featuring the very best of americana, alt.country and roots music
September 8, 2026
Scott Foley, purveyor of dust
For this week's WSGATW?!! we gave some thought to reviews of records from Hollow Hand and the two-disc set from Futurebirds. We puzzled over the possibility of shedding light on the rebirth of the Yawpers. And we flirted with rewinding the clock for an appreciation of a couple earlier projects that we discovered through some of our fellow blogging pals - Convinced Friend and Will Hasell. In the end, we settled on this.
IF YOU ONLY LiSTEN to ONE RECORD THiS WEEK
Listening to Lily Seabird is a thrill, akin to witnessing a wirewalker about whose fate you're genuinely concerned and uncertain. Most met the Vermont songwriter (nee Lily Seward) on 2025's rootsy Trash Mountain, a project that served as an exception from her first pair of albums, 2021's Beside Myself and '24's superb Alas, both of which dwelt in more noise. While Lightspheres On Their Way (Lame-O, presently in physical release, streaming on October 2) strikes a balance, it is more a return to the noise and sprawl than an extension of last year's work.
Coproduced with Garret Linck, Lightspheres speaks to instability and change, but is ultimately victorious in its confidence of expression. Seabird invests more in her singing voice on these songs, an often unsteady instrument that can't help but betray a touch of twang. This is most evident on "Bindlestiff", a piece that owes its imagery to the itinerant wanderers of Steinbeck's East Of Eden: Jumbled up and wandering men, drifters with associations only for a day or two. Rick Soszynski's polished lap steel carries across a strummed acoustic guitar and Seabird's wordy delivery. Seabird's lyrics are uncommonly poetic, bending the visionary and personal to meet familiar detail: I saw the road going on forever long after you had departed / And there will always be that lonesome dog barking / And the low and tumbling hum of the forever young. "Slipswitch" portrays the songwriter recklessly balancing her lyrics atop a rickety acoustic guitar for a stunning effect.
"Election Day" and "Portal To the Past" trade acoustic for a savage and growling electric guitar, sometimes resembling Magnolia Electric Co. at their most unleashed. Lily Seabird launches her vocals aloft during these moments, contributing to the air of abandonment and intensity. On several tracks, Eliza Niemi's cello stirs the tempest, contributing an ominous note to the arrangements. Lyrics seldom reach for the rhyme, and songs eschew a verse-chorus-verse structure in favor of a stream-of-consciousness sprawl. An impact often triggers with just one phrase or tangle of words. The album's opener, "The Pulley" pulls us along with a steady harmonium and acoustic strings, the singer asking, Am I still allowed to pray even if I don't believe anymore.
On the LP's closing title cut, Lily Seabird sketches the figure of her mother: Underneath those Bucks Country stars, with her cigarettes in the snow / Bleary-eyed and too far gone, crying out to her daily dose of the Dead. Following eight-and-a-half songs of doubt and soul-searching, "Lightspheres On Their Way" resolves with the emotional major chord release. The songs of Lightspheres identify where we've been severed from one-another, but also hint at what might gather us back together and pull us forward. From the voice of Lily Seabird, it's an intensely personal message, relayed via music and lyrics that are stirringly original.
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