Fantastic Cat

Fantastic Cat almost died. Each member also individually (but at separate times) faced devastating heartbreak, went to jail, got sober, almost quit music entirely, reconnected with a long-estranged family member, started making music again, hit rock bottom, had a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger who changed their perspective on life, almost quit music entirely a second time, reconciled their progressive, liberal ways with their strict, conservative upbringing, and embraced the raw power of their sexuality. It was quite a summer.

And sure, you may be reading this right now saying, “Wow, that kind of sounds like the band just basically jammed every bio cliché they could think of into a single paragraph without anything to back it up in a pathetically transparent attempt to generate press coverage.” But that kind of cynical thinking is exactly why GQ owns Pitchfork now (or whatever the hell happened there). Anyway, it’s all real, and if it makes for the kind of inspirational headline that editors and advertisers alike both find highly clickable, then so be it.

You see, two years ago, Fantastic Cat was nothing more than a little-known rock and roll band with a cult following (their fans were primarily members of Heaven’s Gate). That all changed with the release of their award-eligible debut, The Very Best Of Fantastic Cat, which garnered the kind of press you simply can’t make up. USA Today proclaimed, “we don’t have a music writer anymore,” while NPR received multiple copies of the album in the mail, and The New York Times’ Jon Pareles declared, “I’m currently out of the office and will respond when I return.”

Success went to the supergroup’s head, though, and through a series of dramatic events almost too unbelievable to recount in specific, verifiable detail, they nearly lost everything, only to triumphantly overcome their seemingly insurmountable setbacks in a way that just begs for a Judd Apatow-produced HBO Max documentary (or at the very least, a decent Spotify playlist placement somewhere closer to the top than the bottom).

Today, Fantastic Cat is back and older than ever, taking America (and the nicer parts of Europe) by storm with their smash hit new album, Now That’s What I Call Fantastic Cat, which, as of this writing, hasn’t technically been released yet, but seems almost certain to be a huge success based on industry trends and corporate forecasting. Galvanized by a transformative journey into the spiritual vortices of the Pocono Mountains, the band found inspiration for their sophomore effort in the world of mind-expanding psychedelics: they dropped antacids, experimented with mushrooms (primarily porcini), and even began microdosing a variety of hard seltzers. The result was an album that could only be described as “Christopher Cross crossed with Kris Kristofferson,” a bewildering blend of stepdad rock and inlaw country destined to solidify their status as your least favorite songwriter’s favorite songwriters. But no one hit the record button, and the sessions went mercifully undocumented. Instead, the album they turned in to the label is an entirely different collection, one that meets (but does not exceed) the minimum Grammy® eligibility requirements in all major televised categories.