The Arboretum

by A.p. Harbor

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Compact disc in a jewel case featuring artwork from Colyn Clarke, Dean Sassi, and PJ Scott-Blankenship.

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1.
Welcome to the Show 01:06
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Can you lend me a microphone? Could I borrow a cable? Could you fetch me a microphone stand if you’re able? Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a fable. Welcome to the show.
2.
Tiny Green Bucket 01:39
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Tiny Green Bucket, what were you holding, to've made someone drop you and leave you behind? I will retrieve you and fill you with water, and sprinkle my garden with contentment and pride. Nobody knows just what you mean to me. Nobody knows where you're from, but that's okay.
3.
Wires Fray 03:37
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"Be wary of the wires," they said, when you tiptoe on the surface." It seemed to make them nervous to rest their wings on an esoteric line. A cabalistic cable, independent of a fishing pole. Couldn't strum it in a tune. What the hell is the use? I found myself where the birds were crowing. High on the tightrope- balanced, posed in the camera flash on wires thin as eyelashes. Don't fall. Don't fall. Maybe someday when the wires fray, I'll have learned to fly and fly away. Or maybe I'll get shocked, but I won't fall. I won't fall. "Be wary of the wires," they said. Some are inchworms, it's true. Filaments can fill your ribs with sustenance or bad news. My younger years, uncharted, chasing cables, softhearted. Pecking crumbs like a histrionic pigeon. Built a nest with antennae on it. Now I’m older, none the wiser. My wings are sewn with chicken wire. They say power lines will start a fire- stop, drop, and roll.
4.
Bedweather 03:00
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If the day brings you bedweather, search to and fro, for only the simple pleasures migrate the soul. The captain may call your name, but whether you go is up in the air, the notion is open. Take up the moonlight's function, and light up the room. Climb up the coffee tree and bask in the brew. Stargaze for stillness beyond the sleepy sun. The grind will find time when the daydreaming’s done. Meander like a sleepy mother's late night lullaby. Dream up a seagull and take him for a ride. If the day brings you bedweather, and the starlight thrills your soul, the sun becomes just another one twinkling through the window. If the day brings you bedweather, drink up the mind. Revel in the temperature, and waltz with the time. If the day brings you bedweather, leave the quilt askew. Be soft as a feather on bedweather afternoons.
5.
Luna Moth 04:05
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Luna Moth, do ever wonder what you are? Wrought with quietness, glimmering in the dimness of a somber sky. Gossamer, a wisp, a waxing satellite. Do you wonder why the moon is on your side? I wish that I could fly like you or build a ladder to Saturn and scatter my blues. Sail a big balloon up to the moon. Luna Moth, that’s what I’d do. Luna Moth, do you ever pine for the tempered earth? Some sacred lantern to follow home? Celadon powder-wings will guide your way beyond the devils of the day who’d frighten you away.
6.
Droon 02:38
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Wywg freu knv zbgclisr ob kvs Yhowqno Usqvvzcb Gdjy W yhrfbrg rpchw nvwyh zb o prxbwglms dfbtvcyrxm qydjg wa ffzzrjv. Hc flddzvip, hvr hodseldsbg pvoghuvg vbz hiwpncm dnukwqvsrbhf frb qnwvucelqs ggldizv dj kcegj cf arekcegj. W qbgvr hulj asfvrus ilr o Jvjvbèfr fzdvru lgwaj r bcazffr sufa huh gfsfhehoglfb hudk rol le qznvj: Droon. W zvnv kcegj kwgk tcbfhtihvyv c’g fr zh ggxty chw kc ar. Lw oblres sihi rsplgvsev kvwf jzppruzgv, covogr uvoqu rlh hb pv. W’r yrms hb pvsh lrl.
7.
Ube and Pumpkin 02:25
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I was told long, long ago by a mountain who lent me her comfort, this professor of dirt, of the sweetness of hallowed gourds cooked in the soil, quarried from my soul by a gardener’s trowel. I want to be sweet and soft again, and spread my roots like ube and pumpkin. Amaranthine snowflakes and kindling warmed by the fire. fall like a nectar so gingerly onto our tongues. The doll in the sky who whistles between her teeth has buried me in orange and violet and saccharine memories too.
8.
I'll Be Your Doorman 03:45
