GAZING BACK: A RETROSPECTIVE

THE PARTING GAZE became the bittersweet finale to a series of shows we collectively dubbed Gazing Into the Abyss. What started as a simple run of shows eventually grew into something more meaningful than we initially imagined—a series that brought together and showcased different artists, bands from other regions, and audiences with separate but shared tastes and inclinations. It became a space where adjacent sounds and sensibilities could intersect, a platform where audiences could discover something outside their usual orbit, and a whole new ecosystem where artists could find themselves playing alongside other artists they might not have otherwise crossed paths with.

When people asked why we were ending the Gazing series, my immediate answer was, “We’ve run out of shoegaze bands already.” It was, of course, a response said in jest, but I still stand by the fact that there’s some truth to it. After five shows, we had already covered a fair amount of ground, and the pool of bands that fit what we were looking for was beginning to feel smaller. At some point, continuing simply for the sake of continuing would have meant stretching the premise beyond what made it interesting to us in the first place. Mainly that, and a few other personal reasons behind the decision that I’d rather keep to myself. 

 Five shows in a span of a couple of years may not sound like much on paper, but each installment was conceived with an intentional purpose. We wanted to give a platform to bands we believe had something to say and the potential to push their sound further, while giving them an opportunity to reach an audience that might not have encountered them otherwise. In that sense, each show was meant to be more than just another weekend show. It was our own little jamboree, our mini musical convention—a chance to introduce, connect, and perhaps, offer a more meaningful impact to our lives as artists, music fans and active contributors to the local community.

I suppose this isn’t much of a secret, but in case you might have not known, the series itself was born out of a shared conceit and a set of ideas that my former partner, Rae, and I developed together. A huge chunk of the credit goes to her for conceptualizing and hashing out those ideas, exchanging thoughts along the way, and helping shape them into what eventually became the Gazing Into the Abyss series. During the course of several discussions, we came up with a number of parameters to define what this series would be and, perhaps more importantly, what it would not. These were never meant to be rules in the strictest sense. They were more like guiding principles or an internal compass that helped us decide which bands to invite, how we wanted each installment to take shape, and what we hoped the series could accomplish. Call it a manifesto or a manicured curation, if you will.

The idea was to have enough structure to give the series an identity, but enough room for it to breathe and evolve. We did not want to dictate what the shows should sound like or boxed into a particular genre or scene (read: shoegaze). Instead, we were interested in relationships between sounds, ideas, and people, and finding connections where they might not be immediately apparent. The parameters gave us a framework, but the actual shows were allowed to become whatever they needed to be.

The first thing we had in mind was to make each installment of the series a springboard for every participating band—a place from which they could launch themselves into whatever came next. Because of this, we made it a point to give each band their own turn within the series, so we generally kept subsequent installments open to new artists. This was intentional. We wanted every show to introduce and emphasize something new to the table rather than gradually become a recurring lineup of popular and familiar names in the music scene.

There was also something important about giving each band their own moment within the series. Rather than treating the shows as a fixed circuit where the same performers continually rotated through, we wanted to keep the door moving forward. Each installment would have its own cast, its own chemistry, and its own possibilities. The hope was that, after playing a Gazing show, a band would leave and find a few new fans, new collaborators, new people to discuss their music and ethos with, and perhaps a little more momentum than when they arrived.

The second scope of the series was to introduce local bands and artists to musicians from outside the immediate music sphere. For each installment, we made an effort to invite bands from different parts of the country—from Naga, the National Capital Region, Dumaguete, Leyte, Bacolod, Zamboanga, and elsewhere. The geographic distance was part of the point, but it was never simply about bringing in bands from other cities just for the sake of it. We were deliberate about who we invited, looking for artists who could complement the lineup and create interesting connections, while still aligning with the spirit and values we had set for the series. Sometimes we didn’t always get things right, but the intention was to make each lineup feel as if it was deliberately handpicked rather than arbitrary fillers.

Call us naive but we have this grandstanding conceit that putting these artists in the same room could open up a whole new ecosystem of ideas, influences, conversations, and possibilities. Different scenes developing shared ideas, a confluence of habits,a merging of aesthetics, and ways of doing things. Maybe it was a little idealistic, but that was part of what made the series worthwhile to us. In hindsight, It may not be perfect (who needs perfection, anyway?) but I think we did alright in achieving those goals.

In the end, that was perhaps the larger ambition behind Gazing Into the Abyss. And that is not to define a scene complete, but to create little points of convergence within it. Five shows, five different lineups, and a constantly shifting set of hopes and dreams passing through. The series may have come to an end, but the alliances and intersections it created has continued and will forever live on.

As for THE PARTING GAZE becoming its culminating chapter, it felt like a fitting way to close the proverbial curtains, so to speak. Way beyond its previous shows, we felt like it has already taken on a life of its own. More than anything, we are beyond grateful for what came out of it: the music, the people, the meaningful conversations, the unexpected connections, and the memories, both good and bad, that lingered with us long after the series was over.

We are eternally beholden to these bands, productions and venues that made the whole ‘Gazing’ run a worthwhile experience (in no particular order): Gleam, Awkward Dancer, Novocrane, Jadeds (DGT), Milkmus, The Midnight Greetings, bedtime television, Wishfade, Hazy Daisy, Folding Bed, Kalii Skrums,  &nd (BCD), Coney Reyes on Camera, Garland, Flowr, School Girl Classic, One Hand on Trapeze The Other Hand on You, St. Lucille, Marcid, Aches, Cream Flower (MNL), Linger Escape (DRP), Ruby Apartments, She Must Be Dreaming, In My Yearning, Hex (ZC), Hemp (LEY), Roughands, ZSH, Rearview, Dull Roy, Goodmorning Mother, Cosmic Kid, Cebu Making Space, The Playground (From Here), Azul Tuslob Buwa Cebu, J-Cob’s Kusina & Bar, Sunny Day Records, Walay Balay, Backyard Project Studios and Cafe, Ground Loop Music Studio, Kinaham ni Masyong, Way Ngipon Studio, Kompoztika, Loudhouse, Apeshift Collective, Cicada 

Lastly, to you, for showing up and being part of it all. None of this would have meant much without you. 

Xoxo,

Libya

Photo credits: Bordz Patak, Neo Vignette Digizine, Dexter Duran