RN-Soma

Somah Puts The Psychic Back in Psychedelia

By Patrick Walsh
With the release of its third CD, “Arbor Painted Night,” Somah brings smooth-as-glass production to its poetic songs. The lyrics, largely the work of drummer Dave Wendell, who doubles as the group’s lead vocalist, slide effortlessly from tender sadness to cautious optimism; and the music is augmented by a small army of additional musicians, adding subtle touches with instruments ranging from oboe to djembe.

“The first two we did in the basement, in our home studio,” notes Somah’s Jake Lambertson. “For this one we went into a professional studio, and we had the influence of a producer coming in from outside the band.”

The disc gives the attentive listener a good idea of just how far-ranging the band’s interests are these days. The Burlington, Vermont-based foursome, well known locally for its formative years of gigging throughout the area, is stretching out musically as well as geographically.

Wendell, whose distinctive singing distinguishes the band’s sound nearly as much as his intelligent, sensitive songwriting, is joined by guitar ace Joe Bowman, high energy bass guitarist Greg Goldman and the gifted Lambertson on Hammond organ.

With its move to Burlington last year, the band solidified its place in New England’s burgeoning new music scene, which it in turn has helped nurture, in large part through Lambertson’s booking agency, Elyptical Productions.

For all its success up north, however, the band has not forgotten its local fans. This summer alone, Somah performed for a crowd of some 3,000 at Croton’s “Gathering of the Vibes,” and for 400 a few weeks later, under a stunning, ageless summer sky, at Westport’s Levitt Pavilion. And in early August, they played the annual SONO Arts Celebration in South Norwalk.

The story of Somah’s evolution over the past few years says a lot about the changing music scene in the lower Westchester/Fairfield area.

One of a handful of truly promising bands to emerge from the region in the past half-decade, Somah’s literate, revelatory writing and expressive playing were an early indication of the extraordinary talent fermenting in the local vineyard.

From the beginning, the group’s four members endeared themselves to club owners, promoters and other bands with their good-natured professionalism, and won over a whole generation of young fans with ethereal songs full of fantastic images and long, trippy neo-psychedelic jams, highlighted by Wendell’s singing and Bowman’s intense guitar give-and-take with Goldman and Lambertson.

Alone among mainstream bands, Somah played “underage-only” venues like Greenwich’s Arch Street teen club, as well as ‘all ages’ shows at clubs like 7 Willow Street and the now sadly departed Globe Theater in Norwalk. Somah’s reputation among its young fans grew by leaps and bounds, buoyed by the 1994 release of the CD “Find The Time.”

The disc’s lyrics emanate from a trippy fantasy view of real-world encounters, in songs like “I See Katie,” “The Child of Timberlost” and the unforgettable “Exploring Nazareth.” But just beneath the poetic imagery is a distinctly spiritual center that squarely addresses the band’s quest for discovery and identity, a quest that rings true with Somahites everywhere.

Their fans, typically very young, very wet (to borrow a Pete Townshendism) and a little far-out, even by grunge standards, ate it up.

The quintessential ‘early’ Somahite: a young girl, tall, her hair in braids-cum-dreads; a dark, brief dress, and the ubiquitous symbol of the devoted Somah follower: sandals. Like Deadheads at the beginning of their journey, the band’s early fans were an integral part of the experience of seeing Somah in concert. A happy, pleasant bunch, they knew the words and the music intimately.

“I guess they’ve gotten a bit older, and of course, there’s new people following us now, too,” notes Lambertson. “I saw some of our long-time fans recently, at the ‘Gathering of the Vibes.’ Some of them have gone on to colleges where we play now. Our fan base is always changing, and our fans are scattered all over the place. Four and a half years’ time is a lot. I can think of one of the first times we played Arch Street, of the 35 people who were there, who all ended up becoming friends of ours, now four or five are in Colorado, a couple are in California, a couple are in Oregon...”

Earth Day, 1995: Somah plays the Globe. A beautiful, warm day with just a hint of a breeze in the air, an entirely appropriate day to celebrate the world and all that is right with it. The Globe would separate ‘over 21s’ (drinking adults) from ‘under 21s’ (kids) with a ‘fence’ contrived of that hideous orange plastic mesh you see at construction sites. On the adult side, a few people would dance while everyone else sat and drank; on the kids’ side, there was always constant motion. But when Somah played, everyone moved...

Somah’s shows at the Globe were as near-perfect a match of performer and venue as you’re likely to find anywhere. The band’s long, lush jams birthed a sweet euphoria, something like the joys of psychedelia without the drugs or side effects, and the Globe’s warm, comfortable ‘New England attic’ feel gave the sound just enough room to float through.

“If I had one wish in the world, it’d be to teleport that entire place to North Burlington,” Lambertson jokes.

But club life runs in cycles. The scene shifts, club dwellers move on, and club owners, like music journalists, try to figure out what will happen next. And the tumult is hardest on the talent: few bands can survive shifts in the scene, and fewer still can adapt sufficiently to thrive amid the chaos and loss.

Happily, Somah has emerged as one of the precious few exceptions. As the local tides turned, and long-sturdy venues began to falter, club life grew more and more erratic. Looking to the future, the band made the smart move to Burlington.

“It’s the biggest city in Vermont,” Lambertson notes of his new home town. “Within a 30 square mile area, there’s a population of about 45,000 people. And they all go out at night, every night, and they go out to support music. It’s a wonderful scene.”

And that’s where the Somah story diverges from the local scene. While the club life here sorts itself out, Wendell, Bowman, Goldman and Lambertson continue to thrive and grow. Like the happy mushroom that is their signature artwork, the members of Somah dwell in sunshine, following the light wherever it leads, distilling the gold on disc and at shows, and always seeing just a bit further down the road...

-- from Rhythm and News, October, 1997

Somah Puts The Psychic
Back in Psychedelia

published in Rhythm and News, October, 1997

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