Given Name


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Philippe Tremblay
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Philippe Tremblay americana/folk done right. Favorite track: Follow Me.
Andrea Portuese
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Andrea Portuese Great sound and ballads, hope to ser Antrim Dells in Italy soon
Brandon Zarzyczny
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Brandon Zarzyczny This is a great album, and my favorite song is definitely Follow Me, I currently have it on repeat. :) Favorite track: Follow Me.
Luck Dragon
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Luck Dragon Excellent song writing, arrangement, and production. Clearly a lot of love and attention to detail went into this album. This album is strongly poetic with a sense of gravity. Really hits the spot when I'm looking to put on something grand and serious. Favorite track: Laurel.
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released June 29, 2013

All songs written by Jacob Bullard, arranged & performed by Antrim Dells. Recorded, mixed & mastered by Chad Wahlbrink ( at the Pink Mailbox in Nashville, Tennessee.

Special appearances by Michael Newsted on bass guitar and by Cole Johnson on saxophone.

Cover design by Benjamin Biondo (

Cover photograph by Chris Cox (

Antrim Dells is Brian Voortman, Laura Hobson, Jacob Bullard.




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ANTRIM DELLS Grand Rapids, Michigan

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Track Name: Your Place
Climb the hills down the sand banks to the pine lot at your place.
You were dream-making, I was usually late, but I always liked it at your place.

And now I'm seated at a table for ten. It's a foreign in table in a foreign land were the people stare and the chair at my side is empty, and your no where in sight.

So now I'm thinking of you taking your place, there's a bottle of wine and a drunk in my face. And he's slurring things that I don't want to hear so I'm searching for words with my hands in my hair.

Oh how I want you next to me, taking your place to help me find the piece of myself that I left far behind. I buried it down in the sand and the pines, in the same spot where we buried a map that we made up thinking that the unknown was gentle as the sand in the summertime and as forgiving as the path to your place.
Track Name: Empty Spirit
Empty spirit, broken love, stolen blessing, favored son.

Sleep was far from your restless mind, your aching body. So you wandered the dark of the night alone, cold & silent. Pressing your face to the window's side you could hear the howling. There are wolves in your hills tonight, you heard their song and they sang:

Empty spirit, broken love, stolen blessing, favored son.

So in the morning all the sunlight will paint me red. It's the mantle, it's the veil that will hang from my head.
Track Name: Follow Me
Follow me, you are trembling. Walk on, let your feet fall in the pattern that I will lead. Stay close, stay with me, crawl out onto the broken sea. Fingers on a turning page feel like your body out in the waves.

Picture a mountain rising before you. Deep is center, deep is its voice when it says:

Follow me, you are trembling. Walk on, let your feet fall in the pattern that I will lead. Stay close, stay with me, crawl out onto the broken sea. Fingers on a turning page feel like your body out in the waves.

There you are standing, grandmother before you. So ancient her language, her eyes appear like two mighty rivers, reaching out for you
to bathe in their currents, to cut through the hills & valleys and:

Follow me, you are trembling. Walk on, let your feet fall in the pattern that I will lead. Stay close, stay with me, crawl out onto the broken sea. Fingers on a turning page feel like your body out in the waves.

And when you sleep you'll hear those words differently. Still in your darkness, they glimmer with the seven sisters. And in their song, you find yourself a ghost in life - too stubborn to walk on, to sleepy to wake up and:
Track Name: Fake Mantra
Your father had never been given the chance to be honest about any doubt that crept in his mind at night. So he taught you a mantra that explained things in cruel speculation. The deepest parts of the valleys
were said to be painted black & white.

It's a fake mantra he stole from the wind, to claim as his
own. Fake mantra.

Leaving my city, packing my bags for new home, settling in, calling it a place of my own. Gypsies & peddlers surprise me with their many questions. Naked dancers & drunkards, taught me to sing a new song.

And it's a fake mantra I stole from their lips, to claim as my
own. Fake Mantra.

