It’s rare to see a young band remain impervious to the pressures of the popular expectation to evolve sonically. However, Chicago-born indie rock sensations Friko, judging off their second LP Something Worth Waiting For, seems to disregard this idea entirely. On first glance, when comparing their new work to the band’s debut, Where we’ve been, Where we go from here, listeners may find themselves disappointed to hear the group throw almost zero curveballs. Their new album largely goes for more of the same, cohering to the former DIY band’s sound further without substantively expanding on it.
The title track exemplifies this notion. “Something Worth Waiting For” employs a slowly building wall of sound, jumping from the beginning with wailing vocals and ending in a furiously overlapping soundscape where frontman Niko Kapatan screams over a punishing instrumental from guitarist Korgan Robb, bassist David Fuller, and drummer Bailey Minzenberger. This feature is utilized regularly by the band on their first record, as well as other indie groups, like Racing Mount Pleasant or Black Country, New Road. The difference between Friko and the latter two groups, of course, comes through instrumentation. Without the punchy strings common in the sound of RMP or BCNR’s work, Friko’s song takes on a rawer, more limited tonality offered by their four-person lineup. Without any particularly exciting aspects, the sonic fullness of Friko’s attempt pushes them towards repetitiveness, a potential downside of placing primacy on continuation rather than variation.
This record’s best moments come from the band’s tender, no-frills indie ballads and startling rock crescendos. “Certainty,” a stripped-down track that stings in the best possible way, features Minzenberger assuming the role of vocalist, her slightly melancholy tone intertwining well with Kapatan’s passionate strain and steady piano. The song’s lyrics underscore the album’s main theme, that of liminal spaces, the in-between that the band’s members occupy between full personal and musical maturation and the emotional freewheeling of youth. “Yes, I’m certain there’s something, I’m certain there’s more/I’m certain there’s somebody right through that door,” Kapatan laments, alluding to the growth that seems perpetually out of reach when in the throes of young adulthood. It reminds the listener that this band, despite being partially removed from the small rooms they originated in, understands the emotion that fuels such spaces.
By slight contrast, “Choo Choo” and “Alice” allow for pure catharsis, each making a compelling case as the biggest jolt of the band’s young career. “Choo Choo” delves into a slightly irreverent, whimsical realm, making use of the titular onomatopoeia to have its singer whisper-spit as the steady thump of electric guitar spurs the song forward. Despite the fervor of both songs, its steady pace does well to contrast with “Alice,” which starts slow, with Kapatan’s tender, perpetually fraught vocals tiptoeing over a rich bassline and the occasional chime. Eventually, though, it erupts into a wave of sound that engages the listener without ever feeling ungrounded. Even on first listen, you can imagine screaming the back-to-back tracks during a live show until they’re all you can exhale.
Friko does not seem interested in micromanaging how their perception changes with each release. In interviews, they usually recount just how crucial of a role musical expression played in their growth as people, particularly emphasizing the youthful spirit retained from their music-obsessive upbringing as a chief driver behind the band’s creativity. As such, their concentration lies in the actual composition of their work. Such a concern almost paradoxically carried them out of the realm of aspiring rockstars into the more supported position they occupy now, but that does not seem to affect their constitution as artistic decision makers.
Perhaps this disaffection with the pressure to expand past expectations stems from the band’s solid, if less pronounced footing in the aforementioned Chicago-area DIY scene they came up in. For better or worse, the unit remains laser-focused on the particulars of each step along their collective journey, uninterested in speeding up and running the risk of missing out on the wisdom and harmony that time can bring. Clearly, the assembled talent of the quartet could result in a truly transcendent record one day, but Friko refuses to take that swing yet. What they do achieve on their second effort sounds more like an attempt at neatening their sound, a lateral move that may not enthrall fans, but results in a perfectly logical, occasionally thrilling album.