Oh no, the Thermals are growing up. Not really, but so goes the consensus when a band displays more carefully plotted maneuvering and a sharper eye for polish. No doubt this transition from manic slop to agit-pop will alienate some long-time fans, but so it goes. Responsible for some of the most thrilling and incisive lyrical invectives of the last few years, the Thermals haven’t entirely abandoned their debilitating outlook, but they’re slightly more elegant, more figurative and less accusatory.
All across Now We Can See are moments of pitching glee and cathartic relief, a change of pace from the snarling shards that made up their anti-religion opus, The Body, The Blood, The Machine. More than just a diatribe, it nailed its specific target not out of navel-gazing glibness but rather authentic resistance, and filtered the observations and accusations through more universal appraisals, tying together criticisms into broader jargon that made them more anthemic than bilious. But this time, even their most frenzied and troubling moments are tempered with bursting choruses and whoa-ohs. That doesn’t dull their impact, though; it makes Hutch Harris’ songwriting more palatable by perspective—even if you don’t care about the constant water metaphors being, ahem, salvaged, the tunes are usually rollicking enough to enjoy.
“When I Died” treats a story of wanting to become a fish as something more general, typically being sick of one's environment and just longing to get away. Harris snaps, “Busted and wrecked/Justly infected/My body beyond repair/Had no objection, sir/My only questions were/’Where do I go and will I know when I'm there?’/But I really couldn't say that I cared.” The global warming concerns he once equated with the tale of Noah and his Ark on TBTBTM has returned. But more than that, this album is about escaping the oppressive state, using water not just as a metaphor for freedom, but also as a path to cleansing, a tool for washing away and a medium in which to “swim in circles.” It’s the sort of joyous fantasy we could only dream of a year back when Bush was still the chief. But whether we see through the eyes of the dead or the defeated, the catharsis I mentioned earlier comes like the closing of a coffin lid instead of the exuberant exultation of being unchained and freed.
If that makes this album sound like a bummer, it’s not. None of this prevents Harris from taking his tightly-wound vocal style and driving the high notes into nasal territory. There’s an undeniable rapturous acclimation in that voice, particularly as the songs strive towards the denouement with irrational cries. Reaching the end of “I Let It Go” finds Harris building off Kathy Foster’s faintly audible vocal accompaniment and ardently sing-shouting, “I looked my fear in the eye/I looked at the water below/I knew I could love or die/I let it go, I let it go.” And there’s no denying that he tramples the line, “Fear is mine, fear is by my side,” with angry young denial on “When I Was Afraid,” thumping the chest and curling a sneer across lips. The lyrics may lean towards clichés once too often on this record, but Harris usually sells them.
There should be little argument that the biggest departure comes in the form of the near-six-minute monster ballad, “At the Bottom of the Sea.” Coasting on a gently fuzzy Sebadoh-style riff and simple drum pattern, it’s actually generously lovely and builds to a fever pitch organically when it lands at the home stretch. Their unusually introspective brand of songwriting (for a band with a claimed cause, that is) works in favor with these sorts of arrangements. Don’t think it will get all logy after this, though—next up is the hyperkinetic “When We Were Alive,” one of the few ragers that revisits past prowess, even if it’s still cleaner than the broken glass enthusiasm they’re known for.
Guaranteed to split camps over this new direction, the Thermals remain capable of delivering fine rock songs when they like. With neither the snarl nor submission that follows the general mood of these sorts of pointed observations, it rarely asks for submitted devotion, but they play both sides with remarkably consistent results. Without the fervor or the climax, we’re just left with some refined rockers that trend towards power pop. That’s fine for the audience, but their claws are sharper than this. I hope it’s not the sound of resignation, but if this is a day off, they’ve earned it and we can share in the relaxation even if the Thermals refuse to drop their guard.
"Now We Can See" is on sale April 7, 2009 from Kill Rock Stars.
