Faust

Out of all the “Krautrock” bands to come out of Germany in the early 70’s, Faust were the most relentlessly experimental, and may just be the first “industrial” group on the planet. They picked up where Zappa and the Velvet Underground left off – interested in “sound collage” moreso than actual songs, and willing to experiment wildly in the studio in order to produce some of the coolest and most ear-destroying noises around. This was a group that was always trying to push some sort of boundary and do things their way, but at the same time was self-mocking and always willing to infuse neat bits of irony and humor into their work. Their music was very unprofessional, but in an intriguing way – it was absolutely spontaneous and often comes across unrehearsed.
All this would be for naught if it went for the band’s terrific melodic sense and ability to keep things grounded – even their most experimental albums have a lot of pure “musical” sections, which I believe seriously challenges popular notions that “Faust are a very difficult band to get into” – if you can dig Can, you can dig this. There are more harsh feedback or white noise-based passages on their albums than you’d probably like, but at the same time they had an awful lot of very pleasant and melodic work too, usually in the form of piano pieces or acoustic guitar-led ballads, and they could really rock when given the chance.
The band was actually “assembled” by Uwe Nettlebeck (so the next time you musical snobs go on a tirade against manufactured bands like Linkin Park and the Backstreet Boys, remember one of the most respected avant-garde bands of all time was made the same way) by request of Polydor, who wanted in on the most psychedelic and experimental movement that was starting to dominate the airwaves. They got much more than they bargained for, however...the band walled themselves off for months and came out with something that was completely unlike anything else at the time, with Nettlebeck producing and indulging the band’s most whimsical impluses. Predictably, the album sank like a stone despite glowing reviews from musical “sages” such as John Peel and Julian Cope. The band was dropped after one more album, after which Virgin gave them a try, but they too dropped the group after only two albums (one of which actually sold 50,000 copies as part of a clever marketing gimmick). It would be years before any record company would touch them again and the group was forced to split.
It is really these four 70’s albums (and perhaps some of the auxiliary material, such as 71 Minutes) that is responsible for their legend, and rightfully so – these albums weren’t just innovative and unique, but they were well-written too…they hold up to repeated listening and never got bogged down with “weirdness for weirdness sake” – those taken aback by how avant-garde some of this is should re-listen and find that there’s a lot more rhythmic or melodic stuff than appears at first glance – this is not just an academic exercise. And when they experimented, they made it count – many of these sounds were made by plugging things where they shouldn’t go, or were simply “found”, never to be replicated again. I’d say those four albums can be divided into “avant-garde” and “song-based” categories, but none of them stand out – you could make an argument for any of them to be their best, and none of them will come easy. In the canon of Krautrock, they’re all essential.
Sometime in the early 90’s, there was a reunion, with Peron, Diermaier, and Irmler playing a few shows around Europe. Soon after they started releasing albums again, adding a few newer members in the process. This material is pretty hit-or-miss, as the group seems to have transitioned into an instrumental industrial band. Some of it is pretty powerful, but it doesn’t have the “anything-goes” attitude that made the early recordings so intriguing. They certainly do not sound like a dinosaur band, but unfortunately Rudolf Sosna, who was the group’s primary ‘songwriter’, had passed on, ensuring the group could never be the same. Since then, Peron was actually kicked out, then let back in, and Irmler quit, or something. I’m still trying to sort it out, but I know from Ravvivando on those original three members did not appear at the same time on a Faust recording. The discography gets pretty confusing, with a lot of limited releases of live stuff, remix albums, collaborations, and repackaging of old material.

Faust (1971) ****1/2
This is one fuzzed out mess, delighting in its own butchering of time signatures and dissonant melodies, but also one of the most intriguing albums to ever come out of Germany. It’s full of found sound, washes of white noise, snippets of conversation, astral synth noises and tape manipulation, but at its core shows several impressive musical segments - this is similar to Zappa’s collage-based Lumpy Gravy, but more cohesive, and a hell of a lot more musical. Funnier, too – “Why Don’t You Eat Carrots?” is a collage of hellish, piercing electronic noises, but at its core there’s a playful, off-key jazzy melody that sounds like it could have come from a cartoon! The whole thing plays like a massive headtrip – even the theoretically pleasant piano and guitar parts are echoed and unsettling, and it never meanders – during “Meadow Meal”, the band does an intense chant-plus-percussion that’s haunting but kind of sparse, but just as it starts to drag, the band unexpectedly rips into a furious jam section with a blazing guitar solo! There’s more – “Miss Fortune” begins with a great psychedelic groove, led by some kind of shimmering and buzzing instrument – is this some kind of synthesizer, or a guitar fed through a modified distortion pedal, or what? It’s curiosities like this, as well as the sheer density of this album, that make it worthwhile – there’s a lot of breathtaking moments if you’re paying attention (particularly on “Miss Fortune”, which is pretty much one fantastic jam), and plenty of “hidden” sounds to discover in the mix. Once you get past the sheer abrasiveness of it all, this album reveals itself as being particularly engrossing, all the way up to the chilling poem at the end, read with the words alternating speakers – “nobody knows if it really happened”.

