The San Francisco High School Chronicle
Kyle Morton: Drunk, Lonely and Topless
I was apprehensive about meeting Typhoon's Kyle Morton at first—I had heard the rumors: that he was an egotistical, hedonistic, womanizing son-of-a-bitch bastard and he only liked doing interviews inasmuch as they gave him something to read about later.
So when I first arrived at his 15th story downtown San Francisco honeymoon suite I was at least half-prepared for what I found. The room looked like it was once a holding pen for feral rodents: The curtains were shredded, the bed was soiled and what appeared to be animal fur liberally peppered the carpet. There were also countless trays of half-eaten food and a college co-ed who had assed-out in the coat closet.
I found Kyle sitting on the floor with his shirt off, sandwiched between an armchair and a sliding glass door. His lethargic eyelids parted slightly at my approach and, detecting the thinly veiled look of disdain on my face, he blurted out in defense,
“I'M AN ARTIST!”
He had raised his arms as if to ward me off, but then just left them motionless in midair, looking like some drunken pantomime. Assuring him of my journalistic integrity, I sat down on the floor opposite him and began the interview.
So, Typhoon is on tour. What's your reception in San Francisco been like?
They love us here. Absolutely love us. But so does everybody. Our music just really taps into something primal deep down in the human soul, you know what I mean? I found that people who don't appreciate us…they aren't really in touch with their soul…do you get me?
I think so. So where did you play?
[indiscernible mumbling and drooling]….
Who's the girl in the closet?
[looking up suddenly] Shit! I knew you were going to try to make me look bad. Now everyone in the fucking world is going to think…
Before I had the chance to tell him to stop flattering himself, that our circulation was only about four hundred papers, a man emerged from the bathroom and sat down next to us. I recognized him as Tyler Ferrin, guitarist of Typhoon and close friend of Kyle's.
Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear you guys. Perhaps I can help answer some of your questions. We were trying to play two shows here in San Fran, but one fell through. The one we did play was a house party in the Mission district. It was Fun show with a bathtub full of beers. They were friends of Maggie Morris, who we are touring with right now.
Thanks a lot Tyler. How is touring with Maggie?
Aw, Maggie and Pieter [Hilton, Maggie's drummer] are really great. Instant connection. I see us all getting a lot closer over the next few days.
I couldn't help but notice that this is a super nice hotel room. Don't take this the wrong way, but you guys aren't exactly making gold records. How can you afford this?
(Laughing) Yeah…actually the rest of us are all staying with our friend Ian just a couple miles from here. But Kyle insists on keeping up appearances. I think he's got his parents credit card. Toby and I just dropped in to check on him.
I assume you're referring to your bassist, Toby Tanabe. He's here too?
Yeah, that's him in the closet. He's narcoleptic.
I notice for the first time that the figure in the closet is indeed Toby Tanabe and obviously not a college girl. I guess my brain jumped to conclusions earlier.
Oh…so where are you guys headed next?
Our next show is supposed to be in Long Beach, but it's sort of tentative. I think we are staying in San Francisco for another day for sightseeing. I've never been to Alcatraz.
Well you're in for a real treat. I think that's all I need for the article. Thanks you for your time and, uh…is he going to be alright?
Kyle's head had lolled to one side as he stared vacantly; his right eye eerily wandering.
Yeah, he's just lonely.
Photo courtesy of the band