Scout July-August 2017

10 music
H&M sunnies, SM Mega Fashion Hall
FOREVER 21 sunnies, SM Mega Fashion Hall
NIKE cardigan, SM Aura
BEFORE MAKING A NAME for herself and
gaining traction across the country, BP
Valenzuela was an idealistic rookie who wasn’t
sure of the things she would eventually encounter
as part of the independent music industry. In
the years she’s been active, BP has joined and
eventually left music collective Logiclub; spoken
out about various issues revolving around
politics, the LGBT movement, and intersectional
feminism; and called out other artists online, the
most prominent instance being her feud with
SUD and the group’s infamous Pulp magazine
cover portraying a male gaze for a lesbian couple.
“I got very emotional about it, mostly because,
’yun nga, the Philippines is a very Catholic
country that also sees women like that. I got
frustrated and it led me to let go. A lot of people’s
toes got stepped [on] because of what I was
saying [online]. But then other people started to
talk about it and I’m not sorry about that. I’m not
sorry because people need to talk about it.”
Internet feuds, especially with celebrities
involved, cause people to take sides and put
certain personalities up on a pedestal, which
is what many did with BP against other “less
woke” artists. Once, she found herself in an
unwanted comparison with rapper Curtismith
(who’s gained infamy for his public friendship
and support of Sandro Marcos, grandson of the
dictator) in a tweet that gained viral status. “With
the political climate of today, everyone’s a little
riled up, a little angrier so they look for saviors. I
don’t like being put on a pedestal, as a musician,
as a person, as a human being, but I feel like
it’s necessary for people to [have role models].
I mean if you have a platform, why would you
use that just for self-preservation? I’m also not
careful as I should be. I can be very impulsive.
I used to be very cautious and mild-mannered.
But as I grew older, with the circumstances of
what I did, I had to question myself, my goals, my
beliefs, and what was necessary for me to just
be an artist in the Philippines right now. I just
wanted to be the kind of person I would look up
to when I was young.”
In 2013, I was about to enter the latter half
of my third year of college, working under my
school’s official publication and media outlet,
when my senior gave me a set of videos she
wanted me to edit. Ateneo de Manila University’s
The Guidon had just started a new web series
online called Pub Room Sessions, where the staff
would invite a campus musician to perform inside
the org’s space (named the “pub room,” hence
the series’ title), and then put out the acoustic
concert’s video on YouTube. My first editing
assignment for this particular Pub Room Session
was an episode about a university freshman
called BP Valenzuela.
Video editing is tedious work, but editing BP
made it less so. Her quiet vocals held an allure
that’s hard to resist. She tinkered around with
foreign-looking pedals and knobs while playing
guitar at the same time. She smiled and shook
her head to herself whenever she made mistakes
on camera, but determinedly continued with her
covers of I Can’t Make You Love Me, Teenage
Dirtbag, and Electric Feel. Instantly, I knew this
girl was going to make it big, announcing to my
friends outside school that they just had to listen
to her. Staff members who were watching the day
it was recorded could sense her potential.
Back then, BP wore her hair short and
sported glasses and loose clothing, with a pair
of headphones perpetually around her neck.
She made music at home solely for herself.
Since then, she’s released an EP, grown her hair
to waist length, put out a critically acclaimed
album, performed countless gigs around the
country, experimented with makeup and style,
scored major motion pictures, became a social
media icon and digital influencer, and cut her
hair short yet again. At the time of this writing,
she is preparing for her much-anticipated
sophomore record.
It’s 5 p.m. when BP rushes into the
studio late, right after shooting with two other
magazines the entire day. Her expression is
wildly remorseful and she profusely apologizes
to the team as soon as she shows up. The shoot
goes well as BP gamely poses, following all the
unconventional directions our artist gives her. We
laugh with her when her eyes tear up from all the
makeup and when we wrap her in cling wrap.
BP still enjoys giggling at all her
awkwardness (she does this a lot during the
shoot itself) but holds herself more confidently,
staring at the camera lens with a boldness I
hadn’t witnessed in the girl I saw in 2013. This
artist has grown up. This BP Valenzuela has gone
and will continue to go places.
Her sophomore LP “Crydancer,” due out on
her 22nd birthday this July 7, sonically shuffles
a bit further from her previous album, “The
Neon Hour.” While her highly successful debut
focuses on a more fixed pop sound, “Crydancer”
is spaced out and far more experimental, with BP
regarding her music for this album as a shared
experience with her listeners rather than an
outlet for herself.
“It’s my form of therapy, so I made music
with that mindset. Of course, when I started out,
I didn’t know the amount of shows I would be
playing. I didn’t know the amount of attention I
would get. I didn’t know how many people would
be listening,” she says. “This time, I don’t want
any fillers. I want [an album] that people will
enjoy because I really enjoyed [making it]. A lot
of the music I wrote before was just for myself
and whomever it was directed to, just so I could