Also, the packaging was great – the cover was a smudged X-Ray of a fist printed on clear plastic, with the album itself pressed on clear vinyl. Very cool if only for that aspect alone.

So Far (1972) ****1/2
Needless to say, the debut bricked and Polydor asked the band to turn in something a little more structured and easier to sell. While So Far is indeed more commercial than its predecessor, there's hardly anything here that could come within 100 miles of radio play - the only thing that could be considered a pop song is a friendly but concentrated tribal groove ("It's a Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl"), focusing on just the toms, with the acoustic guitar and vocals pressed to the back. This is Faust’s take on pop – the song’s deceptively simple and almost comes off as a parody. From there, each track takes on a different style, with the real surprise being that the group actually plays well into each one. The big highlight, "No Harm" starts as a melodic piece with a church organ and some horns which abruptly changes into an amazing blues-jam with a driving rhythm and thrilling vocal work (pretty much all yelling, but with conviction, even if the lyrics are nonsense). It rocks and rocks hard, culminating in one the most thrilling moment in their entire catalog, when the song goes into its slow, bluesy final minute and builds to a noisy and captivating crescendo, featuring one of the most intense screams of all time – you’ve got to hand it to these guys, they definitely believed in what they were doing. The rest of the album isn't as awesome as that, but there's an awful lot to like here - the band plays around with droning and slowly building jazz fusion (the title track, played in 7/4…try not to count the beats), proto-Throbbing Gristle industrial ("Mamie is Blue"), and even loungey swing music ("In the Spirit") before the album is through, not to mention a short but sweet acoustic piece ("On the Way to Abamae") to show the band had a soft side too. There's one track that's truly bizarre ("I've Got My Car and My TV"), with the initial melody sung by kids and one grown man (with a hell of a thick-sounding German accent) which eventually bursts into a ridiculously catchy klavier-led jam session. Surprisingly, most of it works, so the end result isn't just one of Faust's most accessible, but it's also one of their most musically sound too. This time, the experimental stuff is certainly there, but it's often held to the background and is generally nicer on the ears, and the purely experimental tracks are kept under a minute.

This and the debut are nowadays packaged on a single CD - it's a tremendous deal that makes a great introduction to the band (although you should probably start with the So Far tracks first). Once again, the vinyl packaging was impressive - the cover was nearly pitch black to contrast the debut, and inside the album cover there were a series of nine prints to coincide with the nine tracks.

Outside the Dream Syndicate (with Tony Conrad) (1972)
Haven't yet heard this one. Tony Conrad plays the violin and apparently just drones on through a couple of minimalistic grooves with the Faust guys. Doesn't sound very interesting.

The Faust Tapes (1973) ****
After two albums, Polydor had enough, and decided to drop the band, who were later picked up by Virgin. In order to figure out how to sell such an avant-garde and listener-unfriendly group, the label decided to release their next album for the price of a single, ensuring lots of ‘curiosity’ purchases – the album sold 50,000 copies, and I’d be willing to bet most of them found their way to the used bins shortly after. This is another collage-type album, collecting all of the different types of experimentation Faust tried throughout their existence (indeed, some segments from this album date back to ’71) into one 43-minute ‘piece’. There are definitely more song-based parts here, some of which are quite good - “Flashback Caruso” is an adorable and singable folk song, “J’ai Mai Aux Dents” is a droning, rhythmic, and addictive guitar jam with plenty of sax over the top, and “Der Vaum” is a great start-stop chant-based tune. The difference between this and the debut is that they’re kept separate from the shorter experimental bits, which seem complete in concept only. This makes for a jarring listen, as melodic and interesting bits can be suddenly cut and replaced by white noise, as the album seems to soothe and repulse in equal doses. But it’s still fascinating – again, you’ll be left wondering exactly how these noises were made, picking up new details every time, and the music tends to be strangely cerebral – you’ll find yourself searching for specific bits an awful lot (which is tough, because despite newer CD releases splitting the release up into 26 sections, most of them are called “Untitled”). Many of these tracks suggest different types of musical manifestos and production techniques, going from upbeat and fast funk to overdistorted guitar soundscapes to creepy vocal chanting to jarring drill noise to Floyd-like psychedelic jam at the drop of a hat. So it’s relentlessly experimental and fascinating, and nearly impossible to memorize, but where’s the continuity? The album never really gets you into a mood, or tries to keep you there, and some of the experimentation seems unnecessary – there’s a track subtitled “All on saxes”, draw your own conclusions. But keep at it – like the debut, there’s an awful lot more musical bits than what appears on the first listen, and keeping the experiments to around 2 minutes apiece (or less) was a great move.

