Review Summary: Arguably their best yet.
As you lie in your bed, does the thought haunt your head / That you're really rather small?
As far as concept albums go, The Alchemy Index is something of an anomaly. Firstly, most concept records are made so through their lyrical content and general themes rather than their sonic direction; the music might fit the mood, but rarely is it such an integral part of the concept's success as it was with Thrice's previous release. Secondly, the creative process seemed to work in reverse fashion, the premise not being a set of coherent ideas but instead an endpoint which needed to be reached. A lot of the flaws with the Index came as a result of this skewed sense of purpose, and it's easy to see why. Thrice have never seemed overly occupied with the idea of constructing a pre-determined musical aesthetic; granted, each of their albums has a unique feel and style, but their progression to date has been flawless in terms of flow, if not execution, and has rarely felt forced.
Beggars is no different in that respect; blending the post-hardcore and experimental rock of 2005's Vheissu with the more deliberated tempos and rhythms of the latter Volumes of The Alchemy Index – Air and Earth – it feels like a seamless development, and a mature one too. Softer and more groove-oriented, the Thrice of 2009 are no longer the same band that released Artist or Illusion; though they still know how to rock, as proven by lead single All The World Is Mad, it is now more accurate to describe them as one of
rock music's most prolific acts, rather than post-hardcore. Wood & Wire is perhaps the most bare-faced illustration of the change the band have undergone, remaining mellow throughout. Its drumming and Kensrue's melodically spoken vocals bring a resigned feel to the track, and the melodies and guitars stay unresolved until the very last word of the song, when a beautiful transition emerges unexpectedly.
The next track, though, is the heavy and equally brilliant Talking Through Glass, which thrives off its driving lead guitar and moves with relentless precision. It's a clear reminder that Thrice have not lost their ability to turn up the volume in style, and the pace continues until the last quarter of the song, which serves as an outro atop a picked guitar and no percussion, with whispers and faint static in the background. Beggars rarely crams more than one aesthetic into a passage, preferring instead to subtly grow and shrink by song or section. The title-track and closer, for example, begins gloomy and gradually becomes more passionate, eventually erupting into the record's final movement with wailing guitars and stomping bass. But despite this sometimes distinct separation of styles, Beggars never feels disjointed. It benefits from a thoughtful track listing and a lot of new ideas, both of which contribute to a consistently surprising and entertaining listen, but it also fits together as a cohesive entity from start to finish.
But what turns Beggars from a solid record into an almost-classic is Kensrue. Although having always been at the fore of Thrice's music, never has he seemed so crucial or individually impressive as he does on tracks like Circles, where he sounds distant and out-of-touch as his melancholy condemnation of blind progress floats trance-like around a Radiohead-esque backdrop. He's permanently melodic and sincere, but his tone swings between aggression (At The Last), downbeat conversation (Beggars) and reflection (In Exile). The guitars are always modified to fit his mood, ranging from the momentous and wide-reaching love song that is The Weight – arguably the best song Thrice have ever set to record – to the delicate intensity of The Great Exchange. Circles and Wood & Wire both also contain tasteful and affecting piano parts, bringing the relaxed and defeatist atmospheres that Kensrue's lyrical themes ask for at just the right points.
In its lyrics, Beggars certainly never pretends to be an overly optimistic album, but neither is it ultimately depressing. Songs like The Weight have more universal and uplifting messages and hook lines, but the overall theme that permeates Kensrue's words is a social commentary about our relation to the consequences of our actions and the events that happen around us. All The World Is Mad serves as a pre-cursor to that idea, suggesting (as its title subtly implies) that
something's gone terribly wrong. Tracks like Circles and Doublespeak (where 1984 references are obvious) tell of misplaced and abandoned senses of responsibility with disdain and self-reference, where Wood & Wire and The Great Exchange document more concrete examples of removed power, as Kensrue takes on the roles of a prisoner sentenced to death and a mutineer rescued by his captain respectively. Beggars, the title-track, rounds the ideas off with a summary of sorts, asking
'Did you devise how your frame would be formed? If you'd been raised in a palace or left out on the streets, choose the place or the hour you'd be born' and concluding that
'If there's one thing I know in this life, we are beggars all'. It's an emotional and cutting account of how little is in our control, and neatly rounds up the concept of the album.
It's probably a testament to their abilities of reinvention and creativity that Beggars doesn't feel, to me at least, like Thrice's masterpiece. They still seem like they've yet to make their legacy album, and despite how pristine, passionate and precise Beggars feels, it just about fails to break through that boundary into 'classic' territory. But you can rest assured of two things off the back of this release: firstly, that there are no signs of Thrice letting up in terms of quality or impact; and secondly, that whatever untapped potential they have is going to be pretty damn special indeed. For most artists, a release like Beggars would be far and away the most impressive of their career, and though Thrice's work is always difficult to compare with their back catalogue, their 2009 album ranks very highly, and is going to hit an awful lot of
album of the year lists. Rightfully so.
