m25 Founders Series: Allan Feliciano, Co‑Founder of loudBox Studios Manila
m25’s Founders Series celebrates the real people behind productions and the companies they build. In an era where AI can churn out endless and mindless content in minutes, it’s easy to forget that true creativity still begins with a human spark. This episode focuses on Allan Feliciano co-founder of Philippines based music studio, loudBox.
For over 25 years, Allan Feliciano has been at the heart of the Philippines’ advertising audio industry. Unlike many who transitioned from mainstream music, Feliciano’s career began where the brief begins – in advertising itself. From his early freelance days and time as a composer’s assistant, to his years at Hit Productions and ultimately co‑founding loudBox, Feliciano has built a career defined by sharp strategy, creative rigor, and an uncompromising ear for brand storytelling.
Under his leadership, loudBox has grown from a scrappy extra‑bedroom setup into one of the Philippines’ most respected names in music, audio, and video production.
Along the way, Feliciano has not only shaped the studio’s identity but also assembled and mentored the elite musical team that powers its ongoing success. In this episode, Allan reflects on the grit and grind of loudBox’s early days, the highs and lows that forged its DNA, and the lessons that continue to guide his work as the studio expands its influence across Asia.
loudBox Studios has become one of the Philippines’ most respected names in music, audio, and video production. Can you take us back to the moment you decided to start the company, what or who inspired you, and what was your vision for it?
I started plotting loudBox in my last years at Hit. I was this close to quitting the industry altogether until Manuel (Legarda) and Rico (Blanco), two legends of Pinoy rock who happened to be my officemates, said, “What if we build our own?” I gave Hit two-years’ notice and jumped.
The first six months were pure indie hustle: an extra bedroom in my mom’s office building, a laptop, a bargain interface and mic, blankets for acoustic padding. My savings vanished paying singers and guitarists long before we could bill anyone; I lived on carinderia meals and hand-delivered CDs and USBs across Manila. Meanwhile, Manuel and Sach (Castillo, our most in demand vocalist at the time) were literally building the studio while I figured out how to fund my share and do every tiny task myself with no tech support, just me and a forgiving Mac. When clients finally started trusting emailed music, it felt like the city loosened a knot. Moving into the actual loudBox an honest-to-goodness studio felt like stepping from rehearsal room to real stage.
Looking back, what were the biggest highs and lows in those early years, and how did they shape loudBox’s identity?
Highs: The day we opened the finished studio, everything changed. Producers who were wary of the “extra-bedroom setup” suddenly saw a team, a front desk, a door with our name on it and the floodgates opened. In week one we already had briefs from Coke, Jollibee, KFC, McDonald’s, and the telcos. We realized in a month we needed more hands and fast. We recruited talent and even new investors, and ran a cheeky ad in adobo magazine: “Now Pirating.” Month-over-month growth followed.
Lows + Lessons: Our growing pains were admin: an accountant who vanished overseas and a studio full of creatives with no “sane adult” steering ops. Edsel found Neneng, and overnight we ran like a well-oiled machine. I kept one rule: as an owner, do everything at least once: clean the toilet, program the accounting DB, write the music, deliver the masters, answer the phones. It kept us humble, fast, and allergic to excuses.
Your team includes seasoned composers, arrangers, lyricists, voice casters, and sound engineers. How would you describe loudBox’s signature approach to crafting music and sound? Are there uniquely Filipino influences or cultural elements that consistently find their way into your work?
At loudBox we always write in teams. We pair people so one person’s superpower covers another’s blind spot. On one early ad I sketched a rough piano hook while the next room orchestrated strings and woodwinds and another room hammered the rhythm section. It wasn’t just a deadline trick, it was putting people where they’re strongest.
I’m a melody-first guy. If it isn’t singable, forget it. The composition can be complex, but it shouldn’t sound complex. I’ll take a cute, pitchy note with an attitude over a sterile “perfect” take any day. Clients behind me at the desk? Love it; that bandmate energy never gets old.
We’re obsessive about translation. A mix has to live on phone speakers, headphones, mall PAs, and cinemas. We chase parity between headphones and speakers and QC across devices before anything ships. We also keep a multi-version habit of two or three options before the client even hears them and we’re happy to pivot back to version one if that’s the one that sings. And yes, I used to run the yosi test on AirPods; now it’s coffee… or wine. Fresh setting, fresher ears.
