Where to Start With P-Pop: A Listening Guide for Filipino Readers Abroad

I don’t think I would have been particularly welcoming if someone had handed me a P-Pop playlist a few years ago.

I knew Filipino music, of course. I grew up with it. But the idea of Filipino groups adopting the polished performances, synchronized choreography, and elaborate concepts associated with Korean pop music didn’t appeal to me. I thought they were trying too hard to imitate something that was already successful elsewhere.

I wasn’t particularly interested in finding out whether I was right.

Which makes it a little funny that I am now writing a listening guide for people who might think exactly the way I once did.

Perhaps you have seen BINI dancing to Pantropiko or heard SB19’s GENTO somewhere on social media. Perhaps your children have introduced you to a group whose members you cannot tell apart. Or maybe you’ve come across a performance, recognized the performers as Filipinos, and wondered whether all the attention was deserved.

I understand the hesitation. I’ve been there.

But I also think there’s something worth hearing beyond the choreography, the styling, and the occasional arguments about which group deserves more recognition.

And you don’t have to become a fan to appreciate it.

Before P-Pop, There Was Already So Much Music

My earliest memories of Filipino music involved cassette tapes.

My uncles listened to Siakol, Grin Department, Parokya ni Edgar, and Eraserheads, among others. Their songs played often enough that I eventually learned most of the lyrics, sometimes without fully understanding what I was singing.

We had those blank cassette tapes where songs were recorded from the radio. Sometimes the DJ’s voice would make its way into the recording, usually toward the end of a song. It wasn’t exactly the best listening experience, but you learned to accept those interruptions. You could replay a song as many times as you wanted, provided the tape cooperated.

I suppose buying official albums wasn’t something we ordinarily did in our household. The radio, those recordings, and whatever music my uncles brought home were enough.

There was also Aegis, April Boy Regino, the April Boys, and Renz Verano. We listened to rock, sentimental ballads, and novelty songs. Some songs were playful, others were dramatic, and a few probably contained jokes I was too young to understand.

It was a fairly wide exposure to Original Pilipino Music, although I wouldn’t have described it that way at the time. It was simply the music I heard at home.

There was another consideration, though.

I grew up in a Christian household, where listening to secular music came with certain reservations. Music wasn’t always judged by whether it sounded good. We also considered what it said, what it encouraged, and whether it agreed with the values we were taught.

That made my relationship with popular music a little complicated.

I could enjoy a song and still wonder whether I should be listening to it. Some of the harder rock music and novelty songs with suggestive lyrics were particularly difficult to reconcile with what I learned in church. When Rivermaya eventually joined our household’s music rotation, our exploration didn’t necessarily extend to every other band or genre gaining popularity.

Years later, the wave of Filipino rock and alternative bands in the 2000s caught my attention. Cueshé, 6cyclemind, Sponge Cola, and several others became part of my listening habits.

Their music competed for space with international bands, Christian contemporary music, and the worship songs that remained an important part of my life.

Looking back, my musical preferences were never quite as narrow as I sometimes imagined. I appreciated good melodies, strong vocals, and songs that could express emotions I didn’t always know how to explain.

I just had certain boundaries about where I was willing to look for them.

I Wasn’t Exactly Waiting for P-Pop

My early relationship with Korean popular culture was similarly complicated.

I wasn’t completely unfamiliar with it. PSY’s Gangnam Style was almost impossible to miss. I knew of 2NE1, partly because Sandara Park was a familiar name to Filipinos. The Wonder Girls’ Nobody also found its way into my awareness.

I had friends and, later, brothers who genuinely enjoyed Korean music. Korean dramas became popular enough that some churches I knew in Iloilo even borrowed their themes for events.

Yet K-Pop itself wasn’t something I was particularly encouraged to appreciate. Within some of the Christian circles I encountered, it was treated with suspicion.

And I carried some of that suspicion with me.

It didn’t help that I was surrounded by increasingly enthusiastic fans of BTS, Super Junior, TWICE, BLACKPINK, and other Korean groups. Their popularity was undeniable. You could encounter their music, merchandise, and influence without deliberately seeking them out.

I wasn’t against their success. I just didn’t feel compelled to participate.

When Filipino groups began gaining recognition for adopting a similar performance-oriented approach, I initially dismissed them.

I knew SB19 was becoming popular, especially during the pandemic. But instead of taking the time to listen, I assumed they were copying a formula that had already worked in South Korea.

I had opinions about the music without knowing very much about it.

That’s a rather uncomfortable thing to admit now, especially because I’ve come to appreciate how much effort goes into songwriting, recording, choreography, and live performance.

