Friko expands on its sound, delivers ‘Something Worth Waiting For’

Looking back, Friko singer, songwriter, and guitarist Niko Kapetan said he now has a better idea what he was wrangling with in the making of the Chicago band’s sophomore album, Something Worth Waiting For, released in April via ATO Records.

“I think I was looking at the idea of trying to keep connection despite distance, both in an emotional way and also in the literal way with partners, or with my parents and other people in my family who are not doing great health-wise. And being on the road with that is not awesome,” said Kapetan, who will (alas) join his bandmates in concert at A&R Bar on Saturday, Oct. 31, supported by Nine Perfect Lives. “And I think that’s why a lot of the transit themes unconsciously came up, because that’s all we’ve done the last couple years, where it’s been this constant movement.”

Kapetan’s version of “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” unfolds most explicitly over a trio of songs – “Hot Air Balloon,” “Choo Choo,” and “Dear Bicycle” – that veer from escapist (“Hot Air Balloon”) to more grounded, with the musician embracing “Dear Bicycle” as a means to more directly confront his younger self. “I was empty then,” he sings, “I’m not empty now.”

Sessions for Something Worth Waiting For took place at the Los Angeles studio of producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Explosions in the Sky), whom Kapetan labelled “an eccentric, one of a kind dude.”

“And it was very hectic because we only had two weeks, so we were definitely keeping the pace, a lot of caffeination,” the singer said. “It was a good vibe overall, but when you’re recording a record that quick, you get all the emotions packed into two weeks, so you get the classic dips, and you’re going through the valleys to eventually reach those peaks.”

Friko’s latest reflects the emotional breadth of these sessions, expanding musically on its predecessor, 2024 album Where we’ve been, Where we go from here, with Kapetan joining guitarist Korgan Robb, bassist David Fuller, and drummer Bailey Minzenberger to craft oft-sprawling arrangements that incorporate sweeping strings, twinkling spring showers of piano, and the frontman’s quavering voice, which has a tendency to bend and crack with an urgency that can make the songs feel desperate, alive.

The singer traced the ambition evident in the quartet’s music in part to having grown up absorbing the likes of David Bowie – a musician he described as “the king of grand statements” – but he also stressed that it can be a balancing act. “Any time there’s this epic or big statement, it’s not really on purpose; it’s kind of just how I write and we translate it,” he said. “I feel like any time people try to write big-sounding stuff, and especially big-sounding rock, super on purpose, it just ends up sounding corny.”

It also helps that the lyrics are threaded through with deeply relatable concerns, Kapetan embracing the band’s songs as means to unpack the person he hopes to become as he fumbles his way through early adulthood, as well the need to hold to joy in a world that can actively work against the idea. “And not even just the world, but also something more internal,” he said. “Often, it can be yourself working against that [joy].”

Born and raised in Evanston, Illinois, Kapetan received his earliest introduction to music from his father, who played in bands through the 1980s and ’90s but was discouraged by his parents from pursuing it as anything more than a hobby. “It was something he always wanted to do, but he came from an immigrant Greek family that was like, ‘You can’t do that,’” Kapetan said. “So, he’s been very supportive.”

Kapetan began by playing the drums, soon pivoting to guitar as he realized it could serve as an essential tool for songwriting – a practice toward which he had long felt compelled. “I never had the urge to learn scales or songs by other people,” said the musician, who experimented with poetry through early adolescence but could never find his voice within the form. “And picking up guitar is when it really clicked. Songwriting was the only thing I could see myself getting good enough at to express what I really wanted to say.”