On Coheed & Cambria

It is difficult to convince someone that Coheed & Cambria are, well, good.

Coheed have an enormous amount working against them: their undeserved and inaccurate pigeonholing as an emo band; lead singer Claudio Sanchezs big rock star hair and eerily high, childlike voice; their simultaneous musical nods to the prog rock of Rush and the 70s stadium rock of Led Zeppelin; the sci-fi subject matter of their songs; their comically elaborate album titles; their comic book.

Worst of all, however, are their fans. Coheed fans are, by and large, terrible human beings. I dont think this was always the case. The dedicated longtime fan who introduced me to their music was a pleasant sort, endearingly and appropriately nerdy. He would be difficult to spot in the sea of fratboys and fratboys-to-be that now comprise the average Coheed concert audience. These people are appallingly adolescent, regardless of age. They are glaringly suburban. They will press their way to the front of the stage without even a false apology to those getting shoved along the way. They will shout unpleasantries not only at the opening band(s), but at Coheed & Cambria themselves. They do not want to hear new songs. They talk about inane and terrible things loudly both between bands and during sets. They take cell phone calls during songs. They call friends during songs and hold their phone towards the music, checking periodically if their friends can hear how fucking sweet that shit is. They cannot mosh appropriately, only seethe and teem. They wear the bands shirts to their shows.

I am willing to set all this aside, however, because Coheed rule. No, not just rule. They make the sort of music that inspires a rock-averse person like me to throw up the horns, smile a stupid smile, and belt out their songs with the rest of the sea of fratboys. They make me confused as to whether I should be playing air guitar or air drums, or some spastic combination of the both. The mere sight of their signature keywork logo projected on an empty stage is enough to inspire hysterics in the crowd. They can play twenty minute renditions of their songs, complete with behind-the-head guitar solos, to a rapt packed house. They just totally rule.

Their music unfolds the elaborate story of a world essentially like our own, save warring dieties and interstellar whatnot and science gone awry. The band’s name is taken from the hero and heroine of this story, a husband and wife lab-enginereed to be mankinds safeguard against the oppressive race fated to rule them. Each song is another chapter in their family’s destiny, and each album an arch in the epic tale.

Now, you could take all this into consideration when listening, or simply set it aside and rock the fuck out. Understanding the story, however, lends weight to the emotive (but not emo!) passages on Coheeds three LPs. Knowing, for example, that the character in Neverender is in the midst of both family crisis and divine war gives the song far more gravity. That songs closing refrain of point your gun in another direction / now that you’ve cried yourself to sleep isnt just some bands ploy to grab the attention and dollars of gloomy teens; its a writer with genuine sympathy for his characters, baring it all.

Which brings me to the point of why I’d take the time to defend the band at all: Claudio is a brilliant writer. Not just a songwriter, but a craftsman of other worlds in the mold of Tolkien, Asimov, and Lucas. He’s young, and that comes through at times, but in Coheed & Cambria hes populated a complex and compelling universe with characters he truly feels for. Most modern fiction authors cant accomplish anything of the caliber without even having to consider setting their words to a tune. Todays vapidly introspective songwriters can barely churn out yet another jilted love song, much less weave a story from track to track and album to album. All this gets glossed over because reviewers can’t ascertain the story in Claudio’s lyrics, and it’s a goddamn shame.

There’s no accounting for taste, and simply not liking Coheeds soaring guitars and Claudio’s distinct voice cant be argued with. It took me a number of listens to get into The Second Stage Turbine Blade. Every new album they release requires similar patience. Its a labor of love, Coheed fandom, but the payoff is being able to come back to a collection of albums that make for deeper listening, as if you’re simultaneously listening to your favorite record and re-reading your favorite novel. It’s a guilty, fantastic pleasure, and thats why I’ll be there for their next tour, braving the crowd of assholes, air-guitaring all the way to the House Atlantic.