There is a fly-on-the-wall intimacy in certain moments of Lily Seabird’s third album, Lightspheres on Their Way, like watching someone quietly noodle before stumbling upon a profound golden thread, then following it to the end of the spool. Opening track “The Pulley” begins with barely a whisper of harmonium and a series of questions. “Is beauty the pulley? Your mind the weight?” she wonders. “Am I still allowed to pray even if I don’t believe anymore?” Seabird is in a constant state of seeking on Lightspheres. It is full of questions, as she examines where she fits into a bigger picture, even as this set remains true to that same heady, individualist spirit that grounds her previous work.
Eliza Niemi’s cello brings depth and dimension to the bleak wasteland of “Blackstar,” a quest for a cigarette that opens with Seabird “vomiting in Whole Foods” in an apocalyptic state. The heartbreak at the center of the pained, spare “Slipswitch” follows her like a shadow on the road, playing shows and feeling “burnt out and alone.” Seabird’s soft warble moves with its own agenda on these songs, nearly growling against the clanging guitars of “Election Day” before breaking out into a wail, then turning delicate and breathy on the standout “Bindlestiff,” a vivid drawing of a lost and broken love from her past.