(Half-joking rule: I don’t save my files. If a session crashes and I can’t remember the idea, maybe it didn’t deserve to live. I still scream loud enough for the next building to hear, though.)
Filipinos love complex chords and unpredictable intervals that still land pretty and memorable, it’s more romantic than jazzy, more emotional than technical. That’s in my DNA. For more ethnic colors, our composers and session greats bring kubing, kulintang, and indigenous textures when the story calls for it.
Culturally, Filipino ads often score every movement the music works extra hard. On a global spot I was asked to tone that down; the Filipino pulse still peeked through, and in the end we found just the right balance was exactly what made the piece travel.
Is there one project in loudBox’s history that stands out for its complexity, creative ambition, or cultural impact? What lessons from that project continue to influence your work today?
If there’s a loudBox calling card, it’s our original songs. That’s where we get the most raves: the 30-second pieces people are still replaying a decade later. Artists call us when they want their ad to feel like a real release, and we’ve had songs bought out for international runs. More than once the track outlived the media buy and became more famous than the ad which, frankly, makes the ad even more effective.
Briefs here can be wonderfully insane: writing two different songs in different genres that, when played together, make musical sense; scoring a Broadway-style number over locked choreography that was originally danced to a different tempo; stitching live instruments and choirs from living rooms into broadcast anthems during WFH. Years of “tests” forged our identity.
Standing lesson: You can’t stop learning. New musical and technical tricks are waiting for the next brief to be unleashed. We chase the “aha” tear-up moment – when someone wells up and can’t explain why.
How has building a career and business in the Philippines prepared you for working with international brands and collaborators? In what ways do you see the Philippines’ creative strengths resonating with audiences across Asia?
Building in Manila trained us for the world. Manila deadlines teach speed and resilience you learn to ship fast without losing soul. Being a karaoke nation gives you a ruthless ear for hooks that travel; if a melody survives jeepney speakers, phone speakers, and cinema sound, it’ll survive anywhere. Our bayanihan workflow makes clients feel like bandmates, not spectators, and our mixes are built to translate from earbuds to atriums to broadcast. Add the time-zone, sweet spot, and classic Filipino resourcefulness, and you get a team built in Manila, ready for the world.
Across Asia, audiences respond to emotion-first storytelling: big hooks, clean themes, that subtle kilig lift in the chorus. Filipino teams blend East/West naturally, so a track feels local enough to belong but polished enough to travel perfect for how Asia discovers and spreads music today.
From your perspective, how has the music and audio production landscape in the Philippines changed over the past decade? Which of these changes do you think will most influence the Asian market in the next few years?
We went from studio-only to hybrid for real. Top-tier work happens in pro rooms and bedrooms; great takes don’t care where the mic is if the idea sings. Short-form ate the world, so we learned to land a hook in five seconds and make 6s/15s feel like full stories. Teams got leaner and faster composer-producer-mixer in one and clients started co-creating earlier (which I love). More briefs now ask for sonic brand systems (stings, UX sounds, playlists), and the tech lift has been real: AI helpers for denoise, stem splits, vocal align; cloud sessions; instant recalls that used to take an afternoon.
What’s hard? Attention spans. Short-form can tempt you to chase the cut and forget the song. Our fix: write the melody first, then build modularly (6/10/15/30) with stems that travel. Tech is our pit crew; the art still drives.
With AI, digital tools, and new production technologies transforming the creative process, how is loudBox integrating these innovations into your workflow? How do you ensure technology enhances rather than overshadows the artistry of your work?
We treat AI like a very talented officemate, a thought partner we can bounce ideas off. It’s the ultimate Robin: always on call, never tired. In practice, AI is our pit crew, not the driver stem splits for fast alt-mixes, denoise and vocal align, tempo-map cleanup, cue-sheet assists, first-pass transcripts, quick arrangement sketches to test directions.
On ops we run speed rails: cloud session templates, shared plug-in stacks, a one-click version vault for instant recalls, and deliverable packs for broadcast/social/cinema. Hard line: we do not use AI for voice-casting decisions. Humans and trusted databases rule that department. Art > gadget: If a tool doesn’t make the melody clearer or the emotion stronger, it’s out of the session. Red lines: no undisclosed AI voices, never training on stems we don’t own, and human sign-off on every emotional choice.
