Review Summary: Thrice continues their post-hiatus identity crisis.
**Author's note; Sputnik has replaced my question marks with quotation marks. It may be a bit distracting, so your patience is appreciated**
P1: “Uh so I guess Thrice is totally generic now”
P2: “Hey c’mon man, Palms may not be their best but it’s still Thrice which means it’s 100% better than any other radio trash out there”
P1: “Thrice is totally overrated imho. They had 2 really good albums and haven’t really done anything good since.”
P2: “Alright, guy. If you don’t like Thrice why don’t you just go jerk off on some postmodern neo-folk album with the rest of the hipsters? Thrice is awesome.”
P3: “Yeah dude, your first comment shows you’re not qualified to have an opinion here.”
P1: “Did either of you dumbasses even HEAR Hold Up a Light? It’s SO BAD it sounds like my dad’s cover band playing a Nickelback B-side”
P4: “idk why all these fanboys are hating, I thought hold up a light was pretty good….”
P1, 2, 3: “No. Hold Up a Light sucks donkey balls.”
And so on.
The Internet, with its global reach, allows us to convalesce around a shared interest instantly, with a shield of anonymity stripping away any pretense of good faith, comity, or empathy. In a way, we can be our most fundamental selves on the Internet: we seek to have our opinions articulated and defined, defended persuasively, affirmed by the like-minded, and distinguished against the “other.” Who doesn’t love the rush of complete strangers taking our side in an online argument, tallying the “likes” on our way to intellectual domination of the ignorant? Or, in the inverse, many of us can enjoy the thrashing, braying temper tantrums of the majoritarian sheep, responding to a challenge to their ill-founded, unchecked assumptions.
To clarify, I’m not trying to demean or insult commenters. Reviews, comment boards, and other responses to media can often be illuminating and a fantastic opportunity to exchange thoughts and ideas. It’s worth asking, though, which comments/thoughts are the ones that stick with us? That capture our attention? Is it the thoughtful ones? Or the exact opposite: is it the thoughtless, blind commentary of haters? Whatever the answer to those questions, the natural follow-up is this: how much power do others’ responses have on our own perceptions of media? If others’ opinions are able to shape our perceptions, regardless of underlying truth, where do we find our “center?” How do I examine an album (or indeed, reality) objectively where I’ve been exposed to a constant flood of others’ perhaps-ill-informed ideas? It’s easy to say “ignore the noise,” but what happens when “the noise” begins to supplant our reality itself?
With their latest release, Palms, Thrice respond directly to these emotional and existential questions. From a lyrical standpoint, both “The Grey” and “Beyond the Pines” urge the listener to embrace doubt and cast aside the hubris that leads us to believe we can rely on intellect alone to forge our way through life’s ambiguities. Other tracks similarly highlight themes of division, harmony, and hope. From a musical standpoint, Palms offers us a dose of the familiar and the simple. Here, Thrice pulls amply from its bag of tricks: time signature experimentation, anthemic choruses, and balanced/excellent instrumentation. In that context, we get 10 songs with a consistent, verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structure, with each chorus striking a similar tone: urgent, sincere, and, ultimately, hopeful. All of this suggests that Thrice’s antidote to the nihilism of modern life is this: simple, sincere, emotionality. A less-is-more approach can be welcome, but does Thrice pull it off with a quality album in Palms?
Not quite. In a sentence, Palms is a lesser Thrice album because it mistakes simplicity for urgency. The extreme example here is “Hold Up a Light:” the song takes one so-simple-it’s-just-lazy lyrical/musical idea (hold up a light ‘til the morning comes) and mashes it in your face for three minutes. I could dedicate a lot of space to how lame it is, and how it compares unfavorably to middling Nickelback/Seether material, but I love these guys and don’t feel the need to pile on. The three first tracks on Palms, which are also the three pre-release tracks, all fall victim to Thrice’s desire toward simplicity, sometimes at the expense of great ideas. The synths that open “Only Us” lend a pulsing, driving, 6/8 rhythm to the song, suggesting urgency and dissatisfaction. But Thrice undercut themselves with a generic, let’s-all-hold-hands chorus with soaring vocals relegating the rest of the band to the backseat. “The Grey” kicks off with a classic post-hardcore guitar riff from Teppei and features some of the best, most thoughtful lyrics on the album. But the sing-songy dynamics of the chorus betray the song: for a song that purports to embrace ambiguity and forge originality, it features a chorus and bridge that are awfully cookie-cutter. “The Dark” similarly wastes an interesting, atmospheric opening and angsty, emotional pre-chorus with a bland chorus, crystallized in the subtle-as-a-jackhammer central line of “No I’m not gonna sit in the dark anymore.” Just a thought: someone with more industry than me should count the number of times the lines “hold up a light,” “not gonna sit in the dark anymore,” and “everything belongs” are repeated on their respective songs. I never thought I’d have to say this, but Thrice apparently needs this reminder: shouting and repeating a lame idea does not change the fact that the idea is lame.
