The Faint / Radio 4 - Oxford Zodiac - 19/11/02
4/5
By: Toby L
Shred those bell-bottoms. Grease up some leather pants. The New Disco is rolling into town.
But why does it all seem so frightfully scary - as if the performers set to possibly inebriate our record-collections in the months to come have just rolled out of rehab, all wide-eyed stares and wearing the pinnacle of morbidity via tight, black clothing? It's like Calvin Klein in hell.
Still, fashion-wardrobes aside, first act on tonight - The Faint - are sensational. Imagine the potential glory of Fischerspooner without the theatrics and, in their place, actual live-instruments, and you're half-way there; for, centring at this almost demonic quintet's pulsating heart is a thirst for punk-rock, an attitude of pouting ferocity. And an urge to dance.
So, perhaps it's apt that prior to the band's own exasperatingly edgy, 80's-esque, synth-pop that the theme-tune to 'Dr Who' is given a blasting, the band soon walking on and their frontman in Todd Baechle declaring, 'We're The Faint from Omaha, Nebraska - y'all come a little closer.' The slowly filling room obeys his request. What ensues is 40 minutes of the highest level of tainted grooves, the opening likes of 'The Conductor' surging into the darkened shuffle of 'Call Call' and their Sonic Youth rendition of 'Mote' as intoxicatingly dirgey and dangerous as you could hope for, all slicing guitars and Baechle's own flailing around and camp-gestures amidst the stage hallmarking a similarity to a drunken sailor. On rocky waves.
What's most refreshing is the lack of inhibition - there's little reservation to shake a leg, band and crowd alike, and the set's culmination within the three-song showcase of 'Glass Danse', cult-single 'Agenda Suicide' and the freaky 'Worked Up So Sexual' is as cataclysmically intensifying to behold in view as it appears to perform on-stage, the exhausted musicians virtually crawling off the stage by the closure. Distressing brilliance.
It certainly offers a challenge to New York's following Radio 4 to maintain the stamina. With a half-hour break in between, however, and a bizarrely thinning audience-attendance, you begin to think their chances of matching the previous showmens' efforts are few and far between.
'Our Town' opens proceedings in a satisfyingly chunky means, dollops of stilted bass and cascades of scrappy guitar fighting their way for recognition, and heavy doses of added percussion almost developing a filthy nest of forbidden lust. Yet it takes all too long for the party to really get underway, the set divided into three segments, and really becoming electrifying during the final act, the dizzy funk of 'Eyes Wide Open', manic hysteria of 'Calling All Enthusiasts' and their signature-tune 'Dance To The Underground' willingly allowing you to forget any petty qualms you once had stacked against their favour.
Where all this has evolved from may prove one of 2002's most undisclosed secrets, but now it's here, little else proves relevant. Versatility, the unexpected, skilled musicianship, and quirky images to boot, the musical-destination we're heading next is challengingly calculated.And, conclusively, another 150 people have just been informed of such an effervescent, gleaming potential for alt-music in 2003. If you've yet to, though, then attend such a show - and get down.
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