Faraquet - The View From This Tower (Album Review)

 

Faraquet - The View From This Tower

(2000)

My copy: 2022 remastered reissue on gold vinyl by Dischord Records.

The first and only full-length from Washington D.C. 's Faraquet proves itself an excellent choice for fans of oddball math-rock/post-hardcore fusion (think June Of 44 but with a heavier emphasis on tighter, technical riffing). Unsurprisingly, the album was produced for release on Dischord, and while no new material has surfaced, The View From This Tower was remastered for this reissue by the band’s frontman Devin Ocampo. 

Kicking off with the paralyzing riffs of “Cut Self Not,” the band has your blood pumping immediately. Ocampo’s vocals are not quite emo crooning and not quite hardcore screeching, instead sitting pleasantly in between with a nice control of pitch. There are prog and math-rock comparisons drawn within their ever-shifting structures, though the guitars often have a punkish force, grounding the experience. “Carefully Planned” dances about, injecting its stealthy demeanor with healthy doses of wailing distortion and slamming drums. The dynamics are the main draw: the songs are essentially collections of sharply written riffs, weaved together artfully through the rhythm section. 

“The Fourth Introduction” again demonstrates their control over dynamics, building into tense tremolo before crashing into rigid, ascending progressions. The horns on “Song For Friend To Me” are annoying at first, as they play along with what sounds like ska in a fucked up meter, though the song recenters and finds harmony in using the horns to create swelling drones. Faraquet shows true mastery of their craft with the sprawling, patiently evolving “Conceptual Separation Of Self” which feels more akin to the avant-garde post-hardcore bands of the 90s (again, similar to June Of 44 with dashes of Fugazi, etc.).The guitars are at their most rapid pace on “Study In Complacency” which dips into crazed banjo detours that are so absurd that they work. The number of movements crammed into each song is impressive, if not a bit over-indulgent at times. 

“Sea Song” throws glittering arpeggios against stilted, uneasy rhythms before sinking into repetition with feedback rising into focus. “The View From This Tower” starts out sounding the most traditionally prog, with clean, catchy guitar melodies until a sucker punch is thrown with thick low-end and an addicting bass riff; the vocals don’t appear until the latter half of the song, which makes for an interesting subversion. “The Missing Piece” revels fully in repetition, as the sweetest melody of the album loops in ⅝ while the other instruments build to a peak and recede again in the end. 

It’s a shame that Faraquet has only put out a few splits and a compilation in addition to this thrilling, and often overlooked debut record. Their infallibly tight songwriting abilities are perfectly suited for the genres they incorporate, though things do become a touch overwhelming at times. A perfect Farauquet album would find a happy balance between “Conceptual Separation Of Self” and “Cut Self Not,” but considering that they’ve only regrouped for one brief tour in 2008, it seems they’ve decided to quit while they are far ahead.