I also wonder how often we Filipinos do this to our own artists.

We take pride when international audiences recognize Filipino talent, yet we sometimes seem reluctant to give that same talent a fair hearing at home. We celebrate Filipinos who succeed abroad, but question whether those working within our own entertainment industry are original enough.

I don’t think every criticism is unfair. Artists should be open to criticism, regardless of nationality. And not every P-Pop song will appeal to every listener.

Still, calling an entire genre a copy of something else is a convenient way to avoid listening closely.

I know because that was my excuse.

Then Came a Song Called Karera

My first meaningful encounter with modern P-Pop came through BINI.

I had already seen Pantropiko circulating on TikTok. Some of my friends even danced to it while we were on duty. The song was catchy enough, but I wasn’t immediately interested in following the group.

It was Karera that changed things.

I was preparing for the Philippine Physician Licensure Examination in 2024. It was a demanding period, and I was carrying years of expectations into those final months of preparation.

My wife had been sharing BINI videos with me. At first, I paid little attention. But the more I listened, the more I began noticing that there was something beyond the cheerful performances and catchy melodies.

Karera, in particular, felt different.

It spoke about the pressure to keep moving and the need to recognize that life doesn’t always have to proceed at the pace everyone else expects.

That was something I needed to hear.

Medical training has a way of making you conscious of time. There are examinations to pass, requirements to complete, and milestones that seem to arrive more easily for other people. Even when you know that everyone’s circumstances differ, comparison can become difficult to avoid.

And here was a pop song reminding me that I didn’t have to approach every moment as a competition.

I’ve written more about that experience in my earlier article, BINI: Eight Voices, One Defining Sound.

What matters here is that the song made me reconsider an entire genre I had been unwilling to explore.

I started listening to more BINI songs. Eventually, I began following the group’s activities and performances.

Then I discovered ALAMAT.

Their music introduced me to another dimension of P-Pop, one that made room for different Philippine languages, regional traditions, and cultural references alongside contemporary production.

As someone who grew up speaking Hiligaynon and other Philippine languages, I found that especially meaningful.

I had become interested in P-Pop because of a song that comforted me during a difficult period. I stayed interested because I realized how much more there was to discover.

So, What Exactly Is P-Pop?

I think one of the difficulties people have with P-Pop is understanding where it belongs in Filipino music.

For many of us who grew up listening to OPM, the term brings certain artists and sounds to mind. We remember the bands that dominated radio stations, the singers whose voices filled our homes, and the songs that became inseparable from particular periods of our lives.

In my case, OPM meant Eraserheads and Parokya ni Edgar just as much as it meant Aegis or April Boy Regino. I never thought much about their differences. They were Filipino artists making music that Filipinos enjoyed.

And that is probably the simplest way to understand the relationship between OPM and P-Pop.

P-Pop is part of OPM. It isn’t an entirely separate category of Filipino music, nor did Filipino pop suddenly begin when SB19 and BINI became popular.

Philippine popular music has gone through several changes. Manila Sound in the 1970s brought together Filipino songwriting, disco, funk, Western influences, and the familiar mixture of English and Filipino expressions. The decades that followed produced ballads, rock bands, dance groups, hip-hop artists, and performers whose popularity depended as much on television as it did on radio.¹

Even the kind of group performances we now associate with modern P-Pop isn’t entirely unfamiliar.

I remember the SexBomb Girls. I imagine many Filipinos from my generation remember them, too. Their songs, choreography, and television appearances became part of Philippine entertainment long before the current wave of idol groups.

What has changed is the approach.

Modern P-Pop is generally associated with groups trained to sing, dance, and perform as a coordinated unit. There is greater emphasis on choreography, visual concepts, music videos, and carefully developed group identities. The artists aren’t simply expected to sing their recordings well. Their performances become another part of how audiences experience the music.

MNL48 helped bring the Japanese idol-group model to Filipino audiences. SB19, which debuted in 2018 under a Korean entertainment company, became one of the most recognizable examples of the Korean-influenced training system taking root in the Philippines.²

BINI, ALAMAT, G22, KAIA, and the many groups that followed have developed different identities within that growing industry.

That doesn’t mean they all sound alike.

And I think that is where people who have never explored P-Pop sometimes get it wrong.

We tend to group these artists together because they perform with choreography and appear in elaborate music videos. But once you start listening, you’ll find groups approaching pop, R&B, hip-hop, electronic music, and Filipino musical traditions in different ways.

