Alex Gioeli and Erin Lindgren perform together in the band Glass I.

A Centreville-based band is set to hit the airwaves and the local music clubs this spring. Their music, a fusion of piano and violin instrumentals set to an electronica backdrop, challenges its audience to redefine rock music.

The Black Cat is filled with admiring fans, and the two-member ensemble with a flair for the theatrics captured their hearts and pulled in their attention to the musical spectacle. Alex Gioeli, 19, has always dreamed for this scene to come to fruition. Turn a pedestrian gaze at Gioeli and see nothing out of the seemingly mundane college sophomore. Open an inquiring eye and see a passionate and ambitious musician looking to make it big one day.

When he’s not studying at Northern Virginia Community College, Gioeli is a musician in his band, Glass I, with girlfriend Erin Lindgren.

“Our music is modern emotional music using classical instruments,” he said, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

Inspired by the likes of Radiohead, Amanda Palmer and Incubus, Gioeli writes songs as naturally as he breathes air. He uses computer programming to record electronic beats, to which he adds piano and drums to the mix. Lindgren plays the violin and is the co-lead vocals of the band.

“She has an incredible voice,” Gioeli said of his bandmate’s soulful crooning.

Glass I is nothing short of a creative and theoretical approach to rock music. The band is not afraid of blazing a new trail and creating a sub-genre of its own.

“It’s very different from the normal rock band line-up of guitar, drum, bass and vocals, but that doesn’t mean we don’t make music that you can rock out to. We’re doing a lot of experimentation with different vocal techniques, and both of us are learning a lot about what our instruments can do with every new song that we write,” Lindgren added.

The musical chemistry between the Gioeli and Lindgren can be attributed to their relationship outside the band. Having met two years ago at a mutual friend’s concert, their love for music drew them together.

Lindgren was classically trained vocally and has been playing the violin for eight years. Gioeli, on the other hand, learned the piano by himself. He started playing with the instrument first when he was in the second grade, but it was only last year when he took the initiative to learn it.

Upon driving home with Amanda Palmer playing on the airwaves, he was suddenly struck with the inspiration to learn the piano. According to Gioeli, Palmer wasn’t trained, nor could she read music notes, but was determined to learn it by herself. Gioeli took this as his cue to learn the piano and create his own music.

Lindgren recalls that Gioeli spent five hours just learning how to play. “He is still teaching himself piano and doesn’t know how to read music, but that doesn’t stop him at all,” she stated.

When asked to paint a picture of his future, Gioeli said that he would want to be touring or writing for his second or third album in five years. If music doesn’t work out, he plans to work for a music magazine in New York to buy time until he can tour.”

Music is the only option for Gioeli, and he is working hard to get to where he wants to be. He wants to be able to connect with his fans through his music, and be able to reach out to them in a way that language alone can’t.

“I want them to be able to say that my music saved their [lives],” he said adamantly, his eyes full of promise.

The band already played in Jaxx Nightclub in Springfield last October. They’re looking to score more gigs this year, specifically hoping to play in Jammin’ Java in Vienna and the Black Cat in D.C.

The local music clubs should make way, and people should start taking notice. Glass I started recording this winter. The band has songs available on their MySpace page at myspace.com/glassi, and is set to create new songs that will hopefully find their way to local airwaves.

There’s a familiar buzz in the air, a strangely comforting feeling that reminds me of home. Walking down the street, with cold gusts of wind seeping through my cotton gloves and wool coat, I take a moment to look around and observe the ongoing preparations for Christmas day.

The street lamps are adorned with wreath-like decorations, setting off a hazy yellow light that feels all at once familiar and nostalgic. Christmas carols are blasting from the speakers from nearby stores. The songs take me back to Manila, to my family and friends, my home—the way all Christmas songs do. Every song is a time machine, every song has its own moments with me and I am here and there all at once.

I remember waking up one Christmas morning, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I went out of my bedroom and into the hallway, and was greeted with the wondrous aroma of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and hot chocolate wafting in the air. A plate of hot bibingka, a form of sticky rice cake, smothered in caramelized sugar was also served. There was a spread on our table that morning, and I remember feeling ecstatic for the day ahead. Across the dining room, the Christmas tree was spruced up with beautiful decorations, tiny red, purple, and silver ornaments hanging from its branches.

I always loved our Christmas tree at home because it always meant a little more to me than just a mere evergreen tree. It represented the many hours my family and I took turns in decorating it; the putting up of the tree, the uncovering of the ornaments from boxes, the deciding  of which ornament goes where, to putting up the star at the top—but mostly it was the moments in between. It was the effort that went into it, the love that was behind it, and the happiness brought about in making it.

No matter how old I’d get, I always felt like I was five every Christmas morning. Standing in front of the Christmas tree, wading through craftily-wrapped gifts for a tag with my name, eating and laughing with the family around the table, I’d always feel the youthful abandon of everything else that was bothering me, where all that mattered was right there all around me.

This year, however, marks the first Christmas I have away from home, and at first I was almost sure that I wouldn’t have as memorable a time as I did the previous years. I wouldn’t be going through tradition anymore and see the people I used to always see. But as the holidays approach and the crowds in shopping malls thicken for those in pursuit of the perfect gifts, I begin to realize that despite being thousands of miles away from home, some things remain constant wherever I am.

We may be celebrating Christmas from opposite sides of the globe this year, but I know that it will still remain meaningful because my relationship with my families and friends do not change when I switch time zones. It still is a celebration shared with your loved ones, near or far, and I take comfort in the fact that geography or time zones pose no threat to the heart of Christmas—love.

And it really is everywhere.