Hazel Delehey



Hazel Delahey
Camden, Maine
 
 
Works:
Angel and a Sword
 
 

Malcolm Brooks – Musical Sherpa
Meredith Luce – Associate Producer
 

Alex Wilder – Producer
 

Nathan Hillman – Viola


Counting Down the Days

Hazel Delehey wrestles with why she’s missing home. Last time she camped on Alfred Lake it was wonderful. But now, something’s not right, either inside her or out in the world.
 
I’m sitting in my tent
Upset at myself
And the world around me.
Disappointment flies around
In bits and pieces
Haunting me everyday.
 
I should be happy
Considering my surroundings,
The beautiful place I’m in,
The beautiful place I’m in.
But I can’t see it in a bright light.
It’s more like a dark light.
 
Counting down the days,
Just wanting to go home,
Watching the clock tick by,
It couldn’t go any slower.
 
I had a good time
With friends the year before.
Now they all left me.
All new people have appeared.
I’m not so comfortable,
Not easy anymore.
 
I should be happy,
Considering my surroundings,
The beautiful place I’m in,
The beautiful place I’m in.
But I can’t see it in a bright light.
It’s more like a dark light.
 
Counting down the days…
 
Got to make the best of this.
So much in my head.
Going to write down all my thoughts
In the journal under my bed.
I’m going to watch the sunset on the lake.
I’m going to listen to the loons.
 
Counting down the days…


Hannah Batley


Hannah Batley

Orono, Maine

 
Hannah Batley on iTunes:

 
Sunflower

Hannah Batley re-lives moments of affection and inspiration from a family friend.
 
He would try to teach me how to point my toe.
I would point to my toe with my hand.
No one sat in his chair, ‘cause it was his chair,
But if you sat in his lap, he’d understand.
 
In his pocket he kept seeds from a sunflower,
‘Cause to him they showed the wonder of God.
He was amazed at how brown seeds turned to sunflowers.
Oh, that was my Papa Pod.
 
Chorus:
So hold me and sing to me songs
Of the sunflower with God in its seed.
Remind me life is beautiful.
Remind me of the sunflower,
That’s all I need.
 
Christmas eve, we would drive over to his house.
He would wait for us outside if there was snow.
He would aim at the car and throw a snowball.
It was a tradition all of his own.
 
Chorus
 
He was the best at breaking bread.
How he loved, he loved, he loved to bake bread.
 
There was a place that he called “The Tree Cathedral.”
It was a spot of woods in front of his house.
It was there that we all stood and spread his ashes.
It was there, it was there, it was there that never came out.
 
Chorus
 
Writers:
Hannah Batley – story source
Malcolm Brooks – musical sherpa
 
Recording:
Lady on the Radio
Session artists:
Hannah Batley – vocal
Nora Willauer – cello
Sophie Davis and Josie Davis – violins
Nathan Hillman – viola
Malcolm Brooks – guitar, bass
Rush DeNooyer – piano


Star or an Angel

Hannah Batley thought she was lost, slipping off into the margins, and then events suggested otherwise.
 
The school was small and suffocating.
I lost my voice and couldn’t get it back,
And everyone knew everyone, and knew what everyone was up to.
I had sort of separated from the pack.
 
Spent the summer home with my parents,
Painting houses as a summer job.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go back to that school,
Or even if I wanted to at all.
 
I didn’t know where I was going,
But looking back it feels so clear.
But looking back there was someone showing me the way,
Yes, a star or an angel was here.
 
But how could there possibly be
A star or an angel for me, for me?
 
So here I am, all grown up,
Not concerned with being the best,
Doing what I love, what I love, what I love to do,
And let the universe handle the rest.
 
But how could there possibly be
A star or an angel for me, for me?
For me, for me,
A star or an angel for me.

Dancing at Home

Hannah Batley of Orono, Maine, longs for an evening of quiet romance rather than a night on the town. Dancing at Home was Hannah’s birthday song for Jason Bolton. He was her fiancé and is now her husband.
 
