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À propos de cet album
Under the Green Moon est une descente d’acid folk occulte en sept titres, présentée comme un pressage privé perdu de 1968. Elle commence par une invitation sous un chêne, traverse un cercle rituel et s’achève lorsque la forêt est devenue à la fois le décor et la force qui dirige la cérémonie.
Le son reste ancré dans la guitare acoustique jouée aux doigts, l’autoharpe et le dulcimer, avant d’intégrer flûte, bourdons à l’archet, harmonium, percussions à main et voix superposées. Les morceaux suivants élargissent la palette avec sitar électrique, tanpura, orgue Farfisa, boucles de bande et voix inversées, faisant glisser un folk hanté et intime vers un psychédélisme rituel instable.
Période d’archive : 1968 · Publié :
Liste des titres
- 1Oakblood4:23
- 2Mandrake4:51
- 3Green Fire4:13
- 4The Ivy Girl4:17
- 5Black Bell4:34
- 6Mosspath3:58
- 7Blood of the Seeds4:48
Notes de pochette
Le disque est construit comme une progression continue vers les profondeurs des bois. Oakblood ouvre le cercle sans donner l’alerte : les voix chuchotées et les cordes acoustiques rendent le premier seuil accueillant. Mandrake fait entrer le rituel dans le corps, là où racines, terre et souffle commencent à échanger leurs places.
Au centre, Green Fire transforme le chaudron en source d’un lent élan psychédélique. The Ivy Girl réduit le récit à des fragments et des voix répétées, tandis que Black Bell donne à la cérémonie un caractère plus ancien et plus délibéré. Son langage dépouillé de cloche et d’orgue crée l’espace le plus austère de l’album.
Mosspath se retire brièvement dans la brume avant que son rituel instrumental ne gagne en puissance. Blood of the Seeds abandonne ensuite la forme d’une chanson folk ordinaire : sitar, Farfisa, bourdons, hochets et voix inversées entraînent le morceau final dans une hallucination complète d’acid folk. L’album n’explique pas le rite. Il laisse une chaîne d’images — chêne, racine, flamme verte, lierre, cloche, mousse et graine — et confie à la forêt le soin de les relier.
Paroles originales en anglais
Under the oak where the moonlight bleeds The circle is drawn with the blood of the seeds Whispers of ravens call out my name The old ones are waking, they're playing their game Her hair like the ivy that chokes the stone wall Eyes full of starlight, she answers the call Brew in the cauldron, the herbs twist and burn The veil between worlds starts to tear and turn Witch's moonlit veil, falling so slow Take me where the wild spirits go Through the smoke and the sigh of the ancient trees Lost in the acid of forgotten dreams Barefoot on moss where the toadstools glow She dances in circles that nobody knows The wind sings a warning, the shadows grow long The devil's in the details of her pagan song Powder of mandrake under my tongue The forest is breathing, the night has begun Silver bells ringing from branches above Come join the coven, surrender your love Witch's moonlit veil, falling so slow Take me where the wild spirits go Through the smoke and the sigh of the ancient trees Lost in the acid of forgotten dreams Deeper... deeper into the green... Where the roots entwine what has never been seen... The moon laughs softly... the fire burns green... Witch's moonlit veil... drifting away Into the morning that never sees day Lost in the acid... of forgotten dreams...
Mandrake under the tongue Bitter root, black lung Mandrake under the tongue The night goes young I was told not to pull it When the moon was thin I was told not to listen When the root spoke in But the soil had a mouth And the mouth had a bell And the bell rang once At the bottom of the well Down, down The green blood goes Down, down Where the old root grows She cut it with silver She wrapped it in hair She laid it beside me And told me not to stare But it moved like a finger In a dead man’s glove And it sang through the floorboards Of hunger, not love Down, down The green blood goes Down, down Where the old root grows Do not chew Do not swallow Let it open Let it hollow My feet became branches My hands became clay The trees leaned closer And carried me away No candle, no doorway No prayer, no thread Only the root-song Blooming in my head Mandrake, mandrake Bury me slow Mandrake, mandrake Teach me below I drank from the hollow I slept in the seed Now something is growing Where I used to breathe Mandrake under the tongue Bitter root, black lung Mandrake under the tongue The night goes young Do not wake me If the leaves know my name
Green fire in the iron bowl Ash on the tongue and smoke in the soul Three white stones and a lock of hair Something unseen is standing there She stirs it once with a willow bone The flame bends low like it has been shown No red, no gold, no candlelight Only green in the mouth of night Burn low Burn clean Open the root Open the green The faces blur at the edge of sight Hands turn pale in the forest light The trees lean in and the shadows kneel The fire begins to breathe and feel Do not name it Do not feed it Do not look away Green fire on the water skin Green fire crawling out and in Green fire under every leaf Green fire underneath my teeth Burn low Burn clean Open the root Open the green The smoke writes circles above her head The living answer for the dead The bowl is empty The flame remains And every voice forgets its name Green fire Green fire Take the night higher Green fire Green fire Crown the briar
Ivy at the doorway Ivy at the bone She waits where the black trees lean She never waits alone Ivy Ivy Bind Bend Green hands Still eyes Soft mouth No lies She knows the path She knows the root She knows your name She knows the fruit Do not kiss her Do not follow Do not sleep Inside the hollow Ivy Ivy Bind Bend
A bell rings ooooooooooone Where no church staaaaaaaands Cold smoke riiiiiiises From empty haaaaaaaands No bird calls ooooooooout No branch repliiiiiiiies Only the beeeeeeeell Between my eeeeeeeeyes Ring it low Ring it thin Let the outside Come within Three steps leeeeeeeft Four steps dooooooown The roots wear teeeeeeeeth The moss wears crooooooowns Do not ask who rings it Do not ask who hears The bell was buried Before your years Black bell riiiiiiing Black bell slooooooow Take me uuuuuuunder Where roots still groooooow The bell rings ooooooooooone The trees bow loooooooow The path behiiiiiiind Refuses to shooooooow
Moss on the stones Mist on the leaves The path goes under And nobody leaves Mosspath Carry me slow Mosspath Where the pale roots go No bell behind No fire ahead Only the green And the quiet dead Mosspath Carry me slow Mosspath Where the pale roots go Do not hurry Do not speak The moss remembers What the living seek Mosspath Carry me slow
The seeds are open The soil is red Something is growing Under the dead Blood of the seeds Blood of the ground Blood of the green Without a sound I saw the roots Drink from the moon I heard the flowers Sing out of tune Blood of the seeds Blood of the ground Blood of the green Without a sound Do not bury them They bury you Do not water them They drink through you The seeds are open The night is wide The forest enters And stays inside
Explorer cet album
Recommandé si vous aimez
- L’acid folk occulte
- La guitare acoustique jouée aux doigts et le dulcimer
- Le psychédélisme des rituels forestiers
- Les boucles de bande et les voix inversées
- Les percussions à main hypnotiques
- L’atmosphère sombre des pressages folk privés
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