B-Side Guys

Jeff Tubbs didn’t know how to play guitar when his brother Kyle died from a fentanyl overdose. He’d spent years watching Kyle front Fields of Green, touring Canada in the early 2010s opening for bands like the Arkells, building the kind of regional following that suggested bigger things ahead. Then Kyle was gone, and Jeff discovered unreleased recordings his brother left behind. Rather than archive them as memorials, Jeff taught himself guitar and assembled a band from Kyle’s musical community—drummer Johnny from Fields of Green, family friend Joe who’d played with Kyle, bassist Sean with professional credits elsewhere. Together, they built CURIOSITY, ten tracks where grief transforms into active collaboration across the boundary between living and dead.

The album’s title carries multiple meanings. There’s the curiosity that drove Jeff to learn music after avoiding it for years, the curiosity about what his brother might have done with these songs, the broader philosophical curiosity about what remains possible after death. But it also functions as active principle—the band approaches Kyle’s legacy with genuine investigation rather than reverent preservation. They’re not building shrine but continuing conversation.

“Goldmine” opens the album with psychedelic rock that blends Pink Floyd’s expansiveness with Red Hot Chili Peppers’ rhythmic drive, the band establishing their sonic identity before introducing Kyle’s presence directly. The track demonstrates that Bunch of Others can stand as functioning band beyond their origin story, that they’ve developed actual chemistry rather than existing solely as tribute project. The production maintains clarity while allowing instrumental elements to float and interweave, creating immersive quality without losing individual voices.

“I Am Not Scared” holds particular significance as the first song Jeff wrote after Kyle’s death, his initial attempt to reconnect with his brother’s musical passion. The title reads as declaration and wish simultaneously—stating fearlessness while maybe trying to convince himself of it. Learning guitar as adult requires vulnerability, and doing so while processing grief adds layers of exposure. The track works because it doesn’t hide that vulnerability, letting the emotional stakes surface through the performance itself rather than just lyrical content.

“Queen” and “I Am the Moon” continue establishing the band’s identity before Kyle’s voice enters. These tracks prove essential—Bunch of Others needs to demonstrate they’re a real band with their own musical vision, not just backing group for archival material. The psychedelic rock framework they’re building has room for experimentation, the instrumental interplay suggesting genuine chemistry developing among players who came together through shared loss but stayed together through musical connection.

“Pepperoni Dragonfly” exemplifies the playful energy the band brings even to serious subject matter. The whimsical title signals that this project won’t remain trapped in solemnity, that celebrating Kyle’s life includes embracing absurdity and joy alongside grief. The track’s placement before Kyle’s vocal appearances feels deliberate—establishing that this band can access full emotional range before the impossible duets arrive.

“Girl with Weed” maintains the psychedelic exploration, the band fully comfortable in their sonic identity by this point. Six tracks in, they’ve earned the right to introduce what comes next without it feeling like gimmick or cheap emotional manipulation.

Then “CURIOSITY” featuring Kyle Tubbs arrives as the album’s centerpiece, the impossible duet that transcends standard memorial approaches. The track’s “floating water funk experience” refuses to treat Kyle’s death as purely somber occasion, understanding that mourning often requires movement. When the percussion drops away and Kyle’s unreleased vocals enter, the temporal collapse creates disorientation—both brothers singing identical lyrics, same family, same song but different vocal expressions. The arrangement treats Kyle’s contribution as active participation rather than archival artifact, suggesting creative collaboration can persist beyond physical presence.

The funk-a-delic foundation and structured playful grooves create cyclical rather than linear progression, mirroring how grief actually operates—periods of grounding interrupted by disorientation, gradual acceptance that both states coexist permanently. The saxophone solo that concludes the track provides energetic celebration without overwhelming the introspective core, the band demonstrating restraint in service of conceptual goals. This isn’t just inclusion of found material but deliberate artistic resurrection.

“Distant Blue” features Kyle again, continuing the conversation across the divide. Having established the template on the title track, the band here explores what else becomes possible when you’ve already broken the primary boundary. If the first duet answered whether this approach could work, the second examines where it might lead. The band’s growing confidence shows—they’re not treating each Kyle appearance as precious miracle but as ongoing collaboration with specific artistic purpose.

“It’s So Fine (Part II)” raises questions through its title alone. Part II of what? Did Kyle record Part I? Is this Jeff’s continuation of something his brother started? The ambiguity matters less than the gesture—positioning new work as sequel to earlier efforts, maintaining continuity across the rupture death creates. The band continues building their psychedelic rock identity here, instrumental interplay demonstrating genuine musical chemistry beyond shared grief.

“Powerhaus” closes the album with title suggesting strength and energy, the band ending on affirmation rather than elegy. After four tracks exploring different aspects of loss and connection, the finale pushes forward with momentum. The message reads clearly: this project exists to continue making music, not to remain frozen in memorial. Kyle’s death catalyzed the band’s formation, but they’re not just eulogy.

The album’s greatest achievement lies in how it transforms profound personal loss into genuinely innovative musical experience without exploiting tragedy. Jeff could have released Kyle’s unreleased recordings as posthumous solo work. Instead, he learned instrument, assembled band of Kyle’s collaborators, and created new context where past and present coexist. Joe brought his own underappreciated songs into the project, celebrating multiple legacies simultaneously. Johnny’s continuity from Fields of Green provides living link to what came before. Sean’s professional experience grounds the experimentation.

At ten tracks, CURIOSITY provides fuller statement than brief EP while maintaining focus. The extended length allows the band to properly establish their identity before introducing Kyle’s voice, then explore implications afterward. The pacing works—six tracks building foundation, two featuring Kyle, two continuing momentum beyond the duets. This structure demonstrates intentionality: they’re not frontloading Kyle’s appearances or saving them for climax but integrating them into larger arc.

The psychedelic rock framework serves the conceptual goals perfectly. The genre’s emphasis on expansive arrangements and temporal fluidity allows space for the kind of creative resurrection the band attempts. The floating quality mentioned repeatedly in descriptions of their sound mirrors the liminal space they’re exploring—between grief and celebration, past and present, memorial and continuation.