In conversation with Claudio Sanchez and Brian Robert Jones

As the architect behind mind-rattlingly detailed sci-fi sagas, it’s natural to assume that Coheed and Cambria’s Claudio Sanchez largely consumes the type of brainy, conceptual prog rock that could spawn an entire master’s thesis. But listen closer and you’ll find their songs are multi-sided, swinging between symphonic grandiosity, post-hardcore breakdowns, and pop melodies that reflect the Coheed singer/guitarist’s own diverse tastes.

“Coheed gets the progressive tag a lot, and that’s because I like to think of us as always evolving,” Sanchez explains. “That’s how I learned to write music — writing long songs every time. I used to think of, and I still do, verses as questions and choruses as answers.” During the band’s early days, he struggled to find the answer, and soon the tracks would grow into seven-minute epics. “Sometimes songs would completely switch,” he continues. “Then halfway through, it becomes another song, like ‘Junesong Provision’ or ‘The Light & the Glass.’ But I’ve always loved pop music. My mother in the car listening to Michael Jackson, Taylor Dayne, Madonna — those were the things I sang to. As I get older, and the more I realize I can get to the answer quicker, the choruses have become even more melodic and hooky.”

Read more: “I’ve always thought of us as underdogs”: the oral history of Coheed And Cambria

Across their many studio albums, Coheed and Cambria have created an immersively realized world unlike any other in rock. Increasingly blurring the lines between fiction and personal experiences, Sanchez has painstakingly carved out a universe, The Amory Wars, that traces back to 2002’s Second Stage Turbine Blade, introducing a series of characters and expanding into a galaxy of wizards, aliens, and androids in a fight of good vs. evil. That concept has bled into a side project, The Prize Fighter Inferno, and comic books, both of which Sanchez pens alongside his wife. It’s immersive and innovative storytelling, revealing new surprises with every listen. Clearly, this is a band that don’t chase the past. They welcome adventure at every turn, embracing the “strange nucleus” that’s kept them going for the past three decades.

That bizarre, genre-defying alchemy enraptured thousands, particularly Brian Robert Jones. Before becoming an acclaimed musician in his own right and touring rhythm guitarist for Paramore, he was just another music-obsessed teenager, nerding out to Coheed and Cambria in garages with his friends. Since then, he’s toured with Gwen Stefani, Vampire Weekend, and MUNA, in addition to making pop-funk tunes with his own band Human Natural. Then there’s his clothing brand LXIX Apparel, where he dreams up vibrant bootleg merch that blends music with pop culture — but makes it satirical.

In the days leading up to Coheed and Cambria’s 11th studio album, The Father of Make Believe — a project full of loss and identity — Jones, a certified superfan, connected with his idol in person for the first time ever. Together, in a room full of recording equipment and sci-fi memorabilia, the duo unravel the world of Vaxis, the influence of Kurt Vonnegut, and the right way to end a record.

BRIAN ROBERT JONES: I’ve always wanted to talk to you because I’ve been listening to Coheed forever, since Good Apollo Volume One came out. I learned a lot of guitar from Coheed songs, but I became the bass guy after a while. So I took a break from playing guitar for many years, and then I started to get hired as a guitar player in LA, and the only songs I knew were Coheed songs.

CLAUDIO SANCHEZ: No one’s playing those [Laughs.]

JONES: It was pretty funny. But I’ve listened to the new record four times now. I’m just shocked at how you are able to keep pushing. How do you stay inspired to keep growing? Because it’s not easy for a lot of bands that have been around as long as you have.

SANCHEZ: For me, I’ve been writing music since I was 12, 13 years old. It’s just become a part of my identity in a way that’s more therapeutic than [just] Coheed for me. This is the first thing I do before I go downstairs and do the early morning ritual for my son’s school day, but I’m constantly inspired. If it’s not guitar, it’s one of these gadgets. When I started playing, I never wanted to be defined by the scene I would be a part of. I just liked everything, and I wanted to use everything as a part of the color palette of creativity. I just love it. It keeps me in this room.

JONES: That is apparent — the passion and love. I’m curious what the first couple days of writing this record look like. I’m also very curious where Josh [Eppard] figures into all this. The drums are such a part of the identity of your band.

SANCHEZ: Right on. As far as writing this record, some of this material was around for Window of the Waking Mind. “Goodbye, Sunshine,” for example, was a song that could have very well been on that [or] “One Last Miracle.” But I think at the time, the identity of those songs didn’t necessarily work. Typically, it’s a lot of life informing what’s going to be conceptual. Window of the Waking Mind was very much a record about parenting our son through the pandemic. Whereas this record, I wasn’t entirely sure what the definition of this album was, so I just kept writing. I came up with a collection of 30 tunes, and then my uncle passed away.