The album picks up from there, but familiarity and simplicity similarly render the album a bit unsatisfying. Ballads “Everything Belongs” and “My Soul” are sincere, emotional tracks with some decent lyrics, good vocal delivery, and nice production, but lack variation and get boring/repetitive as they progress. “Just Breathe” is centered around a wonderfully complex hook and features some refreshing female guest vocals. It’s a standout track on Palms, but it rings a bit too familiar for well-versed Thrice fans, coming off as a mix of “Broken Lungs,” “Firebreather,” and “Hold Fast Hope.” “A Branch in the River” features a vicious riff from Eddie on the bass, some interesting dynamics in the chorus, and a nice, heavy breakdown to close out the song. That said, Teppei’s guitar is a surprising liability here: it’s plain and uninteresting, and in the chorus, nearly copies/pastes his soaring guitar line from “Artist in the Ambulance.” To me, Thrice works best when all 4 members are locked in, harmonizing and weaving through one another; "A Branch in the River" falls short in this respect, unlike the best off Palms.
The album’s best two tracks, then, are the ones that close the album: one (“Blood on Blood”) because it breaks from the Palms formula of emotional/structural simplicity, and the other (“Beyond the Pines”) because it’s the formula’s perfect execution. “Blood on Blood,” borrowing heavily in tone and instrumentation from some latter-era Radiohead, is the most exciting song on the album. Kicking off with a nice, dissonant chord progression and steady rhythm and ratchets up in intensity until Teppei enters with a masterful Johnny Greenwood-style riff that permeates through the rest of the song. The guitar carries you into the first chorus, where Teppei’s guitar and Dustin’s vocals each alternate and grapple for your attention, to masterful effect. When Riley and Eddie enter in force in the second verse, the song’s got the listener in the bag. Take one refreshing ukelele/harp-aided bridge, and you’ve got a diverse, exciting listen that marks Thrice at its most daring, original, and listenable. With this and “The Window” off of TBEITBN, it’s a wonder why Thrice doesn’t return to the Radiohead barrel much more often: regardless, mark me down as a full-fledged member of the Thrice-as-Radiohead fandom.
“Beyond the Pines,” borrowing from Metallica’s “One,” closes the album in breathtaking fashion. For my money, this song features the most emotionally urgent vocal performance of Dustin’s career. The song features some variation in time signature, but is organized around a simple concept both musically and lyrically. Here, Thrice finds the perfect balance between urgency and simplicity, aided by standout lyrics (borrowing heavily from the concept in “The Grey”) and excellent, subtle, and complementary instrumentation from the the entire band. The song nearly earns the minute of silence at the end of the song; if the album as a whole were as engaging as "Beyond the Pines," the contemplative silence wouldn't have felt so derivative, as it does here. Still, I'll chalk this down as one of Thrice's top album closers, and a must-listen for longtime fans and the uninitiated alike.
Ultimately, Palms is an okay album with two incredible, standout tracks. The band’s push to get simple, repetitive, and sincere tracks on the record yields an album that’s largely bland instead of emotionally resonant. Still though, the approach is understandable, if not very well-executed, and it’s Thrice: the wonky time signatures and excellent instrumentality are still there. So, in sum, Palms won’t do much to patch over a 21st century identity crisis, but it’ll at least give you a few good tracks to listen to.
Recommended listens:
- Just Breathe
- Everything Belongs
- A Branch in the River
"Must-listens:"
- Blood on Blood
- Beyond the Pines
"Only Listen If You're Looking For Fuel to Dismiss This Entire Band as a Lame Pop-Rock Outfit:"
Hold Up a Light
