In many recent CDs I have noticed elements of Eastern religion; in the recent Mirror/Dash release for the Modern Containment series, in Entrance's "Prayer of Death", and again, here in Lichens' "Omns". Perhaps it is because many of us are the product of parents who turned on, tuned in and dropped out with gurus and swamis in the sixties. It is more likely that we've finally reached the age of our own quest and now have something to explore and discover about what we wish to leave to the world.

Robt. Lowe (90 Day Men and TV on the Radio) brings us the second invocation of his Lichens project with a CD/DVD combo. The work titled, Omns, is a testament to the natural world through its mysticism and eagerness. I am reminded of the awakening from youth; both the challenge of that and the joy to feel and understand my own full potential. This disc gives me hope. It fills me with a sense that somewhere in the over-medicated, anti-depressant age, Americans still feel something. It is not ominous or disheartening. It comes across like a promise that the world still has some ass to kick and that we can get on the train now or be left behind. It makes us want to get on the train.

Watching the DVD it occurred to me that at times all people and especially those with some exposure to instruments create noises that soothe and relax the inner being even if it never quite formulates into a song, although this does take more form near the end. The performance of Lichens at the Empty Bottle is somewhat like that; a long series of notes played or sang in what seems like a random succession. Perhaps unintentionally these notes, both vocally and from the guitar, form a narrative of a human's soul quest. Like the occasional breaks in the visuals, it becomes the music of wind blowing through a wood, or the sound of sunbeams breaking a forest canopy. It's a very solitary pursuit, this music. It is not particularly something that you'd play at a party of beer drinking friends unless of course all of your friends are of the ilk that would listen to drone and drink beer. To be funny of course, it reminds me of the scene from the "Ali G" show in which Sacha Cohen's character, Bruno meets with an LA clothing boutique owner. He asks him to send out some spirituality which is followed by this poor man staring into the camera and holding his arms skyward for an uncomfortable amount of time, all of which we watch while praying that he'll stop soon. Listening to Lichens, stopping is not a consideration. It is easy to be transfixed, lost and removed while remaining very present in the moments of this music. It achieves what the poor store owner made a fool of himself to represent. It is truly something spiritual. 9/10 -- Erica Rucker (3 April, 2007)