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Treading Unhallowed Ground Hill Country Harbinger Ego Death At Houston Levee Ceiling To Ceiling Transmission Antenna When You Begin To Blur Half-Built Future Homes Last and Languid Waves Sorrow Mountain And Assorted Hauntings Void Heirlooms Beneath The Floorboards Nonconnah rose from the ashes. Once, they were Lost Trail. Primary soundsmith Zachary Corsa had to leave it behind.
He watched himself become consumed by the project, sacrificing his relationships and health as he fell deeper into a seemingly defeating quest for his passion.
A Dead Rose by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: An Ecocritical Reading
Nonconnah was born. The mixture of surprising, even jarring darkness and childlike adventurousness suited the music all too perfectly. To develop a sprawling vision, Corsa called in just about every musically inclined friend in his contact list, leading to a truly exciting, collaborative process, in which every idea and voice blend into a gingerly arranged, unified whole.
Scott Cortez of Astrobite and Lovesliescrushing was a natural choice, as Corsa had already collaborated with him on a past project. Perhaps the easiest, and most meaningful, request was put in with old friend CJ Boyd; the Corsas had played their very first show opening for him, years ago.
From there, the guest list grew more diverse and surprising, an almost absurdly impressive bevy of underrated musicians. Many, many people worked together for a long time to bring you something special, and Ernest Jenning Record Co.
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From the outset this stuff is immediate, engaging, mesmeric The music is deep and complex adding to its devilishly dark sonic imagery. This is very cool stuff as we have come to expect from this accomplished group. The odd sounds, guest stars, and care given across the album are what sets this above Tags ambient drone folk lo-fi noise shoegaze Memphis. No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat, Kept seven years in a drawerthy titles shame thee.
The breeze that used to blow thee Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away An odour up the lane to last all day, If breathing now,unsweetened would forego thee.
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The sun that used to smite thee, And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn, Till beam appeared to bloom, and flower to burn, If shining now,with not a hue would light thee. The dew that used to wet thee, And, white first, grow incarnadined, because It lay upon thee where the crimson was, If dropping now,would darken where it met thee.
When I felt the smell of Dead rose kept in my book, It reminded me of the dead love In our alive hearts. Time for good bye. Those ugly patches asking for good byes. And now the cuts are unbearable.
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The fragrance are running rapidly away. Your ignorance feels me scared everyday. You didn't care, and my life rushes to deadline. Now pale, and hard, and dry as a stubble wheat. As my petals wilted and thorns softened.
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Inhale the smell for the last time, Then you are ready to crush me. And I'm no more alive. You can only hear my silence all around.