Shannon Lay - Geist Review

Shannon Lay’s fourth studio album Geist should come with a warning - do not listen to after half a bottle of red wine, especially when you’re susceptible to booze-induced bouts of melancholia. It may break you.

Geist sees Lay take us by the hand and lead us on a wistful journey of introspection and self-discovery. It’s an album that’s firmly rooted in the past, both tonally and sonically and yet this isn’t a ten-a-penny folk album. Lay always remains relevant, treading her own path as she moves away from the ties of her past and breaks free of her restraints. It’s the sound of a haunted house being razed to the ground.


The album sees her joined by Devin Hoff and Ty Segall, though their contributions are subtle and never threaten to overshadow Lay’s vision. Musically it’s all very simple and she rarely veers from the tried and tested pallet of delicately plucked guitars, mournful strings and melodic keys that are all held together by the reliable thumping of an upright bass. But what she does with this pallet is extraordinary with Geist being some of Lay’s most evocative and intimate work to date. Sometimes her voice barely amounts to a whisper and you begin to fear she might just disappear altogether. Which she does on the final track July, which will leave you feeling like a close friend has just buggered off without saying goodbye. Anyway, back to that wine.  


First track Rare to Wake is apparently inspired by the Frank Herbert novel Dune, which of course is very on-topic. Now I haven't read Dune or have I seen Denis Villeneuve’s Sci-Fi blockbuster but on this evidence Dune is a heartbreaking coming of age story about a woman wrestling with her past and doubting her future. No?

Lay’s multi-tracked vocals give her an almost celestial presence as Rare to Wake soars and sweeps to conclusion before giving way to A Thread To Find. Here the instrumentation becomes entwined with beautifully naturalistic lyrics. “To feel the string beneath your feet, to leave a thread to find” Lay sings, still leading us through her own personal forest. You can almost see the moss growing out of the guitar strings as the organ takes flight and flutters overhead. 


By the time we reach Sure, Lay already sounds emotionally weary as she retreats further into the recesses of her mind. Her vocals are punctuated by an acoustic guitar that refuses to be strummed whilst strings occasionally rise above the depths. Fourth track Shores dares to lift the mood. Suddenly we’re treated to a joyous guitar solo and choral’esque backing vocals. It’s a welcome respite that adds much-needed balance to the album. 

Awaken and Allow is part one of the album’s double single release. It’s paired here conveniently with its sister track and the album’s namesake Geist. It’s the standout moment on the album with Lay indulging themes of transcendence and spirituality. Awaken and Allow is infused with gospel overtones as we attend mass and Lay invites us to be reborn. “I must not fear what comes tomorrow, I must not dream of yesterday” she urges, before adding “I have to get out of California. The days go by like smoke in the wind”. Geist builds slowly as Lay’s vocals conduct the instruments around her, urging them to embrace her new-found optimism. “Smile on my face, as I think of you” she sings as the waltz timing almost has you moving towards the dance floor. Almost. 


With Untitled Lay’s lyrics become unintelligible as she employs her vocals as instrument. Her voice skates softly over Jarvis Taveniere’s masterful production. Taveniere, of Woods fame, manages to find the perfect balance between stripped-back simplicity whilst still allowing Lay’s songs to soar cinematically when the time is needed.  


The next song sees Lay covering Syd Barret’s Late Night. Barret purists fear not, Lay more than makes it her own whilst remaining faithful to the original. The slight change of direction adds texture to an album that can at times lean a little too heavily on subtleties to create its own identity. 


Penultimate track and last song proper Time’s Arrow is another highlight. The melodies build gradually as Lay implores us to remember tomorrow. Again wrestling with the past and the future. The organ seems to have been turned up just a little and its, dare I say it, jaunty melody is perfectly offset by Lay’s affecting vocals. 


Album closer, the aforementioned July is a haunting instrumental coda and the point in which we realise Shannon Lay has already left the stage and we’ve been left to finish the journey alone. It’s the perfect epitaph for an album that never veers too far from where it began but is always moving forwards with purpose. Sometimes the songs blur into one but that’s kind of the point. This is less a collection of individual tracks and more a whole movement in itself, like scenes within a film. And that’s perfectly fine with me. It’s the mark of a great album and the reason Pet Sounds is better than anything the Beatles ever did. 


Maybe it’s time to put the wine away.