I recall the haze on fire,
all the embers as streetlights line the avenue,
I recall a smile from a ghost who didn't quite know it yet.
I recall the sidewalk cracks,
and averted eyes juggling a three year gap
with too many words to say and none at all,
it's all the same.
I recall your voice shooting ridicule
jesting obscene gestures at the man himself
black and white days summon reddish sun rays
to burn out the dead grass and cracked withered hay
I recall most of all an outpour, an outcry
the day we heard the news.
I recall a stillness one sticky night,
when the bad beat out the good and all was sullen, all was ruined, all was bruised
I recall the last time we spoke and you had me rolling in reminisce,
your eyes and mouth told a different story, I guess.
if only I could see through your skin, through your soul, determine what was sinking in
would you still live on, would you not be gone?
if we'd take off our masks for one second
and see eye to eye like most men can
would there be a parade, a machine for some martyr like you who lost grasp of his dream?
Maer, from Switzerland, debut with a haunted (and haunting) folk song that will warm you heart as it sends shivers down your spine. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 23, 2022
The Alabama duo's fifth album exults in dusty Americana, showcasing rich vocal harmonies alongside blissful folk instrumentation. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 31, 2024
More contemplative folk from the Minnesota singer-songwriter, sustained by raw full-band arrangements and philosophical lyrics. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 28, 2024
Irish singer-songwriter Oisin Leech's acoustic folk music is characterized by its muted beauty and intimate, solitary quality. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 16, 2024