‘Danse’-ing queens

Surrounded by a motionless group of uber-indie rockers at a basement party in Pittsburgh, I realized it was sink or swim. My life jacket? The Faint’s Danse Macabre. Only minutes after slipping the shiny disc into a lifeless, tapped stereo that was previously playing some cochlea-combusting trance, new life was synthesized into my soon-to-be dance buddies. A circle formed, hips shook and a “robot” suavely jerked out its kinks. How exactly does such a morbidly named disc “bring the party,” so to speak?

Well, when you’re from Nebraska, you have many a bleak winter night (or summer night for that matter) to imitate, improve upon and perfect your new-wave sensation, which is exactly what The Faint has done. Topping CMJ charts this past fall with their aforementioned full-length album, the band sent a surge, quite literally, through the underground. Why? A Faint song provokes one of two reactions: a relentless guessing game of ‘80s new-wave bands or a spontaneous dance party. Combining keyboards, lo-fi rock, an affected British accent and a laser light show better than a Grateful Dead tribute, the Faint gives us something to dance about (and swoon over).

But the band wasn’t always a sassy amalgam of the Cure and Depeche Mode. As their first full length, Media, evidenced, the band first began with a stab at slick rock. Realizing the banality of such an approach, the band thankfully pulled itself out of that ditch and onto better things?like sex and blood. Picked up by Saddle Creek Records, an Omaha label that allows labelmates to have a say in choosing new bands, The Faint released Blank Wave Arcade in 1999. Kind of like Boy George’s fluorescent makeup and spandex, The Faint found itself at a point of no return. Arcade’s electronica fused brit-pop lyrics about the irrationality (and comfort) of casual sex with an invitation to dance in the streets, striking a chord among even the most wanton indie kids. With songs like “Worked Up So Sexual” pondering the fairness of a stripper’s tease and the opening line of “Sex is Personal,” “I’m caught in excitement, an unusual spell,” it isn’t hard to see why such buzz surrounds The Faint.

As if sex wasn’t enough to provoke its audience, largely comprised of college students and the like, morose imagery of cut throats and pools of blood comprise most of Danse Macabre’s (translation: dance of the dead) lyrical lamentation. But never have such vivid depictions of death been used as the inspiration for such lofty dance music. The lyrics invite sing-alongs and interpretive dance alike, mostly because the heart-palpitating beats and keyboard breaks command the listener to do so. From the simplicity of the beginning chords to its chorus, “Glass Danse” is incapable of leaving even the most timid audience member standing still. The disc’s fifth song, “Your Retro Career Melted,” can only be interpreted as the band’s self-aware sense of humor. Sure, they sound like the ‘80s with a bit more sex and death, but isn’t that what the ‘80s were about anyway?

This Saturday night get your ass to the Black Cat for a danse party and a half, and remember The Faint’s advice: “If you’ve got things on your mind, shake them off.”

Black Cat is located at 1811 14th St., N.W.