Cats In Paris

"I like orange."

"You don't like orange."

"I did when I was little. Maybe now I'd go for a nice brown."

"My favourite's 66CC33. It's a kind of mint green. It's a good colour."

If the now electronically-sourced Sandman were literally green, they would be a green somewhere close to the actually more grassy, emerald-esque 66CC33. But exactly how green are Manchester prog-poppers Cats In Paris?

"I'm paperless with my bank statements," states Sara. "And, at university, I lived next door to somebody who studied sustainable development."

"And we do re-use carrier bags," continues drummer Ben. "But it's all cancelled out by our horrific touring."

"Plus I always leave every light on in the house as a security measure," admits Mike. "And the TV. I don't have home insurance."

Cats In Paris are in fact about as green as the rest of us (except you smug bastards at the front). But they did play Green Man festival this summer, and their album passed with flying colours after a veritable palette of rich and varied descriptions.

"You keep an eye out for all the new genres that we get described as," laughs Mike. "There have been some hilariously negative reviews too that I've really enjoyed – they describe the album how I really like it and then point out that's what makes it terrible."

Or brilliant - if you believe the bulk of the feedback. Depending on who you listen to, Cats In Paris can either be the new Animal Collective or the weird Los Campesinos!, the playful Deerhoof or the fun Herman Dune. As Sara points out;

"We are people who like music and we've made something we like. You'd hope it'd transpire that people with our taste in music would therefore like it too."

Courtcase 2000 was recorded at the band's home over an intensive three month period. Barely a year after forming together, songs evolved unrecognisably from their infancies and led by demented single 'Foxes', twistedly dark and amusing forays like 'Goojfc' and 'Cold Products' were put into place using hours of thought.

"Every single moment has been mused upon for absolutely ages," explains Mike on the record's detail. "There's a bit in 'Flamethrowers' where the volume dips for about ten seconds. That took eight hours to do."

Painstaking to create, the album isn't always a breeze to listen to either. Moving from bright Casio-pop to despairing effects-laden melancholy, it's a combination often too trying for some critics, with the sceptics pointing to CIP's eclectic thrashing and stubborn awkwardness as an untenable position for a serious band.

"It's about challenging people without it becoming an exercise in challengingness. It's a combination of comfort and surprise. You just have to pick a percentage," says Mike.

"I like musical masturbation. But it's no good for other people to listen to. Playing in a band with people you're close to introduces the social element. Before the songs are played to anyone, they're already bounced around communicatively."

The effects of are obvious when you see the Cats live. Fronting the best of Akoustik Anarkhy's 2008 parties, they locally they attract a both the young students and the aging Mancunians for an experience where lo-fi psychosis intersperses singalong tunes. The atmosphere at these nights, as Ben describes it, is similarly mixed;

"Sometimes there are people doing funny angular dancing who look like they're enjoying themselves, but then sometimes you have stroky-beard types. I used to go see post-rock bands and get really annoyed when people were talking. Now, I'm just really chuffed to be the soundtrack to people having an ace time."

The decidedly more party-friendly faces of leftfield music, Cats In Paris are an easy-going, happy and amicable bunch who don't take themselves unduly seriously. Music is dearly important to the four, but that's not to say it can't be done with a smile.

"It's the only thing that I invest much emotion in," says Mike quite seriously. "I could be really ill, but then do something great musically and be miraculously cured. Equally, it's the only thing that really pulls me under."

"Obviously the lyrics mean a lot to us," Ben continues. "They're like a documentary of all the stupid things that happen to us, complete with all the in-jokes. So it's really surprising how other people have said it's affected them."

Maybe you've noticed, but the Cats are missing a member tonight. Bassist Lorien is busy with work commitments as a chef. In the kitchen behind us. It goes to show that despite the positive fizz surrounding Courtcase 2000, the band still have two feet firmly on the ground, only able to tour at the weekends. How does independent life work for them?

"It works brilliantly," starts Mike. "It gets to the point where you can have a really professional press arrangements and great gig setups, but still effectively remain this unsigned band. That was perfect for us cos we were still finding our feet as a band, but we got given the impetus to try hard. We wouldn't have done three months of solid recording if we didn't have the group of people supporting us like we have. It's not entirely financially driven either."

With new material getting more "ridiculous and danceable", the humble but potent career of this lot has a tantalising future. If they continue to turn the heads like they have done this year, the 66CC33-tinged rainbow of Cats In Paris can only get more vivid.

Interview by Fran Donnelly
Photography by Steve Baker

www.catsinparis.org