The things we hear when we slow down

**There’s a different kind of slowing down, where you allow yourself to be fully present. Sometimes, it’s listening to a vinyl of Charlie Lim’s Daydream album.**

Sundays are sacred. They’re reserved for rest and recharging, especially when you know you have a crazy-busy week ahead of you. My typical Sunday nowadays starts with a light breakfast, a workout, coffee, picking up and dropping off my laundry, and cleaning my condo. If I have time, I continue reading a book, watch whatever series I’m into, or scroll on my phone. And if my parents are free, I try to spend some time with them.

This is how I take things slow, but sometimes, even these routines feel like a checklist. Everything is still scheduled, and there’s always something else waiting to be done.

Last Sunday, I was reminded of a different kind of slowing down. Not the kind where you simply have fewer things on your to-do list, but the kind where you allow yourself to be fully present.

Daydreaming on a Sunday

I spent the evening at Analog in Makati for Daydream, a vinyl listening session and live performance by Singaporean singer-songwriter Charlie Lim. Part of the experience was digital detox: we were encouraged to put our phones and smartwatches inside a locker. Even before the event began, this gave me a hint of what the evening would be about: Listen to music without distractions.

The first part of the evening was a vinyl listening session in a small room with a turntable set up for the album and a microphone stand ready for the live performance that would follow. Charlie welcomed us and asked us to take our seats, even if that meant sitting on the floor. It felt less like attending a formal event and more like being invited into a friend’s living room.

As the album played, I watched Charlie clasp his hands while listening to his own music. I found the gesture endearing. Even though he must have listened to these songs countless times, there was still something about hearing them this way that seemed to matter. When it was time to flip the record, he was the one who got up to do it.

We weren’t just listening to an album playing in the background. We were giving it our attention, alongside the person who made it.

Introspection, music, relationships

*Charlie Lim and Clara Benin perform “The Hardest Thing*.”

When Nobody’s Home played, I remember thinking about how raw it sounded. I wondered if it was one of the earlier recordings for the album. During the conversation that followed, Charlie confirmed that it was one of the first songs he recorded, with only a few takes, if not just one. It was a small detail, but knowing that made listening to the song feel different.

The second part of the evening opened the floor to questions from the audience. There were only around 20 of us in the room. Charlie initially read questions written on a piece of paper, but eventually, the conversation became more spontaneous. With such a small group, anyone could simply ask him something directly.

I was fortunate enough to ask him a question: Why call the album Daydream when so much of the music feels sad and solemn? His answer was so candid that everyone in the room burst into laughter. At that moment, I felt like we had shared something that belonged to us alone. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was the kind of exchange that felt special because it happened in that room, shared by the people who were there.

Charlie spoke openly about the experiences behind Daydream, including failed relationships, dreams that didn’t turn out as planned, and the difficult parts of pursuing something you love. We tend to romanticize chasing our dreams, but there’s another side to it that we don’t always talk about: the disappointments, the uncertainty, and the things we have to work through along the way.

*Charlie Lim and Young Cocoa after performing “One Day I’ll Learn.”*

*Author Char Vilchez and Charlie Lim; guests at Analog Makati*

His songs reflected that side of life. They were introspective and, at times, difficult to sit with. But there was also comfort in hearing someone be honest about where he was in life without pretending that everything had already worked out.

The evening had its lighter moments, too. When Charlie performed Choices, he invited the audience to hum along. And I would say we were all pretty much in tune. (Filipino pride!) It was nice to hear everyone join in, even in a small way. For a moment, we were all part of the same song.

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Having Young Cocoa perform One Day I’ll Learn, one of my favorite tracks from the album, was another pleasant surprise. I love how his rap verse complements the slower melody. The contrast reminds me of how cluttered our minds can get, with so many thoughts running in different directions at once.

The duet with Clara Benin on The Hardest Thing nearly brought me to tears. If I had been alone in the room, I probably would have let a few fall. A breakup is a breakup, after all. The pain is real, and sometimes, you have to rip off the band-aid before you can begin to heal.

Since we weren’t allowed to use our phones during the experience, I brought along my disposable camera. Unlike taking photos on our phones, where we might snap five shots of the same thing just to get the perfect image, a disposable camera makes you a little more thoughtful. You don’t immediately know how the photos will turn out. You have to wait. And when you finally get them back, you get to relive the experience all over again.

Perhaps slowing down allows us to notice what we might otherwise miss and sit with feelings we’ve been pushing aside. Being self-aware is one thing; taking steps to grow is another. But we don’t have to figure everything out overnight.

I went to Analog that Sunday to listen to music. I left reminded that sometimes, we just need to sit, listen, and allow ourselves to feel. When we slow down, we might finally hear what we’ve been trying to tell ourselves all along.

Slow down and listen to Charlie Lim’s Daydream here.