FACS
FACS sounds like the final collapse of support beams amidst an immolating industrial plant - like a hall of mirrors exploding into a mosaic of glinting blades.
Formed in Chicago in 2017 by Brian Case and Noah Leger - formerly of the band Disappears - FACS bring an artful minimalism and an undeniable intensity to the stage that Bump was completely unprepared for on a rainy Tuesday evening. It feels almost unfair to describe their set for fellow Chicago postrockers Russian Circles as opening - the trio nearly stole the show with their unique symmetry of space and sonic ferocity.
(read our review of Russian Circles here)
Their most recent release is the 6-track EP Lifelike, the band’s sophomore effort and a bold integration of sounds familiar and new. Brian Case’s echoing murmurs and atmospheric guitar playing weave a mesmeric backdrop for Noah Leger’s explosive drumming and the lumbering, serrated basslines unleashed by Alianna Kalaba (also of Cat Power). Kalaba was unfortunately unable to make the Portland date due to an obligation to her other band, but Douglas McCombs of Camouflage Danse and Tortoise filled in, lending his experienced hand to the heaviness to follow.
Leaping up the rainy stoop of the Wonder Ballroom, I was greeted by a refracting chorus of dissonant guitar, rumbling bass and frantic high hats. FACS were just reaching the crescendo of Another Country, the opener from their new EP. I wove towards the front of the assembly and raised my lens to the strange scene before me.
McCombs leaned forward and back, his face set and grim, stage lights glinting on his glasses and through his winter beard. Leger’s whole body shook with the effort of his drumming, the air pounded from around him in a flurry of kicks and crashing symbols. Case seemed about to devour the microphone in front of him, his eyes closed tightly, barely discernible beneath a shock of curly silver hair. In Time is a hulking, vibrating monster of a track, and the band laid into it with no break between songs.
XUXA lapses into a more somnolent space, agitated drums lending some urgency to an otherwise dreamlike atmosphere as Case’s voice mirrors itself into the distance. Soon, industrial dissonance and hissing, whispering vocal effects fill the air with smog and reflections of a blood-red sunset in Anti-Body, the 4th track off the EP, while filters sweep quickly across the entire band, lending a serpentine, undulating pulse to the violence. The room is nearly half-full but the air is thick with sweat and the audience huddles closer to the sound and heat.
Loom State follows with an echoing, staccato drum roll and guitars that sound like warning klaxons, or the hunting call of some beast from beyond the galactic rim. Case spits his lyrics into the dark like a warning as McComb’s buzzing feedback coils on itself like a hooded snake.
“Loom State. Infinitives. Blank again - as you knew. Blank again - as you were.”
Total History, the record’s close, is an 8-minute train crash in slow motion, opening with slightly-hopeful, slightly-deranged chords relentlessly strummed against a heavily affected bassline and syncopated drumming. Case laments to us from behind heavy glass or through an old telephone, distant and urgent. At the 3-minute mark some space opens up in Leger’s drumming and a beautiful, haunting guitar passage hums and glints like some massive lens rotating before a distant sun. The sound is undeniably industrial, but somehow also smooth, ethereal. Another layer of textural guitar joins the fray - more feedback than melody - weaving through the threatening bass static and ever-intensifying drum barrage. Leger is pouring sweat from his face and shows no signs of slowing, his symbols in a constant state of ruination. He replaces drumsticks as they splinter or slip from his wet grasp, and the distortion of the full band assault begins to forcefully dismantle the air in the room, ripping through the song in waves until the track is barely recognizable amidst the sonic debris.
In the brief silence afterwards, we all scramble to find our voices so we can howl our appreciation. Heads down, glistening, FACS leave the stage with a quick thanks. I feel reborn, baptised in broken machinery and disassembled like the core of a dead sun. I steel myself for the headliner, wondering how anything could top such a performance.
Check out FACS’ bandcamp here. Find them on tour here. Listen to Lifelike and their first LP Negative Houses - Bumps well with broken mirrors and droning mantras.
♥ Zach