Some songs remind me of the cheerful pop music that dominated Philippine radio stations years ago. Others would be equally comfortable alongside contemporary international releases. And a few are difficult to categorize without losing something about what makes them interesting.

The distinction matters because you might dislike one group’s approach and genuinely enjoy another’s.

You don’t need to appreciate every P-Pop group to appreciate P-Pop.

But Isn’t It Just K-Pop Made in the Philippines?

This is probably the criticism I would have made myself.

And I think it deserves a better response than simply accusing people of being unsupportive of Filipino talent.

There is an obvious Korean influence on modern P-Pop. The training systems, synchronized choreography, coordinated promotions, and emphasis on visual presentation are familiar to anyone who has followed K-Pop.

Pretending otherwise doesn’t help the discussion.

But influence isn’t the same thing as imitation.

I sometimes wonder why we’re comfortable accepting foreign influences in other forms of Filipino music but become particularly sensitive about them when discussing P-Pop.

The rock bands I grew up listening to didn’t develop their musical identities without hearing foreign bands. Filipino balladeers have performed songs shaped by international pop traditions for decades. Manila Sound itself incorporated Western musical styles while developing something audiences came to recognize as distinctly Filipino.

We didn’t stop calling those songs OPM.

Why should contemporary Filipino pop be treated differently simply because some of its influences come from South Korea?

Of course, not everything deserves praise. Some songs are forgettable. Some concepts feel too familiar. There are performances where the execution doesn’t quite match the ambition.

I think artists should be judged on the quality of their work, not excused from criticism because they’re Filipino.

But there is a difference between saying that a song sounds derivative and deciding that an entire industry has nothing original to offer.

The more I listened, the more I noticed how different the groups could be.

BINI introduced me to music that was accessible without being completely predictable. ALAMAT made me pay closer attention to how Philippine languages and cultural references could become part of contemporary pop. SB19 gradually challenged the assumptions I had made about their abilities and musical direction.

And then there were groups like G22 and KAIA, whose performances made me appreciate how much talent existed beyond the two names dominating many conversations.

I began to understand that P-Pop wasn’t necessarily trying to replace the music we already knew.

It was another way of making Filipino music.

I don’t think P-Pop needs to sound completely unlike K-Pop to deserve recognition. That would be an unreasonable standard, especially in an industry where musical influences constantly cross borders.

What matters more to me is whether the artists are developing their own sound, whether the songs have something to say, and whether the music deserves another listen.

And sometimes, the simplest evidence is a song that you enjoy so much that you play it repeatedly without worrying about which country inspired its production.

Which brings me to the part of this article that I actually wanted to write.

The music.

If You Want Something Cheerful, Start With BINI

If someone asks me where to begin with modern P-Pop, BINI is probably one of the easiest groups to recommend.

Not necessarily because I think they’re better than everyone else, but because much of their music has an accessibility that makes them suitable for someone who hasn’t followed idol groups before.

Take Pantropiko, for example.

You don’t need to understand the structure of a pop group or recognize its members to enjoy the song. It has the kind of melody that stays with you, and I can understand why it became so popular through dance challenges.

Salamin, Salamin offers something similarly playful, with enough personality to distinguish it from the usual romantic pop song.

But I wouldn’t stop there.

One of my current favourites is Blush, a lighter, flirtatious track that shows how comfortably BINI can move within contemporary pop. It’s the sort of song I can put on repeat without needing a particular reason.

And if you’re someone who enjoys hearing voices come together, I would encourage you to explore their live performances as well.

I still remember hearing Lagi performed a cappella.

There is something different about listening to a group without the full production surrounding their voices. You begin to notice the individual qualities of each singer and how their voices work together. For me, that performance was another reminder that the members weren’t simply relying on choreography or catchy recordings.

Their ability to sing was part of what made the performance memorable.

When I first saw BINI at GFest in 2024, the experience was rather frustrating. The crowd became chaotic, people rushed toward the stage, and the marshals eventually closed off the area I had hoped to stand in. I ended up watching from much farther away than I expected.

Still, hearing their voices and getting even a glimpse of their performance was enough to leave an impression.

Seeing them again in Edmonton, from a much closer distance, gave me a better opportunity to appreciate what they could do.

Unang Kilig was one of the performances I particularly enjoyed.

I mention this because people sometimes judge idol groups almost entirely through edited music videos. Those videos are part of the performance, certainly, but they aren’t the whole picture.

Listen to the recordings first. Then try watching a live performance.

You might notice things you missed.

And if BINI’s cheerful pop isn’t quite your preference, there are other groups worth exploring.

