FIDLAR on Breaking the Punk Mold with Their New Album, Almost Free
Photo by David Black
If Zac Carper wasn’t abrasively screaming on FIDLAR’s third studio album, Almost Free, you might not dub this “punk.” The celebrated punk musicians don’t care if you think this album chips away at their “punk cred.” Though they haven’t totally discarded their roots, they’ve ventured into untested waters—clearly maturing beyond a party-band origin marked by tracks like “Wake Bake Skate” and “Cheap Beer.”
2019 bookends their first decade as a band and this Los Angeles four-piece has more than just some grazed knees and a hangover to show for years of punk-rock debauchery. Carper suffered from heavy drug use and flirted with death on more than one occasion, but got clean before the release of their 2015 album, Too. Now inching into their thirties and finding themselves increasingly on festival bills crowded with rap and EDM acts, FIDLAR have reached a pivotal fork in the road. The members of FIDLAR have always held wide-ranging music tastes, so rather than ditching punk for new musical trends, they thought it best to retain the energy that makes their live shows so electrifying while taking their new album as an opportunity to spice things up and expand their sonic palette. It may be odd to think that the same band whose early DIY punk gigs were routinely shut down by cops, would eventually put out a record that leans heavily on horns and harmonicas and dabbles in hip-hop and EDM beats. But for a band named after the phrase, “Fuck it dog, Life’s a risk,” maybe this kind of musical leap makes perfect sense.
Almost Free opens with an absolute scorcher in the form of “Get Off My Rock.” Carper delivers the not-so-subtle first line with a roar, “Well excuse me motherfucker, you’re on my block,” and you have to give props to Carper for his comical use of manners. The rest of “Get Off My Rock” contains barking dogs, sirens, hip-hop scratches, a sensual saxophone riff, a clucking rooster and pretty much everything but the kitchen sink. You can also find bluesy horns on tracks like “Almost Free” and “Scam Likely,” an acoustic duet via “Called You Twice” and a borderline absurd, EDM-rock mashup with “Too Real.”
“I’ve just always been a fan of horns,” explains guitarist Elvis Kuehn. “I love soul music and at the time, I was listening to The Stones’ Exile on Main Street a lot when writing some of these songs so that definitely came into it. We made sure to still capture that energy that we’ve always had and once it goes through the filter of our band, I feel like it always has our stamp on it.”
Citing influences like War, Queens of the Stone Age, Tropa Magica and The Meters, Kuehn also mentions their urge to avoid common FIDLAR songwriting habits. “It was a conscious thing to have more groovy songs rather than every song being straight rhythmically,” he says. “We thought about ‘Alcohol’ being the first song because the first song on the first record was ‘Cheap Beer’ and the first song on the second record was ‘40oz.’ So we were like, ‘Oh yeah Alcohol totally.’ But then once we thought about it for a while, it’s kind of cool to change that, which was more reflective of the record, to be like, ‘Alright let’s not do the typical FIDLAR thing.’ Just throw a curveball.”
Surely FIDLAR must be aware of the shock that fans might undergo when they hear this record. How would the band respond if people are repulsed and retreat back to their early, straight-up punk stuff? After all, it’s not inconceivable that some fans might cringe at the mere idea of horns on a FIDLAR record. “The reality for us is if you like the old punk stuff, just listen to the old punk stuff,” says Carper. Carper and company emphatically welcome the day FIDLAR are just viewed as a pop/rock band.
When I ask Carper about the prospect of FIDLAR transcending the punk label in the minds of fans and the press, he replies emphatically, “Can’t wait! I think it’s dangerous to have that ceiling over us, like the punk meter. To me, it would be more of a sellout thing to just make the first record over and over again. That’s not who we are anymore, you know?”
Kuehn adds, “The whole punk thing is just silly anyway. Certain people think of punk music as being loud and aggressive or whatever but it’s really more about the feeling behind it. It’s having an attitude and being able to do whatever you want. The Minutemen are one of my favorite punk bands and they don’t sound like a punk band at all. They’re funky and they have acoustic songs. When people have that [loud and aggressive] perception of punk music, it doesn’t even make sense to me.”
The title of Almost Free denotes a move in the right direction, but not an arrival at the desired final destination. FIDLAR might be mellowing and getting older, but just like everyone else, every day is another day to try and become the functioning, happy and healthy adult that you always hoped you’d be. “I take my Adderall with milk and sugar,” howls Carper on “Alcohol” and on “By Myself,” he drops countless sobering lines in the midst of an uplifting, celebratory tune (“My life is like a pill that’s getting harder to swallow”). While they don’t lean as much on the punk lingo of living to the max, they’re not fully removed from that world either. They frequently reference substance use, but in a much different light than on, say “40oz. on Repeat” or “Cocaine.” On “By Myself,” Carper pokes fun at the loneliness that has characterized his recent attempts at a healthier lifestyle (“I’m cracking one open with the boys by myself…Why does getting sober make you feel like a loner”). “We’re talking about serious shit,” explains Carper, “but like, ‘Alright how can we crack each other up?’”
Though it’s not entirely about an existential battle, Almost Free is a record shaped by its demons. It’s haunted by self-destruction, tempted with short-term pleasures and faced with teenage hang-ups that have now levelled-up into adult-sized monsters. To get through it and make sense of it all, they don’t strive for unattainable perfection—instead they’re slowly chipping away at those demons while allowing for the occasional slip-up. They also utilize collective self-deprecating humor and unleash waves of pent-up frustration to ensure they don’t take themselves too seriously or spontaneously combust.