The Sapling and the Stars: A Reflection on slq’s *Crown Shyness*
There’s something both inspiring and cautionary about a debut album like Crown Shyness by slq. On paper, it’s a project that should command attention: a one-man band helmed by César Parra Rojas, bolstered by the talents of prog heavyweights like Diego Tejeida, Baard Kolstad, and Nate Navarro. Yet, as I sat with this album, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it’s a story of ambition outpacing execution—a sapling reaching for the canopy but not quite finding its footing.
The All-Star Lineup: A Double-Edged Sword
Let’s start with the elephant in the room: the guest musicians. Personally, I think the inclusion of Tejeida, Kolstad, and Navarro is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, their presence lends Crown Shyness an undeniable polish. Tejeida’s keyboard work, for instance, is nothing short of sublime—whether he’s skittering through the synths in ‘A Chasm’ or delivering emotive piano lines in ‘A Beacon.’ Kolstad’s drumming, too, is a masterclass in rhythmic complexity, even if it sometimes feels like he’s trying to elevate material that doesn’t quite deserve it.
But here’s the thing: their contributions often overshadow Rojas’s vision. It’s like hiring a Michelin-starred chef to cook your family recipe—the execution is flawless, but the soul of the dish gets lost. Rojas’s guitar work, while competent, feels derivative at times, and his vocals… well, let’s just say they’re the weak link. What many people don’t realize is that in prog metal, vocals are often the glue that holds everything together. When they falter, as they do here, the entire structure feels precarious.
The Botanical Metaphor: A Missed Opportunity?
The album’s title, Crown Shyness, is named after the phenomenon where trees avoid touching each other’s canopies, creating a harmonious ecosystem. It’s a beautiful metaphor, but I can’t help but feel it’s underutilized. If you take a step back and think about it, the album doesn’t quite embody this concept. Instead of a cohesive, symbiotic whole, Crown Shyness often feels like a collection of individual efforts that never fully integrate.
This raises a deeper question: Can a one-man project truly thrive when it relies so heavily on external talent? In my opinion, the answer is yes—but only if the core vision is strong enough to unify the parts. Unfortunately, Crown Shyness lacks that unifying force. Tracks like ‘A Deception’ and ‘A Return’ have their moments, but they’re exceptions rather than the rule.
The Micro vs. Macro Experience
One thing that immediately stands out is how Crown Shyness rewards micro-level listening. When the band locks in, as they do in the salsa-infused section of ‘A Chasm’ or the bluesy outro of ‘A Deception,’ it’s pure magic. Rojas’s guitar solos, in particular, shine in these moments—a detail that I find especially interesting, given how uneven the rest of his performance can be.
But here’s where the album falters: the macro experience. Structurally, many tracks feel aimless, meandering through ideas without a clear destination. It’s like a road trip where the scenery is stunning, but the driver doesn’t know where they’re going. What this really suggests is that Rojas is still finding his voice as a composer. There’s potential here, but it’s buried under layers of uncertainty.
The Future of slq: A Budding Vision?
If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Crown Shyness is not a failure—it’s a learning curve. Rojas spent years crafting this album, and while it may not be a masterpiece, it’s a testament to his dedication. What makes this particularly fascinating is the room for growth. Imagine if Rojas could refine his vocals, tighten his compositions, and truly integrate his collaborators’ talents into a cohesive vision.
From my perspective, the future of slq hinges on Rojas’s ability to step out of the shadows of his guest musicians and assert his own identity. Will he remain a struggling sapling, or will he grow into something truly unique? Only time will tell.
Final Thoughts
Crown Shyness is an album of contradictions: impressive yet uneven, ambitious yet unfocused. It’s not an album I’d recommend to everyone, but it’s one I’ll remember—if only for its potential. Personally, I think Rojas has the makings of something special, but he’s not there yet. For now, Crown Shyness is a promising start, but it’s just that—a start.
Recommended Tracks: ‘A Chasm,’ ‘A Return,’ ‘A Beacon’
Final Verdict: 4/10
If you take a step back and think about it, Crown Shyness is less of an album and more of a conversation—a dialogue between a budding artist and the giants he admires. It’s messy, it’s flawed, but it’s undeniably human. And in a genre as technical as prog metal, that humanity might just be its most valuable asset.