Faust IV (1974) ****1/2
Under more pressure from Virgin, again Faust decide to make something a little easier to grasp, and again it's brilliant. The first track, "Krautrock" may well have given the genre its name, but above that it's a fantastic piece of work, featuring a wash of metallic guitar and keyboard through its 12-minute entirety, a sound so incredibly mesmerizing that when the drums finally kick in halfway through, it's easy to forget that was even an option - it's one of the best moments in the Faust discography. Be assured bands like Stereolab paid close attention – the harsh yet melodic droning sound was a launching pad for a lot of groups that grew up with this stuff. After that, the album runs a gamut of styles, but this time a little more focused, with 3 of the 8 tracks being ballads. Oh, they're all good, even great, with the amazing violin/acoustic guitar combo of "Psalter" (mistitled "Giggy Smile") being the most awe-inspiring and catchy (despite being in 11/4 or something like that), but the others are essential – “Jennifer” rides on a warbling bass note and is heartbreaking, and “It’s a Bit of Pain” contains one of the most oddly placed electronic drill noises ever. The best remaining track is a great two-part jam ("Giggy Smile", mistitled "Picnic on a Frozen River") which launches into a fast-paced and exciting version of a familiar theme from So Far. Otherwise you've got a joke tune (the reggae-based "Sad Skinhead") and a more experimentation, some interesting and ambient, some a little harder on the ears ("Just a Second"). But it's all great - Faust generally keep the music quotient high and the random irritating noise factor low, and many of the actual tunes are quite groundbreaking (especially given the 1974 release date). This is the best starting point for newcomers.

In 2007, this album was remastered and rereleased with a bonus disc. It's worth tracking down if you don't have the 71 Minutes or BBC Sessions discs, from which most of Disc 2 is culled from. The actual album doesn't seem to sound any better, and the botched track titles are still there.

71 Minutes of Faust (rec. 1971-1975, rel. 1979) ***1/2
The product of two aborted albums, 71 Minutes was released after unsurprisingly being dropped by Virgin. It's a neat addendum to the first four Faust albums, with most of the songs sounding along the lines of Faust IV, but it's not at all polished. Fans of Neu!-like drones would probably like the two "Munic" tracks, and again we get to hear Faust take off in a bunch of different directions, but it seems as though the band has somewhat run out of steam, with some of the tracks simply showing the band trying to be as obnoxious as possible ("25 Yellow Doors", "Don't Take Roots"). There's a confusingly standard blues number ("Baby"), a long, plodding track that sounds something like a twisted, off-key Pet Sounds outtake ("Chromatic", which is one of my favorites), and a great, echo-laden and sparse piano piece that could have came from the first album ("Das Meer"). Three of the tracks are alternate versions of tracks that appeared on the last two albums, with the new, rhythm-heavy version of "J'al Mai Aux Dents" actually being somewhat of an improvement. It's nice to have some sort of a ground like that - many of the longer tracks are certainly good, but don't seem to change up much, making them somewhat of a chore – most of this seems to have been improvised. There's still enough innovative and interesting music to warrant a couple of listens, and for any big fan of the first four albums this is an essential.

Parts of this were released as a promo cassette called Faust V - I have an MP3 copy and it’s got pretty bad sound quality, plus there’s nothing that doesn’t appear here or on the BBC Sessions release. Since then there’s been a number of 80’s releases with titles like Munic and Elsewhere and The Last LP, which all seem to just be repackaging of this material.

