Hailing from the often gloomy, rain-soaked lands of Seattle, Washington, Sun Crow (Keith Hastreiter – drums, Ben Nechanicky – guitars, Brian Steel – bass, and Charles Wilson – vocals) are another one of those bands I stumbled upon via YouTube’s algorithm when it guided me toward their new album Quest for Oblivion. For a while I kept misremembering their name as “Skull Crow” or “Crow Skull,” which I’m sure are names of other cosmic / stoner / doom metal bands somewhere. Sun Crow’s name, however, brings to mind images of a fiercely intelligent, perhaps malevolent creature silhouetted by the sun at dusk, noon, or dawn – and unsettling no matter the time of day.
You’d better be ready to deliver if you name your album Quest for Oblivion, and Sun Crow are more than prepared. The shortest track on the album is just under five minutes in length. Half are over ten minutes each, and all of them are epic, monolithic power drives. Good grief, the opening track, “Collapse,” is like the sound of the namesake giant insect breaking free from its icy tomb in The Deadly Mantis and then proceeded to wreck everything in its path. “Black It Out” has Wilson’s vocals bouncing off high fortress walls while Steel’s bass launching fireballs at invading armies.
“End Over End” seems to stumble around like a sleepy mastodon for a couple moments as it shakes the frost off its wool and prepares to enter into combat with a giant squid that’s preying upon smaller creatures on the edge of a dark lake. Trust me, you’ll understand when you hear it. “Fell Across the Sky” is a powerful tale of some sort of cosmic event, perhaps the one that wiped out the mammoths, and Nechanicky’s guitar has a cool fuzzed reverb throughout it that’s outstanding. Wilson’s screams on “Fear” are pure metal, and Sun Crow wisely blends them with the guitars and Hastreiter’s fire giant heartbeat drumming so neither element overwhelms another.
“Nothing Behind” has a rocking, stomp the pedal to the metal groove. It’s practically made for drag racing. “Hypersonic” starts with shredding cacophony and then melds into a solid, head-banging groove for over nine minutes with some of Wilson’s clearest lyrics about the eventual end of man and the emergence of some…other thing nipping at our heels from the shadows. The closer, “Titans,” is as heavy and powerful as its namesake, and drifts into a great low-key section to lull you into a sense of foreboding before it comes at you like the Kraken rising out of the sea.
This is heavy stuff, but that’s what you want from an album called Quest for Oblivion. You’d be disappointed if it didn’t sound like something you’d play in your starship as you landed on a primordial sphere in deep space.
Keep your mind open.
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