What a Circle Is Worth

by A.p. Harbor

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1.
Skedaddle 03:03
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If I get blue on stormy days, and I hear a rustling from the weathervane, he'll say, “those clouds don’t wait around for anything. You don’t like what you see, then close the window and if your darlin’ don’t make you grin, and if your politicians are wearing you thin, if your old house is falling in, then skedaddle, skedaddle, skedaddle to another one.” I told that weathervane goodbye, and I packed my bags for bluer skies. If those clouds wander back my way, then I’ll dig me a daisy and fly away again.
2.
Tin Foil Plane 03:25
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I went to sea a thousand times in search of treasures to cure my bug bites. My castle walls- built from mud and bricks, and my drawbridge- made of candlesticks. I think sometime I got too brave, so many seasons I've collected tucked beneath my bed, and gone were the days of the empire I'd made. I wonder if it's still there in that old shed? I want to sail away on a tin foil plane. When I have roamed high and low, I want to sail away on a tin foil plane. Tin foil plane, take me home. I had an army at my hands. Ten thousand ants employing my commands. The swan song from the paper cranes shimmered in the signal fires, and they burned away. I learned at the end of the world what a circle is worth. Maybe some never do. If they had that sweet little plane, they would be on their way home too.
3.
Counting Down the Raindrops 02:48
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I know all will be just fine. The starlings in the apple trees sing their songs in time, and the rain falls like it did when you were by my side, but I'm counting down the raindrops til I dream of you tonight. There are things I wish that I had known- that winter would bite a little harder when you've gone, but the frost still ambles up our window in a waltz, and I lie beneath the snowfall, dancing with you in my thoughts. The age of leaves in the fall will always show on the old crooked tree you loved that stands down the road. And the rain still falls on our rooftop in the night, so I'm counting down the raindrops til I dream of you tonight.
4.
Lost 03:30
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They say sleeping under stars is romantic, but when the roof is a thousand miles away, there’s a new definition to “the bright side”, and stars are just old photographs that fade. I find that I find all the lost ones before I find myself. Bumping into the startle of strangers on the street, and strangers seem to treat you well. I’m getting good at getting lost. I’m betting dimes on better bucks. Old friends tell me that I’ve found my way. I’m not cut out for getting caught. I’m getting good at getting lost these days. No time for daydreams in the moonlight. I’m bewildered by the books that began when I stumbled into Sunday in Saturday’s clothes onto pages in the hands of the wrong kind of man.
5.
Wildcat 03:28
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I met a cute little thing who put his arms around me. I said, "This is for the birds. My heart's got the best of me." I've got a wildcat howling in my chest, but if I turn around, baby, well, the cat's all I got left. My, my, my. I can't lie. I want you to know, cat's got my tongue. I've been struck dumb. This is how it goes with a wildcat in your soul. Little tunes come warbling from your lips. Well, something about your birdsong, baby- I lose my wits. You've got a wildcat howling in your eyes. If you want to make me crumble, darling, you don't even have to try.
6.
How Does the Radio Know? 03:15
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How does the radio know our songs? Well, it must have been an old friend of yours for a long, long time. It must have been with us in your truck bed, watching mars hide its eyes. Oh, how does the radio know? How does the radio know our tunes? It's been playing them on repeat. Mr. Radio, what did I do? It's keeping me up late sometimes on those lonesome, lonesome nights, and I ask myself, "Why can't the radio lie?" Never knew that a box could be so cold, but the frequencies it sends when I'm alone... Oh, how does the radio know? How does the radio know you're gone? I'm tuned in to the silence all day long, but I still hear you through the speakers some nights when I'm alone, and I ask myself, "How does the radio know?"
7.
Cordie Stutchell 02:04
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Was I troubadour or was I squatter with blackberry whiskey in my gut at the alter? She sang out of key through the neck of the bottle. If the church bells ring, I won't know til tomorrow. Moonlight and moonshine- that's how I met Cordie Stutchell. I mastered the art of head on collision; I was a thespian of poise and precision. She had a script for me already written. I prayed to the editor for some revision.
8.
Love Is the Most Agonizing Thing 03:07
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Love is the most agonizing thing. Innocence cuts to the bone. I see in your eyes the places I've never been and places that I'll never go, but I want to so. Love is the most agonizing thing. I wander in the streets and find love in the lamplight in strangers who flicker your fire in their eyes, but it burns a bit dimmer than yours do, my dear friend. I see us there in my grandmother's yard. You would've loved her cooking. She would've loved your scars. Endearing and worn. "A worker," she'd say- that I should be proud to be yours- and I would be, but love is the most agonizing thing. I'll stand at your side as companions must do. But some days when you sing, and I can't shake the pain, I'm happy, but oh, love is the most agonizing thing.
9.
Perspective of a Winter Leaf 04:17
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Lingering on a brittle branch, I can see the children in the hollow groves of frost at ease- thistles buried to their necks in a frozen sea, strawberries blooming on eager cheeks. From high above, the wooded winter far below beckons me with silk and song and falling snow. With the wind’s caress, I sail away from all I know. Many moons have passed since I have left my home. Wanderers, in early light, have passed me by. I find my place these chilly days by their side, lost in winter wild. My brothers and my sisters falling from the trees, waltzing in the wind as they fall to sleep, the crunching of our stillness just beneath their toes. So much beauty in our resting souls. The days have grown soft and still and shorter now, with the dwindling of the breeze that shook us from the bough. I will join them soon upon the weary earth, but my oh my what a journey that it was!
10.
The Peach Tree 02:34
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The foxes make coffee in the cool morning fog, and the turtles turn their tails while you're busy sawing logs. Say hello to the green snakes when you meet them in your garden. Sweet as peaches. They ain't too much a bother. Time is a bumble bee. It flies and stings and it makes you sweet, and in the hole of our guitars, we'll plant some sunflower seeds. On Wednesdays, the fishermen will dream about the stars, hooking bigger fish and hummingbirds with corncobs and jars. Let's go up to the peach tree. Won't you come and meet me? Let's go up to the peach tree tonight.
11.
Talking Problem 03:38
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I've got a talking problem, I know. Everyone says that I'm as quiet as the snow. Maybe they're right. I won't fight it after all. There's a weariness in the noise that has my heart in tow. I've got a talking problem, so they say. I've never been one to say too much from to day, but I believe the silence isn't all that bad. Oh, lately, I sing less unless it's to you, my friend. I've got a talking problem, I know. Everyone says that I'm as quiet as the snow. I travel with a sweet repose behind my back. Words are wasted far too much on the meaningless.
12.
What Are We Doing Out So Late at Night? 03:53
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When the owls begin to stir, and the hourglass has nearly turned, we will strike conversation with the moon, but the moon will sleep before we do. The lightning bugs, they surely are constellations trapped in jars. Those little lanterns light the way for the moon, the lightning bugs, and me. Oh, what are we doing out so late at night? If I wake up to sundial alarms, I won’t miss modern clockwork charm, and if I spend all damn day asleep, I’ll still see you in my dreams.
13.
Same Old Love Songs 04:09
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I keep on writing the same old love songs, but they don’t do you any justice, I know. They tell me perfect songs don't exist, but some are deeper than the ocean. They haven’t known you like I have. If I could catch just a note, if I could pluck a song out of the sea, for a while, could the record still spin? Would you sail one last time across my skin? Just for a spell, let’s take a chance. I was born just to dance to your tune for a while. I've been writing the same old love songs, but none hook my heart quite like yours do. Like a sailor lost in the song of the tide, I'll drown in the sound just to keep you alive. But I'm an old dog, old tricks, an empty handed hunting hound, and I howl those old love songs when you come around. Oh, darling, how I wish we could’ve lived that life, but I’ve been writing the same old love songs time after time.
14.
60 Stories High 03:18
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Some days, the mountains are skyscrapers 60 stories high. The deer trails are highways blazing through tunnels in my mind. Some days, the treetops are flickering on and off. And in the afternoon, the rain peppers down into glasses of the drunks in the room. I got lost somewhere on the road. What song can I sing from the mountains? What song can I sing from the mountains? What song can I sing from the mountains to bring myself home? Some days, I dream in that old hotel where the visionaries crooned, but I’m sleeping at home all alone in the bed next to you. From far away, the cityscape takes me back to a quieter place, wherein, I lie, in hushed unrest. If I sold my soul, am I weary or blessed?