VVINK, for instance, offers an interesting starting point with Pag-Ibig Fun and Baduy.

The latter, a collaboration with DJ Love and Pio Balbuena, incorporates the Filipino dance style budots into its pop sound. It is playful, energetic, and perhaps a little unusual if you’re expecting the polished sound associated with mainstream idol groups.³

That’s part of its appeal to me.

I like that Filipino pop doesn’t always have to sound refined in the same way. There should be room for something humorous, local, and slightly excessive.

After all, Filipino popular music has never been entirely serious.

I grew up listening to novelty songs. I see no reason why I should suddenly become too sophisticated to enjoy a little musical absurdity.

If You Want Music That Stays With You

Of course, not every song needs to be cheerful.

Some of the best Filipino songs I’ve heard are those that manage to express a familiar feeling without making it sound unnecessarily complicated.

I think this is where listeners who enjoy traditional OPM ballads might find an easier connection to P-Pop than they expect.

Start with Karera by BINI.

I’ve already explained why this song became important to me, but I want to recommend it for a reason that goes beyond my personal experience.

The song speaks to the pressure of constantly moving forward, particularly when the world seems determined to remind us that we are falling behind.

You don’t have to be preparing for a licensure examination to understand that feeling.

Maybe you’re trying to establish yourself in another country. Perhaps you’re changing careers, working toward something that has taken longer than expected, or comparing your circumstances with people who seem to be doing better.

I think Karera deserves a place in your playlist for those moments.

Then listen to hulog by KAIA.

What I appreciate about this release is that it allows the group to explore a more vulnerable sound. It shows a different side of performers who are also capable of delivering energetic and demanding choreography.

It is worth hearing on its own, away from the expectation that a pop group should always produce something immediately suited for dancing.

And then there’s Sinigang by ALAMAT.

The title alone is enough to make you curious, especially if you’re expecting a song about the familiar Filipino dish.

But ALAMAT plays with the word, drawing it from the phrase sinisigaw hanggang ngayon.

It’s a heartfelt R&B-influenced love song that makes room for longing and the things we continue carrying after a relationship changes. The group has explained how the song grew from an early demo into a collaboration involving several members.⁴

What interests me about the song is how comfortably it sits within the Filipino tradition of sentimental music while still sounding contemporary.

You can appreciate it without knowing the group’s members, understanding their visual concepts, or following the history of their releases.

Sometimes that’s what makes a good introduction.

A song should be allowed to speak for itself.

If You Want to Hear the Philippines Beyond Tagalog

This is where ALAMAT deserves special attention.

One of the things I appreciate about the group is its willingness to incorporate languages from different parts of the Philippines.

I grew up in Iloilo, where Hiligaynon was part of everyday life. I also grew up hearing and speaking other Philippine languages. For that reason, I know how easily conversations about Filipino culture can become centred on Manila and Tagalog, even when we understand that the country is much more diverse.

There is nothing wrong with singing in Tagalog. I appreciate the language, including songs that make use of its more literary expressions.

I don’t object to English, either.

English has been part of Filipino popular music for generations, and I don’t think using it makes a song less Filipino.

What interests me is the possibility of hearing all these languages within the same musical space.

That is why I have a particular affection for ALAMAT’s ILY ILY, featuring Lyca Gairanod.

The song draws from Ili-Ili, Tulog Anay, a traditional Hiligaynon lullaby associated with Iloilo.

But ALAMAT doesn’t simply reproduce the lullaby with modern instruments.

The group uses it to tell a story about families separated by work and economic necessity, particularly parents who must leave home to provide for their children. Different Philippine languages appear throughout the song, allowing the members to express different parts of that experience.⁵

It is a subject that probably needs little explanation for many Filipino families.

We’ve grown accustomed to people leaving the country for employment. We hear about parents working overseas, children growing up with relatives, and families learning to maintain relationships across considerable distances.

Sometimes those stories are treated as ordinary features of Filipino life.

Perhaps they have become ordinary.

That doesn’t make the separation any less difficult.

What I appreciate about ILY ILY is that the song allows this familiar experience to be heard through languages that aren’t always given the same attention in mainstream Filipino pop.

For someone like me, there is something meaningful about hearing Hiligaynon in a contemporary group recording.

It doesn’t mean that I need every P-Pop song to include regional languages. And I wouldn’t want artists to use them merely as decorations, as though mentioning something from the provinces automatically makes a song culturally meaningful.

But I appreciate the possibility.

I appreciate that a young listener from Iloilo, Bicol, Pampanga, the Ilocos region, or the Visayas might hear a familiar language in a song that reaches audiences beyond their community.