It reminded me of my grandfather — the character of Sirius Amory, who comes into the end of Window of the Waking Mind. It reminded me of him and the 35, 40 years of his life that he lived without his wife. I started to wonder, “Well, what would life be like if I wasn’t here or if I lost my wife? What would life have been like if I never introduced the concept? How would’ve Coheed been perceived?” These midlife questions really defined the identity of the record and made me realize which songs fit and spoke together. But I write the initial song, and the first person that gets a version is Josh.

When I wrote “Gravity’s Union,” we lived in the country at the time, and I was sitting in a room like this. The window faced a cornfield, but the sun would rise in that direction. I’m sitting there, and this was before Josh returned to the band, and I was so into this song. There were no drums on it — it was just the music, and I was air-drumming, to the point of tears. I was like, “Man, he needs to be on this.” That’s when we started to go down the path of bringing Josh back. As much as we have this common love for music, we all come from a very different place. A bunch of really strange weirdos.

JONES: That’s a beautiful thing. I want to ask about the partnership with Zakk Cervini and what that has meant to the Vaxis era. You did two albums in a row. Obviously, something’s working.

SANCHEZ: I love Window of the Waking Mind. When [it] was finished, I could die the next day, and that would’ve been, to me, the best Coheed and Cambria record. When it came time to pick the producer for this one, I sat down, and I listened to the record downstairs, and I called Blaze, our manager. I’m like, “We just have to do this again because it’s so powerful to me.” I mean, I’ve had great relationships with producers, but I’ve always looked for somebody to help take the songs to the next place — and I think I found that in Zakk.

“Shoulders” and “A Disappearing Act” were two songs that came out of sessions that I didn’t think were going to end up as album tracks. Because I live with this material so long… Some of these songs are from Vaxis II. I need that objective opinion. And I’d ask him if there’s anything that feels like an egregious omission, please let me know. “Someone Who Can” [was one].

JONES: Really? Wow.

SANCHEZ: I wrote that in the piano room downstairs. In my mind, that song was gonna be a part of my solo effort, but it was gonna be this Americana thing. I played acoustic guitar, piano, cajon, and just sang into the room, two mics in the room, really getting the ambience in the recording. I’ll play it for you after. It’s not unlike the version that you hear now, but it is in terms of the instrumentation. But he was like, “I think we should take this and do something in the world of ‘A Disappearing Act.’ We’re missing this piece.’ And I mean, it’s one of my favorite songs on the record.

JONES: It’s almost like each saga is a different band. You can’t choose. It’s like, “What’s your favorite Coheed record?” Well, that’s an impossible question because they’re all in a different space. It’s really special for me as a music fan to have a band that loves music as much as I do. Because you see so many bands where it’s not a guarantee that even after album three that you’re going to get any songs that you want to hear live anymore.

SANCHEZ: So you’re into the concept portion of the band — you know Vaxis III opens up with the theme from The Afterman?

JONES: Yes.

SANCHEZ: Vaxis III not only is the continuation of Vaxis, but it’s also the hidden sequel to The Afterman.

JONES: I know. I was about to say, because “All Mother” comes in, the free fall thing. [Laughs.] I was like, “Wait, which album am I listening to?” Then you end the record. I would love to talk about the closing track on the record. “Continuum IV” is this almost Abbey Road whimsical, little bit of darkness to it, and then it ends. There’s another theme from The Afterman…

SANCHEZ: “Pretelethal.”

JONES: Yes, exactly. I was like, “Wait, I know this. What is it?” I think that’s so fun that you leave these Easter eggs and cameos. It’s almost like watching the new Star Wars show. It’s like, “Oh, my gosh, this guy is in it, too.” Are there certain sci-fi properties that you are inspired by in this story, or are you kind of just going? I know you’re a big comic book guy.

SANCHEZ: I’m kind of just going. There are little things. I mean, clearly Star Wars, right? But one of my favorite science-fiction movies was something that was a flop. It was called Krull.

JONES: I know about Krull, but I haven’t seen it.

SANCHEZ: I loved it. There are certain themes that I can see making their way into the Vaxis arc. But for the most part, a lot of it is life. I’m never thinking of the concept first. It’s really what’s inspiring the music, and then how do I take that and transform it into the concept? I was in Europe a week or so ago doing press, and I was talking about the process and going back to Second Stage. When I wrote that record, I was very insecure. I had a hard time being the singer of the band. I created the concept as a diversion to hide my life behind. Second Stage Turbine Blade sounds sci-fi and conceptual, but it’s really the part my dad worked on heat-treating airplane parts, and Amory is the street I grew up on — Amory Drive. So for me, the concept gets the attention that it deserves, but at first it’s always, “What in my life [will] help me tell that story?”

