Ellie is the singer and lyricist. She exudes vocalisms that are as blinding as truth and as comforting as faith in a den of wolves. She is the Spider Queen, spinning lyrical tales that will ensnare the lucky listener’s minds in webs made of gossamer and silver moonlight. Her Siren song calls all who hear it to their fate.

Jon is the guitarist/songwriter. He is the evil genius. He can play sweetly enough to charm the stars from the sky, and violently enough to make them supernova, destroying billions of civilizations in the subsequent hellish firestorm. Heartbreaker, Angelslayer, riff-maker, he is a demonic, fret-board ninja who takes no prisoners. None.

Emma is the guitarist. She is the Seer, peeling back the veil of the subconscious with her chords and divining the hidden waters of the soul with her leads. All-seeing, all-knowing, never telling, she is both as silent as death and as loud as the apocalypse. Emma is the sphinx of the six-string, ever watchful yet always ready to ensnare the unwary musical traveller’s psyche within the spells cast from her talented fingers.

Margot is the drummer. She is the soft patter of rain on a tin roof. She is the relentless hammer of the gods. A true elemental deity, one hand on the earth and one in the sky, she straddles the world of man and the world of the spirit. She is the lady of light holding court in her nest of drums.

Hank Vanderbeek

Hank is the bassist. He lays the foundation of the house of funk. Cool. Cool as a cucumber. Cooler than one-thousand Japanese teenaged punk-rock girls wearing plastic Hello Kitty backpacks. He spins the bass-lines like straw into gold and then into Rhodium. That’s right, Rhodium. Yeah.

Each of these individuals has enough musical power to level a small rural Ontario town, but together they form the sonic equivalent of an anime Super Robot. They are the Voltron of Rock, decimating the gigantic rubbery monsters of banal, formulaic music