credits

released July 20, 2021

Musicians:

Melissa Caskey - upright bass, vocals
Caroline Copley - viola
Matt Holleran - drums, vocals
Kathryn Hoss - accordion
Michael Jarvi - electric guitar, electric bass, acoustic guitar, piano
Mary Morris - trumpet, vocals
Andrew Preston - acoustic guitar, piano, synthesizers, banjo, ukulele, harmonica, melodica, mellotron, upright bass, vocals
Leanna Price - fiddle
Wyatt Smith - vocals
Kendall Swan - drum machine, keyboard, slide guitar, vocals
Austin Tackett - additional arrangements (12 and 14)
Natalia Walker - saxophone

Artists:

Victoria Agosto-Gonzalez - tracklist artwork
Elizabeth Bowman - cover, disc, and insert artwork
Heather Holleran - photography
Patrick Stephenson - package design / layout

Recorded at CoffeeTree Books
Additional drums, bass, and piano recorded at The Kentucky Center for Traditional Music
Produced, mixed, and mastered by Andrew Preston and Michael Jarvi

Words and music written by Andrew Preston
Additional arrangements from Melissa Caskey, Matt Holleran, Michael Jarvi, and Austin Tackett.
All tracks published Woodsheep Music (BMI)
Tracks 12 and 14 also published David Austin Tackett Music (BMI)

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A.p. Harbor Morehead, Kentucky

weird and whimsical music

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