Giant, Vehicular Homicide Sisters, Lateral, Hello Whirled
Orpheus Garden
Philadelphia
June 20th, 2026
As summer solstice begins, the decibel level of the shows I've attended has started to rise. It feels like this may be a forecast for the hot months ahead. Wednesday I had made my way to Cousin Danny's for a scorcher I covered in this previous article and Saturday found me at a steamy house show that did not skimp on turbulent expression. The bands were all feeling the heat and proudly kept the intensity and volume level one would expect from a sweaty basement show. The headliner Giant, however, is an unusual band. Giant is a four piece group with a drummer, two guitarists and a singer (no bass player). They swim gracefully in the tone-crushing waters of noise-rock and no-wave and have a charming, boisterous stage presence. From within these genre descriptors, however, Giant forges a very different path than most bands of their ilk, pushing against categorization as hard as they push against song structure itself.
When Giant took the stage (the back of the basement) at Orpheus Garden, you'd think you were looking at a somewhat normal band. On the surface, their roles look like lead guitar, rhythm guitar and vocals, and drums, but in action these roles are carried out utilizing very atypical methods. The 'lead guitar' — instead of playing solos — bleats out little pulses of feedback sounding a bit like your cat when it's hungry. Also contrary to his role, he picks out slow chord patterns in the lower registers of his guitar similar to a bassist.
The second 'rhythm guitarist' is taken up with the task of sounding out rhythm on his guitar in a literal sense. Instead of playing along with chords, he accents the beat with blocked or palm-muted strumming through intense amplification and distortion. He also taps beats out with his right hand directly on the fret board. His guitar is strapped unusually close to his body, making him look more like a free standing keyboard player; he holds it slightly forward at times like he's carrying a rifle. The rhythmic attack he executes at points blend with the drumming and his unorthodox technique makes his guitar sound like a detuned or blown out snare drum.
The interplay between the two guitars, although distinct in approach, can also merge and become hard to differentiate. A great example of this was a particular song where one guitarist was plucking harmonics while the other fingerpicking a little hypnotic repetitive pattern which together had an odd psychedelic effect. The result ended up feeling subversive in a supposed 'noise-rock' or 'no-wave' set. The band can at times sound moody or primitivistic, nodding towards unusual influences like emo or outsider music.
The singer Jeff does a good amount of anticipated yelling, but also improvs dialog, talks and murmurs along to the songs. His presence has a free-form feeling similar in spirit to Malcolm Mooney, the original vocalist for Can before Damo Suzuki. He at points sings more melodic phrases and it sounds kind of pretty. Although the band successfully pushes against typical technique on their instruments, they can also come off sounding harmonious. All the experimentation going on between the two guitarists and vocals leaves the drums to become the solid anchor point all the members refer back to. Despite their loose abstracted structure, it is surprising how many songs are very recognizable or feel like you could hum along with.
The band puts a lot of passion in their performance and their stage antics stand out. The singer is all over the stage and crowd and has a non threatening but mischievous presence like a court jester, chaotic but friendly. He'll often hang his arms up in a monkey-like stance. The guitarist appears very entranced in what he's doing and hunches his tall frame over the guitar, leaning forward and back while moving backward through the audience. The rhythm guitarist moves front to back, jutting truncated movements and doubling over like an ironing board. There are times when the guitarist and singer are in each other's faces singing along, or they are back to back feeling the moment. Most of this physical theatre comes across as endearing and the boyish jubilant style imbues the guys with a fraternal air.
The band steers clear of easy genre explanations and yet it doesn't feel like they're waffling. The excitement and passion of their performance is authentic and gives the experimental song structures an unpretentious air. I think most bands would covet Giant's adeptness at wandering down their own path and moving with ease against the grain of expectations.
