Of all the Saddle Creek diaspora to disappoint with recent releases, the Faint are the most irksome casualty of their own creative impotency.
While their earlier work – particularly the rapid-fire electro-pop wonder Blank-Wave Arcade – was neither groundbreaking nor particularly lucid, theirs remained one of the more pioneering sounds to come out of Omaha, and predated the electroclash assault that would kick off in New York a few years later. Second album proper Danse Macabre was a massive leap forward, brimming over with dancefloor material as made evident by the number of tacky DJs who were willing to remix their tracks. Their 2004 release Wet From Birth was lacking in Danse Macabre’s brand of substantial synth-hits, but at least showcased their more rockiest abilities. All Fasciination has to say for itself is that the Faint have spent the last four years sitting on their arses and listening to themselves on repeat.
The fruit of their four-year labour is a mongrel of an album that doesn’t know whether it’s dance, rock, synthpop, art, or entertainment. It’s an aural jumble sale of their styles bygone, with none of the sugar-rush of their heyday. Mirror Error and Psycho are prime examples of where the Faint have gone wrong: songs in which relatively dancey beats and good vocal hooks are sabotaged by the band’s syncopated electro manipulations. One imagines they think they’re keeping things interesting, while in reality they’re banjaxing their own flow. However, most songs don’t get far enough to have such substantial niggles pointed out. The majority are as boring as poking a dead fox, and have decidedly less meat on them.
One of the most irritating consequences of the album’s dullness is the transition of Todd Fink’s lyrics from the sometimes sublimely esoteric to the spouting of blatant bullshit. He’s still rambling on about foetuses and carnal intercourse, but with such blinkered stream-of-consciousness idiocy that it’s difficult not to want to kick him in the shins. The band that once sailed full-steam over new horizons have become a rudderless, sinking ship stuck up their Saddle Creek past without so much as a paddle.
The Faint- The Geeks Were Right