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I'll be your doorman. I won't let the bad folks in. I'll be your guard dog. You can sleep at ease, my friend. If a sweet-tooth, uncouth prowler heads your way, then adieu a vous! I will avert the threat, I say, there’s nothing taking you away. I'll be your doorman. There's no need for lock and key. I’ll be your doorstep salesman. Be my sweet vendee. You got me weak kneed. Can you help me through the gate? If one door closes, I’ll gladly pave your way. I’ll be your doorman, there’s no doubt. Please, please don’t ever lock me out.
9.
Sonegow 03:14
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Finely woven air caresses her core- permeating breath, wishing Wandering transmissions, burning radio waves absolve a cell from her trance Small voyagers- evolving beads of Gods- A poetry swells across the sea, aware A quiet, conscious knowing thing, wishing threads, bind and shatter His advent, an elder huntress, ephemeral trail-dancing, a touch a nova, a wish-drop in a subterranean pool
10.
Stick Figure 02:57
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I'm a stick figure in this song, but, to you, I have been all along. On a white backdrop, a callow clump of lines. Some are curved and some are bent. I think in ink and then I'm a stick figure in this song, but, to you, I have been all along. I'd have tipped my cap had I known that was that. I'd have photographed the twinkle in your eyes, but the only picture here is a sad, little stickman in the mirror. I'm a stick figure in this song, and to you, I have been all along. I'm a stick figure in this song. My skin and bones are all long gone. If you need a man to carry you around, you'd better grab a pen or find a Rembrandt to befriend, because I'm a stick figure in this song, and to you, I have been all along. Connect the dots, I never had a shot. I'm reduced to doodles spiral bound, but the only sketch that’s left is a sad, little stickman, I regret, because I’m a stick figure in this song, and to you, I have been all along.
11.
The Valve 03:55
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Well, I'm plucked and I’m stuck in the gutter again- the same old snag that I’ve always been in. When the rain pours down, I sink or I swim, circle the drain til it ends. The wild blue yonder is strung up above, but I’m always under the sad, old sun. The steam is spent on this sinking ship. It’s a lovely, lonely porthole view. The sky is so high. Yeah, I’m sure it’s a trip. I should spin the valve around like a screw, and drift away into the blue. My eyelashes collect every tear that I cry. I am made like a palisade to keep myself dry. Who knew you could drown in a desert and die time after time? It’s a funny twist of luck to have slipped down a spout where the valve is stuck. I do it to myself with these waterworks well. Maybe someday the rain will let up.
12.
Coconut Bridge 03:09
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Take me down to Coconut Bridge. Let's climb higher than the palm trees. Read me a poem from Sylvia Plath. Let me analyze that. Take me down to Coconut Bridge. Take off our clothes and run around naked, grow out some big beards and show off our anchor tattoos. Wouldn't that be a hoot? Once, I thought I saw your likeness in the Loch Ness Monster. Somehow, my interest was piqued, because I liked the mystique of my plesiosaurus pal. Take me down to Coconut Bridge. Print me some sweet notes in a font that I love. Roll them up in a pretty bottle with a cork, send it out to sea. And maybe someday, someone from Nantucket, Delfino, or the Bermuda Triangle will decipher your letters- your handwriting habits- and read all about our life here without the shitty parts of modern kitsch, of you and I at Coconut Bridge. Take me down to Coconut Bridge.

credits

released June 7, 2023

Musicians:

Matt Holleran - vocals, drums
Michael Jarvi - vocals, electric guitar, cajon, electric bass
Josh McIntosh - fretless bass
Mary Morris - vocals, trumpet
Andrew Preston - vocals, acoustic guitar, piano, synthesizers, stylophone, kazoo, ukulele, whistling, percussion, drum machine, accordion, harmonica
Wyatt Smith - vocals
Chloe West - background vocal

Artists:

Colyn Clarke - pixel art adapted from Clarke's original painting "Solla Sollew"
Dean Sassi - tracklist and insert art
PJ Scott-Blankenship - pixel art
Patrick Stephenson - package design / layout

Recorded at home and at CoffeeTree Books.
Produced, mixed, and mastered by Andrew and Jarvi.
All songs written by Andrew Preston.

Published Woodsheep Music (BMI)

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A.p. Harbor Morehead, Kentucky

weird and whimsical music

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