Over the past 15 years, Sezairi has evolved from a breakout Singapore Idol winner into one of Singapore’s most celebrated singer-songwriters — a voice defined by warmth, honesty, and emotional precision. Known for crafting music that sits somewhere between soul and stillness, his sound has grown alongside him, exploring love, loss, and self-renewal through a distinctly Southeast Asian lens.
Now stepping into his most personal chapter yet, Sezairi has released The Art of Surrender — his fifth studio album, and first fully self-produced project under his independent label, Offlane Records, which he co-founded with his wife. The record reflects a deep period of reflection and reclamation, where creative freedom becomes both a challenge and a comfort.
Drawing from R&B, soul, and Nusantara pop, The Art of Surrender isn’t just a collection of songs — it’s an act of acceptance. It’s a quiet reminder that freedom sometimes begins where control ends. Hear65 spoke with Sezairi about learning to let go, reconnecting with memory, and what “surrender” truly means after a decade and a half of music-making.
The Art of Surrender is such an evocative title. When you talk about “surrender,” what exactly are you letting go of — creatively, personally, or even spiritually?
During the making of this album and the search for its meaning, I found myself over-intellectualizing everything. Sometimes the problem with blank slates is that the possibilities are endless. After piecing the songs together as a whole, I had the realisation that they weren’t about giving up, but rather giving in to the things that were meant to be. And at that moment, I had a realization that I have been overthinking everything and I had to "surrender" myself to the stories that were being told.
This is your first fully self-produced album, under your own label Offlane Records. What was the most liberating — and most terrifying — part of taking full control of your sound?
First of all, liberation is also a terrifying thing. Taking responsibility for a huge portion of how everything sounds is kind of a double-edged sword. It was scary to be isolated in the studio and not have a sounding board, so I really had to learn to trust my instincts. Fortunately, I have a very supportive team spread across Bandung, Jakarta and Singapore that allowed me the luxury of taking my time, so I was able to increase my skill level as a producer.
You’ve described this album as “a companion for both the good times and the bad.” Was there a specific moment in your life that sparked that message?
It was never really a specific moment, but more of a culmination of all the lessons learnt from the more "adult" phase of my life. Looking at things from a nostalgic lens but also understanding the nuances that could have only been seen in detail in hindsight.
The sonic palette of this record blends R&B, soul, and Nusantara pop. What inspired the way you merged these different influences?
Ever since my mother’s passing two years ago, the songs that she used to listen to when I was younger kept playing in my head. She used to listen to a lot of Indonesian music from the 80s and 90s. I think that was her way of connecting with her culture, being a first-generation Singaporean of Javanese descent. Initially, I tried to bring another concept to life but it didn’t really work out. So I started to surrender to the fact that these memories of her are as much a part of who I am as is my inclination towards Indonesian pop music. So blending the two felt like I could keep her close to me and immortalize our memories into song, even if it’s not in a direct way.
You worked with Nathan Hartono and Teddy Adhitya on this album — both artists with very distinct voices. Could you tell us more about these collaborations and what each artist brought to the table?
Teddy and I met while on a writing project online, that happened during COVID, and since then we’ve grown closer as friends and as writing partners. Lyrically he matches me in using simple, witty and effective words and I lean on him a lot to make sure that my ideas translate well. His energy in the studio excites me and I thoroughly enjoy working with musicians who are passionate and have a point of view that challenges mine. Nathan and I, despite being friends for 15 years, have never written a song together. One day, while I was working on the intro of the album, he came by to drop off some food and it immediately occurred to me that he would be the perfect person to help me finish the intro to the album.
As someone who’s been in both the major label system and now runs your own label, how do you think independence changes the kind of stories artists are able to tell?
For me personally, the difference isn’t really in the art itself. I’ve been very lucky the past couple of years to have had most of the creative control in my output, but that really differs from artist to artist and label to label. The biggest difference for me is in the support system and the "independence" of getting your hands dirty with the technical details of the music release and not just the creative.
Many artists talk about “creative control,” but few explore the emotional responsibility that comes with it. Now that you’re an independent artist, how do you navigate that balance between total freedom and self-pressure?
Maybe people see "creative control" as a monolith, but to me, making music is a collaborative process. Even though I produced this album mostly on my own, so many people have come together in many different ways to make it possible. Listening and opening myself up to the perspectives of my collaborators alleviates "self-pressure" and makes you realise that "total freedom" is a myth. The beauty of music lies in the collective consciousness that happens while making it and the collective consciousness that happens when everybody who listens "gets it" and is on the same page. And even if they don’t, it teaches us that everyone is different and sees the world through their own distinct lens. Isn’t that beautiful? To know that these feelings are sharable, transferable, and valid.
After 15 years in the industry, from Singapore Idol to becoming one of SEA’s most-streamed artists, how has your definition of success changed?
It’s really hard to have a specific metric of success for any artist. Everyone sees things differently but of course at the start, I’ve always wanted to write a "hit song". Since then, and especially with the current state of the music industry, I’ve really started to value the strength in community and collective sharing of thoughts and ideas. I guess at this point, success to me is knowing that my music can bring people together in a shared, safe space. Even if it’s not a physical one.
‘It’s You’ became a phenomenon — 200 million streams and counting. Why do you think that song connected so deeply with listeners, and what does it mean to you now, looking back?
I wrote that song after I tied the knot and it just felt like a balloon that had been waiting to pop. Earlier on in my career I was advised to "be single" as it would make things convenient, but that just wasn’t the type of person I am. The song was written in 2017 and at that point we had been in a relationship for eight years. So it felt good to release music and tell stories that were in synchronicity with whatever that was happening in myself and my life. Until now that has been a core value of everything I release.
You’ve said you hope listeners “rediscover the quiet power of acceptance.” If you could tell your younger Sezairi — the one just starting out in 2009 — one thing about surrender, what would it be?
Sit with your discomfort. Accept yourself for who you are. Give in to who you’re meant to be and be kind to yourself, you’ll get there eventually.
