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    Full 6 panel digipak with cyanotyped artwork and design by monitor.

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Feather 03:48
Sometimes we don't know where a feather's from Sometimes we don't know if our hope belongs But sealed in its mystery lie days of sky-lit flight The places that we go to in our dreams The kite is a revenant returning to the wing I cannot count the miles of his brave westering But perhaps he flew much further than the last time that we met And left his token here in the West Feather in the dark, feather in the dark Sometimes all you need to find Lying in your hand, like hope in the morning The woodpecker hides amongst the tallest trees And the drilling of his drum is the most you'll likely see But perhaps he took a chance in a strange moorland heat To leave a glossy gift at my feet The hoopoe is rare in our grey northern skies But perhaps an adventurer left me a surprise Riding on a blue moon from some sunny southern plain To leave me a reminder of his name I found a feather in the dark, I did not know its name But for me it was a treasure I held on to just the same A buzzard or a harrier, a cuckoo or a jay A pheasant or a partridge, it does not matter either way For sealed in its mystery beats hope's strong wing Showing the way that we should fly in our dreams
Where I stand, I mark two lives, two sets of hands In two tongues, a line for a father, a line for his son A father who travelled far A son born of this land The wind rushes through their lives And leaves them where I stand For work he came, or for love, or for hunger, or for loss, or for gain And his son made old worlds new, and made two worlds one A modern tale, through our heavy-built borders they are moving still Yet all the same, it's for 2000 thousand years I've remembered their names Always the same, the only constant in life is change For life is an old song, an old song that must be sung Telling the old tune, of a father and his son
Wherever we hiked And the hills in their glory sang their songs Or we lay upon the silent mountain When we found our rest in walking all the day And our feet trod our story on the paths Wherever we hiked Wherever we hiked I've seen the storms come in The glimmer of a distant skyline Been wet through to my skin Been wind-drenched and sun-dried And we would always come back from Hope On Sundays, we'd take the Iron Way Leave the city for the moorlands And you'd show me how the spine of England rose Just as the sun rambled in a Pennine sky Wherever we hiked Now you're gone, and it's a distance that I cannot cross And the Peaks they give no answers And I know that we were not the first or last But we were walkers, we were dancers And we hiked...
Somewhere, on some bright screen, someone I might have liked to be But I am wanting nothing now, I am wanting nothing A little patch of sunlight, a fire to warm the cold night Shut the heaving world away, far from the motorway Slate, dark blue, and cold, and clean; mud to sink my boots in I've left the chasing, and the to-and-fro, built myself a different home Yesterday is good and gone, tomorrow it might never come...
What we save from the tide We haul it up to the shore We lay it out to dry We look around for more Worn smooth by weather Glass and stone Sea tossed treasure Wood and bone Sink or swim / We must go in / The water is calling What we know of our dreams We try to hold them close So much harder than it seems They slip away like ghosts The fragments that we find Wood and bone Washed up on the tide Sea and stone
Oyster 05:56
Here's to the oyster, who spins beauty out of pain Who takes the flaw within the shell, and brings forth a pearl to shine Here's to the salmon, who must swim against the stream Who learns to leap uncomfortable, and leap, and leap again We keep walking in the rain We keep holding out for hope Scanning for the rainbow We fail until we don't, we fail until we don't Here's to the lark, who sings out of the night Rising from the sullen earth, to bring in the new light Yes, here's to the lark, who sings at break of day Rising from the sullen earth, to fly the night away Here's to the thing with feathers, that keeps us on the road The very last thing in the box, that lightens up our load
Time Away 03:40
Frost ungives the shrouded field, time away Bird call echoes in the hill, time away, time away Time away from toil and sorrow The work will still be there tomorrow Play the song we learnt together Play to ward off cloudy weather Light the fire and warm the pan Hold this time tight in our hands Pause the world all in its turning Pause the world all frayed and burning
Growing 03:55
Growing, growing All these years my love has been I drew my love a wedding band / I wore it on my left hand Diamonds set all in white gold / To have and forever hold This ring from my finger slipped / And round my heart a fear gripped And though I searched the house around / Nowhere could my ring be found Now 16 years have passed away / The house I tend, day on day My garden trees do grow high / I'll reap my harvest by and by The time has come to pull the crop / From the earth I draw it up A carrot, strangely ringed around / For what is lost may still be found, for what is lost may still be found
Wander 05:06
My father's father left the west when the war led him to roam His children they forgot the tongue that had been their father's home The shapes of words were broken, by the city's endless roar And the lines of accent spoken told their stories no more But it's not about your blood or the mud around your bones But the toil of your hands and the seeds they have sown The roots that you dig when you make your home For feet were made to wander I have a love for the land that I've known For the trees and fields by the sea where I've grown But I believe you should choose where you make your home For feet were made to wander Clearance and enclosure took our fathers from the land They forgot their tongues, forgot the sun on their backs They did not know their brothers, so how could they lend a hand? They did not know themselves, so how could they make a stand? The oak, and the ash, the bonny ivy, the bonny ivy tree, They're growing green in my own country, my own country Plants that know how to survive throw seeds to the wind They put down roots in the place they thrive - that's where they belong They make a wild garden, growing in the heart of town Such beautiful, varied weeds, they're hard to trample down
This song was composed by Spencer the Rover Who travelled through England and most parts all round He'd been much reduced, which had caused great confusion And that was the reason he'd started to roam In Yorkshire, near Rotherham, he'd been on his rambles Weary of travelling he sat down to rest At the foot of yon mountain, there runs a clear fountain With bread and cold water he himself did refresh It tasted much sweeter than the gold he had wasted Sweeter than honey, and it gave more content But the thoughts of his children lamenting their father Brought tears to his eyes, and it made him lament With the night fast approaching, to the woods he resorted With woodbine and ivy his bed for to make He dreamt about crying, lamenting and dying Go home to your family and rambling forsake On the 5th of November, I've a reason to remember When first he arrived home to his family and wife They stood so surprised, when first he arrived To see such a stranger once more in their lives But then his children came round him with prittle-prattling stories Prittle-prattling stories, to drive care away Now they're all united like birds of one feather Like bees in one hive contented they'll stay And now they're all living in the cottage contented With woodbine and children growing all around the door They're as happy as those that's got thousands of riches Contented he'll stay, and go rambling no more.
I saw the sun rise, toward the glory of another day The sun broke his heart when he saw you, when the ledge of the world cut him off halfway He strained his neck on the back of the sky When the ocean reflected his head And the last I saw him, he was saying goodbye, staining the heavens red On May Day morning, we danced him in, With a tune and a shout But no sooner did he reign in the sky Than the darkness was chasing him out Cry for the light on a winter's night Cry for the wind and sorrow But dry your tears before the morn For summer is coming tomorrow Cry for the light on a winter's night Cry for stormy weather But the day is long and full of hope And the circle turns forever The circle turns forever