BBC Sessions (rec. 1973, rel. 1996)
A fine release, featuring a BBC Session recorded in '73 and a few other assorted tracks, but it's hardly essential and there's not much new. The first track is the live session, featuring something of a medley of an unreleased track ("The Lurcher"), and two familiar ones - "Krautrock" and "Do So" ("Stretch Out Time" from the Faust Tapes). The remaining tracks are the rest of the Munic party sessions that didn't make the 71 Minutes release and alternate versions of "So Far" and "Das Meer". The live and alternate takes don't add anything really new, and the unreleased tracks are pretty lame, based mostly on experimental noise. Comes as a part of The Wumme Years boxset, but you probably shouldn't seek it out otherwise.

Rien (1994) **
Faust came back together in the early 90's with Diermaier and Irmler intact, adding a bunch of new members to fill the void. They released a few live shows on CD but the prospect of a studio album seemed unlikely until Jim O'Rourke stepped in and decided to put together this one. The entirety of the album seems to be live, with the concept being silence - indeed, "Long Distance Calls in the Desert" is simply a recording of the band playing nothing - luckily, there's someone in the audience willing to at least make some noise with some kind of reeded instrument. What to make of that? It's certainly nothing you'd hear on another record, but maybe that's for the best. When they are playing, the band seems content to be playing slow-moving industrial grooves with almost no real variation or melody, and the results can be quite plodding - there's only one real tune here, and that's the 15-minute "Listen to the Fish", syncopating a simple 2-note bass line and steady drum kit with whatever Faust decides to throw at it. It's mostly long, drawn out guitar noises, and the groove doesn't really change at all, but it's preferable to stuff like "Eroberung Der Stille, Tiel 1" which sounds like the band warming up for 9 minutes. "Tiel 2" is the album's only real good moment, sounding like the Boredoms playing over classical music, but there's still nothing much here, and it isn’t worth listening to over 30 minutes of nearly nothing to get there. Admittedly, the album touches on a cool concept - the band seems like they're playing in the middle of a desert, with no crowd noise but plenty of wind, and other 'found' sounds such as the whirling of a helicopter blade. If that sounds interesting to you, this is your album, and they certainly get points for trying, but it really comes up short, which I suppose is mostly the fault of Jim O'Rourke, who dreams big here but doesn't really follow through.

You Know faUSt (1997) ***
Well, this is better. It's nothing too much out of left field, but at least this time we've some decent music and a few curveballs. It's comprised of 17 tracks, only five being over four minutes, with the rest being linking tracks, little experiments, and other weird stuff - you know, kind of like someone took a toolbox and tried to make music out of it. The longer tracks are mostly good, of course - "Hurricane" isn't much more than a flurry of drums and electronic sound, but it's some sort of a groove, and the album (luckily) touches on the band's softer side. "C-Pluus-Pause" is driven by little more than a soft trumpet melody, but it's a nice track, and the spectacular "Liebeswehen 2" is led by a fuzzed-out guitar playing all major chords in an attempt to make something that's actually friendly for a change (the melody is reminiscent of Brian Eno’s “The Big Ship”, which is definitely a good thing). Oh, and there's even a nice, upbeat, acoustic guitar track ("Sixty-Sixty") that doesn't sound like anything they've done before. They still haven't lost their penchant for loud noise (the 14-minute "Na Sowas" is completely distorted and fuzzed out, but most of it is pretty fierce) or experimentation, but in comparison to every other Faust album, this is pretty tame.

Faust Wakes Nosferatu (1997) *
A soundtrack to the apparently-better-off silent film. I've never seen the movie, but based on Faust's interpretation of it, here's what happens. People move around very slowly. Long shots are taken of mundane things, like a person going down the stairs. Monster eventually emerges and scares a bunch of people in a boring manner. Wait, does anything exciting happen in this movie at all? There's no real climax, just a bunch of mood music. Drums playing non-rhythms, fuzzed out guitar flailing about, bass creeping up all over the place, and lots of other random sound effects thrown in for no reason. This music is boring, and there’s over 70 minutes of it! And you thought Nosferatu was scary??

