Last May 18, CNN Philippines Life published a piece of notes on Katipcore and how we understand music, geography, and genres. In his essay, Jam Pascual discusses how music scenes evolve and are defined by “sounds, genres, [and] movements.”
Pascual and Elijah Pareño of The Flying Lugaw talk about how the term “Katipcore” emerged as a conversational device to describe “The Ateneo Sound” or “The Katipunan Sound,” referring to a certain demographic of bands that usually, but not necessarily, come from the universities that line Katipunan Avenue.
To summarize the essay, Pascual describes the history and discourse that surrounds the term, especially after the resurfacing of the term in January of this year. It’s a case of a sound association: when you hear a certain arrangement or how a song is structured, you can instantly describe it as Katipcore. Pascual also mentions albums, bands, and songs that fit the Katipcore sound: Any Names Okay, SOS’s 2012 EP, Rusty Machines, Devices, Kremesoda, and the like.
In this essay, I aim to throw my own hat into the ring. I will discuss my own definition of Katipcore, the unique distinction it has, geographical and class analysis, as well as the challenge for a more complex documentation and sociological analysis of modern Philippine music.
When it comes to describing the Katipcore phenomenon, I posit that it has a very distinguishable sound. Rather than the indie rock definition that Pascual denotes in his article, I argue that the Katipcore sound is notably indie rock and jazz fusion; a collection of upbeat major 7 chords and bubblegum, head-popping tunes. Think Kremesoda’s “City Lovin,” Any Name’s Okay’s “Clouds,” or Alyson’s “Heto Na Naman.”
This indie rock and jazz fusion trend doesn’t just come from the era of late 2010s bands. One could argue that you can find the Katipcore sound in the early discographies of Katipunan-reared bands, such as Ciudad’s 2000 album Hello! How Are You, Mico The Happy Bear? and The Itchyworms’ Little Monsters Under Your Bed. Tracks like The Itchyworms’ “Mellow Carousel” and Ciudad’s “With Me” could easily fit into the Katipcore bands of the 2010s and 2020s.
Katipcore as a distinguishable sound
While some may argue that the Katipcore sound isn’t necessarily situated in a singular genre or sound, associating a specific genre is necessary. Without a clear definite sound, it completely defeats the purpose of having a term in the first place.
This specific sound association is what makes the phenomena of Katipcore unique, and makes it stand out in how we talk about music. There is no term as prolific as Katipcore when it comes to talking about university-based music scenes—there’s not really a strong sound association with a “Taftcore” or “UBeltcore” in the same way as Katipcore. Yes, there are bands in these places, but there isn’t a sound that would make you immediately think “Oh, this is Taftcore,” in the same way as Katipcore.
Are there bands from Katip that don’t fit the Katipcore sound? Yes. I agree with Pascual—music is not necessarily reflective of the space it is created in. While yes, it can influence lyrics and themes, artistic influences still come first in how a band’s sound is formed, especially in their early careers. For example, in One Click Straight’s early discography, you can clearly hear The 1975 and their contemporaries influence in tracks like “She” or “Kaleidoscope.” The Arctic Monkeys sound is clearly palpable in SOS’s “Dying to Meet You.”
This is the unique case I will make for Katipcore: the sound hasn’t evolved. This is not to say that the individual bands or acts haven’t evolved their sound. But the sound that was prominent in the 2000s and 2010s is still prominent with the newer bands today.
Pascual argues that the sound has fallen off. I argue it hasn’t. Jazz fusion is alive and well in Katipcore as well as in the mainstream—think SunKissed Lola, and even international influences such as Phum Viphurit and Boy Pablo (who, let’s be honest, served as an influencing starting point for many of these bands in the late 2010s.) These acts serve as musical influences for college students. While I argue that jazz fusion defines Katipcore, what makes it uniquely Katipcore is that this sound is reinforced within the university organizations like UP Music Circle and Ateneo Musicians’ Pool, and defines the starting careers of this community that spreads into the gig scenes. It is in these gig places that re-expose college-aged aspiring musicians to the sound, whether it be in campus events or Jess and Pat’s, and around.
Geography and beyond
Pascual and Pareño talk about how locations like Mow’s, the now-extinct Route 196 (rest in peace) housed and exposed this type of music to university students. This makes sense. I agree with Pascual that geography “situates the art we experience.” But we live in a post-pandemic world, and how we consume and learn about music is drastically different. We’ve transcended beyond geography at this point.