JONES: Vaxis was announced as a five-part series, and in my head, I was like, “Wow, he’s got a whole five-part arc figured out.” But the way I hear you talk now, I’m like, “Oh, it’s gonna just find itself.”

SANCHEZ: Here’s the thing: I chose five because it’s the fifth part of The Amory Wars. So the V in Vaxis is the Roman numeral five, and “axis” of his name is the axis in which all the Amory Wars revolves.

JONES: Whoa.

SANCHEZ: In its title is a hint as to where it falls within the timeline of The Amory Wars. But it will end in five, and that’s why five keeps coming up in the story. You have the Five Houses of the Star Supremacy. It’s the fifth story and, we’ll see, but I think it’s the end.

JONES: I want to talk a little bit about [your signature] guitar, too, if you don’t mind. Full disclosure, I did get an Explorer because of you. It was very exciting. You have so many iconic guitars that you’ve played. You have all the different Explorers you played. You have the Double Neck, the SG — and everybody knows what song is about to happen when that comes out. What made you want to do this now, and what does The Jackhammer mean to you?

SANCHEZ: For me, I’ve been wanting a signature for a long time, and one of the things that I wanted to do with my signature Explorer was do a traditional headstock, like a Gibson headstock. I also wanted to bring back the E2, maybe call it the C2. But having conversations with Gibson, it just didn’t feel like the right time to them. Then one day I was on a plane, taking a trip to see my in-laws in Florida. I just opened up my phone, and I collaged this body type together.

JONES: Oh wow.

SANCHEZ: On the flight, I sent it to Kevin Allen, who’s a guitar tech friend of mine, and I asked him, “Is this something you could make a prototype of so I could see if it’s worth exploring as a real thing?” So he did, and it was playable. It was enough to be like, “Oh wow, let’s pursue this.” And so we met with Dunable out of LA, and here it is.

JONES: I did get a chance to play it and it’s very sick. As soon as I saw it, I DMed Dunable and asked, “When are these going on sale?”

SANCHEZ: To me, it’s really a tribute to all the guitars that are a part of my identity as the guitar player in this band. You have the SG horn, clearly some of the vibes of an Explorer. Then of course I did the traditional-ish headstock that I had wanted to do.

JONES: It’s a beautiful guitar, and I love the little cutout. Does that have any functionality of any kind?

SANCHEZ: Nope. It was just part of the design when I made the collage, and honestly, I didn’t know if Dunable would notice it. And they did, and I was so psyched on that.

JONES: Added bonus. As you would imagine as a Coheed and Cambria fan, I got extremely excited when I saw a Roman numeral four-parted suite at the end of the record. Do you conceptualize that as one big piece, or were those random songs that you ended up fitting into work in that way?

SANCHEZ: It was a little bit of both. “The Flood” was the last song I wrote for Father. When I look at the record, it’s very much about loss, identity. What does the future look like when all is said and done? “The Continuum” is almost like the punctuation of the statement that the record is, where it’s like “Welcome to Forever, Mr. Nobody” is when all said and done, it’s not gonna matter what your legacy, they could leave behind. “The Flood” is this tormenting of all of the memories coming and flooding you.

Then we get into “Tethered Together,” and it’s like, regardless of all of these things, so long as you have your people in the now and you’re moving forward, that’s really all that matters. And “So It Goes” is funny. I’m a big Kurt Vonnegut fan, and one of my favorite books of all time is Slaughterhouse-Five. Some of the themes in that book I used in The Amory Wars years and years ago. But “So it goes,” that phrase is in that book, and it comes every time Vonnegut refers to something that’s dead. No matter all the things that you’re thinking, when it’s all done, it’s just the way it is. So “Flood” was constructed to help bridge that experience together. When I saw them as a piece, I was like, “This makes sense, as it could be its own thing.”

JONES: That’s such a great way to end that record. Bringing it back to the “Pretelethal” theme, what does that theme coming back mean? Why choose that to end the record?

SANCHEZ: I wanted to pick a theme from Afterman to keep that in the consciousness of the listener, that this is connected. “Pretelethal,” in the way of The Afterman, is I think received differently than it is here. Here, the villains win. Blindside has apprehended Vaxis, and he’s taking him to Candelaria. In a way, it’s in very Coheed fashion that it’s this triumphant vibe, but it’s really the bad guy going away, getting his victory, and our heroes are left like, “Holy shit, our son has just been apprehended.”

JONES: “Where do we go from here? Where do we even begin?” An ominous to be continued. That would be a dark place to end it. [Laughs.] Actually, I think that’s a perfect ending. See you later.