Band Member Bios
Name: G-Man
Role: Mandolin, Guitar, Whatever instrument he can get his hands on, Vocals
Fast Fact: His favorite foods are eskimo-pie and chicken cookies.
Bio: His story is nothing short of astounding. Triumph in the face of adversity. The will to power. And that’s not the half of it. The question is where to begin with his incredible story.
For as long as he could remember, G-Man believed he had come from the North Pole. The story went that he was the son of an Inuit and a researcher. When he was five, they disappeared into a polar gale, never to return. Whether they fell through the ice, were eaten by a ravenous splinter-cell of hemisphere-hopping penguins, or were simply overcome by the frigid temperatures, none can say. The child searched in vain for his lost parents, but could find no trace. Thank heavens for the eternal benevolence of polar bears. They led him to a nearby fishing village where he was taken in and raised by an elderly couple who instilled in him an unconditional love for music. Eventually, wanderlust got the better of G-Man and he packed up his seal-string mandolin to head south...
At least that’s the story he’d always told. Recently though, repressed memories have bubbled to the surface. From the depths of his subconscious, a new story is slowly taking shape. It seems he is not from the arctic circle after all. High in the hills of Nicaragua, he was born to fair-trade cocoa farmers. He lived a life of innocent bliss until a bloody coup, financed by the United Chocolate Company, claimed the lives of his family. Ancestral home razed, fields pillaged, he took refuge in a monastery. It was there, through focused meditation, that he was finally able to find clarity from the troubles which blotted his mind. Channeling and calming the energies which swirled about him, he decided to devote himself to human restoration; restoration through the beauty of art.
And so he traveled northward, studying indigenous cultures as he went. Picking up everything that wasn’t nailed down along the way, he learned: about astrophysics, how to paint, and the love of literature. Where words failed him, music became his universal language. Up the meridian he went, eventually stopping to rest at the Canadian border. The border guard had asked him what his plans were in Canada and he simply couldn’t answer the question. He thought he would sit there until he conjured an appropriate response. It was at that moment when a ragtag group of musicians entered. As soon as they appeared, he knew he had found the answer to the question. This was his path, and here was a gale of inspiration.