Interview

Richard Dreyfest Interviews Modern Sons

by Eric Toennis

Who are each of you and what instruments do you play? Also, what is your favorite pasta dish?

Ryan Saul - Voice and guitar

Dustin Crowson - Bass

Dan Haywood - Guitar

Silas Stewart - Drums

Favorite Pasta Dishes: Shrimp PestoPasta, Spaghetti with SpamPasta, Tinder RavioliPasta, Homemade Potato Gnocchi

What are your favorite aspects of the music scene in Bozeman?

The Bozeman scene is thriving and creative- everyone is constantly pushing each other to be better

How does it compare to the other cities in Montana?

Not sure.

Describe your music using the words “hyperspace,” “King Arthur’s roundtable,” “grapefruit”, and “Tom Hanks.”

Modern Sons’ music is much like a fucked up alternative “sub-region" in hyperspace known as “Tom Hanks-a-topia”. Much like his Volleyball pal Wilson we are like an imaginary grapefruit that sits at King Arthur’s roundtable spoiling because no one has one of those fancy serrated spoons to eat it with.

How long have you been making music together?

Been together since 2012 and have lost members here and there who have tried to grow up and get ‘big boy jobs’, be in wedding bands, or are selling their souls to drugs. We just keep pushing forward.

Give us a little history of the band name. What makes you guys so “Modern?”

Dan our guitar player is a ‘Modern Son’. He was born very premature and would not have survived with out the marvels of medical technology.

What is the biggest crowd you have played for and where was it? How did this experience help you grow as a band?

Biggest crowd we played for was at a handful of SXSW unofficial showcases called Red Gorilla Festival. The bars on 6th Street in Austin are packed to the gills for a whole week straight. People were digging the music. Made us realize that we do make some decent tunes, and that it isn’t just our friends on Montana blowing smoke up our asses.

Who is the biggest crybaby in the band when it comes to being sick?

Honestly, no one has ever been a crybaby. Sick or not we’ve always practiced and/or played our shows. Diarrhea, vomit, crusty infected urethras; we’re always there.

Name your biggest influences and how each of them contributed to your style and sound.

Chris Gains, Fastball, ‘Lil Boaty, 311, Chris Brown - they’ve just taught us so much

Last movie you each saw in the theater?

Theater...Who has money for that? We only watch Arnold Schwarzenegger Movies really.

What was your familiarity with the actor Richard Dreyfuss before this festival?

Didn’t he kill himself by Autoerotic Asphyxiation with a neck tie? Or wait that was Tom Cruise. JAWS!!!!!

You get to choose between three artists to open up for on a world tour. Your choices are: Nickleback, Creed, and 3 Doors Down. Please choose one and defend your choice.

Nickleback hands down. Ryan used to know the bass player, Mike when he lived on Maui. Apparently each band member has their own tour bus and they travel with a chef. So, at least we’d eat well. Eating good food is our #1 priority in life besides sleep. 

 

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Richard Dreyfest Interviews Dave Caserio

by Anna Paige

You and Parker Brown have been working together since 2008. What brought you together?

We worked together at the restaraunt Enzo, and when I was putting together Feast for the Hunger Moon, I needed local musicians. I knew Parker played, so I asked him. 

What was that performance like? 

It was a melding of all these platforms of poetry, music, and dance. I think people felt transported. They felt lifted into a different space. One audience member said: "From the moment the lights went down until the Feast ended a couple of hours later, I was in a state of disoriented awe. Disoriented because I had never been in the middle of anything so relentlessly, breathlessly creative." 

That performance was important in setting a tone for collaborative culture in our local arts, music, and literary scene. How did that change you as a poet?

It made me suddenly think there were more possibilities for poetry in the community. I was able to find ways to make a living at it, as opposed to the traditional poet-reads-from-book-of-poetry-and-sells-a-book model. 

You've been residing in Billings since 2003, but you've lived and worked in major cultural centers (Seattle, New York, San Diego). These places seem to influence a lot of your poetry. How does the Billings landscape enter into your work?

Places are incidental. New York, for instance, did influence a lot of my writing because there was so much going on and so many different voices you could hear just walking down the street. Those voices had their own rhythm and their own story. That external world began to intersect with my internal world and my exploration of my past, and my family history. 

If it's not about landscape, what is it about for you?

I think being labeled as a regional writer puts you into a box. There are times when I walk out into the Montana prairie, and it feels like I could be in Mongolia–the landscape and history and imagination just have a sort of serendipity and juxtaposing where my mind just wanders.

What does live music add to your poetry?

Here in Billings, it opens up the potential audience. If you just do a traditional reading, you may have people attending only interested in poetry. But if you add music, suddenly you have people who would not normally come to a poetry reading because it's unique. And they can find out, "You know, I think I do like poetry." On the aesthetic part, I'm really interested in how sound moves through poetry. A poem can't literally get up and dance, and yet it has something of a dance and music in it. 

Poetry, spoken aloud, takes on a different quality. How do you prep for speaking poetry? 

I spent a lot of time listening consciously and unconsciously to pop artists, everyone from Sarah Vaughn to Aretha Franklin to Van Morrison, or folk musicians like Hank Williams and Lead Belly. The way they would phrase language gives you some sense of how poetry can be written and spoken.

Do you feel that poetry is an auditory art form?

That is poetry's nature, because it goes back to the oral tradition. Even now, a poet can get up in the middle of a poem and dance, begin to sing, play an instrument. They begin to take on a shamanistic quality. 

You describe yourself as a bardic poet? What does that mean?  

It's the essential idea that a poet, while often solitary in nature, has a larger cultural role. I love Ed Hirsch's understanding of this notion, that "the poet offers us thought schooled by intuition, emotion deeper than thought, and soulfulness deeper than emotion.  Such archaic ways of knowing go all the way down to the roots of being." A poet is just another human being trying to wake up and stay awake, a reminder of what we are and what we can be.

 

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