1. |
Whisper
03:12
|
|||
|
Howl through my walls at night
play the curtains wild
whip the waves to white
sweep the sand for miles and miles
What would it feel like to be
solid, and touched, and seen?
Whisper, wind
whisper, wind
whisper, wind, to me
Where is your breath, my love?
Trembling, tender, rough?
Filling the space between us?
The space, is closing up, closing
What would it feel like to be
solid, and touched, and seen?
Whisper, wind
whisper, wind
whisper, wind, to me
Whisper to me
whisper to me
|
||||
2. |
The Alchemist
03:24
|
|||
|
All the precious metals
gleaming and sweating in the fire
turn into a river
turn to suns shining in the night
and everything is everything.
The Alchemist is patient
no element is wasted
and sometimes the way things move feels glacial
The suns cooled down wrong again,
twisted, brittle, and turning in.
The river is full of mud again,
running sluggish, backwards, and tarnishing.
And everything is everything.
The Alchemist is patient
no element is wasted
and sometimes the way things move feels glacial
Why can’t you burn any brighter?
Look how the sky’s getting lighter
can’t you see I’m running out of time
The Alchemist is patient
no element is wasted
and sometimes the way things move feels glacial
|
||||
3. |
Gone, Gone
03:29
|
|||
|
The wounded wolf came to my door again,
said, can I sleep here tonight
said, can I sleep here tonight?
Yes, but only sleeping
yes, but only sleeping.
But he began, and I lost my hands,
no,
but I remember where to go
and I’m gone, gone
In the woods, that sweet, black earth
sweet, dripping moss, sweet, dripping ferns
and musky Sassafras
the tender roots reaching back.
Wolf poisons the well
scrapes mean ditches, all the wrong places
salts the fields in the rainswell
all the wrong places, strips leaves from their branches.
But the Curlews call, oh, lovely birds
and I’m gone, gone
In the woods, that sweet, black earth
sweet, dripping moss, sweet, dripping ferns
and musky Sassafras
the tender roots reaching back.
Said he could sleep
said he could sleep
gone, gone
gone, gone
sweet, black earth
gone, gone
gone, gone
gone, gone
gone, gone
|
||||
4. |
Willow
03:47
|
|||
|
Leave the bread to rise,
see what can come with time.
Am I done? What can I give?
What have I become? Am I adrift?
What have we done?
Is there sunshine here?
Am I solid as a Sycamore,
or am I weeping willow bent over?
Pour myself into the stream
and hope it takes me
away.
Watch how the moon claims the sky,
suns gracefully surrender to night.
Put me to earth for safe-keeping,
hold the spaces between things,
let my bodies become the trees.
Am I solid as a Sycamore,
or am I weeping willow bent over?
Pour myself into the stream
and hope it takes me away.
|
||||
5. |
Who Fans the Flames
03:58
|
|||
|
Cradle the flame
that’s dancing and leaping
from sparks from your fingers.
And tend to the fire
that burns all your fears
from all your darkest corners.
I light the flame.
It calls you to me, it calls you to me.
Who will remember?
Who will reach back for me, who will reach back for me?
Who fans the flames?
Cherish the match
that yields to the burning, used up in the lighting.
And cherish the flame
that flickers so gently for all of its yearning.
How long have we burned?
My name doesn’t know me, my name doesn’t know me.
Who calls my name?
You never have owned me;
my body is flame.
Who fans the flames?
|
||||
6. |
Go Down
03:26
|
|||
|
I grasp steadfast, iron core,
forged under fire, pressure, war.
Go down,
go down.
I know moving mantle, flowing ore,
Beneath the bedrock, moving shores.
Go down,
go down.
But can you show me how to form, somehow, above,
that fragile crust?
Can you show me how to bloom?
|
||||
7. |
Floods are Coming
04:26
|
|||
|
Little shoot, I see you growing
Little shoot, I see you growing
Oh, you better hurry
Oh, you better hurry, hurry
Oh, the floods are coming
Oh, the fire is coming, coming
Little heart, why don’t you come in?
Little heart, why don’t you come in?
Oh, there’s no use in running
Oh, there’s no use in running, running
Oh, the floods are coming
Oh, the fire is coming, coming
Still, I plant the seeds to come,
still work the magic of the sun,
cry the marching, beg the birthing of
Still, I sing the songs I learned,
still count the turnings of the earth’s unstill home.
Oh, the floods are coming
Oh, the fire is coming, coming
|
||||
8. |
The Searching
04:11
|
|||
|
I’m looking for the right balance,
the right star, the right bloom
the right root, the right music.
I come to the searching like a supplicant.
I’ll take whatever beauty I can get.
Kneel to the stones and the sea,
be the gale, be the heat,
be the shape you make of me.
Have I become the silence?
The still lake, the smooth slate,
the storm’s break?
Am I too late?
I come to the searching like a supplicant.
I’ll take whatever beauty I can get.
Kneel to the stones and the sea,
be the gale, be the heat,
be the shape you make of me.
Blood to the river, breath to the sky,
muscle to mud, and hands to the fire
I come to the searching like a supplicant.
I’ll take whatever beauty I can get.
Kneel to the stones and the sea,
be the gale, be the heat,
be the shape you make of me.
|
||||
9. |
Ocean Calls
03:49
|
|||
|
Here, your body is held up,
flooding the chambers of grief.
Sing to me of the deltas,
stream to river to sea.
Ocean calls tonight,
makes a music of the tide.
Ocean calls tonight,
calms a hunger inside.
Make me of the submerging,
held, weightless, free.
Make me of the emerging,
glistening, open, clean.
Ocean calls tonight,
makes a music of the tide.
Ocean calls tonight,
calms a hunger inside.
|
||||
10. |
Maps
03:43
|
|||
|
Mix the stones and stars together.
Add the wind coming off the river.
And can you let the light in?
Can you let the light in?
Make a map out of your scars,
all the broken things healed different now.
Lay a path and take a step,
holding all the things that aren’t broken yet.
You dissolve; the sky is silent.
You’ll have to readjust the balance.
Can you believe how alive we are?
Can you believe how alive we are?
Make a map out of your scars,
all the broken things healed different now.
Lay a path and take a step,
holding all the things that haven’t broken yet.
|
||||
Low Tide New York
"Sacred and modern, Baroque and contemporary folk ... [A] pastoral patina of wanderlust violins, mandolin, and chilling vocals." - Atwood Magazine
If you like Low Tide, you may also like:
Hugs for Chelsea: benefit for Chelsea Manning
by Hugs for Chelsea
supported by 5 fans who also own “The Alchemist”
I don't think I can really say enough in support here. Thank you.
go to album
Melodic post-grunge that eschews all of the negative connotations of that phrase and embraces all the positives: huge hooks, huge-r riffs.
go to album
Transatlantic 5-piece releases sun-kissed indie sounds (on yellow cassette). Currently a Bandcamp exclusive.
go to album
The Convincer (20th Anniversary Edition)
by Nick Lowe
Released in 2001, “The Convincer” is a gentle gem in the Nick Lowe catalog; an anniversary edition provides opportunity for rediscovery.
go to album
The new EP from denitia specializes in big, hooky pop songs that put her smoky voice front and center.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 2, 2016
go to album
New Emperors
by My Little Empire Records
New boutique label makes its intentions known via 19 gems - from ethereal, folksy songs to guitar-driven pop.
go to album
