The Sapling’s Struggle: A Reflection on Crown Shyness and the Pursuit of Artistic Identity
There’s something undeniably captivating about a debut album, especially when it’s born from the ambition of a single visionary. Crown Shyness, the brainchild of Spanish composer César Parra Rojas, is one such project. Named after the botanical phenomenon where trees avoid touching each other’s leaves, the album feels like a metaphor for Rojas’s own artistic journey—a quest for space in a crowded canopy of progressive metal. But does it find its place in the sun, or does it remain a sapling struggling for light?
The All-Star Lineup: A Double-Edged Sword
One thing that immediately stands out is Rojas’s ability to recruit an impressive roster of session musicians. Baard Kolstad (Leprous), Diego Tejeida (Haken), and Nate Navarro (Porcupine Tree live) are no small names, and their presence is a testament to Rojas’s networking skills. Personally, I think this is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, their contributions add a level of polish and technical prowess that elevates the album. Tejeida’s keyboard work, for instance, is nothing short of sublime, injecting moments of brilliance into tracks like A Chasm and A Beacon. On the other hand, their presence raises the bar so high that Rojas’s own limitations—particularly his vocals—become glaringly apparent.
What many people don’t realize is that hiring big names doesn’t guarantee a cohesive album. It’s like assembling a dream team without a clear game plan. The result? A record that feels more like a collection of impressive moments than a unified vision. This isn’t to diminish Rojas’s effort—crafting an album is no small feat—but it does highlight the challenge of balancing ambition with execution.
The Sound: A Primordial Prog Metal Experiment
Crown Shyness is often described as sounding like Tool, Leprous, and Porcupine Tree had a love child. While this comparison isn’t inaccurate, it’s also not entirely fair. Rojas’s sound is undeniably derivative, but what makes this particularly fascinating is his attempt to carve out his own identity within these influences. Tracks like A Deception and A Return showcase his potential, with moments of bluesy grandeur and melodic solos that hint at a unique voice.
However, the album’s lack of focus is its Achilles’ heel. From my perspective, it’s as if Rojas is still figuring out what kind of artist he wants to be. The salsa-infused piano section in A Chasm is a bold move, but it feels more like an experiment than a deliberate choice. If you take a step back and think about it, this indecision mirrors the album’s title—Rojas is giving himself room to grow, even if it means leaving some branches unpruned.
The Vocal Dilemma: A Thorn in the Crown
Let’s address the elephant in the room: Rojas’s vocals. In my opinion, this is where Crown Shyness stumbles most noticeably. While his intentions are clear, his execution often falls short. Pitch issues, oversinging, and a lack of control make his vocals the weak link in an otherwise technically impressive album. What this really suggests is that sometimes, even the most talented composers need to step back and let someone else take the mic.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Rojas’s vocals are mixed. Boosting them to compensate for their quietness only amplifies their flaws, creating a homogeneity that colors the entire record. It’s a classic case of trying too hard, and it raises a deeper question: Is it better to aim for perfection and fall short, or embrace imperfection as part of the journey?
The Micro-Level Magic: Moments of Brilliance
Despite its flaws, Crown Shyness isn’t without its merits. When the band locks in, the result is nothing short of magical. The grandiose outro of A Deception, with Rojas’s wah-drenched solo and Tejeida’s strident organ, is a standout moment. Similarly, the instrumental section in A Return showcases Rojas at his best, with Kolstad’s energetic drumming and Tejeida’s playful piano creating a sense of synergy.
What makes these moments so compelling is their rarity. They’re like flashes of sunlight breaking through the canopy, reminding us of what could be if the album had a clearer direction. From my perspective, these highlights are a testament to Rojas’s potential—a glimpse of the artist he could become with time and refinement.
The Bigger Picture: A Struggling Sapling with Room to Grow
If Crown Shyness feels like a record striving for clarity, it’s because it is. Rojas’s vision is ambitious, but it’s also unfocused. The addition of all-star musicians can’t mask the album’s deficiencies, but it does provide a foundation for future growth. Personally, I think this is where the album’s true value lies—not in what it is, but in what it could become.
What this really suggests is that artistic growth is rarely linear. Rojas has taken a bold first step, and while Crown Shyness may not be a masterpiece, it’s a promising start. The shoots are beginning to bud, and with time, patience, and perhaps a few hard lessons, Rojas could grow into a towering presence in the prog metal scene.
Final Thoughts: A 4/10 with a World of Potential
Giving Crown Shyness a 4/10 might seem harsh, but it’s a reflection of the album’s current state, not its future potential. Rojas has laid the groundwork for something special, but he’s still in the early stages of his journey. If you’re a fan of progressive metal and enjoy seeing artists push boundaries—even if they don’t always succeed—this album is worth a listen.
One thing that immediately stands out is the album’s honesty. Rojas isn’t trying to hide his flaws; he’s putting them out there for the world to see. And in a genre often criticized for its pretension, that kind of vulnerability is refreshing.
So, is Crown Shyness a struggling sapling? Absolutely. But every great tree starts as a sapling, and Rojas has already shown that he has the roots to grow. Here’s to hoping his next album reaches for the sky.
Recommended Tracks: A Quest, A Chasm, A Return
You May Also Like: Human By Nature, Inhalo
Final Verdict: 4/10
