Axehandle Road

by The Orchards

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  • Cassette + Digital Album

    High quality cassette tape (the medium to which the album was recorded) featuring stunning collage artwork and broadside lyric sheet by Anne Danae. Limited to 25 copies.

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razor sharp, there in the looming dark my eyes to yours like they're moths when we dream we meet in that frozen scene and dissolve just like breath touching frost holy mother mary, there's blood on the snow i had no time to raise shields he felled me with one single blow on the shore, i kneeled down i prayed for more as if time could be poured out like tea from dragon's bones, i built you a royal throne to behold what i was too blind to see in the court of the pharaoh, the judgment comes slow way down in our marrow we thought we knew but we don't know once we had love that we laid on our mattresses we pulled it up, found it's seed and then scattered it red running secrets with fingers like icicles sail down the street and away like they're bicycles rosehips and rye bread and sweet coriander we measured out all of the tastes we were after so hang out the laundry and hope that we live through this when all that i wanted from you was forgiveness
Rifle 04:51
fog on the river, so familiar a rider did come, bearing my son eyes and hair like a stranger i raised my rifle up high history lends me its scope we'd hang ourselves with enough rope as i take aim, who is to blame it's gray like the horse and its ghost i raised my rifle up high i heard the morning bell chime and i watched them pass by
The Windows 06:04
tis the season for the taste of treason when he made you just to break you into two and scatter the ashes around the yard when orion slew the lion, he loosed his arrow like a sparrow across the winter sky to the room where you were born the windows in the room where you were born and right when you began to turn away he decided to stay i made a voice that i could use to speak with you to breathe some life into a stillborn baby and in the moonlight all the statues came to life when you touched them, skin pressed against skin a rite we knew so well your body became my altar and the voice i used was echoes of your voice and right when you began to turn away she decided to stay close the door, boy, these winters they can kill you and i know something else that can too light a candle in memory of your brother don't forget how he died unlike any other
we are the ghosts of the revolutionary war and our bones, made of sand and of stone made of corn and of chrome on a land not our own we are from somewhere else we're not afraid of anything else and we're not afraid of that we'll sink our teeth in the back of their knees and fell them just like that and the chimes that we're hearing tonight they remind us of when they had the noose round our necks and we sang liberty and the blood of a thousand of us it sleeps on the ground outside of the gates and they say 'none shall pass' and the sun, it is opening up from the back to the front everything that we want is within reach, our destiny so bridle your horse and come with an axe we're marching in the streets sycamore bones and a ten-ton stone we're come to tame the beast we are the ghosts of a revolution and a war
she claims she cannot raise the dead with empty bottles around a table snow melting on stained glass seabeard, the gap is widening salt burns to ash inside you there's a fire called your heart it makes lips warm, makes blood hot place your fire inside another she claims she cannot raise the dead but i don't believe her songs cannot hold this but they can glimpse it
Shores 06:08
when we reach the shores of nockamixon that is where we'll lay our weapons down do you hear the birds of esther calling the rush of wings is covering the town


winter nights in an old stone house along the delaware river.

"the past is never dead. it's not even past." - wcf

recorded live to cassette.


released March 14, 2014

eric schwan matt lajoie dawn aquarius
with scioty brown
at hersey and the highland hobbit house
mixed by es and mlj
art by anne danae


all rights reserved



The Orchards Portland, Maine

The Orchards were the songwriting project of Pennsylvania native Eric Schwan, now based in Portland, ME and featuring a revolving cast of musicians adding orchestral and ambient textures and harmonies to his simple, folk-based songs. They released their LP, "Sing Birds, In Your Shrinking Woods" on Apohadion/Burst & Bloom Records with a final show on September 15, 2019. ... more

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