Based on the past couple days of LineOut material, it would appear that The Hold Steady frontman Craig Finn is the new triangle. And as much as I’d love to dive into that discussion, I’m unfortunately still hung up on the latter. It’s a beautiful afternoon; hopefully everyone can step out for some good times in the sun, but if you’re trapped inside, perhaps you’ll indulge me in some more triangle-fixated discussion. To skip my pre-ramble and cut straight to some weather-appropriate tunes, click past the jump now.

It seems to me that Trianglegate 2010 is getting out of hand—or, out of my hands, anyway. The triangle-fetish in (primarily) electronic music seems more pervasive and contagious the more I look into it, and the mere thought of trying to stay on top of the trend—let alone attempting a semi-comprehensive rundown of notable triangular bands, labels, and blogs—has me wigging out. I’m one isosceles away from reading far, far too much into Iron Man’s new triangle-tastic suit of armor.

Was the triangle always such an enigmatically omnipresent force in musical aesthetics (I’m speaking of course of the shape and not the instrument, which admittedly seems overdue for a post-ironic comeback, ala the cowbell)? When did we start paying attention to it, and why? And, to circle back to Dave’s initial barb, is the triangle now more aesthetically fashionable than the circle, or is it purely a matter of perception?

It’s enough to make me want to reference the 2005 TV miniseries The Triangle, which starred Lou Diamond Phillips—a man who used to fascinate me due to his omnipresence in late ‘90s and early ‘00s cinematic schlock and, it’s worth mentioning, whose very name is, in part, a shape:

[All the ships and planes that were lost in the Triangle reappear out of thin air.]
Emily Patterson: The Triangle didn't happen.
Bruce Geller: [correcting her] The Triangle "never" happened.
[Suddenly, everything within the Triangle, including our heroes, disappears.]

Wouldn’t that be convenient—the triangle as the ultimate abyss, a wormhole where culture, having been segmented into a near-infinite chain of rapidly-proliferating trends and micro-trends, goes to die? The triangle, being the ultimate symbol of death (and, paradoxically, virility), seems primed to embody new strains of music that are simultaneously celebrated and condemned for their riffs on, and cannibalization of, obscure and overlooked genres.

It’s appropriate, then, that another promising new triangle-happy instrumental act claims to come from Bermuda. The band, Pwin Teaks (officially spelled with two triangle glyphs sandwiched mimetically between the spoonerized words), is fairly enigmatic. Their air of mystery is either a calculated move in keeping with the precedent set by their darkwave contemporaries, or merely a byproduct of their being an unsigned, on-the-rise act. They have associations with the preeminent darkwave label Disaro and the Afghan provocateurs in Mater Suspiria Vision.

The psychedelic slush of Pwin Teaks’ “Beach Bubble” seems ideal for soundtracking this sun-soaked weekday afternoon. The song’s gauzy, droning ambience is not without a discreet sense of menace—just enough hair-raising ghoulishness to offset the sanguine implications of its title and visual accompaniment:

Pwin Teaks appear on a 4-way split that’s out now via (vanity label?) Mind Magnetic, and they’ve got some more dope stuff on youtube that’s worth a peep.

In completely unrelated triangle news, VICE recently posted the Texas Love Triangle mix by blogger and director Tom “Tommy Boy” Blackburn, and it’s a burner. Included within: Indian Jewelry, //TENSE//, Missions, and many more. The mix is based around Blackburn’s conceit that Dallas, Austin, and Houston form a creatively-charged supertriangle, the products of which are some of the most rewarding and far-out sounds in contemporary music (that’s his take, anyway). Me, I’m going to try and stay away from all things three-sided for awhile.