What advice would you give to young Filipino composers, producers, and sound engineers who want to start and gain entry to the industry? Are there specific skills, mindsets, or experiences you believe are essential for success in today’s fast‑changing creative industry?
Trust your instincts. If it’s good to you, it’s good, even if it doesn’t sound like anybody else. Simplicity beats complexity-for-complexity’s sake; if a piece ends up complex, pray it doesn’t sound complex. Keep learning, stay hungry. The moment that itch is gone, something’s wrong.
On craft: Make your mixes translate everywhere; be great in the room (label tracks, print stems, name files properly); work like a team sport (find people who cover your blind spots); keep a two-version habit so you can pivot in 15 minutes. And learn the boring business stuff: clean invoices, basic contracts, backups, deadlines. It keeps the music alive.
As you expand your influence in Asia, what trends, market movements, or new ways of working do you foresee shaping the industry in 2025–2026? How is loudBox positioning itself to lead creatively and commercially in this next chapter?
We’re leaning hard into two things: an APAC Writing Room and a Regional Bench. The APAC Writing Room is our standing cross-border collab: day-one melody, day-two local lyrics, day-three masters one hook that travels with real cultural nuance. The Regional Bench is our curated network of lyricists, vocalists, and session players across Asia, so a brand can keep one sonic identity while sounding authentically Filipino, Indonesian, Thai, or Vietnamese on cue. Some days we lead and write the anthem and steer the mix. Other days we plug into a director’s vision and execute with Manila speed and polish. Either way: one melody, four languages, one soul.
Why it works: we craft hooks that translate, run a meticulous Translation Lab that checks parity between headphones and speakers (then across phones, nearfields, soundbars, mall PA, cinema), and keep AI as the pit crew while humans make the emotional calls. Built in Manila, tuned for APAC, and shipping fast without losing heart. Proof points: a Peninsula Hotels campaign that aired in the UK and Turkey then rolled out city-by-city wherever Peninsula has a property; and sustained APAC work via P&G.
After diving deep into the craft, challenges, and future of creativity, we like to close our Global Founder Series on a lighter note. These quick‑fire questions are designed to reveal the personal quirks, cultural touchpoints, and everyday inspirations that shape our guests beyond the boardroom. From first gigs and comfort food to traffic soundtracks and dream venues, it’s a chance to see the human side of the creative journey and to end things on a high, with one word that captures the spirit of Filipino creativity.
Some lighthearted questions…
1. First gig you ever played or produced in the Philippines
I skipped the bar circuit and went straight to advertising. First “gig” was a jingle up against a famous composer who owned the agency. We won it. Trial by fire; my first stage was a boardroom.
2. Go‑to comfort food after a long studio session (adobo, sinigang, or something else?)
Balut. Warm, with rock salt and a splash of vinegar at 1:37am. Ends the day, starts the next idea.
3. Manila traffic survival soundtrack
Prince, Billy Joel, Ryan Cayabyab, APO Hiking Society, and movie scores. If the chorus hits before the U-turn, we’re okay.
4. One OPM (Original Pilipino Music) artist you’d love to collaborate with
Any OPM artist, especially the ones I grew up with. I went straight into advertising, so I never lived the artist-side life. To write outside the ad world with the people who trained our ears would be an honor.
5. Best beach in the Philippines for creative inspiration
Coron: dramatic limestone cliffs, clear water, quiet coves.
Boracay: sunrise walks, powdery sand, blue-on-blue horizon.
6. Favorite Filipino phrase or expression you use in the studio
“Sige, isa pa.” “Konti pa-‘yun na ‘yun.” “Pwede na ’to?-Hindi pa!”
House rules: keep going, chase the tiny improvement, don’t settle.
7. Halo‑halo or taho and why
Taho. Warm, simple, perfect at ridiculous hours.
8. A sound that instantly reminds you of home (jeepney horns, sari‑sari store chatter, waves in Siargao…)
Tricycle hum at dusk and a cat’s meow by the window. Instant calm.
9. Dream venue in the Philippines to stage a live loudBox showcase
UP Sunken Garden. Choir + band at sunset on the lawn. No velvet ropes, just music and community.
10. One word that sums up the Filipino creative spirit
Bayanihan. I hate working alone. Our best work happens when we carry the load together.