Formed via a Craiglist ad, the Kickback—made up of lead singer Billy Yost, guitarist Jonny Ifergan, bassist Eamonn Donnelly, and drummer Ryan Farnham—proudly call themselves a South Dakota via Chicago band, but their sound can be called this millennium's true Americana. (How else do you explain the song titled "Sting's Teacher Years?") On their debut, Sorry All Over the Place (produced by Jim Eno, and out on Jullian Records), you can clearly hear their influences: there’s the Strokes in Yost’s wit and intonation, there’s the Killers in the guitar tone, the Hives in their pacing.

Already, the band’s been announced on 2016 SXSW roster; Yost talks to Myspace about their name's literary origins, a fascination with Michael Keaton and that time in South Dakota when a fan went all crazy on the dancefloor.

Hometown: I’m from Beresford, South Dakota. The band kind of came together in Chicago. Between those two is about 500 miles and all the beef your little heart could desire.

Homebase: I live in Chicago. The band is here. Come visit.

The Kickback formed via Craigslist, right?

Yes, mostly extensively detailed — and vaguely douchebag-esque — Craigslist ads. “You must care about your tone and be able to talk at length about it.” We’re a bunch of dudes from kind of different walks of life, so the band thing is really the only thing that could probably have brought us together.

Why did you call yourselves the Kickback?

In college I was studying for a test and part of it was about the Enron case. A bunch of those clowns were taking kickbacks among other amenities too saucy for print. I liked the word. I liked what it meant. There’s a little dirt on it without overtly shaking anything directly in your face.

How do you describe your music to someone who's never heard you before?

“Who’s your favorite band? Yeah? We kind of sound like them.” This is done without ego and more to move this conversation to literally any other arena.

You’re from South Dakota and Chicago. How does that nfluence your music?

I cling to my South Dakota-ness and unbridled ability to apologize on behalf of myself or anyone for any reason at all. It keeps a lot of the ugliness inside, (though “Keep it to Yourself” is sort of a Christmas carol in the Great Plains region), and I think I spend a lot of time trying to burn that steam when we play.

What’s your musical background? Did you come from a musical family?

I have five older brothers, the majority of whom were out playing shows before my body caught up to my melon of a head. When we were asked to draw pictures of what we wanted to be when we grew up in first grade; I drew myself with a guitar because I couldn’t really think of anything else and it just seemed like what my six-year-old options were. My love of music, I think, really came from my mom. She’d always have oldies radio on. That was the bulk of my musical education ages 1-13. That and my dad absolutely slamming The Doors in the garage. Just a three-foot me casually crooning, “MR. MOJO RISIN...”

Who were your growing up influences?

Julian Casablancas defined my high school experience. Any of the stuff you get at that age is going to build your foundation whether you like it or not. I still use the same guitar straps from Ernie Ball because it’s the kind I bought in 8th grade when I found out Blink 182 had an endorsement. That’s not something you admit in polite company. But it becomes part of you. And you deal with it.

In that light, who would you love to collaborate with?

Julian Casablancas, Randy Newman, Michael Keaton, and any Muppet, any Muppet at all.

Why is your album called Sorry All Over The Place?

SAOTP is the name of a movie in the book Infinite Jest that was never completed, stuck back in this footnotes. I thought it was one of the best titles I’d ever read. I pulled a lot from the book while we were working on the record. Fear. Young mahood. Fear of young manhood. It’s a growing-up record, maybe. Or at least evidence that I’m struggling with it.

You have a podcast called Disastour, where you just talk about being in a band. What does having a podcast enable you to do as a band that you can't do with just music?

I mostly thought that having a podcast to sort of demystify how a band works this day in age might be kind of interesting, but it mostly degenerates into stories about the van breaking down on I-80. My hope is that when I’m old and pruned, it’ll be a nice record of a really stupid way to lead a life (that I want more than anything).

What do you do for fun?

Bathe, find someone to quote High Fidelity with, and send Michael Keaton tweets implying we have a long-running friendship.

What's the craziest thing that’s happened to the band so far?

Someone defecated on the floor at a show in South Dakota and promptly scooted off. It brings me no joy to tell you this. We tried to see it not as a live review, but the last act of a desperate man or woman.