April 9, 2003

By Vivian Host

THE FAINT ARE an incredibly interesting band, but you wouldn't know it from a phone conversation with them. Bassist Joel Petersen is affable but not the provocative vampire one might expect from seeing the Omaha, Neb., group's live shows. Without pulsing red and white stage lights, a stark black outfit, and kohl eyeliner, the Faint's low-end purveyor is full of endearing Midwest charm but is unwilling to admit there's any magic to the thrilling punk-dance terrorism his five-piece creates.

Petersen denies anything specific might have inspired the Faint. ("We're inspired by art in general," he offers wanly. "Everything artistic that surrounds us gets into our head and helps us decide what we like.") Nor will he even disclose what records the band members like. "We've all sort of developed a similar overall aesthetic but not necessarily specifics," he mutters. Considering that, from 1994 through 1998, bandmates Todd Baechle (vocals, synthesizer), Clark Baechle (electronic drums), and Petersen were ambling about in coffeehouses playing lo-fi fuck-off indie folk (under the name Norman Bailer), it's hard to believe they weren't striving for something in particular when they created the Faint.

But maybe Petersen's weary of giving too much away, and wary of giving the hungry press morsels for their genre games. Three years before Larry Tee's bloated electroclash phenomenon and Interpol's Joy Division-rehashing Turn on the Bright Lights, the Faint presaged the return of '80s-influenced rock and pop with the release of 1999's chilling Blank Wave Arcade. After the summer 2001 release of Danse Macabre, critics couldn't keep away, hailing the Nebraskans as the unlikely poster children for a new "dark wave" sound and repeatedly summarizing their music by making narrow comparisons to Depeche Mode, Human League, and the Cure. "I just wish the press would stop trying to fit everything into little niches," Petersen opines. "Things aren't always black-and-white."

What music journalists have rarely pointed out is that the Faint sound new. Although their keyboard leads might hail from 20-year-old machinery, their combination of nihilistic lyrics, sludgy metal guitars, and Daft Punk-inspired vocal effects wouldn't make sense without the foundations of goth, rock, and techno. Besides, the bleak pictures their tracks paint have none of the twee, cartoonish nightmare quality of the Cure and are more torn-up and brutal than Depeche Mode, even in that group's darkest period.

The band members say the undeniably retro element to their loops comes from having a rudimentary knowledge of how their equipment works – a knowledge comparable to, say, what Human League might have had when they started. Petersen says the band is in the process of trying to learn more about their gear. "I don't think we're big tech geeks, but synthesizers are pretty complex machines, and we have by no means mastered them," he explains. "There's pieces of gear we have that we only use 20 percent of what they do, so it's a process of figuring out what the other 80 percent does."

More simply, the Faint have mastered the art of catchy hooks, proving yet again that no amount of technical knowledge can replace a good ear. And there's something magical about the chemistry between disaffected singer Todd Baechle and older brother Clark on electronic drums. There's also something gripping about the smooth interplay between Petersen, who draws out almost Duran Duran-inflected patterns from his bass, synth player Jacob Thiele and his two-cent goth melodies, and Dapose – a refugee from Nebraskan death metal outfit LEAD – who tosses off twisted guitar riffs.

Oddly enough, as danceable as the Faint's sound is, it is far more rock 'n' roll than it is rave. Petersen likes to quote Thiele, who often describes the band as creating "dance music for punks." Blank Wave Arcade and Danse Macabre are concept albums, the first based on sex and the sociology thereof and the second based on work, death, and how work equals psychic death. The members of the Faint are currently interested in Beethoven, the Beatles, and metal outfit Satyricon, but not techno. And despite being shrouded in fog and flashing white lights when they play, the band's stage presence is hardly clubbed-up; in fact, their live show delivers a postmodern update on Joy Division's seizure-inducing death dance-party feel.

Like all good magicians, the Faint are elusive about where their illusions come from. When I ask Petersen about the development of their stage show, he balks. "It sounds so weird when you say 'stage show.' We didn't have a marketing meeting or whatever. It's weird to talk about it like it was a defining moment, because it was such a gradual, natural thing. It just came from touring and playing with countless bands that were sort of similar and seeing that, just because we like Sonic Youth and Fugazi, that's not necessarily a unique thing. Everyone else likes them too, and they all play guitars and do that kind of thing. We just realized there's a lot more to music and making art than [we thought] when we first picked up guitars and started playing. That sort of stemmed into us wanting to have fun when we played, and then getting into dancier beats, and then lights and so on. Now it's a lot of videos and all that stuff as well.

"I think we are sort of devoid of the culture aspect of [dance music], being from Omaha, Nebraska. There's not a real vibrant club scene happening. There's a couple dance clubs, but they're generally playing hits from a couple years ago, I think. You go to have a good time, but you don't need to hear the coolest, hippest thing at that second. I don't think we're as in tune to what's going on in the major cities where that all comes from."

Still, just when you'd think the Faint might be shunning the electronic music scene, they release a remix album on renowned dance label Astralwerks, home to the Chemical Brothers, Air, and Fatboy Slim, among others. Danse Macabre Remixes compiles adaptations from house bod Junior Sanchez, electro prankster Tommie Sunshine, and trance bigwig Paul Oakenfold, with glitchy surprises from lesser-known outfits like the Calculators and Jagz Kooner. Petersen says the remix effort was a collaborative process between the band and the label. "We were interested in getting a variety of mixers with a bunch of different styles," he explains. "That's something that we established early on with them – we didn't want a bunch of club-only mixes."

It doesn't seem as if Petersen himself knows if this represents a new, more techno-fied direction for the Faint or if they will stay with their now signature sound. "I'm not sure [our sound] has exactly solidified yet," he says. "I think that's part of what's exciting for us in our band is that we're always looking for the next thing and trying new things and being excited to keep moving ahead. I think if I were to be able to answer that question, I would be a little upset with us."