CREEM ONLINE: The Faint — Wet From Birth

The Faint
Wet From Birth
2004 Saddle Creek

In 2001, The Faint released "Danse Macabre," a violent and political album that proved dance music doesn't have to be brainless. This year's more sexual Wet From Birth (How about a song dedicated to boners?) doesn't quite measure up, yet manages to be one of the better albums of the year, anyway.

Like a lot of their Saddle Creek Records brethren, Nebraska's The Faint have a knack for slipping smart lyrics into solid songs. But the band stands out from the rest, as the bitchy, synth-obsessed cousins. One of the best moments in Wet From Birth occurs at the start of the creepy title track, when vocalist Todd Baechle declares, "In the beginning, there was semen." (The only explanation I can come up with for why this song is the last – not the first – on the album is that The Faint didn't want to rile up feminists right off the bat.)

Occasionally on Wet From Birth, The Faint bring back a guitar from their long lost days as a more straightforward indie rock band. The riffs are welcome on "Phone Call," one of several surprisingly personal tracks on the album, where the usually detached Baechle descends gingerly into the land of love. Orchestral sounds and an angelic choir reinforce the existence of his newfound vulnerability on "Southern Belles in London Sing."

While it's nice to think the "shallow fashionista" is deeper than a paper plate, Baechle's still most beautiful at his most distant, as when he's "acting indifferent at the merch booth, putting on make-up" while his crush looks on in "Desperate Guys." The problem with getting personal is it can lead to everything that The Faint is not: emotional, whiny and, most of all, ordinary. Thankfully, the sensitive poses usually pay off on Wet From Birth because they're couched in original imagery ("wet like a cherry") and infectious beats.

Also, in this election year, it's good to know that The Faint haven't traded all of their politics for common relationship drama. "Paranoiattack," "Symptom Finger" and even "Dropkick the Punks" pound with focused, acidic fury – at the TV, the government, even the so-called anarchists.

—Crystal K. Wiebe
November 2004

The Faint
Sokol Auditorium, Omaha NE
October 4, 2004

Unlike some sad emo kids standing on the corner of 13th and Martha streets in Omaha, I actually got to see The Faint play a long overdue hometown show at Sokol Auditorium October 4. (Thanks, CREEM.)

I thought of those ticketless scenesters again when I and more than a thousand others left the concert, sweat-soaked and satisfied. That The Faint impressed and amazed came as no surprise. Although they stand in the shadow of Saddle Creek Records' reigning prince, Conor Oberst, The Faint are by far the best live act to burst out of Nebraska in recent years. And do they know it. (Frontman Todd Baechle actually brushed his teeth at the end of the set, throwing it out to some rabid fan, who no doubt rushed off to use it, too.)

Seeing The Faint in concert is kind of like going to rave, but with clever lyrical narration. (So, it's better than a rave.) In Omaha, the band slammed out the best from its catalog, drawing heavily from 2001's "Danse Macabre" and this fall's "Wet From Birth."

Baechle stumbled through some of the more revealing verses from the new album early in the set, but the rest of the band thumped on, expertly. Luckily, his detached drone didn't falter for the most important Faint classsics like "The Conductor" and "Agenda Suicide," which both had the crowd rocking and writhing. Notably absent from the setlist was the symphonic "Southern Belles in London Sing," one of the most heavily downloaded new tracks.

As at a rave, video monitors projected trippy visuals that enhanced the overall concert experience. Obvious phallic imagery (curiously shaped cartoon animals and exploding bombs and towers) brought out the inherent humor of "Erection," one of the weakest new songs. Blatant political messages (i.e. "Vote or else" scrawled across a pair of knuckles) drove home the activist meaning in songs like "Symptom Finger" and "Paranoiattack."

Not that anyone on the floor was interested in the band's thoughts on war and government. That's for leisurely at-home album listening. Faint shows are rock 'n roll tinged, synthesized dance parties, where even the most pretentious hipster isn't too cool to shimmy. (And I did.)

—Crystal K. Wiebe
November 2004