Plaka Notes #6: Séance by crwn
The "first" album from one of Manila's leading electronic producers forces me to confront my insecurities... under dim lights, with a steady groove.
When I decided to feature Séance, the “first” album from producer and songwriter crwn, I braced myself a little bit.
Okay, let me explain.
The plan was to write about something of a more indie persuasion on the Once Monthly. crwn—King Puentespina in real life—felt like an easy place to start, partly because the release calendar and my editorial calendar jived, and partly because he is no stranger to me. Séance may be his “first” album, but he’s been around for roughly a decade by now, having released several EPs, both solo and collaborative, as well as a “beattape”, 2018’s Orchid. (I wrote about it on the old music blog.) I have even seen him live. Twice. Both instances were not in sweaty nightclubs, as that was never really my thing. The first was, if I recall correctly, the launch of Reese Lansangan’s first album, which was in this well-lit (and yet spartan) event space in the art-y part of Makati.
But then, there’s something about this intersection of electronic, R&B, jazz and hip-hop that makes me feel like I am not supposed to get it unless I’m really immersed in the scene that enables it, surrounds it, is bathed in it. I will confess that this has a lot more to do with me than with crwn and his contemporaries.
Me, I’ve always associated electronic music—club music?—with, well, perhaps not exactly with being cool, but with being part of the crowd. I had that phase when I was in university. I was discovering trip-hop—this was around the time I was generally discovering British indie and, generally, music beyond what our radio stations played—and found that I liked some Zero 7 songs.
Some time in my junior year a chillout radio station launched in Manila, and I listened to it religiously. Got invited to its launch, even. Got the chance to watch one of my favorite Filipino groups ever, Drip. Got their autographs at the back of an envelope. (More on that in a future post I have actually written months ago.) I felt like I knew what I was doing and where I was headed, even if as a 17-year-old I was very much neither.
But that was the extent of it. I wasn’t the type of guy who went on nights out, in part because I I lived far away from the city, and I didn’t drive, and public transport is shit, and I didn’t want to go home late. (That, and nobody really invited me.) When I did find myself crossing paths with that scene, I always felt like a fish out of water, and the positive things I associated with the music ended up reminding me of my own insecurities, those very things I still carry to this day.
I know, it’s unfair to raise all that now. But I feel the need to mention it because I felt it’s necessary to set the context for Séance—the vibe it wants to exude, at least compared to his previous work.
Séance, to put it very simply, is crwn’s “greatest hits” record.
No, it’s not a best-of, but it is filled with crowd pleasers. It is the record you put on if you want a little dance in your living room—although maybe you should really be experiencing this in a night out? But that’s not my context. I was listening to this with earphones on at a donut place very late at night. There’s a jubilation that’s somewhat held back across the record, reminiscent of crwn’s “preface” for the album, about “unrequited love, the struggle of finding love, and … being at the center of love itself.” I remember the talk of loving yourself before you can be loved by others, and how I fought back against that unfair characterization, and how I regret that it is the rules I have to play with now.
Apart from its opening and closing pieces, Séance features an army of collaborators, both old and new. crwn’s breakthrough was in his 2015 EP How I Love, a collaboration with vocalist Jess Connelly; she shows up here. Four years later he shared another EP, Labyrinth, with August Wahh; she shows up here, too. They join the likes of Jason Dhakal, Loner and Nadine Lustre, very much forging a new direction for herself after years as a mainstream star.
But—and again, this is all down to my personal context—my standout piece of the album is “Ouroboros”, his collaboration with fellow producer Six the Northstar. He’s another guy I’ve come across before, through his work with hip-hop group Shadow Moses, but his leaning towards the soulful has revealed another side to crwn’s work. Their joint 2022 release, Equinox, is really a piece of sound art, bringing together disparate influences and elevating the initial premise of a record about the sun. The same dynamic is at play in “Ouroboros”, an aural breather before everything kicks back in.
My second standout is “Dreaming of You”, featuring dream pop vocalist Tala—although to be honest, this song does hit a lot of buttons for me, being that mournful closer that sounds hopeful while hiding some heretofore undisclosed, lingering gloom.
I realize that my favorites from Séance are reminiscent of his work on Orchid, which is an even more stripped back affair—no vocals, little ornamentation, and yet shows crwn’s detailed approach in full display. But I am not suggesting Séance isn’t for me, not entirely. It is a good entry point to his diverse soundscapes and varied influences, and revisiting his discography for this Plaka Note has been rewarding… although I can’t help but wonder if I’d be in a better position to appreciate it if I was hearing this while getting lost in the haze of unbridled glee and confidently knowing you are loved.
But enough about me. I had another thought while listening back to crwn’s work: we don’t give credit to the fact that it’s the cooler side of Filipino pop—I’m feeling wordy; let’s call it Filipino vibe pop—are doing reasonably well abroad. I was thinking in particular of Eyedress, who recently released Vampire in Beverly Hills, a monster of an album with equally varied soundscapes. (Funnily enough, I was also able to watch him live. I think?) Between that and the steady rise of James Reid and Ylona Garcia, I think we have a strong shot… provided we don’t demand a massive hit. But then, we all want to be part of the crowd, don’t we?