, showing everybody else how writing a hook is done. — Jam Pascual
A Moment™ for the “Raining in Manila” hitmakers
“The Moment” opens Lola Amour’s sophomore album Love on Loop, blowing in like an evening zephyr that feels not only right, but also timely for the funk-pop outfit. Lyrically, the boys wonder if an infatuation can be reciprocated. More strikingly, the song and the rest of Love on Loop mark a step further in honing and evolving their songcraft beyond a simple switch-up in sound or channeling luck to repeat a feat like their ubiquitous hit.
After some thrilling cross-country exchanges (i.e., covering each other’s songs), KOKORO of Japanese boy group Psychic Fever from EXILE TRIBE contributes his soulful vocals to the number. Certainly, exploring international collaborations — not to mention working with producers Hyuk Shin from South Korea and CUURLEY from Malaysia — broadens horizons for the “Raining in Manila” hitmakers, sonically and professionally.
“The Moment” may bask in the afterglow of a blockbuster like “Raining in Manila,” but it doesn’t have to lay low in its shadow. So, it goes on to strut with its sumptuous bassline warding off the curse of the sophomore slump. — Paolo Abad
Cebuano space rock aims for the stars
Bobby Olvido must be one of the most prolific songwriters around. “On the Outside” is one of six singles that Kubra Commander released this year so far. There’s still a little time left for more; if not from this project, then from one of Olvido’s other handful bands in Cebu and beyond.
As a project since 2016, Kubra Commander has built an anthemic sound that turns small bars into arenas, or maybe lunar craters. An exquisite corpse of wordplay, drenched in reverb, follows a thread of free association into the subconscious of the mind.
Their last album Rhythm Tourists was one of my favorites of 2022, and it’s exciting to see them unleash a groovier side to their psychedelic inclinations. While a lot of danceable bands have been emerging from Cebu as of late, “On the Outside” draws from the grittier underbelly of the Queen City of the South.
Many mourned when Cebuano institution Kukuk’s Nest, an artist-run space and café that cultivated the city’s independent music, theater, and literary communities for 34 years, closed down for good in 2023. But the scene’s momentum of defiant independence is alive and well in “On the Outside.” — Mariah Reodica
A masterpiece by a savant of short songs
The fine art of frisson is hard to master, but aunt robert pulls it off effortlessly and with such aplomb on “Mad,” a pop-rock confessional about looking back in anger. Leaping verse-to-chorus, aunt robert crescendos “But it really makes me angry / it really makes me angry” into a glorious “Yeah!” wreathed in shimmering cymbals and gossamer riffs. And it is frisson: the full-body chills, the wings unfolding between shoulder blades, the memories that “Mad” invites us to revisit, of being wronged, and making it all right with a rock song. — Jam Pascual
Math rock but more intentional
Math rock wizard Gabba regards his usual songs as open to interpretation, but with “fall,” his first collab with vocals, words steer its sonic sense toward a clear direction, “[making] it more intentional,” he said in a release.
He links up with Singaporean singer-songwriter Alicia DC who bolsters the vulnerability in this musical tale of a lovers’ quarrel. The frenetic drums evoke the tumult of it all. Gabba’s melancholy guitars are almost conversational and narrative at the same time. At certain junctures, the track breathes and loosens, telegraphing a story and lending it a lifelike pace.
Initially, it was Alicia DC, looking to collaborate with artists outside the Lion City, who reached out. But the pair’s overseas tie up is a rewarding listen, feeling like the meeting has always been inevitable. — Paolo Abad
Expansive pop you can’t get enough of
“Portion Control” is the sweeping, unbridled centerpiece of ena mori’s EP rOe. That much is incontestable. Like going adrift in the hinterlands, it feels as soaring as it is grounded. There’s ena’s signature iridescent whimsy, while somehow summoning the specter of Vespertine or Homogenic-era Björk. But make no mistake; the sprawling track is very much the award-winning Filipino-Japanese pop maven’s very own.
Birdsong-like trills, lush strings and flutes, deep guttural bass, layered vocals and many other novel textures co-exist in the song, making it such an enchanting listen where the magic’s in its bold production, which ena put together with producer and One Click Straight drummer Tim Marquez. It does evoke that insatiable hunger, unwilling to be stifled by set portions: grandiose and unrestrained.
From her earlier fare like her self-titled album to DON’T BLAME THE WILD ONE!, ena’s take on pop from this side of the planet had always been exciting. But in efforts like “Portion Control,” she is saying that she is willing to surprise. — Paolo Abad
Fuzz pop to feel lonely to, together
Megumi Acorda’s domestic and international performances have been extensive, putting the country’s best foot forward for Pinoy indie pop. The lyric video of “Copeland Heights” finds them exploring Japan, Mongolia, and more, with the band wandering empty city streets and meeting cats.
