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Cover of What the Empty Rooms Remember

Album · 2023

What the Empty Rooms Remember

by Leopold Marsh

Fathers, mothers, brothers and the photographs that outlast them, scored for strings, horn and a small choir.

Tracks

  1. 1. What the Empty Rooms RememberThe paler squares where the pictures hung are the whole song. I opened with it because it is how every one of these stories begins.neoclassical, chamber ballad3:39
  2. 2. The Man in the Frame Is Walking Toward MeA photograph of my father young, walking toward me down a platform. The drums come in like a footstep.cinematic pop, film score4:06
  3. 3. Whoever Took the Picture Was LovedSomeone loved whoever took the picture, you can see it in the faces. The choir sings the last chorus without me.classical crossover, choral4:07
  4. 4. Mother Sets Two Cups Out AnywayShe forgets the street but remembers two cups. I could not make it any gentler than this, and I tried.cinematic pop, warm ballad3:54
  5. 5. The Veranda Where My Father Counts the RainMy father counts the rain from a porch an ocean away. I wrote it for him with a slow, patient horn.neoclassical, pastoral4:20
  6. 6. The Brothers Come Home Before the Rains BreakThree of us left with pockets full of promises, and the rains bring us back. The choir carries the final verse home.neoclassical, choral4:46
  7. 7. The Face Half Turned AwayA friend half turned from the lens, laughing at something off to the side. I never asked what it was.neoclassical, elegiac4:37
  8. 8. The Seat Where My Father SatA turnstile, a concrete stair and the seat where my father sat. The heaviest song I have written, and I sing it quietly.cinematic pop, elegiac3:43
  9. 9. The Shopfront in the ShoeboxThe doorframe, the shoebox, the shopfront gone the colour of tea. I recorded it in one take and kept the cough.neoclassical, chamber ballad4:58
  10. 10. The Gown Hangs Ready on the DoorThe gown hangs ready, pressed the way her grandmother taught. I closed on hope, because families deserve one.neoclassical, wedding ballad4:20

Liner notes

This is the record I put off for fifteen years. My parents were ageing, my brothers were scattered and every photograph in the house had started to look like a film still. I brought in a small evensong choir for the first time, eight voices in a stone church, and let them hold the long notes while I told the stories. The orchestra is restrained; the people are not. I hope you hear someone saying a great many things very quietly.

Leopold Marsh