Explanation of ‘Both Sides of the Coin’ Reviews
Tails:
Any and all criticism of FIDLAR must stem from their single most glaring fault: they are most certainly a band that espouses reprehensible personal politics, one whose musical vision is an incarnation of the prevailing criticism of Gen Y and its inability to exhibit any real ambition or emotion, or to at best, use apathy, substance abuse and irony as their primary vehicles.
It’s unclear whether songs like “Cheap Beer,” “Cocaine” and “Whore” are meant to be ironic. If they are, they are all played with a straight-faced, flag-waving delivery that, if they were to come together as a fraudulent painting, would be enough to leave the best art collectors and museum curators acting as if they were unwitting participants in an Audrey Hepburn vehicle.
I don’t doubt that many listeners will embrace FIDLAR in the same way that they did JEFF the Brotherhood and Japandroids, two of the other leaders of the dirtbag, fist-pumping brand of indie rock that is taking over the underground of the moment. After all, as stated through the comparison above, while inauthentic, FIDLAR is at least on the surface, an adept representation of what they want to create.
The issue with FIDLAR in comparison is that their brand of rock ‘n’ roll anarchy seems entirely insular, as if the intent behind these songs isn’t to give the audience anything at all. Or put differently, that their primary interest in the music is themselves and not the enjoyment or empowerment of the listener.
To FIDLAR, it would seem life is a series of experiences in which people, objects and ideas only have one purpose – extending the high brought on by whatever substance is being used or abused at the moment. There’s no I in FIDLAR, but as songwriters, this is the only main character they’re concerned about (unless they’re riffing about how “Max Can’t Surf“, though this song even feels glaringly indicative of their personal narration).
As they put it so simply on “No Waves,” with the line “I feel like shooting up, I feel like giving up,” there are no alternatives in FIDLAR’s universe. To them, bliss and annihilation are the only two exits on the highway of life, and with that short-sighted attitude, it’s hard to see them staying on the road long enough to go anywhere actually meaningful, though that might be their entire goal.
Heads:
FIDLAR’s detractors will focus on the lyrical content and apathy that are pervasive in the music, and perhaps rightfully so. In doing so, though, they’ll be missing the bigger picture.
No single part of any FIDLAR song, or song on this album for that matter, is meant to be a point of focus. Rather, the streaming mess of reeling instruments and vocal barks they leave behind are only meant to be effective in their entirety. If their self-titled debut is about anything, it’s about how this tangled whole can rise above all the petty bullshit to something greater.
With their self-titled debut, FIDLAR have made an album for the times when you just need to be overwhelmed by some chaos greater than your own, to be out strung-out and revel in the fact that all the negatives of life, when yelled through a microphone, can turn into something transcendent.
And while lyrically FIDLAR have a one-dimensional purpose – weed, smack and women – the strength of the album is how it reworks this sentiment through varied musical stylings.
FIDLAR are skilled at punk’s many nuances – allegedly because they have been raised with it from almost birth. “Gimme Something” is a nod to The Men’s gentle country rock side, while “Cocaine” – or at least its latter half – owes much to Conor Oberst’s punk-influenced snarl. Elsewhere, lyrically and musically, there are shades of Nirvana, Blink-182, Wavves, the Clash, all of the outcast music that makes its way to SoCal skate parks and festers while the world moves on.
If there’s a redeeming quality about the album, it’s that all of this is delivered in a fun and interesting package, that while it doesn’t seem to be trying too hard, actually is. The irony with FIDLAR is that they seem to be exactly the kind of band for the generation that is likely to become their listeners.
In the production and song building, you can almost hear that they’re aching for stadium-level acceptance, and while this album is far from polished, there’s enough gold dust lying about to warrant an excavation. Here’s hoping they can stick it out long enough to do some digging.
VERDICT:
Heads, if you like Fidlar. You either love or hate them.
Pete Rizzo can be reached at prizzo@thoughtpollution.com.