Ravvivando (1999) ****
Faust finally finds their groove again - this is their darkest and loudest album yet, and that's a good thing. Filled mostly with harsh drumbeats, metallic noise, and a variety of rock instruments overdriven to hell, the album tries to redefine industrial rock all by itself, and very nearly succeeds, too. Few albums conjure up the kind of hellish visions this one does - turn it up, and if you're not feeling like you're in a post-apocalyptic industrial world by the third track, then this clearly isn't the kind of music for you. Okay, there's one moment of beauty ("Du Wiest Schon", which is nearly breathtaking), and one track that rolls and grooves along like the golden days of Krautrock ("T-Electronique", arguably the best track), but most of the rest smashes and crashes along in a furious manner, destroying everything in its path...speakers, eardrums, whatever. A great album to play loud - don't get me wrong, it's as obnoxious as anything the band ever put out, but there's a real rhythm and groove here, as Faust again succeeds in making an album that sounds like no other. Probably could have scored higher too, but some of the tracks are overlong ("Livin' Tokyo", "Four Plus Seven Means Eleven"), and the disregard for the listener can be trying. It's sort of rare to be in the mood for this, but when you are it tears - this is the way Faust should be in the 90's. Strangely, original member Jean-Herve Peron was kicked out of the band before this was recorded (which is why the vocals are either sampled or random screaming) - maybe shedding him was just the kick in the pants the band needed to revitalize itself.

Freispiel (2002)
A bunch of remixes of the Ravvivando tracks. I haven't heard it yet, but it sounds interesting. There's three remixes of "Carousel", which seems pretty unnecessary. Haven't heard of any of the remixers.

Patchwork 1971-2002 (2002) **
An attempt to redo the Faust Tapes by stringing together short snippets of various recordings made throughout the band's life. A good portion of it's taken from the band's 70's days, but all the good recordings from those times were released already, so the best tracks from there are the alternate versions of tracks like "It's a Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl" or "Psalter" which get slowed down and mucked up, maybe a result of being recorded on now 30-year old tapes. There's one good modern track, and it's a refreshingly straightforward rock-n-roller ("Nervous"). It doesn't really keep the experimental spirit that The Faust Tapes had, nor it's small collection of good songs - just an odds-n-ends collection that should only really be interesting to a diehard fan.

Faust/Dalek - Derbe Respect, Alder (2004) **1/2
Now here's an interesting idea - Dalek, a New Jersey hip hop outfit, decided to look through some of Faust's studio scraps, remix them, and add some raps. It starts promising before the raps even start - "Imagine How We Started", after its lengthy intro, transforms into a storm of drums, sounding like three or four kits playing at once. It's exciting, but the album doesn't really capture that moment again - most of it is tuneless and dissonant, but unlike Ravvivando, it's not powerful, and sort of goes on without rhyme or reason. As cool as the idea is, it just doesn't develop - Dalek's raps seem mostly out of place and tend to be obnoxious ("Bullets Need Violence"), and the tracks never seem to get going ("Dead Lies"). There is one track that's massive, however - the remix of "T-Electronique" is absolutely fantastic, a true soundtrack to the end of the world, the sound of things falling apart. Drums crash down from all over the place, there are blasts of powerful (and tuneful) feedback, and the rap is stirring and works wonders with the tune. Hell, it can barely even be considered a remix, having almost nothing to do with the original. If the whole album sounded like that, this would easily be Faust's best release since their early days, but alas, there's a wealth of tracks that just go nowhere and stay there (again, "Bullets Need Violence") – it’s interesting for a couple of listens, but I think Dalek was trying to tap into Faust’s avant sense a little too deeply. Is it worth it for "T-Electronique" alone? Maybe, if you have more money than you know what to do with (or have a way to download it). So it's not completely a wasted opportunity, but have fun sitting through it until the end.

In Autumn (2007) **
A triple live CD boxset with a DVD included, taken from the band's 2005 shows. I’ve always heard that Faust’s show was loud, powerful, and dynamic, but unfortunately this live recording transports you directly to the back row – the mix is quiet and slightly muffled, meaning that you have to turn it up to get the powerful parts, resulting in a lot of hiss. You can even hear people having conversations during the quiet parts, for Pete’s sake! Plus, it’s longer than need be – isn’t the third disc just a re-hash of what was on the first two? If there’s anything to recommend this by, it’s that the performances are spirited, even if they are noticeably lacking a certain something (which I’m guessing was Irmler, as he does not appear here, but Peron is back), and instead of offering lengthy ambient improvisations, they re-hash their old stuff, performing good chunks of So Far, Faust IV, and 71 Minutes. The titles of the tracks are often misleading – a good majority of them are old tracks, even with names like “Schempal”. There are a few improvised-sounding pieces, as “Not Music” attempts to capture their collage-style early stuff in a live setting against a rant condemning the stuff (“I hear noises…but this is not music!”) Clever. Unfortunately, some of the other improvised material is pretty much inaudible (“Voices & Horns”). Gets points for a few nice performances (“Psalter” is still pretty, and they decide to switch to electric guitar halfway through, which rules, and “Sunshine Girl” shows the band still has lots of energy left), and Peron is entertaining throughout. Loses points because I really don’t think I could listen to a full disc of this again. Just a wasted opportunity – let’s get a soundboard recording next time, fellas!

