Make Me Kind EP

by Animals of Grace

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about

This 5-song, bi-coastal album was written by folk-duo Erika Lundahl and Doug Indrick spanning a New York to Seattle transplant in late 2013. The 5 song album has a raw folk energy, rife with vocal harmonies, guitar tapping, driving djembe, cajon, and auxiliary percussion. The duo’s collective sound is infused with environmental and socially passionate lyrics that are at once searching and soulful. The unique style of the band has been described as bearing, “elements of Ani DiFranco, Kaki King, and Joan Baez. Just the sweet grassy tips, short the commitment to gimmickery most people who manage to "sound like" end up hiding in.” Seattle-based Guitarist and songwriter Erika Lundahl and drummer Doug Indrick began collaborating in 2012 in Upstate New York.

*Includes a bonus track from our brand new album "Songs of Shattering."*

credits

released July 10, 2014

© 2014 Erika Lundahl and Doug Indrick
Produced and Mixed by Kurt Thompson
kurtthompson.bandcamp.com
Photo by Gaetano Settineri & Carmen Kwong
Album Art by Erika Lundahl & Doug Indrick
Thanks to our East and West coast friends and family!

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Animals of Grace Seattle, Washington

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Track Name: Three Songs of Shattering (Bonus)
I

The first rose on my rose-tree
Budded, bloomed, and shattered,
During sad days when to me
Nothing mattered.

Grief of grief has drained me clean;
Still it seems a pity
No one saw,—it must have been
Very pretty.

II

Let the little birds sing;
Let the little lambs play;
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring;—
But not in the old way!

I recall a place
Where a plum-tree grew;
There you lifted up your face,
And blossoms covered you.

If the little birds sing,
And the little lambs play,
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring—
But not in the old way!

III

All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree!
Ere spring was going—ah, spring is gone!
And there comes no summer to the like of you and me,—
Blossom time is early, but no fruit sets on.

All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree,
Browned at the edges, turned in a day;
And I would with all my heart they trimmed a mound for me,
And weeds were tall on all the paths that led that way!

-Edna St. Vincent Millay