May 5, 2007
Catastrophic Success
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Five years ago, Claude Coleman narrowly survived a horrific car accident that left him partially paralyzed, neurologically traumatized and hospital bed-ridden for 35 days. Tonight his side project, Amandla, headlines a double-bill at West Philadelphia's Mill Creek Tavern. Coleman's story of tragedy-turned-triumph is as inspiring as it is empowering and the fact that he is even able to control basic motor skills is nothing short of a small miracle. That he has rehabilitated himself from both a physical as well as emotional standpoint and is touring in support of Amandla's second full-length album is simply phenomenal.
Despite the overwhelming odds and seemingly insurmountable obstacles, Coleman has taken his recovery process in stride, even going so far as to quash suggestions that his accomplishments over the past five years might even border on incredible.
"It's such a subjective thing. I can't step away from it and see it from an outsider's perspective. I survived. I'm living - and still living through it - and that's just the cold reality of the situation. People sometimes comment on how amazing my whole recovery is but really, what else can you do after something like that but move on and try to get back to normal?"
Best known as the octopus-like drummer for local cult rockers Ween, Coleman is much more than just a skin-slapper in the Amandla realm. In fact, the accomplished multi-instrumentalist wrote and produced every song on the latest Amandla effort, aptly-titled The Full Catastrophe, and plays every instrument on the record. When the band takes the stage tonight, he'll be the one at the mic with the Fender strapped over his shoulder.
The Full Catastrophe is definitely not a Ween album - not by any stretch of the imagination. Like Ween, Amandla's music cuts a wide swath across a variety of musical genres, reflecting Coleman's broad aural palette. Unlike Ween, however, Amandla's songs tend to shy away from absurd lyrics and carnival-esque instrumentation. Instead, Coleman sticks slightly closer to tradition, employing a basic guitar-led, rhythm-backed model to craft soulful rock that leans closer to '70s-era singer-songwriter material dipped in Sly Stone's sweet honey than Ween's over-the-top antics and tongue-in-cheek lyricism.
To that end, Coleman admits that his connection with the brothers Ween is a perfect example of the proverbial dual-edged sword.
"Obviously the name recognition helps as far as drawing people out to the shows. On the other hand, if people come to an Amandla show expecting to hear Ween, well, that just ain't gonna happen, you know?"
Despite conceding the possibility of facing a crowd that harbors false expectations, Coleman is quick to point out that Ween fans tend to be smarter than the average bear.
"The Ween expectations are, well, expected. It's not surprising. The way I see it, I'm out there reintroducing myself to people. It's a natural progression. I'm once again establishing myself and, let's face it, Ween fans have a fairly broad range of musical tastes. It's pretty much a
requirement for entry."
Coleman also relies on lessons learned from recent history to guide his philosophy regarding anticipating audiences. "People who go to see a Dave Grohl show don't walk in expecting a show full of Nirvana covers, do they?"
Although Coleman earned his chops and most of his "fame" as a member of Ween, his affiliations with other lesser-known musicians may have had a stronger influence on the musical stylings evident in Amandla's songs. Coleman's tenure with Chocolate Genius, a soul outfit fronted by the Basquiat-like Marc Anthony Thompson, clearly affected Coleman's approach to songwriting. Several tracks on The Full Catastrophe bear elements of Thompson's thoughtful lyrical technique.
Coleman not only admits to embracing aspects of Thompson's style, he makes no bones about his attitude toward the man himself.
"Marc is simply one of the heaviest human beings alive. He's so honest and sincere and that shines through in his music and writing. I also take a lot of my cues from him as far as executing as a performer is concerned. Working with him in Chocolate Genius gave me the unique opportunity to observe night after night how he simply controls every centimeter of a room from his position on the stage."
When it comes to his philosophy of performing for a crowd, Coleman is brutally honest about the role played by the crowd as an equal participant in the concert.
"I'm the kind of performer who feeds off of other people's energy. It's really a simple matter of reciprocity. If I feed them energy and they send it back in return, the cycle continues and the energy builds and snowballs all night long. When that doesn't happen, the show just gets cold and impersonal and it becomes kind of a drag. That's the only time when this whole thing even begins to feel like it's just a J-O-B. Musicians are out there to affect people spiritually and emotionally. If that doesn't happen or if it just doesn't matter, well, then you're in the wrong field." Despite all of his talk about making spiritual connections, affecting people's emotions and tugging at collective heartstrings, Coleman has certainly not forgotten about the key to the art of rock: the electric guitar solo.
"My solos have really been improving all of the time. I aim very high and play way too much in the hope that 48% of the solo is incredible fucking guitar work. Eventually, I'll skew the law of averages enough so that a majority of the solos are top-notch. I'm a guitar geek. I love to talk about guitars, play guitar, talk guitar shop. I may be known as a drummer but I have seven guitars and one drum kit."
Perhaps it may take some time - and more work on the wanking - before Amandla achieves Ween status; the kind of status that brings with it large cash guarantees at every stop on the tour, five-star lodging, a comfortable tour bus and green rooms stocked with Cristal and caviar. Until that time, though, Coleman doesn't seem to mind foregoing the creature comforts and slumming it for a bit.