You’re flying around the country
Sitting in airports
Thinking of me
Hopefully
And I’m at home alone counting the days
 
Till we’re dancing, dancing
Dancing at home
Till we’re dancing, dancing
Dancing at home
 
You’re living out of a suitcase
Getting some rest
Feeling your best
Hopefully
And I’m at home alone counting the days
 
Till we’re dancing, dancing…
 
You’ll sing me some Sinatra
Hold me near
Call me dear
Hopefully
How do I love thee?
 
I want to talk about unimportant things
And leave the world behind
Let’s just stay young at heart
 
Just dancing, dancing
Dancing at home
We’re just dancing, dancing
Dancing at home


Will Foote



The Push Farther Project
Documentary Singer/Songwriter
Rockport, Maine
 
Songs:

  • Where My Eyes Should Go
  • Could Be Good, Could Be Bad
  • Under the Water
  • That Was the Past
  • Girl Situation
  • Leaving This Place
  • The Wolf
  • Meaghan Oh Meaghan
  •  
     

     
    Will Foote began singing at age eight. He sang from the time he awoke each morning, all during showering, and even while eating breakfast. He took guitar lessons and played and sang, unaware that fellow students would sit outside the door and listen to his voice.
     

     
    He chose to attend college at St. Lawrence University and was invited to solo in three ensembles. As a sociology major and back-country trail guide, he began reflecting on his experiences and composing songs that expressed emotions in a direct, plain-spoken way.
     
    In 2014, Alex Wilder heard Will’s voice on a recording and invited him to join him in the Push Farther Project.
     
    In December 2015, Will collaborated on a song to document a World War II veteran’s experience as a prisoner in a Japanese prison camp.
     
    In April 2016, with fellow songwriter Chloë Isis, he conducted the first-ever live documentary songwriting session on radio.
     

     
    After graduating from St. Lawrence University in the spring of 2017, Will has been writing, arranging, recording, and producing documentary songs with Alex and Malcolm at Beauchamp Point Studios.
    Their recent goal has been to write, arrange, record, mix, and produce a song a week. Throughout the summer of 2017, they have been meeting their song-a-week goal, and posting the songs on the website.
     
     


    Push Farther

    For Will Foote, the farms, the rivers, and even the churches of upstate New York call to him to test his limits, but no matter how far he pushes himself, something tells him he still has more to go.
     

     
    Writers:
    Will Foote – Story Source
    Nora Willauer, Malcolm Brooks, Alex Wilder – Musical Sherpas
     
    Recording:
    Will Foote, Alex Wilder – vocals
    Nora Willauer – cello
    Sophie Davis and Josie Davis – violins
     
    Film Credits:
    Dana Rae Warren and Alex Forcillo – directors and cinematographers
    Malcolm Brooks – editor
     
    One night I climbed a silo
    Climbed a silo to sit on top
    Not many people know about it
    150, pretty steep drop
    Found a picnic table waiting up there
    I saw the stars that night and felt the air
    Push farther, the stars above the silo say
    Push farther, they say
     
    New York hills and farmland
    Remind me of the ocean
    If you go out far enough
    Instead of water, grass in motion
    Hard to get to when you don’t own a car
    On a bike it feels like twice as far
    Push farther, the waves of endless farmland say
    Push farther, they say
     
    The Avenue of the Elms
    Long road and shady ground
    At the end there’s a chapel
    But the steeple has burned down
    One night I went there, in my bare feet
    I saw the moon where the steeple would be
    Push farther, the fires that burned the steeple say
    Push farther, they say
     
    Seven miles of woods and snow
    On cross-country skis
    Hiked an icy hill and saw
    A mansion before me
    Two dogs and a carpenter appeared
    Working there for 17 years
    Push farther, the carpenter and the two dogs say
    Push farther, they say
     
    They call it the Grass River
    One morning I put in
    I canoed through woods and marshes
    For hours on end
    An old man at a cabin said, “Come sit”
    So on his narrow dock, I talked to him
    Push farther, the old man and the river say
    Push farther, they say
     
    © 2016 Beauchamp Point Music