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Pinoy hiphop may have waned or even lost its glint even in the cheapest, low-end frequency of the radio this point in time – but its renaissance of struggle remains at least in fighting terms. The Philippine Hiphop music awards just launched its third year, critically acclaimed albums by Nimbus Nine, Pikaso, Mike Swift and Ampon blew up hopes for scenesters who are conveniently nauseated by underground patok-radio mix acts and foreign Billboard charts-standards, and then there’s Gloc 9 already making thumping noise with stellar cast of collaborators and pimped-up rags-to-riches tales on his latest release, Diploma.

Among the recent developments, Gloc 9 seems to be a guaranteed shot of regaining what has vanished with hiphop, whether its monstrous gold-record breaking music that once attracted a strong and solid subculture, or the genre’s towering definition of brilliant verses, all marinated into swathe of keen observation and prosaic verses that executes the real meaning of what it is to live in a country like ours.

Even his hiphop resume says it all, more than his high pitched, speedy-talking signature and his humbling beginnings. Gloc started out with amazing street-rap cred, and outshining horde of wannabe’s – he wrote narratives that deals with his personal experiences, love tales from a poor man’s perspective and the societal constipations that every one of us suffers. Amongst them all, Gloc 9 remains amiably one of the most recognized hiphop artists of our time, and with his third project helming every music stores and first single “Lando” topping every major charts nationwide - once again, pinoy hiphop’s taking a step front, gambling a higher chance to regain mainstream acceptance.

But beyond the hype and the chances at stake, Gloc 9’s latest record, Diploma is hardly a knockout compared to his previous materials. Its confusing mix of heavenly great songs and excess luggage are very detrimental to the solidity of the album, since he could’ve made another brilliant five-song EP instead of icing another nine-rough cuts that sound either half-baked or simply lackluster – to call a deal for a major release third album.

Don’t get me wrong, there are exceptional tunes and more than the usual – jaw-dropping songs milled by poignant life stories and earnest musicality. “Diploma” is a highlight introduction, with ethereal back-up vocals and breakbeats stuttering and calming towards Gloc’s rich but painful narrative about his early human struggle and his achievement as both a rap artist and a poet. He sincerely spits "Ang Tula kong ito ang tinuturing kong Diploma” by contentment and conviction, like hitting bull’s eye. The drumbreaks and chaotic to mischievous drumwork of Vic Mercado makes “Demo Tape,” a jostling rap exercise, while Gloc 9 agonizes on his experience cutting demos under the scorching heat of the sun and the disgust of eating rot fishballs. Gloc also gets the best of rock and rap on the Gobas and Reg Rubio-collaboration called “The task is done,” and remarkably enters into a diaspora of credible spit-rhymes, ticking catchy beats and egotistic production values on “Lapis at Papel” and the dissing, thug-centric “Sila,” which he shares equal billing with Konflick of rap group Death Threat and Loonie of Stick Figgas. 

But “Lando” steals the event. Hauntingly executed and touching, with guitar riffs wailing on a seducing manner that occasionally morphs into darkly crisp acoustic guitar-driven chorus – “Lando” tells the narrative account of the same name, whose showcase of fairytale happenings turned into a sudden twist of faith – a tragedy that changed his life forever. Francis M. provides affecting vocal work in the Chito Miranda-penned chorus, and Gloc 9 miserably tells the disturbing tale, with dramatic license to tease. The song also has three versions in the album which includes the radio edit version and the Chito Miranda-sung chorus.

Despite all the praises, impediments are more likely noticeable, criticism-wise. Diploma suffers from its undertaking of blending mainstream sound with an alternatively loose vibe: collaborations with pop artists whose penetrably thin cred makes for something that’s crowd-mocking, cheapskate samples that’s better off set as a rebuffed polyphonic ringtone, drum machines lulling too much from overexposure and stinging quality, and the R&B-ish tendencies, although nicely paired with considerably fine vocal textures lack spiritedness and feel-good catchiness. “Sumayaw ka” with all its groovy synthesizer horns and consistently analog drums, is catchy yet it lacks the club-banging sensation and the class to grandstand as a danceable hiphop track. The attempt to sample Nelly’s “E.I” into sleazily written, off-hook slang called “B.I” is a no-brainer especially if you started out with a sound reputation, and declines two times sampling The Eraserheads’ classic “Torpedo.” “Lov na Lov” sounds as if Lovi Poe’s out of the picture, her vocal traces sounding like a third degree, lowered volume back-up singer. “Blues niyang itim” is something you’d hear in a 90’s slow jam record, with Czarina Rosales crooning with soul hurt feelings, and excruciating cheesiness – it’s short of the provoking mood that entice you to go back to bed and reminisce about that sad, break-up story you just had with your boyfriend -- something Lauryn Hill, Mary J. Blige, Alicia Keys or on local perspective, Kyla could pull-off in just a snap.

But the thing is, no matter how many drawbacks there are in this album, Gloc 9 still maintains his composure and gambles this collection of songs with full-gear statement of courage and definition. The results could’ve been better, but heck – the album isn’t half bad either. With songs like “Lando,” “Lapis at Papel” and “Sila” – you can’t go wrong with Diploma. It’s just a matter of skipping the bad tunes and congesting your time on songs that’s daring and fine-tuned to that of your music taste.