In the five years since the Walkmen released their most recent album, Heaven, bassist and organist Peter Matthew Bauer has been a busy man. During what Bauer has called the Walkmen’s “pretty extreme hiatus,” he has released a solo album (2014’s Liberation!) and launched a hybrid label/management/production company called Fortune Tellers Music. He also began the Laurel Canyon Center for Consciousness Studies, an outlet for exploring astrology and Eastern philosophies. His newest solo effort, Mount Qaf (Divine Love), seems to draw from all three of these ventures.
Unlike Liberation!, which bounced between genres, Mount Qaf (Divine Love) finds Bauer leaning almost entirely on Americana indie rock, skillfully threading his heartland rock’n’roll sound with esoteric lyrics. The decision to maintain a more homogenous sound and modern indie rock sensibility keeps the focus on Bauer’s lyrics, which are where he shines. The result is an album that could variously soundtrack a deep philosophical discussion or the cross-country freight train hopping adventures of a bygone era.
Opener “Wild Light” might recall the likes of Kurt Vile or the War on Drugs, with a tinny guitar riff that builds from subdued to anthemic; its backing piano and handclaps provide a campfire warmth that sticks around for the rest of the album. “Khidr (American Drifter Music)” feels like a cautiously optimistic call to arms, as Bauer sings “Lay down your heart, let it lay broken/Don’t let the doom set in, don’t let yourself give in.” The song’s title is the album’s most obvious reflection of its own duality—and Bauer’s—referencing al-Khidr, a servant and advisor to God in the Quran. On his website, Bauer describes al-Khidr as “that invisible angel or guide that you search for in these moments,” alluding to moments of great uncertainty. This context enriches Bauer’s lyrics, which encourage self-growth, subtly guiding the listener towards a better place.
Not unlike the introspective traveling this album clearly aspires to accompany, there are moments of stillness that can seem contemplative or just a bit stodgy. The hamfistedly titled “Divine Love to Kill Fascism” takes over four minutes to pull itself out of a droning and slow build. For a song seemingly aspiring to something grand, it falls flat, disrupting the record’s momentum right as Bauer is picking up steam. “I Ching (Àlam al Mithal),” named for the ancient Chinese text, trods along for over half of the song. It barely shifts from a pleasant but relatively uninteresting guitar riff while Bauer ruminates on the hexagonal way of thinking taught in I Ching.
The teachings of the I Ching brought about the concept of yin and yang—the idea that things that may seem to be unalike can in fact compliment each other and create a harmonic balance. Bauer’s Eastern wisdom and Western-hearted sound lacks a perfect symmetry, but he strikes an unexpectedly effective balance. Flourishing in his own way outside the Walkmen, Bauer has found a method of combining two dissimilar passions into art that honors them both.
