Here we go again.
When I was in my senior year of high school I was severely grounded for some dumb things I did. Not to get into the details, but I totally deserved it. My grounding butted up against our senior class trip to the east coast. For me it was a chance to escape my bedroom and the watchful, rightfully judgmental eyes of my parents. For others in my class it was their first time out of the tri-county area. That's how it was. Some of us had left the continent, some hadn't left town. So while others were gearing up for the City Mouse/Country Mouse story, I was mostly dreading how to deal with an extended bus ride out to New York. Yes, we took a bus to New York, because that's how people travel, right? Sigh. I made peace with that fact and tried to drum up ways to entertain myself for the 1,000 hours I would be on a cramped coach bus barreling down the highway with 70 of my classmates crowded around me. Aside from the fact that this would be the worst potential bathroom circumstances of my nervous life, I also was looking for any new music I could find. A kind-hearted friend of mine in the sophomore class took pity on my situation and burned me a disc, courtesy of the wild west of file sharing (which at the time had not been clamped down upon, like it soon would). Knowing our mutual love of punk and my guilty pleasures of heavy metal, Mark burned me a disc of assorted songs by the California based band Thrice. Along with a few of their latest songs, it was a random disc of cuts from their first album and EP, some of it not very high quality, but that didn't concern me.
What did concern me was that this band was right up my alley. Anguished, howled melodies with lyrics about social injustice and betrayal. Furious riffage layered with dueling guitar licks. It was everything my 18 year old brain could desire. The distance of about ten years affords me the perspective to see how obviously cliched some of the music can be through a slightly more sophisticated mind set, but I still find myself playing through a few tracks on spring mornings like today's, getting a fleeting glimpse back at that time in my life and marveling about where I was in light of where I am now. It both boggles and amuses me and I smile, thinking of my simple yet charming view of the world I entertained as a senior in high school. Who doesn't think they have all the answers at that time in their life? Regardless, I'm quickly descending into self-indulgent reminiscing, so let's refocus and take a look at why I loved Thrice's latest album at the time, The Illusion of Safety.
Hailing from California, Thrice was part of the passionate yet not-quite-emo scene at the time. They weren't quite screamo, yet they weren't just a thrash punk band either. They've grown away from the sound in the last ten years, but around the turn of the century the band was a fast and furious ensemble playing nuanced, detailed metal riffs over frantic rhythms, often bordering on an out-of-control sound. Having released their debut EP First Impressions and subsequent album Identity Crisis, with their new album The Illusion of Safety Thrice found a nascent heaviness and sense of song structure. On this latest release they found themselves with higher production values at their disposal, adding a heft and density to their mix which lends credibility to their sound. You can play as intensely and aggressive as you want but if it's with a bad mix it will all end up sounding like tinny children's toys making whining sounds. A bit harsh on their previous efforts, but let's be honest here - if you wanna play hard and heavy, you need to back it up with a proper mix. The band did just that on The Illusion of Safety.
All this talk of their fury and focus does little justice to the song writing of lead vocalist and guitar player Dustin Kensrue, though. While previous efforts had hinted at it, here we had genuine melodies with deftly crafted hooks and intricate harmonics. The album opener 'Kill Me Quickly', while holding an absurdly bleak title, has some astoundingly solid melody over the central riff of the verse. The dissonant guitars on top of the bass line make a sound that almost provokes your brain into scratching an itch created by the dissonance. It's a crafty trick used by a fair amount of pop-punk bands of the time, and to be honest I love the lack of resolve it creates. 'See You In The Shallows' starts out as a fairly straight forward Thrice song, one you could point to and say "That's about what you should expect, heavy riffage, decent melody, rhythm breakdowns and anguished lyrics." What makes the track stand out, though, is that about halfway through there is a fundamental key and tone shift that absolutley lifts the song to a higher level, taking the theme of the chorus and putting it into a new context and chord pattern. The mix of familiar and unfamiliar in this case really makes your mind sit up and say "Hold up, what was that?" It shows that Kensrue was really growing as a writer by leaps and bounds. Similarly, when you see the progression of some of the writing and structural choices the band makes on this album it becomes apparent that they are actually much more clever than they would initially have you guess, given the genre in which they work. While the single 'Deadbolt' is fantastic in its own right, a speeding bullet of a track full of hammer-on riffs and hurtling momentum, when the song winds down it changes gears in a curious manner. A classical piano motif begins to flourish up and up the keyboard, winding up with intensity then daintily descending. While this could be dismissed as a band attempting to add a touch of gravitas to their work it's actually an intelligent segue-way into the next track 'In Years To Come'. Having put the two songs back to back like this, the band actually created a seamless transition that eases the listener from the panic of 'Deadbolt' to a piano theme of 'In Years To Come', which then kicks in full bore, with Kensrue wailing about his obsessive dedication to an unrequited love. It's a genius segue-way, really.
