Single artwork by Maxime Imbert. Feature photos by Cheryl Georgette.
We’re thrilled to be premiering the debut single “Second Sweat” from avant-garde, anti-rockers Faux Real. The accompanying music video is a self-directed ode to the supposed “joys” of social anxiety and panic attacks — but it’s dressed up in white fringe and with an incomparably catching dance/synth hook.
The duo took the states by storm this year performing anywhere and everywhere they could — making a one show booking into a month long, multi-state tour. Brothers Elliot and Virgile Arndt shared some stories from that tour with us — check out the single and their accounts below.
Spring 2019
Faux Real embark on a month-long tour of the US without a single song out, or any shows on the horizon.
“Snake Island Raverie”
A few nights after hitting the ground in Austin, Faux Real find themselves sat in Daniel McNeill’s professional recording studio. For hours, they stare quietly as Kirin J Callinan composes anthem after anthem. Another onlooker, called Lev, suggests he can find Faux Real a slot during a late-night rave organised illegally on a tiny sliver of sand on the Colorado river, opposite the notorious Snake Island. The boys rejoice and drive down to the geographical coordinates given to them by the organisers. An energetic crowd of 100 bounces along in the freezing wind under an unsuspecting gazebo. Suddenly, a head pops through the top hole of the structur. Someone is hanging upside down above the crowd. They feed him drinks. Gravity wins. Faux Real plug their iPhone into the sound system and have it large. At 3:30 am, KJC strips down to his kilt and performs an incandescent set, bringing the night to a memorable close.
“SoCo Street Corner. Exterior. Dusk.”
Ryder the Eagle, a gallic friend of Faux Real’s on his own journey throughout the deep US south, had been performing his own music to amused and enthralled passers-by on Austin streets since the start of the festival. Naturally, it was decided to find a suitable street corner on a busy avenue and put on a double bill for unsuspecting tourists and disapproving mothers alike. Ryder performs, getting dangerously close to traffic, followed shortly by Faux Real, half naked in the late-afternoon heat. The adjacent fire hydrant and “STOP” sign are put to good use in new and astonishing dance ideas. Dani Miller of punk outfit Surfbort acts as social media mogul and mouthpiece to the savage sets on display, opening subsequent doors for all involved. The ripple effect will endure for much of the festival.
“The Highland Park Fire Pit Town Criers”
After bringing their newly acquired texan heels to California, the boys make their mark around Los Angeles, performing in various venues, until an Arizonian native and musician friend, Suis-Je Riche, invites them to perform at a house show in Highland Park. Faux Real arrive in a dimly lit backyard, complete with a fire pit, fairy lights and a makeshift stage with minimal setup. The atmosphere is relaxed, the 20 people in attendance seem to know each other. Faux Real begin to suspect the technical aspect of the show is going to be tricky at best, as there is no sound system and only one microphone. It is decided they will perform an unplugged set for the very first time, relying on their un-amplified voices to convey the tenets of Faux Realism to a bewildered crowd. The set is largely performed from the side of the fire pit, the choreography quickly turning into multiple leaps of faith over glowing coals. Miraculously, all attendants and performers walk out unscathed.
“Eastern European shenanigans in Manhattan”
A few days into their first East Coast foray, the “band” are awarded an opportunity to play a nightclub slot in the Lower East Side. Faux Real arrive in due time and greet the Bulgarian owners, who are stress-smoking ahead of the busy night. The stage, or podium to be precise, is equipped with two stripper poles, and the room is almost entirely made of mirrors. After a quick “soundcheck” had already taken place, the promoter (and friend of the group) finally arrives with a bag of fresh cables, determined to “fix” the place’s sound system. What followed resembled a “professional” acrobatic act: perched on an ever-swaying ladder, swigging beer and sweating profusely, the group tries to renovate a complete sound system with less than an hour to spare before doors open, lacking virtually all technical knowledge necessary. After a last ear-splitting crackle and pop, the improbable feat is achieved, just in time for patrons to start flowing in. The smoke machine gets started and so do Faux Real, relieved and riled up. They deliver a passionate performance, launched to outer realms by the quasi-mystical setting and the knowledge that they have escaped unfavorable odds.
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