Breathe in. Breathe out. Concentrate on your breath, on the rise and fall of your chest, and allow the laconic longings of Lea Thomas to wash over you, to lead and lull you into a meditative state. “Let’s go for a walk/Don’t talk,” she sings on “The Gift,” the opening track of her latest album, Cosmos Forever, as if cajoling you into a stroll along the shore at dawn. She offers sage advice, too: “Try to be a deeper listener/Try a little less/Remember/You already are….” Guitars well like giant waves of sound that dissipate into the morning mist. It’s remarkable.
Thomas, who grew up in Maui but now lives in the Hudson Valley, navigates a lush terrain throughout the seven-song set. Like much such music, however, the seemingly calm surface shields a strong undercurrent. I wrote of “We Must Be in Love” in mid-August; it’s a love song not just to another, but to all others—and the world around us, as well.
The title track is another soft-hued sonnet that speaks to the interconnectedness that is life—not just you and me, but you, me and the valleys, rocks, streams, and the seeds from which all things spring. “Bauhinia,” for its part, references a flowering tree in her native Hawai’i; it’s a deceptive zephyr of a song that finds Thomas creating a vivid picture with minimal syllables: “Haiku hillside/Venus rising/Painted skies….” It’s gauzy and wistful, the kind of song that—like the album as a whole—lingers in the soul.
The meditative “River Runs Through,” which was released as a single last week, explores the bonds that connect us not just to each other, but to those who came before and those who will follow us: “A river runs through us/It runs on forever/It gathers our stories/Of love and of worry/A mirror before us/Above and below us that/Brings us together.”
In the press release, Thomas explained, “When we were recording this album, we set up in the round, tracking live in a room where the windows overlooked the woods. I remember it was really quiet outside—no wind, and there were no leaves left on the trees to rustle anyway. Every sound we made felt amplified against the stillness of the season. I had the intention of leaving room for my band to stretch out on the recording of this song in particular—and I feel like that specific time and place influenced us to be more intentional and responsive to each other because we were able to really listen.”
“A Thousand Leaves” is a meditative rumination on mindfulness, while the album closes with the airy “You Belong to No One,” in which she contemplates the end of a relationship with grace, dignity and a tinge of regret.
The album, as Thomas mentioned in the quote above, was primarily recorded live in a cabin the woods. Yet I hear it in terms of the ocean. The music is expansive and deep, with gentle waves that rise into water towers that never crash, while she shares metaphoric musings on life and living. It’s a mesmerizing listen.
The Old Grey Cat 
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