There are other examples of this intelligent use of dynamics, as well. 'So Strange I Remember You' begins with an extended, cleanly played guitar solo that both establishes the central theme to the song as well as building tension. This somber solo comes after the crushing end to the juggernaut assault of 'To Awake And Avenge The Dead'. Again, the titles are wince-worthy but the songs are nothing short of epic, even if they often clock in under three minutes. This band knows its sense of self and dynamics - they know when to dial back and when to light up with everything they've got. Where other bands would become dull from a full on, relentless assault, Thrice knew on this album when to pull their punches. While there are a share of dreary or wearing tunes present, they're far outweighed by the fantastic, shining examples of what they can do right.
Almost ten years later I can still put this album on and nod along, picking up the frenetic energy and nervous tension through which they find their pulse. It's a phenomenal example of what a genre too often dismissed as juvenile can do when given the opportunity to breathe. Also? The title is great. I love to think about the meaning of the illusion of safety, a phrase supposedly drawn from Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club. It's a great, if niche album. Give it a spin. Welcome to the weekend.
When I was in my senior year of high school I was severely grounded for some dumb things I did. Not to get into the details, but I totally deserved it. My grounding butted up against our senior class trip to the east coast. For me it was a chance to escape my bedroom and the watchful, rightfully judgmental eyes of my parents. For others in my class it was their first time out of the tri-county area. That's how it was. Some of us had left the continent, some hadn't left town. So while others were gearing up for the City Mouse/Country Mouse story, I was mostly dreading how to deal with an extended bus ride out to New York. Yes, we took a bus to New York, because that's how people travel, right? Sigh. I made peace with that fact and tried to drum up ways to entertain myself for the 1,000 hours I would be on a cramped coach bus barreling down the highway with 70 of my classmates crowded around me. Aside from the fact that this would be the worst potential bathroom circumstances of my nervous life, I also was looking for any new music I could find. A kind-hearted friend of mine in the sophomore class took pity on my situation and burned me a disc, courtesy of the wild west of file sharing (which at the time had not been clamped down upon, like it soon would). Knowing our mutual love of punk and my guilty pleasures of heavy metal, Mark burned me a disc of assorted songs by the California based band Thrice. Along with a few of their latest songs, it was a random disc of cuts from their first album and EP, some of it not very high quality, but that didn't concern me.
What did concern me was that this band was right up my alley. Anguished, howled melodies with lyrics about social injustice and betrayal. Furious riffage layered with dueling guitar licks. It was everything my 18 year old brain could desire. The distance of about ten years affords me the perspective to see how obviously cliched some of the music can be through a slightly more sophisticated mind set, but I still find myself playing through a few tracks on spring mornings like today's, getting a fleeting glimpse back at that time in my life and marveling about where I was in light of where I am now. It both boggles and amuses me and I smile, thinking of my simple yet charming view of the world I entertained as a senior in high school. Who doesn't think they have all the answers at that time in their life? Regardless, I'm quickly descending into self-indulgent reminiscing, so let's refocus and take a look at why I loved Thrice's latest album at the time, The Illusion of Safety.
Almost ten years later I can still put this album on and nod along, picking up the frenetic energy and nervous tension through which they find their pulse. It's a phenomenal example of what a genre too often dismissed as juvenile can do when given the opportunity to breathe. Also? The title is great. I love to think about the meaning of the illusion of safety, a phrase supposedly drawn from Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club. It's a great, if niche album. Give it a spin. Welcome to the weekend.
