by Bryon Hayes

To be accurate, I started making music when I was in Grade 5. Writing songs on your guitar is making music, right? So technically, that’d be when it was. I think I managed to record a couple songs on cassettes too – no vocals though. That’s been an area that I’ve always been weary of diving into. You can even hear that in Women In Tragedy; I always do the vocal drones, and as loud as they are at times they are never concrete or confident which is something I want to work on.

I think I really started to make music on a level like WIT when I was in punk rock bands in high school. I had one band called Suburban Underdog: we were a mix of skate punk, ska, metal, and hardcore. We played together for 3 years, did a bit of touring within Ontario and recorded one album in a studio. It was one of the most amazing times of my life; I’ll never forget that band. I left the band in our third year though because I just couldn’t stomach the music anymore and I wanted to move on from it. I can’t seem to stay with one idea for more than a year or so. I can listen to the same bands for years and years, but I really can’t play the same music for that long. Right now the drone/noise scene is really supportive and easy to move around in, but give it a few years and I’ll probably be doing something different. I’m hoping that I can evolve rather than just jump ship. That’s pretty much what I’m trying to do right now: slowly slide my music into a new style. At the same time, I don’t really care about genres.

Doing solo music is both hard and easy and for me, hard work is something that I got used to from being in that punk band in high school. We would practice from once a week to once a day, play exhaustingly energetic sets, and just work our asses off trying to write and tighten up intricate punk rock compositions. It’s corny, but punk rock is completely about having a good work ethic. Look at Black Flag for instance. In the documentary “American Hardcore,” they talk about renting out a rehearsal space on Christmas Day at 8 in the morning because they hadn’t played a show in 3 days and needed to practice. That’s dedication, and that definitely made an impact on me. However, I still think I am pretty lazy and want to work even harder at this project.

To answer your question though, I’m a solo artist because it validates the fact that I am a control freak. If I could, I would just clone myself three times and have a hardcore band. I’m really not that egotistical of a guy; I’m a fairly modest and unconfident person in most social settings. When it comes to creative affairs though, I just can’t help myself: I need to take full control because I can’t stop my brain from spitting out ideas. This project lets me place a bucket under that spit and collect it until I can just fucking bathe in it. It’s self-indulgent, but I’m confident in believing that it’s leading to good things. I like where I’m going with it. Even if nobody listened or cared, I would still make music and be happy. Maybe not as happy, though.

Noise and drone is a great scene that thrives on operating within the underground. The most well-known noise band right now is probably Wolf Eyes, who the majority of my non-noise listening friends have still never heard of; the mention of the label Sub Pop brings to mind early Nirvana, or maybe Modest Mouse. The noise underground is a great platform for an artist to begin to work in. It says, “even in you’re not insanely technically talented, at least one person will listen.” That really gives you a lot of freedom to take risks, experiment, and find your own sound and/or ability without feeling like you need to be consistent or reach a certain level of technical proficiency. That being said, it almost becomes a burden in disguise because there are too many artists out there and if you don’t manage to hook someone right away with your music, people will ask “why you over the next guy?” I also find most artists become afraid of leaving the genre. It seems as if you can be a true harsh noise artist and have a small yet loyal circle of fans, or you can try to do something outside of that sound and be considered ‘ironic’ or not be taken seriously.

I’ve gone off on a bit of a tangent, but I think if you read my whole answer to the question you’ll get an idea of where I am in terms of motivation to create music within the noise/drone tradition: I have none. I am merely just motivated to create music, and I’m moving further and further away from trying to fit within any tradition. As far as influences go from the noise scene, I’d have to say Mouthus have really impacted me. I think it’s because ultimately they are more concerned with creating new and original music than with fulfilling the expectations of the noise scene. They have a really good sense of tension and aesthetic. They take a simple set-up of guitar/vocals and drums, add some effects, and transport you to a different world. It’s still pop music though: behind it all you can hear riffs and song structures – chord progressions. They’re not like a pop band with effects, or a noise band trying to make pop music – they’re something else. They’re simply Mouthus, and that’s what inspires me more than anything. I’ve always thought the most effective way to inspire someone is to push them to create something of their own: not to follow in someone else’s footsteps, but to follow your own path. With the inspiration of a prior artist, however, you can follow that path further.

I was born in Newmarket and have lived here all my life. When I was really little – like 7 or 8 years old – I used to tell people that I was born in the "Big H hospital" over on Davis Drive. Being a kid rules: you can be a moron and it’ll eventually become something you can laugh at because you were “just a kid.” That’s what the suburbs really let you do, be a stupid fucking idiot and totally unappreciative of your wealthy parents and the great life you have. You can simply focus on the fact that everyone makes fun of your blue hair, that you probably amount to nothing, and that no girls want to touch you. That’s real self-indulgence there, and looking back at that, I’m almost proud of it because it’s just so damn funny. I think all that empty angst really helped me become a good songwriter though: I’d mope around high school then run to my bedroom with my electric guitar. I didn’t really write about girls though, just about violence and being alienated. That’s something that you definitely see a lot of in the suburbs: dumb violence and people feeling out of place. I never understood the mentality of most guys around here, picking fights and cutting down others. It made me feel alienated, and it’s not that I could relate more to women, because I definitely couldn’t – I just couldn’t relate to anyone. I still can’t in Newmarket. I think I enjoy that fact, though. When I move downtown I’m going to feel like everyone else and I’m not really looking forward to that. I don’t even play shows in Newmarket because nobody would give a shit or ‘understand it.’ Sorry if that sounds arrogant, but it’s true; all of my friends around here do see what I mean, but urge me to surpass that. In the city, I’m challenged more because I’m not really doing anything all that groundbreaking or incredible and I like that I have to challenge myself.

I’m kind of a sick person, like an emotional sadist. I’m actually looking forward to when I move downtown in a year or so and then eventually come back to Newmarket to visit friends and family. I know that there will be that year or two later where I’ll decide to take a walk and go through the forest behind my public school. Just walk around the old neighbourhood; maybe go to whatever random punk show is going on (because they happen every damn weekend here), and when I go back home that night I will feel utterly bleak and nostalgic. Then I’ll record an album that night, which I will release as a CD-R called “Nostalgia” and make 20 copies that I’ll spray-paint in black and beige, and Xerox pictures of Newmarket for the cover. Just kidding. Although that does sound like something I would do!