Get all 17 The Rowan Amber Mill releases available on Bandcamp and save 10%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Into the Waves (Single Edit), A Picture of Her Eyes, Harrowed by the Stones, Disciples of the Scorpion (Main Theme) Heavy Mix, Synthesizing the Grain and the Sea (Samhain Mix), Golden Strings to Tether the Sun, Among the Gorse to Settle Scores, Rufford Park Poachers, and 9 more.
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Mankind has written many, many books, and many, many histories. A lot of them you can seek out for yourselves, in book shops or in libraries, but there is one book, written long ago, that will never find its way into such places.
Some histories are too dark to share with the bright, careless world out there. They should be read in here, in the shadows, for it is in the shadows that they were born...
Come closer,
Sit down,
And we will tell you a tale from...
The Book of the Lost.
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"Back I Command You!"
01:13
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3. |
Marsh Thing
05:16
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You called me to your side,
But where are water lily eyes?
Twisted iron, twisting round,
The mud will come alive.
Walking into the evening,
As the plants give up the day,
It's as simple as breathing,
Fern smells, damp leaves, clay.
But I am a Marsh Thing,
I held the bramble twist.
It's as simple as breathing,
Feel the green run down my wrist.
Touch my shoulder, make me wake up,
To the warm stale room.
Your eyes are tired, and I ache,
For the garden and the moon.
Walking into the evening,
As the plants give up the day,
It's as sinful as breathing,
Fern smells, damp leaves, clay.
And I am a Marsh Thing,
I held the bramble twist.
It's as simple as breathing,
Feel the green run down my wrist.
You said, love leaves, no more, no more...
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5. |
The Villagers
03:15
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The hands that pull the strings casts aside the leaves,
with skin as pale as chalk and it’s too late to leave.
Now she stands so tall, clothed in silvered white,
stepped down from on high, chosen for this night.
Uncovered by the plough, risen from the mire,
The river runs too fast in the all consuming fire.
The baying of the crowd, spread through them to hear.
The fever strikes the souls of those who fear.
The ashes greet the soil. Still coursing through their veins,
the pins that boil inside, and rising up again.
Nothing but the time allows these wounds to heal.
Nailed in safe and sound let no one break the seal.
Uncovered by the plough, risen from the mire,
This river runs too fast in the all consuming fire.
The baying of the crowd, spread through them to hear.
The fever strikes the souls of those who fear.
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7. |
A Necklace of Shells
05:10
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His lover awaits with cool grey eyes,
Down on the shore where the seagulls cry.
The boy sets out as the sun goes down,
And the gas lamps are lit in the sleepy town.
Over the cliffs and the cold wind blows,
It cuts like a knife through his summer clothes,
But the dark haired girl is there on the sand,
A necklace of shells knotted in her hand.
I think I might love you enough,
To take off this ragged sealskin.
I think I might love you enough,
To strip down to the bone.
She hangs round his neck her seashell charm,
"May love that is true keep you safe from harm."
All summer long that he meets her there,
The ocean is kind and the winds are fair.
But soon spinning in the tavern's warmth he seeks,
Kisses sweet like a flower, not salt like the sea.
The fire burns bright as he smiles and flirts,
A necklace of shells hidden under his shirt.
The morning is clear as he leaves her door,
The storm doesn't come 'til he's far from shore.
Now a dark haired girl stands alone on the sand,
A necklace of shells broken in her hand.
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9. |
Middlewitch Lake
05:23
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Silent rhythms play. To the fields in which we’ll stray.
Dizzied from Midsummer’s wine, slipping through another time.
This night there’ll be no sleep, the fire will burn the leap.
The senses old yet heightened too, oblivious to what they’ll do.
Wheel and turn processing to the meadowsweet,
On to the place where they will greet the lake, and bathe,
That they may drift so deep inside.
Sinking out of sight, to the hole in which they’ll hide,
To play upon the fears of all those left behind.
Through their watered gaze, to watch them come again.
Following a different path that leads on to the grave.
The seasons know the names, and welcome the refrains,
Of customs played out in the midst of long lost ancient artifice.
Wheel and turn processing to the meadowsweet,
On to the place where they will greet the lake, and bathe,
That they may drift so deep inside.
Sinking out of sight, to the hole in which they’ll hide,
To play upon the fears of all those left behind.
The means to meet the ends, the earth shall gather in.
Break them down in soil, so the crops will rise again.
Wheel and turn processing to the meadowsweet,
On to the place where they will greet the lake, and bathe,
That they may drift so deep inside.
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The Rowan Amber Mill Devon, UK
Since 2007 The Rowan Amber Mill have been purveyors of Woodland Folkadelica/alt-Folk. Releases include: "folk devils & moral panics", "midsummers" and "Heartwood". The Book of the Lost (with Emily Jones). Silent Night Songs (with Angeline Morrison).The folk horror collection Harvest the Ears. The synth album Follows Shortly (as Making Tea For Robots). They are half of Rowan:Morrison. ... more
The Rowan Amber Mill recommends:
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Weird folksters soundtracksters par excellence.
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Top pysch-folksters.
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Ultra-catchy-retro-futuristic-exotica.
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