Mallory is a dispersed collective of musicians that found itself coagulated momentarily in the hills of Western Massachusetts. Mallory first found its voice in the summer thunderstorms, the porch lights, the moths, the hazy negotiation of tired cities. Long bike rides, walls of green, the orchard, the quarry. A ribbon of dirt road, blood on the grass. Shattered pendants, collapsing tents. Windows open.
Drawing influences from ritual practices and personal mythologies, old Appalachian music, queerness, strangeness, the woods, growth, and uncertainty. Drawing things out and holding them up to a dim light. Finding complications in old kitchens; mornings soft and echoing in the bowers of an attic.
