Wednesday, July 9, 2014


I was pretty excited to interview Billings rock institution The Budgets- I've caught them opening for the likes of Red Fang and Andrew WK and very much enjoyed them. For those who don't know the band- and you might not, even if you live in Billings because they lay kind of low- they sporadically play 20 minute breakneck sets of pure rock fury, sometimes as a 2-piece, 3-piece, or a blown-out 4-piece. Think Motorhead without solos or Coachwhips without the artsy parts or ...uh...well, just assume that there's a reason they opened up for Red Fang and Andrew WK.

I had formulated what I thought were some good questions, probing to see what sort of guys they are and what their band is all about...but I was lost for contact info. When I sent messages to their Facebook account, I never got a fact, the messages were never even read. I looked up the email address the Dreyfest committee used to get their song submission for Tryfest (their song will be on the 2nd comp.)...again, I never got a reply. Thinking it would be more personal to call, I tracked down some of the members names...not an easy task, since they credit themselves on their releases and in interviews as "this guy", "that guy", "the other guy", and "that one guy" and most photos I can find of them omit faces or are blurry. I asked friends and even approached people at shows, and after much searching, I got one of the guys' numbers. But when I called it, I was met with 4 rings and an automated voicemail prompt. I didn't think it would get me anywhere; I didn't bother and hung up. Not 30 seconds later, I looked down at my vibrating phone to see the same number flashing back up at me.


"Who is this?"

" na-"

"It doesn't matter. I just need your address."

"Uh- I'm with Dreyfest, I jus-"

"I know who this is. Just give me your street address."

I don't know why I told him...I guess I figured this was beginning to be more interesting than any interview ever would. I gave him my address, he double-checked that he heard me right, and then he hung up. I felt a little uneasy about the whole thing...and maybe with good reason.

Two days later, I received an envelope that contained, not a CD, not a promotional write-up, but this:


I think I may turn the interviewing over to someone else.

See you at Dreyfest!


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