And that someone unfamiliar with those languages might become curious enough to learn a little more.

Another ALAMAT song worth hearing is LuzViMinda.

Its title brings together Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao, and the song is concerned with the group’s identity and where its members come from.

It is a different listening experience from ILY ILY, but the underlying interest in Filipino identity is familiar.

The important thing, I think, is that regional culture is not being treated as something that belongs only in traditional performances or school presentations.

It can exist in contemporary music, too.

And I would like to hear more of it.

Not because every song needs to carry a national or cultural message, but because the Philippines has so many languages, musical traditions, and stories that deserve opportunities to be heard.

If You Prefer Something Louder

Now, I realize that all this talk about comforting melodies and cultural connections might give the impression that P-Pop is primarily gentle, cheerful music.

It isn’t.

And for someone who grew up listening to Filipino rock bands, that is another reason I continued exploring.

SB19’s LAWLESS is one of my current favourites.

It brings together forceful rap passages, guitar-driven production, and a defiant attitude that feels quite different from the lighter pop songs someone might associate with modern idol groups. Released in July 2026, the track adds another direction to the group’s catalogue.⁶

I wouldn’t claim that listening to LAWLESS is the same experience as listening to Siakol or Grin Department. They’re working within different musical traditions.

But I do appreciate music that has some aggression and personality when the song calls for it.

I also think SB19 is a useful group to explore if you are curious about how Filipino idol performers can move between different musical approaches.

Listen to GENTO, then MAPA, and then LAWLESS.

The contrast is part of the point.

These aren’t three versions of the same song. They make different demands on the performers and offer different experiences for listeners.

I would also encourage you to look into G22.

They’re among the groups I listen to regularly, and I think they deserve more attention from people whose knowledge of P-Pop begins and ends with the most commercially recognizable names.

Groove On is worth adding to a listening session if you’re interested in the group’s performance-oriented side.

But don’t stop after a single song. Their recordings and live performances are worth exploring together.

Then there’s VXON, whose music has increasingly incorporated hip-hop, funk, and street-influenced pop.

One song I regularly return to is Dapat Lang Ako Lang, a lively track about wanting clarity and reassurance in a relationship. Its upbeat arrangement is part of what makes it enjoyable.⁷

I like that the subject doesn’t force the music into an overly sentimental direction.

One difficulty with recommending P-Pop is that the recorded music doesn’t always communicate everything the performers are capable of.

Some groups become more compelling when you watch how they handle choreography while singing. Others surprise you with their vocal arrangements, stage presence, or the way individual members contribute to a performance.

That doesn’t mean every listener needs to watch music videos or concert recordings.

I’m perfectly happy listening through earphones during an ordinary commute.

But when a song catches your attention, I think it is worth seeing how the artists perform it.

You may discover another reason to appreciate the music.

There Is More to P-Pop Than the Groups You Already Know

One thing I’ve noticed as I followed P-Pop more closely is how easily conversations about the genre become concentrated on a few groups.

I understand why.

BINI and SB19 have achieved the kind of recognition that introduces people to an entire industry. Their songs reach audiences who might never have considered listening to P-Pop, and their performances have helped make Filipino idol groups more visible.

I think that’s worth appreciating.

But I also think we miss something when we assume that the most recognizable artists represent everything a genre has to offer.

It reminds me a little of how I discovered Filipino rock music growing up. I didn’t begin with an understanding of the entire industry. I listened to whatever my uncles played, whatever was popular on the radio, and whatever songs happened to find their way onto those cassette tapes.

Then one song would lead to another.

Eventually, I became familiar with artists I might never have discovered if I had only listened to the biggest names.

That’s how I think P-Pop should be explored, too.

I regularly listen to groups like ALAMAT, BINI, G22, and KAIA, but I also follow VVINK, VXON, AJAA, pix!e, and Press Hit Play.

And there are other artists I genuinely hope more people will discover.

Not because I think they deserve automatic recognition simply for being Filipino, but because there is good music being made beyond the groups that dominate social media.

Sometimes all an artist needs is someone willing to press play.

A Few More Girl Groups Worth Hearing

If you enjoy BINI’s music but want to explore something different, I would encourage you to listen to YARA, YGIG, and CALISTA.

I find YARA particularly interesting because their music offers a connection between the Filipino pop I remember growing up and the sounds younger audiences enjoy today.

Their interpretation of the SexBomb Girls’ Bakit Papa? is a good example.

I remember the SexBomb Girls as part of Philippine popular culture in the early 2000s. You didn’t have to be an avid follower to know who they were or recognize some of their songs.

