Don't mean Dick

>> Deciphering the Papa Roach enigma

by CHRIS BARRY

Since they came into the big time last year with their Dreamworks debut Infest, nue-metalistas Papa Roach have been chastised by critics and embraced by legions of fans eager to decipher the deeper meaning behind frontperson Coby Dick's angst-ridden lyrics. The Mirror spoke to Mr. Dick over the phone from London this week, in an attempt to shed some light on the enigma that is Papa Roach.



Mirror: So by calling yourself Coby Dick, should we take it to mean you're a big Melville fan?

Coby Dick: The Melvins?

M: No, Herman Melville, the author of Moby Dick.

CD: Nah, people always called me Coby when I was growing up and we used to have a van called Moby Dick and it rhymed so the name just kind of stuck.

M: Your grandfather, the original Papa Roach, is he a big fan of your band?

CD: No. He just turned 100 years old and has Alzheimer's so he doesn't really know who I am anymore. He's one old motherfucker.

M: Do fans ever go track him down to ask for clues into some of your lyrics?

CD: Of course not.

M: I heard that Tobin Esperance, your current bass player, started life out as a roadie for you guys. Do you ever feel the need to put him back in his place and make him lug your gear around?

CD: Nah, we're all great friends in this band. But, you know, the other day at the airport he was, like, lifting shit off of the conveyer belt and one of our crew was going, like, "Tobin, what the fuck are you doing, dude?" and Tobin just shouted out, like, "I'm trying to keep it real, man." So who knows, maybe you're on to something.

M: Listen, I was reading the lyrics to "Dead Cell" and in that song I see you refer to Jah as a "nutty warrior." Is that a joke?

CD: No, the record company fucked up all the lyrics on our record sleeve. The lyric is actually "Jah, natty warrior." It really pissed us off that they printed, like, two-million copies of the sleeve with all these misprints on them. But you know, people shouldn't really take us so seriously and overanalyze the lyrics anyways. We're just four young guys in a rock band singing about what we know. Know what I'm saying?

With Alien Ant arm at metropolis on Saturday, April 21, 8pm, $32.50, all ages