Jay Som Opened Up Her Creative Process And Made Her Most Intimate Album Yet

Melina Duterte was sick of the boom boom tiss. The 25-year-old creative force beyond Jay Som had built a dedicated following right after releasing a pair of mindful however obtainable self-recorded albums, on which she plays every musical instrument and serves as producer. One of her most endearing gifts is how nimbly she weaves through styles, dipping into Steely Dan-inspired reverie ahead of swirling dream-pop; the crashing, rocky entrance of her drum kit on the beloved "The Bus Song" is a undeniable highlight. Also undeniable: Duterte's prowess as an one-woman musical group, tackling guitar, bass, trumpet, accordion, keyboards, and piano, moreover to writing all of the lyrics and melodies. Yet going it alone could only take her so far.


"I just got so tired of hearing myself play the drums," Duterte told MTV News. "I love it, yet I think for the rest of my music career, I'd rather have a drummer play on my records now."


Getting good at the drums is intensely physical, often punishing, and quite loud. Unless you are a rhythmic prodigy of the YouTube kind, you're cacophonous for a long time before you could bang out anything resembling a genuine groove. Duterte, though, is a good drummer — just listen to the sparkle of "Everybody Works." Yet it's hard to keep a kit in a shared living space, which Duterte had to manage. So she thought of an eas concept: Her touring drummer and childhood pal Zachary Elsasser could stage name some tracks on her next record. "He will just give you so several options. It's just limitless," she said.


And so he did. And thus did others. Anak Ko, the third album by Jay Som, released in late August by way of the Polyvinyl, finds Duterte pulling off a tricky feat: Though she's widened her circle of collaborators to include Elsasser and other members of her touring musical group, Vagabon's Laetitia Tamko on vocals, past creative partner Justus Proffit, and more, Anak Ko feels downright sparse and more inward than her previous work. All it took was a little bit perspective.


"I was like, I know I gotta be way much less self-deprecating if I have other people on here because any time once you produce your own stuff and also you engineer and track it, you have a higher class of mention in telling people what to do as soon as they're playing the music," she mentioned. "You sort of look at yourself from the outside."


The album's first single, shimmering fever dream "Superbike," set the stage for such expansion. With Elsasser on drums and Oliver Pinnell on guitar, Duterte's voice glides along the best of the track, ultimately floating away before she finishes in mid-thought: "Gonna breathe up until you're gone / Gonna breathe up until you're..." Its accompanying impressionistic video finds Duterte and then some companions in the desert, a nod to Anak Ko's genesis in Joshua Tree, California. Duterte spent six days there writing the material. She didn't make a mood board, although recording subsequently, she used "cinematic words" — the kind this piece is likely also full of, like "jangly guitars" — to steer the in general vibe of each track.


It translates. "Tenderness" is indeed tender. "Peace Out" harbors the sort of boiling venom that pairs with its title kiss-off. "Nighttime Drive," meanwhile, has the languid air of a midnight gas-station run or, mention, daydreaming about "shoplifting at The full Foods" while gazing out a tour van window. Every song is personalized by virtue of having been written by Duterte crystallizing a specific moment in time. Still, Anak Ko feels even more intimate for the songwriter, something she designed right down to the title.


"I was browsing through my text messages with my mom, and she routinely greets me in this phrase in Tagalog called 'anak ko,' which is 'my child,'" she mentioned. "Like, 'How are you, anak ko?' It's just this very warming sort of phrase. I thought it was also funny to name an album 'my child' because I've spoke to a lot of musicians that view the release of their album as like birthing a child in a funny way, metaphorically speaking."


The song "Anak Ko" also shows off one of its album's boldest departures however for Duterte as an artist: the elevated directness of her actual singing voice, which she views as just another musical instrument. Jay Som has played dozens of live shows diligently and routinely since 2016, and the added scrutiny of PA systems and microphones, along with because the live reactions, made her more aware of her voice. Making Anak Ko, she was feeling herself. So she boosted her levels. "This order kind of conscious choice to prepare my vocals more direct, it's more of like, I'm much less scared of hiding my voice in a sense," she said.


The added crispness lends "Peace Out" extra menace and the gently sweeping "Get Well" an almost last-call singalong excellent, despite Duterte delivering her vocals in a hushed whisper. Then again, any Jay Som gig is bound to contain at the very least one key shout-along moment ("but I like the bus!"); at helps to avoid along the Anak Ko tour, which kicks off September 11 in Phoenix, it's not hard to picture audiences lifting their voices for the soft vowels of "Superbike"'s wordless chorus.


Those same fans might not directly have the pleasure of reading Duterte's tour tweets anymore — she's largely ceded the official Jay Som Twitter and Instagram accounts to promotional messages, save for the occasional culinary dispatch — nevertheless she still marvels at the value of that direct connection with fans. "It's so weird how posting a picture with a caption means that folks are going to come to your shows that night, and it's so powerful that way," she mentioned, though she followed it up with some reservations.


"I certainly like not using [social media] as much lately, and I'm a little bit more scared of it for personalized reasons," Duterte notes before noting her status as a moderate lurker. "Otherwise I love memes and other dumb shit like that." In September 2017 as an example, right before Jay Som kicked off a run of more than 30 shows during North America, Duterte tweeted out an eas plea for some drum lessons. "I need help with the boom boom tiss," she wrote. She eventually got that help, naturally, and Anak Ko is a testament to it.


Yet back then, one fan replied in earnest, "I've been learning drums playing to 'Everybody Works,'" demonstrating one of the simple wonders social media can still bring. Duterte knew the struggle of mastering the boom boom tiss. She admired the tweet.