ERIK RABASCA | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW

Some artists spend their lives searching for a sound. Erik Rabasca sounds like someone who spent years searching for truth inside sound itself. Across decades of musical evolution — from reggae and improvisation through to folk, Americana and spiritually grounded songwriting — Rabasca has never approached music as costume or identity. Instead, his work feels guided by curiosity, patience and a deep respect for the roots beneath every genre he touches. His latest chapter, New Scrolls, doesn’t feel like a reinvention so much as an unfolding, the natural emergence of influences and perspectives quietly gathering over a lifetime. Built around reflection, impermanence, humanity and emotional honesty, the project carries the warmth of someone no longer trying to chase music, but simply allowing it to move through them. In this conversation with Lucid News, Erik Rabasca opens up about spirituality, transformation, performance, patience, Americana, and why the most meaningful songs often arrive when you stop forcing them entirely. This is a paid collab with Erik Rabasca

TRACK REVIEW - WISE UP

The very first thing that stood out to me on “Wise Up” was that lead guitar tone, instantly warm, creamy and completely locked into the soul of the track. Before the lyrics even fully settle in, Erik Rabasca manages to create this feeling of movement and familiarity that great Americana music always seems to carry naturally. Then the chorus arrives almost immediately and hooks you straight in, but honestly, the entire song feels built around memorable melodies and subtle emotional pull. There’s not really a wasted moment anywhere in it.

I’ve always had a deep appreciation for country and Americana songwriting because of how effortlessly those genres can blend storytelling with melody, and “Wise Up” sits comfortably in that tradition while still feeling fresh and personal. There’s wisdom woven throughout the track, but it never feels heavy-handed or preachy. Instead, the song rolls forward with this lived-in honesty, like someone reflecting on hard-earned truths while still keeping hope intact. The instrumentation, vocal delivery and songwriting all work together beautifully, creating a track that feels timeless without sounding trapped in nostalgia.

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If New Scrolls were discovered 100 years from now with no context of who you are, what do you think people would assume about the person who made it?

This is so hard for me because I try to practice being in the moment. I’d hope that the future listener would feel that I sought truth, had something meaningful to share about what I experienced and lived to grow despite life’s challenges and eventual death.  

You’ve lived multiple musical lives, reggae, improvisation, folk, Americana. Do you feel like you’re refining one identity, or abandoning identities as you go?

I never felt comfortable taking on identities. The couple of times I tried when I was starting out always resulted in a poor copy. I thankfully hd the wherewithal to never sing with a patios in my reggae days. It always makes me cringe when someone outside of a culture mimics that culture. It’s terribly unself-aware. So I quickly recognized that I needed to just be myself but also be studied in each genre and understand how deep the roots of any one style goes. Only then can you really play it… and it often takes years or decades. 

So with “New Scrolls”, this current transformation came about unexpectedly. In regards to identity, it felt like an unfolding because I had been quietly playing along with southern rock and country records for decades before those influences naturally seeped into my writing. I never thought about trying to write and play country or Americana. It naturally unfolded in the last few years and it feels like being home. 

“Wise Up” feels like advice, but also like something learned the hard way. What’s a truth you resisted for a long time before finally accepting it?

Nothing worth anything isn’t hard earned. And despite any best-intentioned efforts, no matter how hard you push toward an achievement, you can never make anything —change, opportunity, desire, effort — happen in a timeframe you’d like. Projects and people can only move through life at their own pace despite individual wants or wishes. Navigating that is the hard part. It’s vital to be reflective in how you react to situations, do your best and have the fortitude and patience to see whatever pursuit or goal to its natural conclusion, especially when you know there’s magic in there. So for me, “Wise Up” is really more reflective sharing than advice. 

A lot of your influences carry a sense of spiritual or philosophical grounding. Do your songs start as questions you’re trying to answer, or answers you’re trying to share?

Probably both. Though the best songs come through elements without too much thought or effort and you have to be mindful enough in those moments to get yourself out of the way. I try to keep the radar up and receive the signals.

“Wise Up” is definitely observational sharing whereas a lot of my earlier work was searching for those answers. I’ve lived long enough to have a perspective. Hopefully it comes across as grounded.

There’s a difference between playing music and carrying music. When you’re performing solo in those intimate rooms, what are you actually trying to pass on to the listener?

Performance is sharing energy. I try to feel the room and match its vibe. If there’s excitement, I’ll kick off with something upbeat. If it’s been a rough week and the news weighs heavy, I’ll play those emotions. Then as the set builds, hopefully we’re taking each other away from whatever challenges we all face and enjoy experiencing this music together. And because each night is a unique moment, I’ll never play a song the same way twice. The feel will always be different because everything is impermanent

You’ve spent years collaborating across scenes and cultures, from Jamaica to Ethiopia to the US. Has your understanding of what music is for changed depending on where you are in the world?

To quote Sun Ra, “Music is a spiritual language. The state of the world is the state of its music.” Business and industry is a different game and has nothing to do with music. When you play from a pure heart without industry infiltrating you, it doesn’t matter where in the world you are. You will definitely feel that heartbeat. It’s universal, healing and connecting.

Your bio describes you as a “musical chameleon,” but chameleons adapt to survive. Do you feel like your evolution has been driven more by curiosity or necessity?

Definitely both. I’m naturally curious about sounds and styles and take deep dives for months and sometimes years at a time. But the urge to express myself musically is a necessity. Life isn’t easy and isn’t supposed to be. There’s the spectrum of emotions to experience, to feel and process and the continual lessons learn and grow from. So music —listening, creating, performing— is the healing force, inspiration, motivation I’ve always used to make sense of life.

There’s something almost timeless about the Americana direction on New Scrolls. Do you see this album as a return to something familiar, or a completely new chapter?

It’s familiar in that I’ve listened to this music my whole life, starting with Dickey Betts’ country tunes in the Allmans as a teenager through my every recent road trip listening to Willie’s Roadhouse with my wife. But it’s definitely a new beginning musically and I’ve fully embraced that this is what wants to come through me right now. 

Running your own label means you sit on both sides of the artist equation. Has that made you more protective of your creative instincts, or more critical of them?

Neither. I follow the creative flow as it happens. “New Scrolls” wouldn’t exist if I resisted any impulse to play this music. The only guiding principle for me or the label is “serving universal language” which is Highest Frequency’s M.O. Am I and are the projects I’m in being of service to the creation of the music? If there’s any ego involved, it just won’t work and everyone will know. That’s not being protective. It’s just being mindful to serve the spirit of music to the best of one’s ability. 

If someone listens to Wise Up at the exact moment they need it most, what do you hope it interrupts, a thought, a habit, or a version of themselves?

The lyric in the chorus says it all… “wise up with the wise ones / who live fully in this time / seeing all in themselves.” All of humanity is the same in that we’re all born, bleed red, breath air, need water and nutrition, and we all die. So just be kind, be good to each other. Do the individual work to grow into an adult and don’t be a whiny child about how hard it all is. It starts with reflection. If enough people can do that then maybe humanity can pull itself out of this darkness we’re in. And maybe then, our grandchildren’s grandchildren won’t be born into a hellscape. Or if all you can do is just hum the melody, then hopefully you’ll feel good for the moment.