Those performances were cheerful, sometimes absurd, and unapologetically made for entertainment. And while we might not have called them P-Pop in the same sense we use the term today, they were certainly part of the history that contemporary Filipino idol groups inherited.

Hearing YARA reinterpret Bakit Papa? through a more contemporary R&B approach makes that connection particularly interesting.⁸

It’s familiar enough to remind older listeners of the original, but different enough to stand on its own.

I like that.

It reminds me that Filipino popular music doesn’t always need to reject what came before in order to create something new.

YGIG is another group worth exploring.

Their music has changed considerably since their debut, and songs like Chicka-chick-a, lyk that, and Perfect Blue show their willingness to experiment with different sounds.

I think Perfect Blue would make a comfortable introduction if you enjoy bright, accessible pop. Released in June 2026, it offers a summery dance-pop sound with a hint of longing beneath its cheerful arrangement.⁹

I would also encourage you to listen to CALISTA’s ‘Wag Na.

It’s another example of why I don’t want this guide to revolve entirely around the groups whose names are already familiar.

And then there’s pix!e, whose releases include Iced Coffee, Float, and Add To Heart.¹⁰

These groups don’t necessarily occupy the same musical space. That is precisely why I want to mention them together.

I don’t think a listener should approach P-Pop expecting every girl group to sound like BINI, just as it would be unreasonable to expect every Filipino rock band to sound like Eraserheads.

Artists need room to develop their identities.

Some will succeed in ways I appreciate. Others might explore sounds that aren’t particularly suited to my preferences.

But I would rather have a growing selection of artists making different kinds of music than an industry where everyone is expected to reproduce a single successful formula.

And there is something encouraging about discovering a group before its music becomes widely familiar.

Not because being an early listener makes you a better fan.

Sometimes you simply find a song you enjoy and wonder why you haven’t heard more people talking about it.

And Don’t Forget the Boy Groups

The same is true for the boy groups.

For someone who hasn’t listened to much P-Pop, SB19 might be the obvious starting point. But I would also recommend exploring Press Hit Play, 1st.One, and AJAA.

Press Hit Play has a catalogue that I think deserves more attention, particularly from listeners who enjoy melodic Filipino pop.

Try Hey Love! or Lampara.

I don’t think every P-Pop song needs to reinvent the familiar love song.

Filipino music has been singing about affection, longing, and romantic hesitation for generations. If an artist finds an enjoyable way to express those feelings, I don’t see why we should demand that the subject be entirely new.

Sometimes we become too concerned with whether contemporary pop sounds modern enough that we forget how much pleasure there is in hearing an ordinary emotion expressed through a good melody.

I would also encourage you to listen to 1st.One.

DITO is a worthwhile starting point, and you can explore their other releases afterward.

Then there’s AJAA.

Their music offers a youthful, playful approach that might appeal to listeners who enjoy lighter pop. Ako Na, released in 2025, is particularly approachable, with its upbeat treatment of someone hoping to have their romantic feelings returned.¹¹

And if you previously encountered New:ID, you may want to revisit their recordings.

The group has since reorganized as DAY ONE, following changes in management and membership. Their new debut under that name has been announced for October 18, 2026.¹²

For now, GHOST, released under the New:ID name, provides a starting point for their earlier sound.

I find stories like this worth following because they remind me that the artists we see performing have careers that are still developing.

Groups change. Members leave or join. Musical directions shift. Sometimes artists have to begin again.

From the outside, it’s easy to see only the finished music video and the performances that appear on our screens.

We don’t always think about the uncertainty behind them.

I’m not suggesting that every artist deserves success simply because they’ve worked hard. There are many talented people in the world, and hard work doesn’t guarantee that a particular song will find an audience.

But I think we can at least approach their work with a little more curiosity.

Listen to what they’ve made.

Then decide whether you like it.

That seems fair enough.

You Don’t Need to Understand the Entire P-Pop Industry

One reason I hesitated to explore K-Pop, and later P-Pop, was the impression that enjoying the music required knowing so much about the artists.

There were group members to recognize, terms to learn, performances to follow, and fan communities with their own traditions and expectations.

It felt like a lot.

And perhaps that impression wasn’t entirely fair, either.

I now know more about several P-Pop groups than I ever expected to. I’ve followed their releases, watched their performances, and become familiar with aspects of the industry I previously ignored.

But I don’t think any of that should be required of someone who simply wants to listen.

You don’t need to memorize the names of eight members before enjoying a BINI song.

You don’t have to know the history of SB19 to appreciate MAPA or LAWLESS.

