Chicago Dark Post-Punk Outfit Miss Misery Pays Tribute to The Crow in Their Video for “Corvus”

“People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.” – The Crow

Grief, like the mighty crow, lingers at the threshold, neither fully of this world nor the next. Its wings beat heavy with sorrow, carrying the weight of love lost and wounds unhealed. When death strikes cruelly, unjustly, it leaves an ache that cannot settle, a soul tethered by its pain. The crow becomes a metaphorical vessel of that grief, circling the land of the living with memories too raw to fade. It doesn’t bring comfort but the hope of reckoning—a chance to give shape to the unspeakable, to right what was shattered. In grief’s shadow, the crow carries the burden of both loss and longing.

Miss Misery, hailing from Chicago’s wind chilled heart, finds fresh footing with Corvus, a single born of a reimagined lineup and reawakened ambition. Their songs teeter between tenderness and turmoil, entwining the ache of love and the sting of loss with rhythms that pound like restless pulses. Guitars shimmer and sting, threading melodies both bright and biting, while vocals linger like whispers on the wind, equal parts longing and resolve.

Corvus unfurls as both elegy and evolution, a song steeped in loss and the fragile thread between life and death. Alec Green’s late father, Jamie, penned much of the lyrical backbone, infusing the piece with a poignancy that transcends performance. Interpreted through Alec’s voice and the band’s hands, it becomes a vessel for deeply personal grief and collective catharsis. Its heartbeat is unmistakably post-punk, a sharp turn from the group’s electronic roots, yet its soul remains rooted in raw, unfiltered emotion.

Their sound nods knowingly to kindred spirits—Twin Tribes’ brooding beats, French Police’s driving undercurrents, Urban Heat’s fiery charge, and the spectral sway of Creux Lies and Mareux. Onstage, they spin heartache into hypnotic momentum, turning pain into fuel for movement.  The song’s stormy pleas echo a desperate longing—for connection, for salvation, for the stillness after the storm. Its rhythmic urgency mirrors a heartbeat racing against time, calling for shared strength in the face of despair. A subtle nod to The Crow and its brooding beauty lingers, a cinematic thread that stitches love, loss, and hope together in the band’s most intimate offering yet.

The peculiar lo-fi video, conceived and directed by Drew Laughner, opens with the band unloading their instruments from the yawning mouth of a hearse, a fitting prelude to the brooding performance that follows. Bathed in flickering gloom, their live presence sears through surreal, scattered scenes—a nocturnal jaunt beneath starless skies, a brick wall looming like a mute witness, a dumpster crouched in a forgotten alley.

The performance feels less staged than stumbled upon, as though the band emerged fully formed from the night’s quiet menace, their music threading through the cold air like an unspoken confession. Laughner’s lens captures the raw grit of the moment, the band’s energy undiluted by its dreamlike detours. A strange, striking amalgam of the ordinary and the ominous, it clings to your memory like smoke—lingering, elusive, and undeniably alive.

Watch the video for “Corvus” below:

Listen to Corvus below and purchase the song here.

The band recently hit the Pacific coast with appearances at The Coffin Club, Funhouse, and Elbo Room Jack London, sharing stages with Dark Chisme, Ronnie Stone, Casa De Brujas, Ringfinger, Ceremony Shadows, Panic Priest and Xibling.  The band is currently working on their EP The Art Of Sorrow.

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