Faust/Nurse With Wound - Disconnected (2007) **1/2
Another collaboration, this time with industrial outfit Nurse With Wound. Irmler seems to have left the group, and Peron is back. There are four tracks, each over ten minutes, and none of them are as abrasively noisy as you’d hope (or fear). They concentrate again on droning patterns, with some industrial soundscape in the background and a pulsating rhythmic pattern in the foreground. Opener “Lass Mich” shows some potential for the album – it begins with acoustic guitars, and does lock into a nice groove – but, like “Rien”, it suddenly cuts out and doesn’t leave much in its wake. That’s the problem here – it’s not like the early Faust albums that offer all sorts of new sounds and techniques every minute, instead offering repetitive, ambient-like material. It’s not really too bad, but despite nailing Faust’s 70’s sound (it would not surprise me to find this album was released in 1972 instead of 2002) it doesn’t offer much, “Lass Mich” excepted – it’s dark and brooding, but it never climaxes the way it should. Definitely nothing I mind, however, and the bonus track appended to the US release (“Hard Rain”) is an exciting live cut, featuring all the abrasiveness you’d expect from Faust – plenty of yelling and industrial noises in the background (literally – it sounds like someone’s ‘playing’ a buzzsaw!)

C’est Com… Com… Complique (2009) ***
This was actually recorded in 2006, but they decided to sit on it for a few years because it is the same material that was remixed for Disconnected. So this is not really a new Faust album, but it’s fairly close and seems to take on an identity of its own. Allow me to digress for a moment - Faust’s career arc has taken a few turns in their 40 year existence, and their path always seemed to tell a story. Early Faust recordings were odd ducks, but they were vibrant, full of different sounds and different ways of processing those sounds, drawing from all sorts of genres, occasionally pausing for stunning moments of beauty. In a way they encompassed all sorts of emotion – not just fear and suspense, but happiness and excitement as well. But when Faust came back in the 90’s, they were far more somber and less exciting, making albums out of recording dry air in the desert. Ravvivando was the apocalypse, a whirlwind of activity that brought Faust to a higher place one more time, punctuated by a cavalcade of junkyard beats and stony grit – the sound was defined by loud, rusty, and powerful drums, with most of the other instrumentation having a metallic sound. Now, you come to C’est Complique, and it’s hard not to shake the ‘after the storm’ feeling. Once again the drums are the dominating instrument, with all sorts of metal pipes used as percussion, with fuzzed-out bass holding down a rhythm as various spooky noises play in the background. Of course this is probably more due to the band not having a songwriter in it anymore (the band was reduced to a trio of Zappi, Peron, and one new guy) rather than anything I just described, but bear with me here. It’s an oddly affecting record, sounding something like Super Ae-era Boredoms – long, droning organ notes, wordless vocalizations, repetitive and wonky rhythms that seem to have no beginning and no end. The frustrating thing here is that the band seems more content with building up tense instrumental passages than actually leading to some kind of climax. The first track illustrates this right away – we get a fuzzed-out guitar and bass line with frantic panting and heavy breathing in the background, but the track does not really develop past that. In a way the journey is the destination, if that makes sense. But altogether, this is a neat record with a few neat moments – for example, “Bonjour Gioacchino” (most of the song titles and lyrics are in French) samples a clip of tense film music and lays it out in the background against a noisy jam, and the finale, the title track, is as hypnotic and wonderfully spacious as they’ve ever been. It’s tense and jittery, with scraping noises and haunting keyboard tones, yet never tries to overwork the point by becoming overly noisy. Juxtaposed are the moments of beauty, coming this time in what sounds like a French folk song (“Petits Sons Appetissants”), and a sadly all-too-short acoustic-led piece called “Lass Mich”. In the end it becomes somewhat too much to handle – there are no real grooves or hooks here, and I wish parts of it were a little more fast paced, but in the end I’d say it’s a positive for the Faust discography, and if nothing else still shows a heartbeat ticking in the band that now has spanned four decades.