An oneironaut is someone who explores their dreams the way astronauts used to explore the stars, and though I couldn’t tell you what they do for day jobs, I know exactly what Peaking Lights are doing at night—they’re hard at play in the deep parts of the sleeping mind, tripping over little parts of songs and hauling them back to the daylight and the surface each morning. New album Lucifer (on Mexican Summer) begins with the instrumental “Moonrise” and dives down to the dubbed-to-the-limit “Midnight (In The Valley Of Shadows)” and then finishes as the sun comes up with “Morning Star.” (“Morning Star” is of course also the actual meaning behind the name “Lucifer,” and if you already knew that, then this record is definitely made for you and whatever thick-curtained comfy-cushioned low-lit room you reserve for your most reverent listening experiences.) That sunrise-to-sunset feeling explains Lucifer’s dreamy feel, and the way its songs dissolve into each other. There are beats, yes—mostly gentle little baby heartbeats—and big roaring tidal-wave-in-a-cave echoes and strange and affecting melodies dotted and smeared across these eight songs, and always singer Indra Dunis’ calling you forward into the unknown. If New Orleans’ psychedelic gris-gris man Dr. John had made his first record a dub record or if Lee “Scratch” Perry had got locked in a studio one night with Anton Newcombe, then this album would be easy to explain, and I could have crossed a few dreams off my own please-come-true list, too. But they haven’t yet and so Lucifer remains an album equal parts smoke and fingerpaint, hazy and happily homemade, made by a duo equal parts asleep and awake. You could listen to it, or you could just let it happen. — Chris Ziegler
Playing with Woods and Wet Illustrated at the Echo tonight!
Tickets still available here!