"Piling in a van and driving cross country is how I grew up in rock and roll. When I started playing shows, it was the heyday of independent music and that was how you lived. It's the way it was. Interestingly enough, I find it more fun now just breaking it down to the bare essence and bringing more of a gang feel to the band. When it comes down to it, I'll pile all of my gear into the back of a station wagon if need be. I'm fuckin' old school."
Despite the overwhelming odds and seemingly insurmountable obstacles, Coleman has taken his recovery process in stride, even going so far as to quash suggestions that his accomplishments over the past five years might even border on incredible.
"It's such a subjective thing. I can't step away from it and see it from an outsider's perspective. I survived. I'm living - and still living through it - and that's just the cold reality of the situation. People sometimes comment on how amazing my whole recovery is but really, what else can you do after something like that but move on and try to get back to normal?"
Best known as the octopus-like drummer for local cult rockers Ween, Coleman is much more than just a skin-slapper in the Amandla realm. In fact, the accomplished multi-instrumentalist wrote and produced every song on the latest Amandla effort, aptly-titled The Full Catastrophe, and plays every instrument on the record. When the band takes the stage tonight, he'll be the one at the mic with the Fender strapped over his shoulder.
The Full Catastrophe is definitely not a Ween album - not by any stretch of the imagination. Like Ween, Amandla's music cuts a wide swath across a variety of musical genres, reflecting Coleman's broad aural palette. Unlike Ween, however, Amandla's songs tend to shy away from absurd lyrics and carnival-esque instrumentation. Instead, Coleman sticks slightly closer to tradition, employing a basic guitar-led, rhythm-backed model to craft soulful rock that leans closer to '70s-era singer-songwriter material dipped in Sly Stone's sweet honey than Ween's over-the-top antics and tongue-in-cheek lyricism.
To that end, Coleman admits that his connection with the brothers Ween is a perfect example of the proverbial dual-edged sword.
"Obviously the name recognition helps as far as drawing people out to the shows. On the other hand, if people come to an Amandla show expecting to hear Ween, well, that just ain't gonna happen, you know?"
Despite conceding the possibility of facing a crowd that harbors false expectations, Coleman is quick to point out that Ween fans tend to be smarter than the average bear.
"The Ween expectations are, well, expected. It's not surprising. The way I see it, I'm out there reintroducing myself to people. It's a natural progression. I'm once again establishing myself and, let's face it, Ween fans have a fairly broad range of musical tastes. It's pretty much a
requirement for entry."
Coleman also relies on lessons learned from recent history to guide his philosophy regarding anticipating audiences. "People who go to see a Dave Grohl show don't walk in expecting a show full of Nirvana covers, do they?"
Although Coleman earned his chops and most of his "fame" as a member of Ween, his affiliations with other lesser-known musicians may have had a stronger influence on the musical stylings evident in Amandla's songs. Coleman's tenure with Chocolate Genius, a soul outfit fronted by the Basquiat-like Marc Anthony Thompson, clearly affected Coleman's approach to songwriting. Several tracks on The Full Catastrophe bear elements of Thompson's thoughtful lyrical technique.
Coleman not only admits to embracing aspects of Thompson's style, he makes no bones about his attitude toward the man himself.
"Marc is simply one of the heaviest human beings alive. He's so honest and sincere and that shines through in his music and writing. I also take a lot of my cues from him as far as executing as a performer is concerned. Working with him in Chocolate Genius gave me the unique opportunity to observe night after night how he simply controls every centimeter of a room from his position on the stage."
When it comes to his philosophy of performing for a crowd, Coleman is brutally honest about the role played by the crowd as an equal participant in the concert.
"I'm the kind of performer who feeds off of other people's energy. It's really a simple matter of reciprocity. If I feed them energy and they send it back in return, the cycle continues and the energy builds and snowballs all night long. When that doesn't happen, the show just gets cold and impersonal and it becomes kind of a drag. That's the only time when this whole thing even begins to feel like it's just a J-O-B. Musicians are out there to affect people spiritually and emotionally. If that doesn't happen or if it just doesn't matter, well, then you're in the wrong field." Despite all of his talk about making spiritual connections, affecting people's emotions and tugging at collective heartstrings, Coleman has certainly not forgotten about the key to the art of rock: the electric guitar solo.
"My solos have really been improving all of the time. I aim very high and play way too much in the hope that 48% of the solo is incredible fucking guitar work. Eventually, I'll skew the law of averages enough so that a majority of the solos are top-notch. I'm a guitar geek. I love to talk about guitars, play guitar, talk guitar shop. I may be known as a drummer but I have seven guitars and one drum kit."
Perhaps it may take some time - and more work on the wanking - before Amandla achieves Ween status; the kind of status that brings with it large cash guarantees at every stop on the tour, five-star lodging, a comfortable tour bus and green rooms stocked with Cristal and caviar. Until that time, though, Coleman doesn't seem to mind foregoing the creature comforts and slumming it for a bit.
"Piling in a van and driving cross country is how I grew up in rock and roll. When I started playing shows, it was the heyday of independent music and that was how you lived. It's the way it was. Interestingly enough, I find it more fun now just breaking it down to the bare essence and bringing more of a gang feel to the band. When it comes down to it, I'll pile all of my gear into the back of a station wagon if need be. I'm fuckin' old school."
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