In the autumn of 2017, after many months of intense touring, we put out a call. We hadn't written any music, or practised, for far too long – did anyone have a place to which we could retreat, to work on new material?

Amidst many kind offers of help, our friend Jon introduced us to Paul and Jella, who offered us a week in a cottage deep in the west Cumbrian Lakes.

This album is the result. It was an incredible gift, to carve out time away from the world, and explore ideas long hoarded in notebooks. We stocked the fridge, banked the fire, and wrote.
We found that we were writing about hope. The troubled world didn't seem to need any more sad songs! We had been lucky enough to experience kindness, solace, rest and welcome, and these were now the things we wanted to sing about.

We returned home from Cumbria with a suitcase full of songs. Songs to sing against sadness, loneliness, and the erosions of time; songs of the hills, of wild rain and sunshine, of the circles of all things; songs for tired hearts, troubled minds, and soulsick wanderers. Songs of hope.

Inspired by the sound we were making in the cottage, we wanted to approach the recording differently to previous albums we've made. We decided to capture the live sound of the duo, keeping to two instruments, two vocals, with the occasional addition of foot percussion, foot pedalled shruti, and harmonica on a neck brace.

We hope that you enjoy it.

Hannah and Phil x


released May 17, 2019

This album was written, in large part, in April 2018 at Woodend, Cumbria.

Recorded December 2018 - January 2019 by Mark Tucker at The Green Room, Devon

Produced by Mark Tucker with Phillip Henry.
All songs by Hannah Martin, except Wanting Nothing, Time Away, Wander, and The Longest Day, by Henry / Martin; and Spencer The Rover, trad. arr. Henry / Martin. Arrangements by Phillip Henry.

Photography by Jolyon Holroyd
Graphic design, artwork and cyanotyping by Sam Cooke
Original cyanotypes by Hannah Martin

With thanks to -
Mark, Jolyon and Sam for lending us your talents.
Jon, for finding the place, and Paul and Jella for making us so welcome - for your kindness, and for the inspiration. Very special thanks to all three of you xxx

Several books were of particular significance in the writing of these songs. I am thankful to Nick Groom's The Seasons, Kathleen Jamie's Findings, and Rebecca Solnit's Hope in the Dark for all their wisdom.

This album could not have been made without the support of our amazing crowdfunder team. With enormous thanks to:

Executive Producers - Jane and John Walton, Neil and Lesley Sibson, Nigel and Maria Nash, and Ian Dutton and Bev Dean.

Crowdfunding supporters -
Adam Boys, Jonathan Havenhand, Colin and Suzanne Doak, Richard Ellis, Drew Wegg and Maggie Kenny, Kate Harris and Cliffy Butler, Jan Howe, Gabrielle and Steve Fairgrieve, Mark Ginns, Joseph Zielinski, Suzanne Proctor, Henrik Widell

And everyone that contributed to our crowdfunding campaign, THANK YOU XXX


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Edgelarks: Phillip Henry and Hannah Martin UK

Edgelarks fly in on the tailwind of BBC award winning duo Phillip Henry and Hannah Martin. Combining soulful original songwriting with deep folk roots and influences as diverse as Indian classical and American blues, this duo produce a sound like no other. ... more

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