The Faint

You have your disaffected goths, and you have your indie hipsters. Just about the only place where the twain shall meet is the Faint‘s live extravaganza. At the Saddle Creek synth-heads’ recent show in Boston, brooding souls (those sporting a Bella Morte shirt) mingled with scads of fashion victims (a pixie wearing a peach prom dress). Video screens projected artsy scenes — phallic innuendo, scenes from human birth, urban bustle — that reflected the band’s squelching glass danses. Awkward dorks dancing to the undead beats infiltrated the entire venue as the audience pogoed to rump-shaking grooves by lanky keyboardist Jacob Thiele and graceful spins from vocalist Todd Baechle. Synth-punking cuts from the Faint’s latest album, Wet From Birth, were met warmly, but it was a cover of Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” and the hints of 2001’s discotheque-in-hell Danse Macabre that made the palefaces as giddy as the Urban Outfitters crew.