Yukihiro Rubio, better known as kiyo, didn’t set out to be a rapper. He wasn’t scrawling lyrics in notebooks or dreaming of festival stages. He was a gamer, an internet kid; a quiet observer of life through the lens of a camera, vlogging about shawarma rice during his days in the University of the East and during long commutes back to Navotas. If anything, music felt like an accidental inheritance; one that crept up on him as he navigated his way through the digital maze of mid-2010s Filipino internet culture.
When his tracks started getting attention in 2017, it wasn’t because he was chasing viral status. Songs like “Not Even Her,” “urong; sulong” with longtime collaborator Alisson Shore, and “Ikaw Lang” weren’t trying to scream over the noise. They whispered something else: a kind of lo-fi vulnerability, textured with the bedroom beats and hyper-specific intimacy that only someone raised on backpack rap and late-night forums could channel. His themes didn’t try to universalize love, they made it smaller and more immediate. The nostalgia for him sits there. Plainspoken, unadorned, stubbornly soft in a scene that often favors flash.
Back when his debut Haranasa dropped in 2021, it arrived like a transmission from quarantine. A pandemic-era dispatch from a young artist still testing his edges, the album was contemplative, hesitant to color outside the lines. Now, kiyo’s not hesitant anymore.
“Looking back sa ‘Not Even Her’ — actually, wala pa akong nagagawa,” kiyo tells Rolling Stone Philippines over a video call. “Kailangan ko pa maglabas na maglabas pa ng mga project. So basically, parang nagi-start pa lang ulit ako ngayon. Yun ‘yong iniisip ko ngayon, ganun pa rin. Starting pa rin [from scratch] as always.”
kiyo sits in his new Quezon City apartment, sneakers stacked in corners, studio gear fighting for space, walls still half-bare. It’s the kind of place where ideas either bloom or burn out. But for kiyo, this is the home base for another rebuild. Despite the years under his belt, he insists he’s still in the opening act of his story. “Actually, personally, nakukulangan pa ako,” he says. “Pero, kung iisipin ko, came a long way pa rin ‘tsaka from zero connections, and from zero talaga. From zero shit, nandito na tayo [ngayon].”
Anything but a rapper
That self-awareness isn’t rare, but the way he wears it — stripped of any industry sheen — is. When he talks about the early days, moving from Navotas to Pampanga, he lights up at the memory of indie streetwear brands and event organizers like Hysteria and Vestigial, which gave him space to create, and became proof that you didn’t need permission to build something on your own terms. “Dati kasi, inisip ko, ano b’ang gusto ng tao? Ano bang gusto nila? ‘E yun pala hindi naman siya nagma-matter,” he says. “Pero, ‘yong mga releases ko kasi na yun parang nagre-reflect din talaga sa kung sino talaga ako behind the curtains.”
That identity is constantly evolving. From boom bap roots to the now-signature lean into pluggnb, kiyo credits everything from anime intros to nightcore remixes for shaping his sound. For him, the music is all connected. The high-pitched, sped-up emotionality transforming into rap tracks with an unmistakable pulse. kiyo has the habit of mutating one genre with the other.
Still, kiyo doesn’t cling to the idea of being “just” a rapper. His other life — on Twitch streams, in Discord channels, floating through gaming universes like No Man’s Sky or DOTA — feeds the music, even if indirectly. He doesn’t overthink the split. If anything, it’s his way of rejecting the monolith. “Pinapakita ko lang na kung saan ako nage-enjoy din,” he says. “Nag-gawa ko ng ibang page para doon sa gaming ko. Kasi, actually, hindi lang din siya para sa gaming eh. Mag-ano na rin ako, gagawa ko mga rugs kasi dito sa third floor ko, may pa-art studio pa ‘ko.”
It sounds chaotic on paper: streaming, rap, rugs, design, and even visual art. But that’s the point. For the young and aspiring rapper, constraint is the real enemy. “Kasi hindi naman ako pure musician eh. Hindi ako magaling sa isang bagay. Pero kaya ko gawin ‘yong kahit ano.”
Concept albums in the hip-hop scene
That ethos bleeds into the way he thinks about albums, too. Additionally, he plots everything down ahead of time. A concept album has been sitting in the back of his head, quietly demanding attention. For kiyo, it’s about saying something that lingers longer than the runtime. “Gusto ko ‘yong conceptual na album kasi ganoon ako as an artist, galing ako sa theater,” he says. “Gusto ko na ‘yong makabuluhan, may mangyayari or may matutunan. May something na may mararamdaman nga. May atmosphere talaga na hindi lang on the spot.”
He’s well aware that concept albums aren’t exactly the status quo in the local scene, especially in hip-hop. Bands might still drop the occasional full-length, but solo acts? The pipeline has shifted. Fast drops, single cycles, quick hits. But kiyo isn’t trying to keep up, he’s carving out a different lane entirely. “Kini-keep ko parin ‘yong hip-hop roots ko. Underrated talaga ‘yong concept album dito kasi parang ang konti lang ang mga naga-album kung hindi banda. Actually, ‘yong mga banda sobrang dalang pa rin maglabas ng album e.”
That commitment to long-form vision is what makes his upcoming set at the &FRIENDS music and culture festival feel like more than a gig. Scheduled to take place this May 30 and 31, the festival positions kiyo as an architect. A performer with a vision that doesn’t end at the stage edge. It won’t be just kiyo and a backing track. This time, he’s thinking bigger — much bigger.
“Parang DJ set siya kasi ‘di ba kung galing ka sa hip-hop, [nagsimula ka bilang solo artist]. So gusto ko nang gustong mag-expand,” he says. “Kasi gusto ko talaga magbanda tapos ‘yong malaki na string section. Kasi kaya e. Papakita [ko] lang talaga sa kanila na posible [mag-orchestra].”
A live orchestra plays as part flex and part dedication to the craft: moving away from his bedroom rap beginnings and he is no longer just a SoundCloud curiosity. kiyo is chasing the scale, but not for spectacle’s sake. It’s about control and it’s about layering all of his worlds into something that doesn’t just hit, but resonates. For an artist who came from zero, he’s slowly becoming the kind of figure who defines, or better yet, represents the digital Filipino rap generation. And he’s just getting started.
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