The Woodlands

The grey of dripping dusk sounds forth an invitation to innocence. It extends its grey hand with a slight tremble and a quiet recognition of the disparity between its own chill and the warmth of the impending guest. Innocence reciprocates like a slow glance around the doorway that leads to a dim room, holding promises not only of marvelous wonder, but also of looming danger. And the allure of wonder prevails. The music is like the light of innocence that does not seek isolation or hibernation. It dances with gloom, not upon it. It does not intrude, it intervenes. And this light allures because it too has been haunted, yet shines more fiercely because of the haunting.
Hannah sings of longings and musings and daydreams that delicately embrace the blurred borders between heartbeat and heartache. Hers is a voice of swift beauty that hovers between stark and glow as it glides along her guitar. Samuel (Of The Isles) contributes lyrically and instrumentally to the songs that tell stories and beckon towards familiar mystery.
As wife and husband, they have spent many months together in their Portland apartment writing, recording and producing the album on their own. Amidst an aged and worn wooden desk, elusive quiet night hours, and a homemade studio fort of blankets and pillows, The Woodlands traveled the byways of one another’s souls--seeking, listening and searching for words and sounds with which to share what they found.