Shepherd’s unique approach is often just plain funny, so clearly is he in the grip of some sort of goofy possession and not in any conscious control of his actions. Though he rarely seems to miss a note, it’s difficult at times to understand why: The bassist lurches around the stage in a tortured, half-crouched gait that leaves him looking like, at turns, a drunken tin soldier and some kind of giant, prehistoric B-movie spider. His bass, which hangs nearly to his knees, more often than not appears to be playing him. “Sometimes that’s how it feels,” he says with a shy smile, when asked about it.
"I don’t mind if someone who I don’t like, likes my band. I think that’s good. But by the same token, I sure hope that they wouldn’t expect to have to like me to like my music. I can assure you that a lot of those people would not like me. And the larger the audience gets, the less chance there is of them liking me."
The band’s music should speak for itself. If someone makes a great album or writes a great book or makes great paintings,and you meet that person in a hotel lobby and that person is the biggest asshole you ever met in your life, that shouldn’t make you hate the book or the record or the painting.
Why do I feel the need to read about musicians? I think I like to get inside their head a bit, well as much as is possible from interviews and recollections, to try and understand why artists like Jeff produced such eclectic music. In some ways I suppose it helps me to understand my own motivations and tastes musically and artistically.
“Man I had this guy with me once … and we were sittin’ down and talkin’ and jammin’… He played has version of Indifference for me… man I tell ya… I’ ll never forget the way he did it… I was just fuckin’ speechless… one of the most memorable moments of my life… I just wish I had seen him more.”