Albums by this artist

Danse Macabre (2001)

Concerts

June 2, 2001
Fireside Bowl, Chicago

The Faint

Fireside Bowl, Chicago (June 2, 2001)

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» A.K. GOLD | STAFF WRITER

The Faint Fireside Bowl, Chicago June 2, 2001

One of the many funny things about indie rock is that for as much as its proponents claim they feel the music deeply, at a show their movements seldom amount to more than shifting from one hip to the other in order to avoid a foot cramp. The notion of dancing, of kinetic undertakings beyond toe tapping and head nodding, seems utterly absurd. Granted, when you are catching some sullen singer songwriter, dancing like a maniac does seem inappropriate, but I can recall numerous indie shows in the last six months where I've wanted to invoke the hallowed cry of Gordon Gano and scream "Dance Motherfucker Dance!"

But, there was no need to call upon the Violent Femmes' frontman's most provocative proclamation, because The Faint's brand of Depeche Mode and Cure-inspired new wave mixed with angular modernity and a pinch of punk rock intensity took care of that by itself.

The five-piece band, clad in (what else) all-black garb took to the stage around 12:15 a.m. in front of a sold-out crowd at Chicago's favorite bowling alley/rock venue, the Fireside Bowl. The crowd itself was an obnoxious array of characters, including a drunk kid who insisted on reminding his companions that it was his birthday every 10 seconds, some neo-goth girl clad in black-and-white striped tights dancing atop a table like a stripper, the idiot girl who thought squirting folks with a squirt gun was cool, and the drunk guy who kept trying to kiss his straight and sober male friend. But in the midst of this, everybody turned their attention to the stage, as the lights of the venue were completely extinguished and The Faint's own strobe and red light setup cast an eerie glow upon the band. Joel Petersen's prominent bass lines and Jacob Thiele's layered synth parts melded into a dark and catchy blend as lead singer Todd Baechle, sporting black eyeliner, began to flail about, exorcising tales of lust and sex and, of course, dancing.

And dance the crowd did. Jumping and moving about to the crowd-pleasing, programmed-hook-laden sounds of "Call Call" from 2000's Blank-Wave Arcade (Saddle Creek) and to a handful of new songs from the band's forthcoming release Danse Macabre (due out August 20 from Saddle Creek). The only drawback to the intensity and technological complexity of The Faint's performance was that they opted to take frequent breaks to recover and fix everything on stage. And the crowd, at 1 a.m. and with a significant amount of booze in its collective system, was rather vocal and impatient. Numerous calls of "Come on rockstars!" and requests for the band's truly fantastic track "Worked Up So Sexual" filled minutes of space that could have better been filled with at least three more songs.

However, the night ended with The Faint playing to their strengths as the band blended both the original and remixed versions of "Worked Up So Sexual" into a single unit, stirring the crowd and themselves into a sweaty dancing frenzy. As members of the crowd wiped the sweat from their brows, there was a sudden awareness that the indie kids had danced. And unlike the Violent Femmes, The Faint never had to demand it.

A.K. GOLD | A.K. Gold lives in Washington, D.C., where she slaves away for a non-profit organization and constantly compares everything to New York City or Chicago. She's earned her "cred" as a college radio and pre-1960 country music DJ, committed indie label street teamer, sporadic zinemaker/contributor, retired mail-order filler and occasional freelance writer. From time to time, she publishes Anecdotal Evidence, a per zine that will some day be considered for the National Book Award, or possibly not. If you want to buy a copy, or desire to write to her for some other reason, email criticgirl@hotmail.com.