Let’s just get this part over with quickly: Bad Brains, Fugazi, Dischord, harDCore. There, much better. It’s best to purge those words as soon as possible rather than continually dwelling on their importance in perpetual, middling adolescence. I wish I could say the same for a large portion of the music world surrounding Washington, D.C., over the last 20 years or so, which has been stuck in its own constant navel-gazing. All the while, good hardworking young Turks like Faraquet have been slaving away by the sweat of their brow, putting out highly intricate progressive rock with little attentionlike unseen Minutemen. While others were concentrating on self-indulgent, ‘90s emotional maudlinism in the hopes that somebody might care, Faraquet focused on being objectively good whether or not you knew what they were singing about. They played extremely technical guitar melodies at a time when any remnant of stadium-era rock was deeply shunned in favor of high-concept art posturing. They eventually disbanded, then reincarnated as Medications, and are now releasing an anthology of their greater hits. While the other locals tried in vain to honor the valiant history that came before them, Faraquet made something of their own and in the end were more deserving of the grand-prize for community-based musical action. That and three dollars will get you a cupcake at the vegan co-op.