Before they were a band, they were just four eldest daughters trying to survive adulthood.

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Asian Panganay began as a solo idea. Angeli Eluna had been writing songs out of frustration – about family pressure, about being the eldest daughter in a Filipino household, about carrying expectations that rarely get spoken about but are always felt. She didn’t want to write from a place that felt borrowed. If she was going to make music, it had to come from something real.

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Those early demos were simple. Basic chords. Rough recordings. Just Angeli and her thoughts.

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Then she brought them to Dani Ricalde.

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They met through work and creative circles, eventually reconnecting at a Purveyr Fair. Both worked in marketing and multimedia spaces, navigating their own versions of burnout and expectation. “Trauma bond” might be the joke they use to describe it, but what formed was creative trust. 

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The project stopped being solo. 

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Toni Lucero, who is technically the oldest in age, came in on bass. Kaya Katigbak, a drummer active in multiple bands, joined soon after. Cielo Riquelman who’s also active in multiple bands, took on rhythm guitar. Coincidentally, all of them were ‘panganay’ or eldest children. And so, the name stuck. 

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Asian Panganay is a name well-lived. 

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WRITING FROM THE FIRSTBORN POV

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The band centers its identity around being Filpina, being eldest daughters, and navigating Asian family structures. That lens shapes the way they write and the way they present themselves. 

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Disconnection Notice, their first single, came straight out of frustration. Angeli wrote it during a moment of emotional overload–the kind that comes from typical family conflicts

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that never feel small when you’re the eldest. The song became the origin point of the band. 

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“If I’m going to write something,” Angeli shares, “I don’t want to feel like a poser. This is what I know. Being a panganay. Being a woman growing up in an Asian household.”

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Their sound sits in alternative rock but doesn't stay neatly there. Shoegaze textures. Noise. Pop sensibilities. R&B influences from Toni. The Smashing Pumpkins and Cheats in Dani’s guitar tones. It’s a venn diagram of references that somehow filters into something cohesive. 

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“It’s like a scrapbook music,” they say. Different clippings of the same page. 

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Angeli usually brings in the skeleton of a song, then Dani helps shape arrangements. Sometimes Dani writes entire songs, too. Once the framework is there, the rest of the band builds their parts instinctively. There’s space for everyone. 

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No one fights for airtime because they already have other outlets–solo projects, other bands, side work. Asian Panganay feels more like an alignment than it is a competition.

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RAGE AS COMMON GROUND

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If there’s one thing they share at the core, it’s rage. 

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Not explosive anger, but that quiet, simmering understanding that comes from growing up under pressure. That unspoken expectation to be responsible, be strong, and get it right the first time. That shared emotional language makes collaboration easier. 

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“When we talk, we already get each other,” Dani explains. “There’s already a common ground and that’s where we align, even if our influences are different.”

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Over the past year, they’ve built this girlhood friendship in a sense of safety that allows them to experiment without ego. 

For Dani, who identifies as introverted, that safety changed everything. Playing in women-led spaces for the first time felt different. “You see other women doing it and you realize, kaya pala. It’s doable.”

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ROOTED IN THE SCENE 

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Asian Panganay may have officially started performing as a band in January 2025 at Mow’s but they’ve been part of the scene since 2016.

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Much of their early momentum came from shows at Mow’s, which they credit as a major space for musical exploration and equal footing among artists, and have since received out-of-town invites at Not Very Noise and All Out Art Space. Producers like Dale Marquez of Popscene MNL, who booked their first show. Collectives like Sleeping Boy Collective. Smaller café shows that experiment beyond traditional venues.

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They’ve played in Baguio, Makati, Mandaluyong, and Quezon City. Sometimes in established spaces, sometimes beside a videoke noise outside Sari Sari. They’ve also performed at women-centered events like Abante Babae. They show up for organizations like ARPAK and exist inside the ecosystem of it all. 

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For Asian Panganay, community means finding people who share the same goals–more representation for women in music, more spaces for queer artists, more honesty. 

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Most of the band members identify as queer and that reality quietly shapes their presence. 

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“Underrepresentation starts with self-doubt,” Angeli says. In male-dominated spaces, women are judged early–sometimes before they’ve even fully learned their instruments. Many talented musicians never get platforms because they don’t know who to approach or they’re too hesitant to step forward. 

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Asian Panganay hopes visibility alone can shift that by saying, “If they can do it, I can do it.”

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HUMAN FIRST, ALWAYS

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They’re also careful not to frame themselves as a grand empowerment project.

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“We didn’t start this as some big women empowerment statement,” Angeli says. “We’re just people and still human.” Dani adds that women in music are often placed on pedestals, expected to be exceptional at all times. 

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“Just normal people, too, with normal lives.”

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By day, they each work in healthcare tech, marketing, food & beverage industries. Meanwhile, Cielo is a graduating student in music production and has yet to step into the “real world”. Both Angeli and Dani build apps, design, produce, and then gig at night.

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But outside gigs, they’re also visual artists. This March, they’re part of a Laguna Art Show called, ‘Pangil sa Pangil’ under All Out Art Space, a Women’s Month exhibition. Their creative lives spill into each other.

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WHAT SUCCESS LOOKS LIKE

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This year, the main goal is to simply release Asian Panganay’s EP.

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They’ve been working on it since late 2024 with producer Billie Zulueta, and still everything else remains DIY with no label, and no heavy machinery behind them. Just intent. 

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“Stream Disconnection Notice,” they laugh, half joking, half serious. 

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When asked what conversations they hope their music sparks, Angeli keeps it direct: she wants more women to talk about music, to ask questions, to make mistakes publicly, to not feel alien in rehearsal rooms or onstage. 

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She wants more women-led shows with more complexity in how women are understood, and in more rooms for women to simply just be human. That spirit carries into their upcoming show on March 14 at Mow’s, where Asian Panganay will take part in Film Buff Girls, a night that leans into pop culture, girlhood, and a little bit of drama. 

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For them, it’s exactly the kind of space they hope to keep building: one where women show up, take space, and just enjoy being together.

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Asian Panganay is a band of five eldest daughters making noise out of lived experience and for those listening, this alone is already revolutionary.