This was not the plan.
The plan was to write a short story.
A strange little dark fable about Crow and Fawn. About devotion, control, hunger, waiting, leaving, returning, and the uncomfortable truth that sometimes the roles we assign ourselves are nowhere near as permanent as we would like them to be.
Then I made one song.
That was the first mistake.
A few hours later, somewhere between “this is kind of interesting” and “what the fuck have I done,” The Crow’s Little Kingdom has became a 1-hour & 2 minute rock opera.
Because apparently moderation remains an unexplored concept around here.
The album follows the story across seven acts as Crow and Fawn move through the same little kingdom from increasingly different perspectives.
What initially looks like a fairly simple arrangement between aggressor and pacifier begins to fracture.
The one who leaves begins to fear being left.
The one who waits discovers what it feels like to withhold.
Promises change meaning depending on who remembers them.
Antlers become weapons.
Wings become wounds.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, a coin starts turning.
There are no saints here.
There is no conveniently appointed monster standing beneath a spotlight waiting for the audience to boo.
There are simply two creatures trying to make sense of themselves through another person and gradually discovering how badly that can go when love, hunger, fear, possession, patience, and power begin using the same vocabulary.
THE ACTS
Prelude: The Crow’s Little Kingdom
I. Overture / The Little Kingdom
The gate opens.II. Black Wings Above the Garden
Crow leaves because leaving still feels like power.III. The Fawn Who Learned to Wait
Fawn turns waiting into devotion until devotion begins consuming the creature performing it.IV. Antlers & Feathers
The roles stop behaving themselves.V. Two Sides of a Coin
Recognition arrives without absolution.VI. The Gate Stands Open (Reprise)
The story ends.VII. The Kingdom Slowly Disappears From View
The curtain comes down.
Mostly.
Even the stage directions apparently wanted a solo.
What started as an experiment became something considerably stranger, larger, and far more cohesive than I expected.
It is theatrical.
It is melodramatic.
It is occasionally vicious.
It is unexpectedly tender.
And somehow, despite being an hour long, it moves like something chasing you through the woods.
So here it is.
The Crow’s Little Kingdom: A Rock Opera.
The gate was open the entire time.
