If sadness had a spokesperson in this generation, it might just be John Sam. But don’t get it twisted—his kind of sadness isn’t stagnant or pitiful. It’s poetic. It’s the kind you want playing in the background while you stare at your ceiling, pretending your life is a music video.
'Palaging Masaya' is John Sam’s latest offering: a song that pulls you into quiet solitude, then cradles you with the illusion that maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone in how alone you feel.
Clocking in just under four minutes, the track moves like a slow sigh. The instrumentation is stripped down, intimate. His voice floats like a thought you’ve been trying not to think. The lyrics? Pure Tagalog hugot, but written with precision. There’s a line between melodrama and mastery—and John Sam balances on it like he’s lived there his whole life.
“Magdamag nakatunganga, umaga na pala,” he opens, and you’re already there with him. Blank stare. Sleepless night. Wondering if the person you once loved is even the same person now. That’s the thing about his writing—it doesn’t force you to feel. It reminds you that you already do.
His music sits in the in-between. Between hope and hurt. Between pretending you’re fine and actually being fine. He doesn’t glamorize pain, but he also doesn’t flinch from it. And in 'Palaging Masaya', he explores the strange performance of being okay when everything inside you is unraveling. “Magpapanggap na laging masaya,” he sings—and suddenly you remember every moment you smiled through heartbreak.
John Sam writes like someone who knows you. Who understands that sometimes it’s easier to pretend than to confront the ache. That not all pain is loud. That sometimes, silence is the loudest thing in the room. If you’ve ever whispered “sana hindi ka mawala” into a pillow, this one’s for you.
Written during the pandemic, John Sam captures loneliness, longing, and existential musings in a track that’s both melancholic and strangely hopeful. Inspired by Harry Styles’ Golden, it blends acoustic, experimental indie, and OPM influences into something you can dance to—alone, in your room, on a late-night drive, or at an underground gig.