“Big Dog, Biggest Dog”: Inside the Spirited World of Kyle Lewis Is A Boring Name

Written by Frequency ATL

Interview by Trudie Storck

Photos by Ellen Arden

Atlanta’s evolving music scene continues to produce standout acts and Kyle Lewis Is A Boring Name is carving out a place that’s uniquely their own: playful, unpredictable, and theatrically engaging.

Their debut album Big Dog’s Biggest Dog is a thrilling mash of theatrical camp and sudden stylistic left turns. It’s a record with the heart of a pop-punk kid, the humor of someone who refuses to take themselves too seriously, and the musical ambition of a band that absolutely does.

“Fun is the brand,” frontman Kyle Lewis says, while describing the ethos behind their sound. “I got tired of bands trying to be cool. I wanted something silly, wacky, and surprising but still genuine.”

And that’s exactly how the album feels.

A Decade of Songs, A New Era of Alignment

Drummer Tyler Siebert laughs when he talks about the album’s timeline.

“Some of these songs were written ten years ago,” he says. “Finally getting them out with Kyle again feels incredible.”

Guitarist David Berger adds, “We’re just ready to play the whole thing live. The album finally existing is a relief.”

The track-list spans multiple phases of the band’s life: two re-records, various early singles, and five entirely new songs. The result feels like a proper introduction, one that acknowledges where they started, but plants a firm flag in where they’re headed.

An ADHD collision of styles

Trying to label this band is a losing game. Their sound jumps from pop-punk to indie rock to noise-guitar hoedowns and then back again, sometimes within the same song.

“Bands will say, ‘Here’s our grunge song, here’s our Strokes song,’” Kyle says. “We’re not doing that. We could play as 11 different bands. Stylistically our songs shift and have a lot of different variations. A doo-wop break in the middle of a beach-pop song? Why not. A noise-rock section following a pop-punk chorus? Sure.”

It’s chaos with intention, which is probably why the band lovingly describes themselves as “ADHD.”

The chat turned to what songs on the album pressed them sonically while recording and despite their levity, the band’s musicianship is no joke.

The song Turning Stones, proved the most difficult to record due to the soft and bare nature of the track.

“You can’t hide behind gain and distortion when everything is clean,” guitarist Paul Golden explains. “Everyone hears you. Every little finger flub is heard, so there is added pressure when recording.”

The albums heaviest moments let Paul tap into his previous metal endeavors.

“I played in a death metal band for fourteen years and this style of music has been a really great challenge for me” he says. “But the song, Hey, I’m the Devil took me right back to my roots. It felt good. And having the right hand picking techniques helped.”

Philosophy, Nostalgia, and… Brazilian Composition Theory?

One of the most fascinating parts about this band is how seriously they take the creative process, even when the output is light and playful. In a recent bio, the band jokingly claims they “make music for those with elder-emo nostalgia,” but the truth is their sound is far harder to pin down, constantly shifting and refusing to stay in one lane. But do they consider themselves emo? Not exactly.

Kyle mentions a concept from music history known as Brasilidade, which often refers to how Brazilian music absorbed influences from all over the world, such as; African percussion, Indigenous rhythms, European melodies, and American jazz, and then transformed those things into something new and uniquely their own. The final result being transformation rather than imitation.

“It’s about consuming your influences so thoroughly that when they come out, they come out as your own,” he explains. “Not as pastiche. As something authentically yours.”

He ties this idea to everything from elder-emo nostalgia to hyper-pop’s experimental freedom.

“If you love something, it’s going to show up in your work. The goal isn’t to emulate as much as to metabolize.”

It’s the kind of answer that surprises you, both because of its depth and because two minutes later the band is debating which dog on their album cover is “big dog” and which is “biggest dog.”

Two Cities, One Identity

Though Atlanta-based, Kyle Lewis Is A Boring Name has strong ties to the Athens scene.

“Atlanta’s music scene is incredibly diverse,” Paul says. “It’s a mix of people who moved from everywhere and brought their tastes with them.”

David adds: “You can literally play in any kind of band here.”

Kyle notices something else:

“Enthusiasm shot way up post-COVID. Now you can be really involved with different bands in the scene in Atlanta, but not even know a lot of what is actually going on in Atlanta. ”

Athens holds a different kind of magic.

“In Athens, the 40 people in your scene show up to everything,” Kyle says. “It’s hyper-local. In Atlanta, people drive in from Kennesaw or Warner Robins. It’s more spread out in Atlanta, but in Athens, a sense of community is easy to find.”

The band shouts out local Atlanta project ozello, along with Athens favorites Phantom Dan, Murder the Mood, and Here Be Monsters.

What’s Next for Kyle Lewis Is A Boring Name?

The band is playing a run of regional dates — Tallahassee, Chattanooga, Gainesville — plus Stay Dead Fest in January. They’re also already deep into writing for the next record.

“The live show gets amazing responses,” Kyle says. “I think it really comes down to the musicianship of the folks we have onboard. I’m really lucky to play with such great people and we put on a really fun, wacky, silly little show. So, if we’re on a bill, come hang.”

New listeners should start with track one of the album, Summer Is Ending.

“If you hate the shtick by the second song,” Kyle jokes, “it’s not going to get better.”

The Eternal Question: Which Dog Is Which?

Before we wrap, Kyle asks a question that he insists is “critical” to his mental health.

“Is the dog on our album cover big dog or the biggest dog? Or is big dog’s biggest dog unseen? People need to tell me.”

The rest of the band debates this with unexpected seriousness.

“But there is also a dog on the back,” David notes. “I think that the big dog on the back, that’s big dog, and the biggest dog is the one on the front.”

“And another question here, is big dog’s biggest dog bigger than big dog?” Kyle counters. “I know this is exactly how you wanted this interview to go, right?”

It goes on longer than you’d think — and somehow feels like the perfect ending.

Because that’s the heart of Kyle Lewis Is A Boring Name:
Equal parts playful and thoughtful, silly and sincere. A band that can talk about Brazilian composition theory and then immediately argue about fictional dog hierarchies. A band that refuses to pick one lane and is better for it.

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