Serving The Song in the Age of SCroll: Kris Cazin on Music Video Direction Today

Manila, Philippines — For Kris Cazin, music has always been visual long before it became vertical. Long before short-form clips, algorithms, and attention spans measured in seconds, music arrived to him fully formed—sound and image moving together on a TV screen, late at night, on MTV.

“Bata pa lang ako, Grade 1, Grade 2, lagi talaga akong nanonood ng MTV,” he says. “’Yun talaga yung pinakauna kong source ng music videos. Wala pang YouTube noon eh.”

What started as passive watching slowly became an instinct. Music wasn’t just something you listened to, it was something you saw. Music and image arrived together, inseparable. And years later, that instinct would shape a career spent translating songs into moving images.

Music Through Images

Kris grew up immersed in sound and screen. As a kid who loved both music and visuals, MTV became his entry point into understanding how the two could coexist, and elevate each other.

“All the curated music videos, nandoon lahat,” he recalls. “Doon talaga ako nahilig sa paggawa ng music video.”

The early 2000s left a deep mark on him, particularly what he calls the golden era of OPM music videos; a time when narratives weren’t afraid to step outside romance. He cites Urban Dub’s Evidence, starring Iza Calzado and directed by Quark Henares, as a turning point.

“Naalala ko ‘yun kasi narrative siya,” he says. “Parang nanood ako ng pelikula. Hindi lang basta kanta.”

That sense of storytelling stayed with him. Music videos, in his mind, weren’t fillers or promotional tools — they were films in miniature, capable of carrying emotion, tension, and meaning.

From Watching to Directing

Though Kris explored different artistic mediums, music was always the ecosystem he returned to. As a director, he leans into the idea of being multi-faceted without diluting focus. His first professional step into music video direction came through reconnection — initially through Bela Padilla, then later through Kean, who asked him to direct a project for Callalily.

“That was really my first professional music video work,” he shares.

But even as his role shifted from viewer to director, his philosophy stayed grounded. For Kris, directing was never about imprinting ego onto a song.

“I always serve the song first,” he says plainly. “Hindi ‘to pelikula ko. Music video ‘to.”

He explains that the artist carries the vision of the song — the director’s job is to help audiences absorb it visually. “I’m here to extend the life of the song,” he adds. “Para mas maramdaman ng tao ‘yung pinapakinggan nila.”

Serving the Song in a Short-Form World

Kris acknowledges that a song can live without a music video — but visuals add another layer of meaning. Another doorway into feeling.

“Treat the song as a feeling,” he explains. “Tapos yung music video nandoon para bigyan siya ng itsura. Para maging tangible.”

He points to iconic examples where sound and image are inseparable. “Thriller. Take On Me. Gusto Ko Lamang Sa Buhay,” he says. “Pag binanggit mo ‘yung kanta, automatic may image ka na agad sa isip.”

What challenges him now is how the digital age compresses intention. Shots that once took time — a slow dolly, a quiet pause — are often skipped or trimmed to fit a 15- or 30-second window due to short attention spans and the run of today’s algorithm.

“Great things take time,” he says. “Lahat ng kibot sa art form may intention.”

For Kris, there’s a difference between consuming and appreciating art. “Kapag consumer ka, okay lang panoorin mo naka–2x speed,” he says. “Pero kapag ina-appreciate mo yung art, tinitingnan mo yung details — yung galaw ng camera, ilaw, acting.”

Still, he understands the reality. Art and business coexist. Numbers matter. Viewership sustains the work. But the balance is fragile, especially when vertical formats demand that landscapes be squeezed into fifteen seconds. The challenge isn’t just technical — it’s philosophical.

Collaboration as Craft

Collaboration sits at the core of Kris’ work — especially when partnering with artists who think visually. Working with Unique Salonga stands out as one of his most formative experiences.

“Unique is a rare breed,” he says. “Package siya. Kapag gumagawa siya ng kanta, kasama na doon kung ano yung itsura niya visually.”

Unlike artists who hand off visuals entirely, Unique arrived with a clear emotional vision, one Kris helped execute through framing, color, and detail. Their process involved multiple revisions, each radically different from the last.

“Five revisions,” Kris recalls. “Pero lahat iba-iba yung itsura. Healthy collaboration ‘yun.”

That open, demanding, generous process is what Kris values most. “Wala nang mas sasaya pa sa proseso ng paggawa ng art form,” he says. For him, the joy isn’t in the credit, the virality, or even the recognition. It’s in the shared labor of making something honest.

The same spirit carried into his work with Cup of Joe, where projects like Multo became milestones not because of numbers, but because of sincerity.

“Hindi naging number one yung song dahil sa music video,” he says. “Dahil ‘yun sa kanta mismo. Pero para mapasama ako doon sa journey na ‘yun — malaking credibility siya.”

Betting on Yourself

Looking back, Kris admits that none of this felt guaranteed. As a kid, the idea of working with artists he admired felt distant — almost unreal.

“Pag bata ka, parang suntok sa buwan lang yung mga pangarap,” he says.

Standing in those moments now, he credits persistence over chance. “Yung trabaho, yung oras, yung effort — doon ko na-realize na nagbubunga lahat,” he reflects. “Kailangan mo talagang tumaya sa sarili mo.”

There’s no declaration of arrival, no neat conclusion. Just a continued commitment to process, patience, and collaboration.

Because for Kris Cazin, the joy has never been about the finished frame — but about helping a song become something you can finally see. Music first. Song first. Collaboration first. Everything else passes through.