Santah :: "Indigo"

A few weeks ago in The New Yorker, Oliver Sacks described seeing indigo for the first time while under the influence of psychotropic drugs. In his estimation, it was the first and only time he saw real indigo, the color in its purest and truest form, like some Platonic slice of the sky brought down to his wall, or, exactly the type of lyrical assessment you might expect from a world-renowned academic who spent his formative years taking hard drugs. Chicago band, Santah, address a love letter to "Indigo" on the track of the same name from forthcoming EP, You're Still A Lover. "Indigo" is a slow-drive, methodical upstroke guitars mixing with organ chords held unmercifully long. The chorus is a high-fret board meditation, a brief moment of urgency before the title lyric erupts, "Indigo ... you don't have to go," which sounds a bit too cheeky and absolutely isn't. A love letter to the passing summer, collected bits of magic realism: hotels you can stay in forever and rivers of a rich and unique blue. It is a lusty and ambitious finish in the final act, another moment that would prove unable to be recaptured, like colors only briefly seen and cast fleetingly on your wall.