Folklore! New track Unmade, and UK launch gigs

Our album Folklore comes out this month! We're so excited to share some music with you ahead of the release on 24 March and our UK launch gigs in Manchester (29th), London (30th) and Buxton (31st). Hit up those links for your tickets!

The album is a diverse collection of music from all around the world, from the USA to Afghanistan, Portugal to the Philippines. We've loved delving into unfamiliar musical languages to find the melodies and stories that spoke loudest to us. Along the way we've been struck by the universal themes we found – birth, death, love, adversity and hope. And in the year since we embarked on this project, world events have made it seem particularly timely. The idea that our common humanity defines us more than the country we call home – this is more important to us than ever.

Although most of the album is made up of traditional music, we wanted to include some folk-flavoured originals too. Unmade was written by Ed and features a gorgeous lead vocal from Jon. The old-world intimacy of the handwritten letter was the starting point for the song, which speaks to a timeless worry – that a relationship might be just a few ill-chosen words away from ending. Our co-producer Nick Girard and mixer Jon Cotton did a fantastic job juggling the different elements of this track, with hints to Celtic folk and bluegrass as well as some backwards tape loops finding their way into a contemporary sound world. Enjoy!

Image credit: The Swingles

Image credit: The Swingles

Lyrics:

I laboured long to write my love a letter
In gloom of night it sped through silent streets
But something in those words I chose upset her
Now all I have are crumpled sheets

Unmade, unmade by this rough hand
In lines that can't be blotted
The bonds I thought I made so fast
So fast became unknotted

I waste each night with hours of wakeful turning
And turning over all I wish I'd said
The shame that lingers keeps my blushes burning
With crumpled sheets upon the bed

Unmade, unmade, this world we built
All swathed in down and cotton
The pillow holds her head's fair mould
Once gone, not soon forgotten
Once gone, not soon forgotten