Lewis and Clarke, Blasts of Holy Birth

by dave heaton

On the tie-dye-esque cover art, color is rising from the grass and trees, in clouds and beams. It's a sure sign that the mystical side of Lou Rogai's music as Lewis and Clarke is heightening, not lessening. And that could only be a good thing, right? It certainly is; the music has such a visceral sense of gentle questioning to it – less psychedelic escape than thoughtful, lightly philosophical, exploratory folk with a rustic, natural-world mood. It's not all forest-and-river imagery, even if something about the music itself – partly in the simple setting and instrumentation (acoustic guitar, cello, trapkit drums, tabla, harp), and the way the music glides on in graceful ways – always make me long for a star-filled sky (something you don't see in Philadelphia) and the isolation of nature.

One of the prettiest songs, though, is called "Comfort Inn," and tells more of a heartbreak/madness take with city imagery. Then again, my favorite lines in that song are this: "She will pick you off the ground / off the sidewalks of this town / she will take you to the river and she'll baptize you with grace." That's written by Aaron Ross, the rest by Rogai, whose lyrics have plenty of striking images and memorable phrases of their own, often with their own theme of (attempted or successful) cleansing or rebirth. Or birth itself, as the LP is dedicated "For Julian", Rogai's son. The final song, "Be the Air We Breathe," is a doozy in this regard, a welcoming birth song with tension and expectation and beauty: "Nesting place / first breath tastes like all exhaled from grace / golden blind / come outside and be the air we breathe."

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