Acorda released the EP Sun Blanket without much fanfare, but her excited following craving for more after 2023’s Silver Fairy latched on quickly.
I’ve always respected how the band lets their music speak for itself. Acorda’s lyrics are both direct and inscrutable, with the truth hiding in plain sight amidst grit, as if lowering her voice in the mix would keep the lines from hitting any harder. If anything, the haze surrounding her songs makes one listen even closer, discerning what she’s almost whispering, which is a lot like leaning over to hear a date confess in a crowded bar, or cupping an ear to hear a past love on the shore from the stern of a ship in a storm.
The band’s melodic kinship has burrowed into the synapses of international audiences. Acorda’s recordings are intimate, solitary. But live, the band is loud, which is what makes the songs cathartic. To experience that dichotomy is the joy of her music. — Mariah Reodica
Where brevity is the soul of wit and rage
As a rough translation of “putangina,” “son of a bitch” doesn’t quite cut it. The phonetic gigil is lost in translation. But that word alone can capture the rage of a nation.
The first Trillion Peso March and Baha sa Luneta rally on September 21 was a turning point in an eruption of anger against rampant government corruption. Its chants made it across the Pacific Ocean, with It’s Showtime host Vice Ganda’s rousing speech in EDSA opening with this posse track that brings together Pinoy rappers from the the American West Coast to Mindanao.
Ruby Ibarra’s incendiary performance on NPR’s Tiny Desk last May marked a moment in Pinoy diaspora music, with an ensemble featuring Pinoy Voltron, Astralogik, Ouida, and the legendary June Millington. On “PTI”, Morobeats’ Miss A joins the fold, as they do what hip-hop does best: Resist.
After all, the repercussions of corruption and impunity don’t affect people on our shores alone. The greed of the 1 percent has forced many of those in the Filipino diaspora to migrate, seeking livelihoods and a better life where another flash flood doesn’t have to be around the corner. “PTI” is a recognition of how the homeland’s struggle is theirs, too. — Mariah Reodica
Bringing the rap game to the basketball court
25hearts member Bankyu steps onto the court with a crew that includes KARTELL’EM’s Wayvier, turning a pickup game into the backdrop for one of the year’s most ear-grabbing rap moments. “SWISH,” named after the clean snap of a perfect shot, turns the mechanics of free throws into something you can chant along to. Bankyu opens with “Dinala sa court, alam mong ballin’,” setting the tone for a track that treats hoop culture as both a flex and a joke, a space where turf disputes are traded for punchlines.
The production bubbles and leans on a loose, playful bounce that gives Bankyu room to push his autotuned melody into something sticky. Wayvier slides in with a verse that keeps the energy reckless without tipping into parody. Together, they land on a hook built for repeat plays, the kind of simple idea executed with enough charm to make it work. “SWISH” feels less like a concept than a dare to write the catchiest court-side rap song possible, and Bankyu runs with it, finding a sweet spot between humor, rhythm and a hook that refuses to leave your head. — Elijah Pareño
Elijah Pareño is the Music Writer of Rolling Stone Philippines. Prior to his role, he founded the alternative music blog and live show promotion The Flying Lugaw in 2016. In 2025, Pareño launched the party series Hindi Sleaze*.
Mariah Reodica is a cultural worker and musician who has been part of independent bands The Buildings and The Male Gaze, released under Call and Response Records, Japan. Her work across writing and moving image has been recognized by the Carlos Palanca Memorial Award for Literature (2011), the Purita Kalaw-Ledesma Prize for Art Criticism at the Ateneo Art Awards (2018), and the Prince Claus SEED Award (2024).
Paolo Abad is trained as a film and TV editor, and got his start in music journalism by frequenting concerts and festivals to take photos. Soon enough, he got to do live reviews and interviews with industry legends and up-and-comers — fully turning into a professional fanboy. He has never looked back since. His other bylines have appeared on Bandwagon Asia, Rappler, and CNN Philippines Life. He is also a co-founding partner of online platform Manila Community Radio.
Jam Pascual is a genderfluid writer based in Metro Manila whose music journalism has been published in The Rest Is Noise, CNN Philippines Life, and ANCX, among other titles. Their full-length debut poetry collection, Nail Down the Sky, and an interim zine project entitled Warlock, were both published by Everything’s Fine.