You can enjoy ALAMAT’s Maharani without knowing every cultural reference in the music video, although learning more about those references might deepen your appreciation.

And you can listen to G22 or KAIA without joining a fan community.

I think that’s an important distinction.

The relationship between artists and their supporters can be meaningful, and I know that many fans invest considerable time and effort in helping their favourite groups succeed.

But the music should remain accessible to people who aren’t interested in participating in everything surrounding it.

I’m one of those people who has become less involved in fan communities over time.

Work became demanding, and my interests had to compete with the ordinary responsibilities of living abroad. I couldn’t follow every announcement, watch every performance, or keep track of every new release.

And that’s okay.

I still listen.

Sometimes I discover something months after everyone else has already been talking about it.

Sometimes I return to an older song instead of trying to keep up with whatever is new.

I don’t think music should become another obligation we struggle to fulfil.

There are already enough of those in everyday life.

A Listening Guide Shouldn’t Feel Like Homework

So, where should you actually start?

If you are completely unfamiliar with P-Pop, I would begin with music that resembles what you already enjoy.

From there, explore the artists’ other recordings.

You don’t have to finish an entire album. You don’t even have to finish a song if you genuinely dislike it.

But I would suggest giving unfamiliar music a little more time than we sometimes do.

I’ve noticed how easy it is to dismiss something after hearing only a few seconds, particularly when we’re scrolling through social media. We hear a short chorus, see a portion of the choreography, and assume we already understand what the artist is offering.

Sometimes we do.

Other times, we’re missing the better part of the song.

I would also encourage you to watch a few live performances, especially for groups whose music initially seems too dependent on production.

And perhaps that’s another way to approach P-Pop.

Don’t simply ask whether the songs sound like K-Pop.

Ask whether you enjoy the melodies. Whether the lyrics mean something to you. Whether the performers can sing. Whether the music makes you curious enough to listen again.

Those are questions we can ask of any artist.

Filipino or otherwise.

Do We Really Need to Call It Filipino Pride?

There is something else I want to discuss before ending this guide.

Living in Canada has given me opportunities to encounter Filipinos with different attitudes toward the music and entertainment coming from the Philippines.

Some remain enthusiastic about Filipino artists and are eager to share their work with others.

Others are much more dismissive.

I’ve heard the familiar criticism that Filipino entertainment is merely trying to imitate what other countries have already done.

Sometimes the criticism goes beyond individual songs or performances. It becomes a broader judgment about the ability of Filipino artists to create something worthwhile.

I find that discouraging.

Not because I believe every Filipino artist should be praised, but because I recognize something of my former self in that attitude.

I once dismissed SB19 without really taking the time to explore their music.

I assumed I understood what they were doing simply because I recognized their influences.

It took a song by BINI to make me reconsider.

And then ALAMAT gave me another reason to continue listening.

I still don’t love every P-Pop song. There are releases that don’t appeal to me and artists whose music I rarely revisit.

But I no longer assume that recognizing a foreign influence tells me everything I need to know about the work.

I think that’s a meaningful change.

At the same time, I’ve encountered Filipinos abroad who seem genuinely interested in remaining connected to the country through music, films, and other forms of entertainment.

Some are younger people looking for something that reflects their Filipino background. Others are more recent arrivals who simply want to share the music they’ve enjoyed back home.

I don’t think these experiences are necessarily contradictory.

We can be critical of our own entertainment industry and still appreciate what its artists are trying to accomplish.

We can recognize that Filipino music has borrowed from foreign influences and still find something distinctive in the result.

And we can enjoy P-Pop without turning every listening experience into a declaration of national pride.

I think that last part matters most to me.

There is a temptation, especially when we live abroad, to interpret every Filipino accomplishment as something we must celebrate.

A Filipino singer appears on an international television program, and we share the performance. A Filipino athlete wins a competition, and we proudly remind everyone where that athlete comes from.

I understand the impulse.

I’ve felt it myself.

Long before I became interested in P-Pop, I followed stories about Filipino singers finding recognition overseas. I remember the excitement surrounding Charice Pempengco, now Jake Zyrus, and the conversations about Filipino talent appearing on international stages.

There has always been something satisfying about seeing people from our country recognized elsewhere.

But I don’t want appreciation of Filipino art to depend entirely on whether the rest of the world approves of it.

Nor do I want to listen to a song simply because the performers share my nationality.

I’d like to think Filipino artists deserve the opportunity to be heard for the quality of their music.

If they make something beautiful, entertaining, comforting, or even delightfully ridiculous, then I want to appreciate it for those reasons.

