a lonely, cinematic drift shaped by old americana shadows

the crow moves like a slow turning page in a haunted storybook. alien friend leans into a rich, old world melancholy, crafting a song that feels both tender and theatrical, a dusk coloured wander through heartbreak. it carries the atmosphere of a forgotten roy orbison b-side, full of longing and dramatic gesture, yet it never feels derivative. instead, it feels like someone remembering a dream they never quite lived.

based in sweden, alien friend builds this track with an intricate sense of craft, echoing americana textures while letting something more experimental slip through the cracks. the bolero like rhythm keeps the song circling with quiet tension, while sugary background vocals soften the edges. orchestral flourishes, from strings to the surprising breath of an english horn, lift the emotional peaks and give the song its sweeping cinematic pull. the drums, performed by andreas quincy dahlbäck, land with stately restraint, while david myhr and stefan petersson’s harmonies glow in the margins. together they create a world that feels lonely yet vividly alive.

released as a standalone single, the crow holds its own as a somber portrait of isolation, a stark image sharpened by lines of crow dark loneliness. it is haunting, elegant, and beautifully out of time.

thank u for making this alien friend 🌑