The river is a powerful archetype in the American folk tradition, serving as the source of both spiritual and visceral life, and as the primary thoroughfare of the escapist long before the automobile and the interstate highway system allowed Springsteen to dream of the two lanes that could take him anywhere. As the namesake of Nuzzle's pre- millennial release, the San Lorenzo River acts as the centerpiece for the album's unique contemplation of that archetype.

The San Lorenzo is one of those elusive half- rivers populating the Central California middle ground that separates the truly lush forests north of San Francisco from the arid desert south towards Los Angeles. Bolstered by increased rains in the winter and snow melt in the spring, the San Lorenzo occasionally flows heavily through the coastal town of Santa Cruz, only to be sent hiding into its bed by the summer's drier climes.

A concept album of sorts, San Lorenzo's Blues was primarily written during the band's stay in Santa Cruz-- it's blues in demeanor only. The record is comprised of a seeking and unfulfilled blues in a guitar- and harmony- based American rock oeuvre that owes as much to grunge as it does to roots rock. More than the contemplation of nothingness, the songs exude the frustration and disappointment of finding nothing when greedily searching for so much more. The album speaks more to what the band didn't find during their time in Santa Cruz than to what they did, and with simple, understated eloquence, San Lorenzo's Blues transmits the urgency of their results.

The San Lorenzo runs through the album much like it's flow, making three weak and unrealized appearances before proving its full but fleeting strength. Both the first and second parts of "The San Lorenzo Blues" and "The San Lorenzo Continues Its Way" frustratingly whisper the album's best riff before flooding cathartically on the album's last listed track, the appropriately titled "San Lorenzo Coda." Between these intermittent appearances, the bitter "No Love Like That," the brass coda of "We Almost Lost Del Mar" and the quietly powerful "Unsighted, Unguided," provide wavering signposts of heady determination and tired disillusionment. The album triumphs in withholding the certainty of its outcome through the San Lorenzo's last appearance, an energized and defiant effort seemingly signaling the river's return. And if that isn't meant to symbolize the return of hope, it's at least the resolve to continue in its pursuit.

-Neil Lieberman