So, what does this mean for Katipcore? Online platforms such as TikTok, Spotify, and YouTube have contributed to the boom of how musicians try to find their sound. Musicians have recognized the power of social media to boost their reach to audiences, and many of the acts now that have been signed to major record labels are artists that blew up on social media. TikTok sounds and songs squeeze their way into streaming platforms, and through the assistance of algorithms that curate similar sounding bands, create a feedback loop of musical influences for musicians. The genres that end up feeding Katipcore are further reinforced, and the more that aspiring musicians enjoy that music, the more that it manifests in their own compositions.
With Gen-Z being digital natives, they bring these influences into their university lives. They flock together, create these bands with this sound, and work to perform in gig places that continue feeding into that feedback loop of online to offline performances.
This is how Katipcore continues to be reinforced in the digital age. Beyond Any Name’s Okay—which many consider to be the “last Katipcore sounding band”—newer bands such as The Quirks, Lagooon, Lucy Dee, Cutting Corners continue to grow in these spaces. These are the sounds curated in campus spaces, whether it be through small-time concerts organized by campus organizations, events such as UP Fair, and the like, what makes Katipcore Katipcore is its inherent “college band sound.”
“The Ateneo Sound” and the reflection of our material conditions
Pareño and Pascual touch a bit on how the gig places where Katipcore grew such as Route 196 are inaccessible, expensive, which reflect the socioeconomic conditions of students in the universities surrounding these areas.
It goes deeper than that. To be in a band, to produce this kind of music, and to perform it is rooted in being upper class. The connection between bands and higher income individuals are rooted in being able to afford all the gear such as pedals, instruments, transportation, and more. This class divide manifests in more ways than one in the local music scene—look at the divide between band music and hip hop.
In another piece on Filipino hip hop on Rappler (and yes, I will quote my own work because this is my blog and no one can stop me lol,), LIAB Studios co-founder and Kartell’em member WAIIAN talk about how rap was invented on the streets. Professor Dr. Lara Katrina Mendoza shares, “It is a way of life that is born of the streets, and in hip-hop, there is nothing wrong with that. Street Is Life. And hiphop celebrates that.”
She continues, “Usually, but not always, those who enter hip-hop are those who have experienced oppression or grew up in poverty…. ’Yung kalaban nila (Their rivals were fellow) [hip hop heads], mga alternative bands, mga fans of [Eraserheads]…. Because those who could buy instruments [could afford them]. Having a band was ‘middle-class.’”
The material conditions in the Philippines manifest in the music that these artists create. If you listen to many of the rappers in the country today, they rap about “getting out of the ghetto” or “the hustle.” As I write in the Rappler piece (again, I’m being self-indulgent), “It’s rooted in actual experiences of using music as a mode not just of upward mobility, but of livelihood as well.”
This is in contrast with the lyrical themes that Katipcore bands usually discuss. More often than not, Katipcore bands explore love as a concept. It’s rare, if there is any attempt at all, that these bands talk about the hustle or struggling in life. Of course, Filipino rappers also explore different lyrical themes, but tracks that tackle success and class struggle are a pillar of the genre.
That economic capacity to invest in band music is what is associated with the elite Katipunan belt universities. This is not to say that people not from UP Diliman and Ateneo de Manila University can’t make indie rock or jazz fusion music, but on the first level, their socioeconomic conditions make it easier to, and on the second level, it’s what makes people negatively associate Katipcore with the universities.
This is where Pascual talks about the reductive, negative connotation that comes with describing acts as Katipcore. I mean, it’s not something that people genuinely get angry about (I think), but it’s a term thrown around as a punchline. However, beyond the tongue-in-cheek punchlines lies a more complex reflection on music, class, geography, and historicizing modern Filipino music.
Beyond Katipcore
So, why talk about Katipcore? It’s a blip in the grander, complex, and sprawling Philippine music scene.
The Philippines lacks deeper sociological analysis, theorization, and documentation of its musical landscape. Academic literature on Philippine music tends to focus on the past—folk music, music and political movements in the past, and the like. However, the modern, contemporary Philippine music experience is so rich in what to study. Off the top of my head, there’s so much to unpack with regionalism in the Philippines within different genres, the music scenes in different areas in the country, class and social mobility, and the like.
The discourse on Katipcore is an opening into what discussions on and analysis of Philippine music can be. As Pascual writes, music journalism in the country is rich, but to historicize it, critique it, and analyze it is crucial in capturing the ever evolving scenes today.
Filipino music is evolving everyday as we know it. All the scenes and genres are fluid, dynamic. There will never be a time where these music scenes are exactly the same. As writers, as listeners of music, we must challenge ourselves to preserve these moments as we look to the future.
Header image: Route 196 Facebook
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