Unpredictability is exactly what is necessary to fuel a collective through four decades of innovation. Faust have pushed rock music through many envelopes since their 1971 debut. Even the aesthetics of 1971’s packaging was a breakthrough, with its milky-hued vinyl, transparent jacket and black screen-print on the clear insert. Although Faust’s post-millennium content may not be as groundbreaking as their prior accomplishments, their longevity extends their colossal impact to absurd proportions.
C’est… Com… Com… Compliqué is superb, a monument that could only have been sculpted by the group’s original hands. The hour-long force finds founding members Jean Hervé Peron and Werner "Zappi" Diermaier reunited and at the helm alongside Ulan Bator’s Amaury Cambuzat. C’est… Com… Com… Compliqué opens with “Kundalini Tremolos,” where a pulsating organic beat meets repetitive tremolo swells and breathy vocals. The piece is highly ocular, resembling the brutal efficiency of a factory. With sheets of metal flexed and scraped into a white noise like that of the deep sea, followed by slow steady paced organs and hypnotic vocals, “Accroché à Tes Lèvres” illuminates Faust’s diversity, a rare ability that shifts from piece to piece.
As the remaining pieces take command, a reverie expounds that captivates the detainee through a breadth of acute minimalism, throat singing, paranormal atmospheres and avant-pop. “Bonjour Gioacchino” sounds like a postmodern interpretation of a nationalist dedication to a new space race. With C’est… Com… Com… Compliqué’s 14-minute self-titled closer, the history of Krautrock is divulged: This breathtaking preservation of likeminded contemporaries including Kraftwerk, Neu!, Cluster and Can effortlessly displays the past, present and future of this timeless music.