Marginfolk by Folcrove

*Marginfolk* isn't just an album; it’s a reckoning. Rae’s journey started in the Dustwell, not just to decipher the Prism Index, but to learn what the wind already knew, how rain etches stories, and how fire frees them. We always thought the Bookmire’s battles were fought with ink and quill. This time, the war played out in the open air, where nature itself became the scribe.

Musically, we tried to capture that expansive feeling. You’ll hear the dulcimer gallop like a chase through rain-slicked shelves, the hurdy-gurdy drone a deep current beneath it all. Fretless bass swells and recedes like a tide, while bright acoustic strums cut through the gloom. Our percussion isn't just rhythm; it's the clatter of tumbling folios, the snap of typewriter keys marking time, the hiss of quill on parchment. It’s the sound of the Bookmire breathing.

This record digs into who gets to keep the world's stories and, more importantly, why. We saw the Illuminats, Vellumbane, and Scribehands wrestling over the Nullquill again, but this time it wasn't about control so much as understanding. Rae learned from the Scribehands that rivers are just footnotes, that the sky is a margin waiting for words. It was a strange thing, seeing the world's lore not just in books but in the storm clouds, in the very stone. The old clandestine raids, they felt like rites of passage out there, less about sneaking and more about facing the elements.

Honestly, some of us thought Rae would just take the power. But when the Ashmark trial came, and the choice was to erase or resurrect, to write in water across their own palms… that's when everything shifted. That chant, "Let the wind keep the words, let the fire set them free," it started as a whisper, then it became a roar from the whole damn hall. It felt less like a song and more like a collective promise. It isn't just narrative; it's about what stories we allow to live, to grow like roots.

We put a lot into this. Beyond the sounds, there are glyphs hidden in the liner art for those who look closely. It's warm, melodic progressive folk, with that Celtic lilt we love. Tunes you can hum, yes, but underneath, they're asking some big questions about memory, and belonging. It’s an album that asks you to listen, to feel that ache, and then to find your own place in the roar.

We're the keepers of forgotten tales, weaving dulcimer with fretless bass while whispering secrets of the Bookmire's hidden shelves. Join our ink-stained rebellion against silence – every chord a stolen story, every chorus a battle cry.