When you hear Micah Middaugh’s story behind his band’s name Breathe Owl Breathe, it makes perfect sense. He writes on the band’s Last.fm page,
“The name Breathe Owl Breathe came from a dream I had. There was an owl that was cutting its way through the cold, still night. Whoever was in charge of the cinematography of the dream, my hat?s off to them. It was from the perspective of just above a field mouse scurrying through blades of grass. The mouse then found a little divot in the ground, laid down on its back, and gave its last breath. The breath rose up into the sky, passing by the owl?s beak.”
Released in late September, Breathe Owl Breathe’s latest album, Magic Central, could easily be the soundtrack to this dream.
Post-modern lyricism, riddled throughout with Kafkaesque regret, Middaugh’s ghostly voice tells surreal dream-stories throughout Magic Central. Accompanied by members Andréa Moreno-Beals (cello, vocals) and Trevor Hobbs (percussion, keys, vocals), Magic Central blends classical elements like cello, violin and harp with everything from choral arrangements to eerie banjo riffs and even a spoken piece performed by Middaugh. Relying heavily on a foundation of traditional folk aesthetic, Breathe Owl Breathe takes its Americana sound a step further by adding intricate pop lyrics and angelic vocals, churning out what can only be described as a child’s interpretation of the universal suffering of life.
The album is almost disarming – Middaugh’s weary voice, working in perfect harmony with Moreno-Beals’, tell stories of simple love and loss. In “Dogwalkers of the New Age,”Middaugh and Moreno-Beals croon over and over again, singing “She turns to me on the drive, says this city is alive,” and you can see exactly what they’re talking about: the necklace of lights over the bridge at night, the skyscrapers aching, the semi-trucks sighing as they wiz through town, the blinking eyes of cars and buildings. You can hear and feel the yearning to come back to life, to find happiness once again. Indeed, every song seems to be a metaphor on loss and longing, making Magic Central the perfect title for an album that seems to be searching for that something that makes life magical. Listening to this album is certainly the first step.
Robyn Louden, KWVA’s assistant music director, is a senior international studies and Spanish major from Corvallis, Ore. Her weekly funk/soul/R&B show, “Lunchtime Quickie with DJ Faucet,” airs Tuesdays from 2-3 p.m. She strongly believes in listening to bad music in order keep America strong.
