While the history of integrating western popular music with indigenous instruments has its winding tales of woe, it is possible to introduce the two on mutually agreeable terms without displacing either's context in the melding of influences. Enter Pantayo, the all-women, punk-pop group who root their music in a shared identity as queer Filipinas living in diaspora in Canada. The central component of Pantayo's sound is kulintang, an instrumental tradition native to several cultures in Southeast Asia. The sounds of this tradition, including those of the Maguindanao and T'boli peoples who inspired the band, arise out of a performance involving a row of horizontally laid gongs positioned based on the tone-pitch they emit once struck. The gongs are played by sticking the bosses at the top with wooden beaters. In Pantayo's interpretation of this traditional form, the performance of these gongs takes on a primarily percussive quality, enhanced by modern electronic devices and production techniques. "Respectability" isn't something I'm generally interested in or which I think lends itself to good art, but if you're going to make deference to a tradition a tenant of your process, you'd be hard-pressed to find a band who does it better than Pantayo. While contemporary to its core, Pantayo strives to demonstrate respect to the origins of the instruments and traditions they borrow from, modernizing their qualities without estranging them from their roots.
From the outset of Pantayo's debut, you can hear the mix of influences kaleidoscoping together in a variegated dance of passion, conscientiousness, and discourse between the players and the traditions that they have embraced. The opening track "Eclipse" quivers with excitement as its Annie Lonnex-esque vocal melody snakes around the resonate rings that ripple through the air, emanating from rhythmic strikes of brassy bosses. It's an evocative introduction to the album's sonic tool-kit, a chest of diverse implements enhanced by the loving aural molding of Yamantaka // Sonic Titan member Alaska b's production work. The album is suffused with beautiful moments that harken back to the transitionary period of early '80s post-punk and new wave, when anything seemed possible within the sphere of popular music, and to be honest, kind of was. This ethos is exemplified by the troubled and theatrical "Kaingin" with its soaring melodies, majestically spreading its wings to coast through valleys of Pet Shop Boys-esque clamor and mischievous hurdling harmonies, landing somewhere between a new wave opera and an abstract portrait. I've found myself captivated by the charm of "Heto Ha" which begins with a winsome minimalistic beat that leads the listener through a hypnotic echo chamber into the dense distorting glare of an alien dance party. There are even selections that just play like "high art," as far as such a phrase can be applied to popular music, like "Bronsé" which sounds like it could be a part of a gallery exhibition curated by Laurie Anderson. One of my favorite moments though, is also the most brash, this being the clanging and assertive "Taranta" which houses a place of calm self-assurance amongst a cyclone of its own messy, complicated energy. Every track presents a new avenue of discovery and a novel perspective on well-worn truths and conventions.
Whenever I think I have a handle on Pantayo's debut, I give it one more spin, and I am blown away by what I had missed during previous listens. It's a complicated and rewarding experience, and I'm probably going to give it another cover-to-cover listen as soon as I'm done typing this sentence. Whether you're looking for a new beat, or a chance to nestle into a familiar rhythm, Pantayo's debut offers you the opportunity to lose yourself in both.
Get a copy of Pantayo's debut from Telephone Explosion here.