The fact that the music comes from the Philippines can make the experience more personal.

But it shouldn’t have to carry the entire argument.

Maybe This Is Another Way of Staying Connected

I sometimes think about how much Filipino music has accompanied different periods of my life.

There were the cassette tapes from my childhood, filled with songs recorded from the radio and interrupted by voices of DJs whose names I no longer remember.

There were the bands I listened to during my younger years, when my musical preferences were influenced by family, church, friends, and whatever was popular at the time.

Then came the years of medical training, when music became one of the many things I turned to while trying to manage the demands of studying and preparing for examinations.

And eventually, Karera found its way into that experience.

I didn’t know then that a song I initially encountered through my wife’s interest in BINI would lead me to explore an entire generation of Filipino performers.

I certainly didn’t expect that I would continue listening to those artists after moving to Canada.

But here I am.

Somewhere along the way, the music I once dismissed became part of the ordinary soundtrack of my life.

I listened to it while commuting in Edmonton, much as I had done in the Philippines. I continued discovering artists whose music reminded me of familiar experiences, even as I adjusted to living somewhere else.

There were periods when I paid less attention.

I’ve written about that experience in When Life Got Louder Than the Music, when the demands of immigrating and adjusting to life in Canada made it difficult to remain as involved in P-Pop as I once was.

Then I saw BINI perform again, this time in a city that had become part of my new home.

I remember looking around and seeing an audience composed mostly of Filipinos, although there were people from other backgrounds, too.

I don’t want to romanticize that experience.

It was a concert. People were there to enjoy music, sing along, and watch performers they liked.

But I appreciated being there.

I appreciated seeing Filipino artists perform far from the country where I first discovered them.

And I appreciated that the music still meant something to me, even when so much else in my life had changed.

Perhaps that’s one of the quiet pleasures of living abroad.

You discover that certain things continue to accompany you without needing to remain exactly as they were.

Your relationship with your home country changes. Your routines change. Even the things you once considered familiar can begin to feel different.

But a song can still sound good through a pair of earphones.

You might recognize an expression you haven’t heard in a while, a language that reminds you of home, or a familiar emotion expressed in a new way.

Or perhaps none of those things will happen.

Perhaps you’ll simply hear a melody you enjoy.

I think that’s enough.

Just Press Play

I don’t know what P-Pop will look like ten years from now.

Some of the groups I’ve mentioned may become much more popular. Others might take different directions, change members, or eventually stop making music together.

The industry itself will probably continue changing.

There will be more influences from other countries, more experiments with language and musical styles, and more arguments about what counts as original Filipino music.

I expect some of those arguments will sound familiar.

But I hope we eventually become more comfortable allowing Filipino artists to make music without demanding that they constantly prove something about our national identity.

I hope we can criticize songs we dislike without dismissing the people who created them.

I hope artists have enough freedom to experiment, fail, improve, and occasionally surprise us.

And I hope listeners become a little more willing to explore music that doesn’t immediately resemble what they already enjoy.

Because I think about how easily I could have missed Karera.

I could have continued dismissing P-Pop as an imitation of K-Pop. I could have ignored my wife’s recommendations, scrolled past the performances, and remained perfectly content with the music I already knew.

There would have been nothing particularly wrong with that.

But I would have missed a song that meant something to me during a difficult period of my life.

I might never have explored ALAMAT, or discovered the pleasure of hearing Hiligaynon incorporated into contemporary Filipino pop.

I might never have listened more closely to G22, KAIA, and the other groups whose music now appears regularly in my playlists.

And I wouldn’t have had the experience of seeing BINI perform again, this time in Edmonton.

It’s strange how something as ordinary as listening to a song can gradually change the way you think about an entire genre.

Maybe you won’t have the same experience.

Maybe you’ll listen to a few of my recommendations and decide that P-Pop simply isn’t for you.

That’s all right.

You don’t owe these artists your admiration.

But perhaps you’ll find one song that catches your attention.

And maybe, after listening to that song a few times, you’ll become curious about the people who made it.

You might discover another group. Another melody. Another side of Filipino music that you hadn’t considered before.

That’s how it happened to me.

I started with the songs my uncles played on cassette tapes, moved through years of Filipino rock and other music, and eventually found myself listening to modern Filipino pop in a country thousands of kilometres away from where I grew up.

I still know many of those old songs.

I still enjoy them.

And now, there are a few more voices joining them.

You don’t have to call that Filipino pride.

Sometimes, it’s simply the pleasure of discovering good music.

And perhaps that’s where we should begin.

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