The Sapling and the Stars: A Reflection on slq’s *Crown Shyness*
There’s something both inspiring and cautionary about Crown Shyness, the debut album from Spanish progressive metal project slq. On paper, it’s a dream collaboration: César Parra Rojas, the project’s mastermind, has enlisted the talents of prog heavyweights like Diego Tejeida (Haken), Baard Kolstad (Leprous), and Nate Navarro (Devin Townsend). Yet, the result feels less like a towering oak and more like a sapling stretching toward the sun—ambitious but not yet fully formed.
The All-Star Lineup: A Double-Edged Sword
One thing that immediately stands out is the sheer pedigree of the musicians involved. Personally, I think this is both the album’s greatest strength and its most glaring weakness. On one hand, the technical prowess of Tejeida’s keyboards, Kolstad’s drums, and Navarro’s bass is undeniable. Their contributions add a layer of polish that elevates the album’s instrumental sections. Take, for instance, the salsa-infused interlude in ‘A Chasm’—a moment so unexpected and vibrant it feels like a burst of sunlight through the canopy.
But here’s the catch: their presence also highlights the album’s inconsistencies. Rojas’s guitar work, while competent, often feels derivative, and his vocals—well, let’s just say they’re the sapling’s weakest branch. What many people don’t realize is that in progressive metal, vocals are often the glue that holds the chaos together. When they falter, as they do here, the entire structure risks collapsing.
The Struggle for Identity
If you take a step back and think about it, Crown Shyness is an album searching for its identity. Named after the botanical phenomenon where trees avoid touching each other’s leaves, the title feels metaphorically apt. Rojas’s vision is clear—he wants to create something expansive, something that breathes. But the execution often feels fragmented, like a series of ideas that haven’t quite coalesced.
This raises a deeper question: Can an album be both ambitious and unfocused? In my opinion, Crown Shyness is a prime example of this paradox. Tracks like ‘A Deception’ showcase moments of brilliance—the bluesy outro is a masterclass in synergy—but they’re too often buried under meandering structures and uneven performances.
The Micro-Level Magic
What makes this particularly fascinating is that the album’s best moments are found in its smallest details. Tejeida’s skittering synths on ‘A Chasm,’ Kolstad’s off-kilter rhythms, and Rojas’s occasional guitar solos all shine when given room to breathe. From my perspective, these are the shoots of potential that hint at what slq could become.
But here’s the irony: those moments are rare. For every ‘A Return,’ with its energetic interplay between guitar and drums, there’s a ‘A Soliloquy,’ which feels like filler. It’s as if Rojas is still figuring out how to balance his vision with the realities of execution.
The Broader Implications
This album isn’t just about slq—it’s a commentary on the state of progressive metal itself. In an era where technicality often overshadows emotion, Crown Shyness feels like a reminder that even the most talented musicians need a clear direction. What this really suggests is that collaboration, while exciting, isn’t a substitute for a cohesive artistic vision.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how the album’s weaknesses mirror the struggles of many debut artists. Rojas is clearly talented, but he’s still learning how to harness that talent. If you ask me, that’s what makes Crown Shyness worth listening to—it’s raw, it’s flawed, but it’s undeniably human.
The Future of slq
So, where does this leave slq? Personally, I think Rojas has the potential to grow into something remarkable. The fact that he’s already attracted such high-caliber collaborators speaks volumes about his ambition. But ambition alone isn’t enough. He needs to refine his craft, particularly his vocals and songwriting, if he wants to stand out in a crowded genre.
If you take a step back and think about it, Crown Shyness is less of an arrival and more of a promise. It’s a sapling in a forest of giants, but with time and care, it could one day cast its own shadow.
Final Thoughts
In the end, Crown Shyness is an album that rewards patience. It’s not perfect—far from it—but it’s a fascinating glimpse into the mind of an artist still finding his voice. From my perspective, that’s what makes it worth exploring. It’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey. And for César Parra Rojas, the journey has only just begun.
Recommended Tracks: A Quest, A Chasm, A Return
Final Verdict: 4/10 (but with potential for so much more)
