Album
As Penn students, in the early part of the last decade, Dan Fishback and Sara FitzSimmons and friends used to serenade Philly in the perky, quirky duo called Cheese on Bread. These days Dan’s a solo act up in Brooklyn, and while his sound is now a glorious full-on rock thing — check out the catchy, dirty, gutsy, queergeeky The Mammal Years (self-released) — his lyrics are just as earnest and chaotic as ever. “I could kill you when you get like that / all autistic and shit like a comatose whale all beached on reality / bitchin’ like a rat.” I caught up with Dan over email.
City Paper: Back in the day, people would call Cheese on Bread an “anti-folk” band. Do people still use the term? What are your thoughts on it now?
Dan Fishback: I definitely identified with the anti-folk label, because I was so involved in the NYC anti-folk scene. For years, that was my community. All of my friends were songwriters. That was the word people used to describe us, so we used it too. Nowadays, that scene is so much looser, with so many of my closest friends and collaborators living in other cities, so, as the community gets more diffuse, I come to identify less with the label. Still: I like labels.
It’s weird though — when I click the “anti-folk” tag on bandcamp, there are all these bands I’ve never heard of. It’s like, “Oh wait, is anti-folk a GENRE now?” It always felt like more of a scene. The music was always so diverse. Who knows!
CP: Is C.O.B. still an active band? I know you live in Brooklyn, and Sara FitzSimmons is in L.A…?
DF: And Dibs [Dibson T. Hoffweiler] is in Oakland and Daoud [Daoud Tyler-Ameen] is in DC! It was only for our first year that we all lived in the same city. This month marks our 10-year anniversary. We aren’t really “active,” but we try our darnedest to meet up maybe once a year to play shows and write new songs. We have at least an EP’s worth of new songs, and we definitely intend to record one day, but there are no immediate plans. We played an NYC show for the first time in five years this past January, and I think it re-affirmed our commitment to never break up, ever. It’s too perfect.
Coldplay protrudes from the pop-music scene like a thorn — appreciated for standing out among the crowd with its distinctly different take on the mainstream, but all at once loathed for being the prickly, pretentious pop-version of “edgy.”
Chris Martin, who cites 1970s New York graffiti as his primary source of inspiration for the album's lyrical, takes the group in the direction of politically charged, pissed-off optimism, if there is such a thing.
The album couples the common, relatable themes of “fighting the man” and “gosh, love sucks” in what could be argued to be a more eloquent and wordy fashion than the usual pop album. The first single “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall,” for example, takes on the simple and increasingly dire theme of “let’s party” and turns it into an elongated, elaborate anthem that's clearly crafted to be embraced by radio rather than hardcore fans. It is, as most things are with Coldplay, brilliant but equally deceptive.
Key album tracks include the opener, energized love anthem “Hurts Like Heaven,” which is flawlessly led in by the title-track intro. Also, the infectious instrumental of “Charlie Brown,” the ethereal “Princess of China” collaboration with Rihanna, and “Paradise,” which is sure to become another staple sampling for Coldplay’s inevitable greatest hits album.
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