#ParcinqFresh: Ysabelle Cuevas is Rewriting the Way We Hear Music

Wait… what if this song was in Tagalog, and Maris Racal performed it? 

In an industry often driven by streams, virality, and fresh sounds, Filipino-American singer-songwriter Ysabelle Cuevas has carved out a distinct niche space—one so compelling that versatile local star Maris Racal brought Ysabelle’s viral Tagalog rendition of Charli XCX’s PARTY 4 U to life on O-Bar’s stage during Pride Month.

Ysabelle’s translation sparked lively online debate: some embraced its refreshing sonic experiment, while others hesitated, unsettled by the shift. The mixed feedback stung at first, prompting Ysabelle to briefly step back from social media, but she soon reframed it. 

“People are entitled to their own opinions, and I don’t have to take those opinions as truth because I live a different truth, and I’m so glad I do,” she reflects. If her version was powerful enough for Maris Racal not only to notice it, but to perform it live at a meaningful event, it’s clear the song resonated deeply. Proof that sometimes the boldest reimaginings are the ones worth sharing.

Maris Racal’s performance highlights Ysabelle’s belief that Tagalog, a language so rich and emotive, deserves to be heard on global soundscapes, elevated by top-tier production.  “We have such high standards for Filipino music, and while that pride is beautiful,” Ysabelle says, “We still have to embrace the discomfort of being called 'cringe' sometimes. It is a necessary part of growing and discovering your craft.”

We’ve grown used to hearing music in familiar forms, so when something breaks away from that mold, strong reactions follow. To Ysabelle, that means change is happening. If her work sparks conversation, she’s exactly where she needs to be. After all, her music is made for herself first, with the hope that others might find parts of themselves in it.

Emotional Truths in Translation

Ysabelle has written songs from both her own feelings and from what she hopes others might feel. But she favors the former.  “I think it’s been more effective when I write purely from how I feel. The more authentic you are to who you are and what you feel in that moment, the more people connect with it,” she shares. “You’re not trying to feed them something you’re unfamiliar with. Relatability, I think, is a natural by-product of a song that you wrote for yourself.”

For her, translation is not just about words, but about carrying emotion across languages. “A good song is a good song,” she says. “As long as the emotions remain when I translate it, the music speaks for itself. Emotions can’t be omitted. So I’m here to help others fully understand and deeply feel what the song is saying.” By making good music more emotionally accessible, Ysabelle breaks language barriers so that what’s felt in one tongue is still deeply heard in another. As a result, it’s an experience that is both deeply personal and collectively resonant. 

“When translating songs, I prioritize message integrity over strict word-for-word accuracy. As long as it carries the same message, I allow myself the freedom to reframe it in a different light.” Take her English version of Multo by Cup of Joe. “It’s so hard to say hindi na makalaya—which directly translates to ‘I’m not free’—in the same number of syllables in English. So I rewrote it as: forever, in this prison.”

The Filipino Way of Feeling

“I am an emotional person. I definitely am a sponge,” Ysabelle admits, describing how deeply she absorbs the feelings and energies around her, whether or not they’re directly her own.  Even a mundane incident—like the time she accidentally poked holes in her apartment wall and dreaded the landlord’s reaction—inspired Lighter, a song about internalizing the quiet tension before a relationship inevitably ends. 

“Often in life, when you're too afraid of losing a relationship or uncovering the truth, you end up prolonging the fear. And in doing so, you hurt yourself more than necessary.” Her small personal mistake became a mirror for a universally resonant truth. This sensitivity is deeply rooted in pakikiramdan, the Filipino sense of intuitive empathy.  

Growing up on the theatrical ballads of Regine Velasquez, she learned to pour herself into every lyric, letting words swell with feeling. Singing in Tagalog demands more precise enunciation—a deliberate choice to avoid the playful critique of “singing in cursive” that she can get away with in English. That precision in diction deepens her connection to the music, giving each word weight and each note the fullness of Filipino singing.

“I’ve heard people in the US say, ‘You have so much emotion in your voice.’ I thought I was just being dramatic, but maybe it’s because I’m so used to feeling the words—singing in the Filipino way.”

Us, Filipinos, muni-muni a lot, sitting with our feelings instead of rushing past them. Even when the song wasn’t originally hers—say, a K-pop track in Korean—Ysabelle filters it through the way Filipinos process pain, love, and longing. Her voice, gentle yet unwavering, travels far without ever needing to be loud. It’s a paradox that is almost poetic: a quiet girl from Utah singing dramatic Tagalog ballads in crisp, heartfelt enunciation, helping others uncover and perhaps heal their own wounds.

Queued for Release

While covers may have introduced her to a global audience, Ysabelle’s sights are now set on her original music. “I write songs almost every day,” she shares. “But there’s so much technical work involved in releasing them, I physically can’t drop one daily. I write, then choose the ones that best reflect what I want to sound like at the moment. My goal is to release one song a month, hopefully building toward an album early next year.”

Her brand? “Fresh. Vulnerable. Raw. All the emotions.”

This emotional DNA defines her artistry—turning feelings into something tangible, textured, and deeply felt. Whether interpreting a K-pop ballad or writing from scratch, Ysabelle treats emotions like living things, handling them with care but never sanding down their edges.

Despite hours spent tweaking drums or vocals in post-production, Ysabelle never released a flawless song. 

“Done is better than perfect,” she recalls being told. So, she approaches each project with the same guiding principle: message integrity over perfection. “I release when the song has said everything it needed to say, and I personally love it. At that point, I can live with the repercussions of putting it out into the world, however people choose to receive it.”

Fluent in Feeling, Boundless in Sound  

Ysabelle’s artistry challenges the idea that songs must remain in their original language to hold value. For her, language can be a bridge, not a boundary, and Filipino can be a global sound, not just a local tongue.

Whether singing in Korean, English, or Tagalog, she doesn’t sanitize songs for markets. She’s preserving their emotional core while unlocking new ways to feel them.

“We have such a beautiful language,” she reiterates. “And when people hear it in a song they already love, it makes them feel it differently. More deeply, maybe. It’s time the world hears and starts to appreciate how we Filipinos make music.” In Ysabelle Cuevas’s hands, the future of sound goes beyond multilingualism and holds emotional fluency.

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Photography by Aly Uy

Art Direction by Joe Andy

Words and Interview by Gabrielli Barrios

Sittings by L.A. Bendana

Styling by Nash August and Jadriel Llorca

Style Associate James Bryan Moral

Makeup by Jhai Castillo

Shoot Coordination by Cha Canicosa

Food Sponsor Bid wok

Shoot on location at the Big Picture Asia Office

Special thanks to Guji Lorenzana and Symphonic Distribution

Accessories from Chains X Fashion