The term "stoner rock" has always been something of a misnomer, since its basic tenets-- tremorous heaviosity, locked-groove repetition-- require more concentration and physical exertion than your average wake-and-baker could muster. (Never mind the fact that its most prominent mouthpieces-- Kyuss' John Garcia, Monster Magnet's Dave Wyndorf-- sounded like they'd rather start a bar brawl than smoke a bowl.) Upon their 2007 formation, Toronto's Quest for Fire were quickly stamped with the stoner-rock tag, no thanks to their longstanding association with Black Mountain (QFF singer/guitarist Chad Ross was once their roadie) and their signing to Tee Pee Records, a long-time facilitator of fellow wah-wah-pedal abusers. But compared to the muscular, magma-thick riffage that has come to define the genre, Quest for Fire's sophomore release, Lights From Paradise, is less stoner rock than stoned rock, marked by a patient pace and a foggy-headed whimsy that lingers even as the VU levels surge into the red.
The members of Quest for Fire all have roots in loud, raucous rock bands (most notably Ross and guitarist Andrew Gunn in the Deadly Snakes and drummer Mike Maxymuik in metal-core thrashers Cursed), but more so than their 2009 self-titled debut, Lights From Paradise posits Quest for Fire as an outlet through which they can explore more sonically expansive, texturally rich modes of composition. Where the band introduced themselves on their debut with the strobe-lit psych-punk stomp "Bison Eyes", Lights From Paradise immediately distinguishes itself with the slow-percolating, seven-minute "The Greatest Hits By God", which leavens its caveman rumble with foreboding violin swells (courtesy of Godspeed veteran Sophie Trudeau) in a manner that suggests Spacemen 3 by way of Constellation Records. The longer tracks on the album ("Confusion's Home", "Sessions of Light") exhibit a similar restraint-- they may get progressively louder and more intense over their extended durations, but they never accelerate or derail; their intent is to envelop rather than overpower.
It's thus fitting that Quest for Fire's definitive quality is also their least pronounced: Ross' drowsy David Gilmour-ian drawl, which never rises above a breathy sigh. While that means his voice is sometimes overwhelmed by the sounds swirling around him-- particularly when QFF revert back to acid-rock rager mode on "Set Out Alone" and "In the Place of a Storm"-- it also makes him an effective harbinger of calm-before-the-storm unease; even the disquieting build-up of "Hinterland Who's Who" provides scant preparation for the monstrous, fuzz-metal attack unleashed in its closing stretch. So as it turns out, Quest for Fire are actually a stoner-rock band in the truest sense of the term-- one that understands every buzz is fleeting, and that the most blissful high is inevitably answered by the cruelest of come-downs.
