As the last millennium coughed and wheezed its last foetid breath, two unlikely warriors were drawn together by forces eldritch and arcane to face the crushing darkness of the coming new age.
One hailed from the high snowy mountain country, but as a youth had voyaged across deserts and grasslands to come at last to the great western river which pours forth into the grey and capricious sea. He was wise in the ways of machinery, having squandered many hours by feeble candle-light poring over piles of ancient and musty tomes to glean what knowledge he could about their complex intermeshings and the forgotten cunning of their creators.
The other was native to the wild and dripping forests, a land gouged by time into a verdant valley of towering trees, hidden waterfalls, and mysterious fungi. He had mastered the arcane languages of the spirits of electricity, which twine invisibly with their own peculiar harmony, and when seduced to obey, allow visions to be transmitted across vast distances.
Though trained in these diverse and mystic disciplines, they would need to forge together in the fires of the earth an as-yet unknown power if they were to have any hope of weathering the onslaught of the fell abominations that lurked in the mists of the future.
They hoarded their devices and sufficient rations together in a hidden lair, wherein all would be melded in sacred ritual into a resonant weapon of weird and untold strength. They honed their arts by moonlight, through long black winters and withering summers, until the foretold time arose at last.
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Nigel Barnes and Rian Callahan met and started playing music together in 1999.
Nigel is from Colorado, but makes his home in Portland. He buys, restores, and sells antique hardware. He also wrestles with animals and draws pictures of stumps. He is the one with the beard who likes beer. If he were an animal, he would be a bear.
Rian is from Portland. He is an information designer with an affinity for cozy firesides and gory films. He is the redhead who likes gourmet popcorn. If he were an animal, he would be a llama.
They used guitars, various boxes covered with knobs, and a toy clown to perform the music of their latest album, North of Forty-Five. Recorded in their home studio over many sessions during which a quantity of burritos were consumed, the album catalogs explorations of texture, composition, and accident. Their music is simultaneously thick and minimal, harmonic and asynchronous, whimsical and heartfelt. They hope you like it.
Their next album will be recorded inside of a cave.
