REVIEW: Friko - Something Worth Waiting For

Get your Friko on

41:38 // April 24, 2026 // ATO

Friko have a knack for album titles which read as bold declarations of intent - 2024’s debut Where We’ve Been, Where We Go from Here has now been followed by sophomore record Something Worth Waiting For. Both names suggest a buoyant sense of confidence, maybe even an arrogance, in the surety of their music’s value, but I find this tendency to align nicely with the band’s core ethos of making earnest, bombastic, heart-on-sleeve tunes.

You can shorthand Friko’s vibe as Arcade Fire revival (I know, Arcade Fire is technically still a band, thanks for reminding me), albeit clarified by the note that this characterization comes through somewhat in sound, more so in spirit. Their songs have a dramatic grandiosity to them, even if the sonic confines swing from noisy chaos to brooding slowcore and everything in between. It feels like this stylistic approach shouldn’t stand out much, let alone feel as revolutionary as it is - after all, you could make the case that Funeral was the most influential album of its era in indie realms - but a moment of reflection reveals how central cynicism, or at least its gentler cousin, irony, have become to modern culture. Straightforwardly expressing belief in something, anything, isn’t quite unbearable, but it’s at least severely uncool, and this predominant feeling has filtered into the musical artform to such a degree that it’s taken for granted in most circles.

Cards on the table: back in 2024, I was rather mystified by the hype which swirled around Where We’ve Been, Where We Go from Here. Not that I thought that album was bad, but simply that it felt unspectacular, nothing that my ears demanded a second, let alone a tenth, listen to over any of the other solid new releases being churned out on a weekly basis. I think I get it now, though - partly due to that strange sense of instant reevaluation of a band’s previous work when some other release of theirs finally clicks, and partly because of my realization that Friko’s appeal is not only about the (usually) very good songs, but also their somewhat unfashionable way of writing and performing. They dare to care, and the listeners respond the same way.

It’s been out for only a few days, but Something Worth Waiting For seems to have a chance of becoming the latest consensus classic - both the widespread attention and the laudatory praise is there. I wouldn’t go that far in my own assessment, but this is undoubtedly an excellent record. Before waving around those well-deserved plaudits, though, I want to note some of the album’s oddities - this is a strange release, even if this fact ultimately may well make it even more lovable. First off, I’m fascinated by how quiet these songs are, despite their maximalist presentation - the end result is a whole bunch of tunes you have to crank way up in order to fully appreciate, only to be promptly deafened when the band unleashes one of their periodic hard-rocking surges. Maybe that’s an intentional choice, as there’s a kind of pleasing vitality to the experience, but it’s unusual nonetheless. Secondly, and much less relevant, I find it simply shocking that Chicago-based Friko isn’t a British band - not only does the aesthetic here feel very twee (not an exclusively British phenomenon, but still), but these songs feel well within the orbit of the Windmill Scene, and when they don’t, they’re often overtly Beatles-esque.

These idiosyncrasies aside, these nine songs form a marvelous assortment - diverse in presentation, but united by a high bar of quality and a sincere approach to songcraft. The sunny, catchy pop of “Seven Degrees” doesn’t necessarily align with the anthemic energy of “Choo Choo” or the subdued beauty of “Dear Bicycle”, but despite their disparate trajectories, there’s an intangible thread which winds through all of them. You can easily feel the band believes in what they’re playing, and they play these tunes to the hilt, whatever that entails specifically for a given song - the result is a remarkably joy-inducing listen. Sure, there are albums which I enjoy and/or appreciate for a multitude of reasons, but this sense of no fucks given exuberance is basically the best. On occasion, this train almost goes off the rails (Choo Choo, indeed), most notably in opener “Guess” when the vocals become a bit extra as the song gains steam, but, taken in context, things just work. There’s a seducing charm to this music that’s as crucial to the success of the formula as any irrepressible melody (“Hot Air Balloon”) or catchy vocal line (“waiting for that summer breeze”).

Some of my praise thrown around in the last paragraph probably feels vague, and perhaps worse, like I’m describing an act of illusion - this band just happens to have enough charisma to tuck away a certain magic into their record and pull the wool over our ears - but ultimately, this human to human relatability is a vital part of the musical experience. Certainly, I’m confident that our subset of obsessives will miss that kind of thing when artistic creation has been reduced to AI churning out ever-more “perfect” songs to match everyone’s finely-tuned algorithms. This album, and band more generally, are throwbacks in the best way - remember when songs were messages from the human heart poured into notes and lyrics rather than a fucking product? A couple problems with that rhetorical question, of course - the power of nostalgia blinds us to the fact that music has always been a product in one way or another, not to mention the fact that it turns out that very pitch can be used to sell a whole lot of, well, product - but frick it, I’m a Friko believer. Something Worth Waiting For might be too scattershot for me to be fully convinced of its rumored classic designation, but it’s a relentlessly endearing collection and an absolute blast to listen to. The indie band of the moment sure seems to have some staying power.

8.0/10