So now my mantra is something composed of two voices, one so uncertain, the other at peace with itself. And I wonder if I can trust my own composition, I'm humming the sound but still asking out loud to myself,

Is this a fake mantra I stole from the wind? Then claimed as my
own? Fake mantra.
Track Name: Heirloom
And still I want to be like you, your choices seem to be most true. And even when I don't agree I'm drawing towards you constantly.

The heirloom that you gave to me, it carries every last belief and wisdom that you spoke so freely I could not stand to see it leaving.

I see it hanging on my chest with everything it represents. It gets so heavy sometimes, that symbol hanging off my neck.
Track Name: Laurel
There was fear in your eyes, and the steady tremble of anger creeping up, over your chalky tongue, when you told me you wanted to change.

No one had ever tried to answer a single doubt, when you learned how your body felt in the shape of an, "O", or the emptiness you felt when alone.

So, you left what you knew and climbed up a mountain side, sat at it's highest place, to only find the deepest gray, then fall into its open face.

When I saw you again you were standing in my dream, anxious and still searching for something you've never known but heard of a while ago.

You were painting your body with the oily pigment of the many leaves collected from the Laurel bush behind your house where the shadows spill down from the hills.

I saw you there.
Track Name: Canaan
Press my finger to your wounded side. Feel the blood that is yet to dry. I watch it cover every part of me, it's in my eyes, it's on my feet. Could it be you are my only friend? Could it be that I will enter into the land that was promised me? Will you be there? Will you remember me?

You have seen me in the other room, you have heard the words I hid from you. My jealous tongue, my naked fumbling. My own despair, alone and on my knees. Your perfect face would not turn away. I felt the burning of my own disgrace. There is a song, I hear it now and then. An ancient song I hear them sing.

Holy, holy, holy. Oh, so holy.

I walk the hills far away from you. I've seen oceans of the deepest blue. Still, your face seems to follow me, painted on the rocks, it's in the leaves.

Holy, holy, holy. Oh, so holy.

I want the clearest water to cleanse my tongue, I want the truest note to sing. I want to settle in the kind of place where there is not fear, where I am relieved.

Holy, holy, holy. Oh, so holy .
Track Name: Visiting Kings
Black-tar sky keeps its empty eyes on us. Cracked windows in the white sedan. Alone, in the humid night, it's a long drive home on slow, county roads on the back side of the dunes.

We walked on stones, swam in colored shelves beneath those sandy hills where the sun paints stills of you. We ruled the land like the visiting kings we heard of in the longer books of Moses' words in church, we hear them still.

Late July, up to its knees in summer life, in open weeks where we could find, a hidden peace. Late July, up to its knees.
Track Name: Able Lover
There in the window, I stood watching all the rain smooth out the streets like glass, reflecting in front of me. My face was tired & mystified, I could not recognize the unsettledness beneath my eyes and I wished I was a child again.

When I was just a boy I'd walk all afternoon. I'd find about a dozen stones then give them all to you. You, in the house somewhere, you'd watch me coming home and you'd take my gifts gratefully, you keep them even now. My pure & simple offerings were all that I could give so I gave them to you gratefully my father who I love.

Strong able lover, while i ever be as patient as you are? still giving endlessly? You are my father and I will ever be as faithful as a child, returning as the leaves to a tree.
Track Name: Not My Doing
All my life, it's not my doing. The things I have, have all been given. And where I go is laid before me, the things I know, were chosen for me.

All my life it's not my doing. I'm all strung up on sails & pulleys. They take me places at the mercy of the weather, governed blindly.

I saw you there in glaring sunlight. Bugs in your hair, you were sleeping
on the hot, white street, then you called to me, you were asking for a blanket. And I could see myself in your stupor, like a fetal child, curled and tender. Our places now so close together, our mouths dried out in arid weather.

Did your mother first forsake you? Did your neighbor then abuse you?Did some sickness ravage through you? Is your body your only home?

I wondered it today, I wondered it.