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OFFICIAL BAND WEBSITE
2007 - DEAD IN THE WATER
2007 - BRAINCRUST EP
2006 - WHAT GOD DOESN'T
WON'T LOVE, WHAT YOU
DON'T LOVE, THE
CHILD WON'T KNOW
2004 - HELLO ST. LOUIS
2003 - NOW I'M SHEDDING
Shedding was Connor Bell, at least that's the way it had
been for the better part of a decade. That was until
Bell made a definitive move away from the hermetically
sealed confines of his sample-collage
electro-acoustic soundscapes back towards more
extroverted forms of expression. For these ends he
conscripted Louisville underground rock stalwarts Tim
Furnish and Joey Yates, themselves having emanated from
the arcane climes of combos like Crain, Parlour, and
Shedding has become a band, leaving behind its
intangible chrysalis to emerge a full-blooded, flesh and
bone concern. They trade in the angularity that
blossomed in the late seventies and came to fruition in
the mid-nineties. They aspire to the Motorik pulse that
drove Teutonic progressive, but feel just as comfortable
trolling around in the cannabis-infused primordial
drone-grooves espoused by some adherents of the
Canterbury school of lysergically enhanced musical
Shedding evokes contrasting textures and imagery. Like
some of their spiritual brethren from Sheffield, they
conjure visions of concrete structures and the vast
onslaught of metallic scaffolding it takes to erect
them. Unlike their British soul brothers, Shedding will
impart an occasional pastoral flourish as if to suggest
that some form of untrammeled nature might still stand
beyond the urbanized grey perimeter.
Bell's background as a historian has led him to
repeatedly compare modern cultures to those of bygone
eras. Through that lens it can seem as though not much
has changed. It is possible that Shedding exists to
present a version of what the future might hold.
Whether this is an optimistic forecast or otherwise is
difficult to pinpoint. Perhaps the ambiguities are too
nuanced and better left up to the individual beholder to
Let us not forget, after all, that Shedding is a process
of sloughing off. A chance anew to burn off old
impurities, and thereby to purify the words' works of
statically-inclined tribal minds.
ghostly aura of birdsong fuse, teetering at the edge of
becoming a symphonic field recording.
often stunning, if somewhat challenging, collage of
avant-garde, decontextualized "micro-sampled" jazz.
-Gorilla Vs. Bear
Ostensibly a tribute to Eric Dolphy, this is actually a
good conflation of electronics, noodling, esoterica,
prog, and ambient wrought by a guy who, following a
immersion in the famed saxist's histrionic blowing, read
an interview in DownBeat and experience some
kind of kensho, uplevelling his consciousness. Dolphy
tend to have that effect.
So there are drones and then there are drones,
drones. And clarinet trills? Clarinet trills. Oboes and
Chirps, trills, and twitters. Flutes as birds: an avian
communication. What God Doesn't Bless contains three
avant-garde tracks of eerie clairvoyance and
strange sort of jazz drone collage constructed from
samples of Dolphy records, field recordings and some
well, it's almost like they came to us
and asked us what sort of record we wanted to hear, and
we told them "Let's see, drones for
sure, some field
recordings, and heck, why not include some Dolphy..."
jazz element is subtle and quite minimal, but as a
of dreamy dark drone drift, it's really quite fantastic.
And as far as we're concerned there can never be too
much tribute paid
to the late great Eric Dolphy!
delight that will soothe and relax you as it floats
through the air.
It's the sort
of music that practically dates you not to allow your
imagination to go into overload; humanoid confectionary,
beautiful lost girls, evil witches and wizards,
oversized vegetation, kindly old men with no ulterior
motives - it's all far fetched but quite, quite endearing.
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