For lack of a better way to put it, up-and-coming New York act the Moldy Peaches are fucking weird. Their brand of stream-of-consciousness lyrics over odd rhythms makes for an almost folky, always artsy trip.
In an effort to educate our sorry U of T asses, vocalist Adam Green (the band is rounded out by fellow vocalist Kimya Dawson and unnamed guitarists, bassist and drummer) would rather get broad than specific. He doesn’t want to talk about his band. He’d rather champion his scene, so get ready for the monologue of your life. Keep in mind that all I asked him was “How are you today?”
“I’m good. So, the Moldy Peaches, huh? We started when Kimya and I met each other about six years ago at an anti-folk show. You probably don’t understand what anti-folk is, so I should explain. It’s only when you understand anti-folk that you get what the Moldy Peaches are about.
“Anti-folk is a New York-based community of songwriters centred around the open mic concept. We do it every Monday night at a local bar, and it’s been going for years. It’s called the Sidewalk Café, if you’re ever down here.
“It’s a really old musical movement—it started in the early 80s. West Village folk got cheesy, and was getting this really bad reputation ’cause people were playing this shitty James Taylor-influenced stuff. Not that he sucks, but all those people influenced by him sure do! At the same time, punk was changing too. Punkers were embracing acoustics, forging a new sound for themselves.
“Once the bridge was gapped, this group of people started singing more abrasive, fast stuff, but it was frowned upon. No one would give ’em gigs. They’d only go for the real folkies, so this new crew started to call themselves anti-folk, which was primarily political, acoustic punk.
“Of course, it’s changed now, evolving into a new community that embraces all kinds of styles. We’re united by playing at open mics, and the most defining aspect is the lyrics.
“It’s the real folk now, anti-folk. A continuation of folk tradition, but the word folk is old now. Melodies are simpler. And some people play complicated parts, but it’s certainly not bad to not know how to play guitar. There’s more room for error—’cause modern music on radio is more stencilled, if you know what I mean.
“Like Radiohead, for example—they’re good. Songs are well thought out and each part is placed. But we’re more like old paintings. Radiohead are like Romanticism around 1850. Out of that broke Impressionism—us. It (Impressionism) had visible brush strokes, where Romanticism’s intent was to hide it. Radiohead are trying to hide the recording process. “
Or put it this way: Impressionists painted in fields, where Romanticists refused to move out of the studio. Anti-folk artists record at home, not in some lavish studio. “Which isn’t saying that we’re crazy about bad sound quality—we still try to get the best we can. It’s lo-fi—or you might call it home-fi.
“Most importantly, though, you have to keep in mind that anti-folk is non-exclusive. There’s no VIP guest list mentality—it ought to be egoless. Wait…I have to go. Do you have everything?”
“Uh, I guess so.”
Cool! Bye!”
