syn∑er∑gy† : noun \ˈsi-nər-jē\ 1: SYNERGISM; broadly : combined action or operation 2: a mutually advantageous conjunction or compatibility of distinct business participants or elements (as resources or efforts)
Giant Triangle is a band that is greater than the sum of its parts. This is surprising because the parts on their own are worthy of epic poetry.
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 listenerís minds in webs made of gossamer and silver moonlight. Her Siren song calls all who hear it to their fate.
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. Thatís right, Rhodium. Yeah.
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.
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.†
Justin is the guitarist/keyboardist. He is the Wizard, conjuring the music of the spheres out of strings of metal and keys of ivory. The soul of an Ancient Sage, and the mind of an Alchemist, he weaves his terpsichorean spells which spill forth from his fingers, casting emotional fishhooks into the psyche of all who behold his sorcery.††
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, weekly, in 30 minutes or less (minus commercials).
They have been favorably compared to the Pixies, the B52s and The Thermals, but scratch the surface and look closer youíll find a veritable melting pot comprised of the last 40 years of popular music. It is music that will strike a subconscious chord in all who hear it. It is music that you will find yourself humming days later wondering where it came from. It is music that you will hear not just with your ears, but with your soul.