The Thrills - Various, UK - Spring 2003
By: Toby L
Just when music of late was beginning to display cautious signs of becoming the most feared of prospects - 'predictable' - along come an act as freshly minded, focussed and utterly unique as The Thrills to reinvigorate, rejuvenate and reward expectations.
Although only sharing a name similar to their present-day peers, and a similarly shambolic wardrobe (Mickey Mouse T-shirts, anyone?), effectively, they're out on a limb, producing a wholly enriching, timeless, sun-kissed summer soundtrack, whilst deciding to take their first steps towards widespread recognition in a particularly rainy spring 2003. Well, it sounds more bizarre than it actually is; with the aforementioned inevitability currently residing in alt-music fashion and genres, it's this Irish quintet's rigid imagination and superlative song-writing which has warranted them the right to shine in the first place - and, now the ball's rolling, don't expect it to spin to a halt any moment soon.
Naturally, we wanted to get into the minds of such youthful visionaries. But how...? Truly, the only way to really identify and appreciate someone's expertise is to trace their footsteps, examining the niches, nooks and crannies of their operation, and to empathise with the resulting process - i.e. in this case, memorable records, and a continually-excelling live-show. Obviously - there was only one way to go about such a procedure: joining them on the road. But not before making a start on the groundwork first.
Wednesday 22nd January, 2003: The Thrills live at London's 93 Feet East
A day memorable in many ways, specifically for the fact that this was the band's first ever London headline show. After a string of sold-out dates spanning the depths of the UK, and prior debut British shows as choice-support to Morrissey's already infamous return Royal Albert Hall shows of last Autumn, the hype-machine was stepping in, garnering the band a hotly-received debut-EP - the now somewhat scarce 'Santa Cruz (You're Not That Far)' EP - and, already, extensive airplay and press-coverage. Resultantly, tonight's show is the hottest ticket in town - a complete sell-out, and clad with more curious industry-notables and musicians than perhaps healthy.
Yet guitarist Daniel Ryan, prior to the performance, and endeavouring to nurse a gradually worsening cold, isn't expectant.
'We were worried that, because people may have only heard one or two songs of ours - seeing as the EP we released was limited - that they may not be bothered to come along,' he laughs. 'But all the shows have seemed to be sold out, which is quite amazing; I suppose the reason you start a band is because you really want to play gigs, so it's brilliant for us. We've all grown up together, and we're all such good friends, that - to be on the road together, to make it happen together - is really cool.'
Sitting forward on a large, leather sofa in the band's dressing-room, he then ponders on one of their more recent triumphs.
'Playing with Morrissey was just one of those things that you never think will happen to you; it was incredible,' reminisces Ryan. 'He came down to see us in our rehearsal-room in Dublin, and he offered us a tour of the West Coast of America. At the time, we didn't have a record-deal, so we couldn't finance that, but he kept in contact, so when we eventually signed our deal (with Virgin), he came through, and offered us to support him at the Royal Albert Hall. We also met up with him in Los Angeles when we were doing our album, and he's just... a really, really nice guy.'
It takes one to spot one; from the moment we meet the band-members, following a successful sound-check for the evening's advancing performance, what's most striking is their accommodating nature - so void of the pretensions and blasé-cool of many musicians. Thus, their relationship with one another as friends, not just a musical-entity, seems rather integral.
'I don't think I'd ever wanted to be in any other band,' Daniel outlines. 'We've grown up together, and just kept it very tight. Although there were times in the past when we weren't doing as much as now, we always had a really large ambition to do it; the fact we know each other so well, we know how to act around each other, and don't hold grudges.'
At this instant, the otherwise empty space gains a new addition - in the shape of drummer Ben Carrigan. Tall, sleepy-eyed and decked out in an admirable mane of hair, he's possibly the calmest, most pleasant human-being on earth. Though Daniel tries to taint the image, suggesting that he's the band's most wretched prankster.
'Haha! Don't believe him,' he insists, 'he's just trying to throw the attention on me...'
Relevantly, much has been made on the group's on-tour antics; a peculiar fixation of religion, the packing of fudge and bizarre rituals have all been rumoured. There's also a new toy that's been entertaining them lately.
'We're really lucky that we have a cool tour-bus,' enthuses Dan, boyishly. 'We've just been watching movies, and enjoying it. Because we've been on the sleeper-bus, we haven't had to get up at 6 in the morning, and get in the back of the van and leave for another gig. I think that's made the whole thing a lot easier.'
Ben nods swiftly. 'It is very exciting being able to get up in the morning on a sleeper-bus and just be around each other.'
Would you consider yourselves a real rock 'n' roll band, in terms of general, outlandish behaviour?
'The good thing about being on tour is the number of great people that you get to meet,' sidetracks Danny momentarily. 'If there's any people after a gig who you want to meet up with, or hang out with, then we're always up for it; there's always various people travelling with us on the tour-bus. But if you want rock 'n' roll, then you should speak to our tour-manager... We can tell you a few stories about him... He is a really good break-dancer, and he's trying to instil that in us at the moment.'
Ah, that'd be Glen Rowe, then - a riotous character worth basing a story upon alone; little did we know how much his influence would soon lead rockfeedback down a dark trail over the ensuing fortnight.
'We don't really listen to music together on the tourbus,' answers Daniel on our next enquiry. 'Everyone listens to it on their headphones. I always go to bed listening to music and wake up listening to music. I just can't stop listening to records.'
And when you think of your tourbus having brought you to your debut, London head-billing show tonight, and where you've come from, what emotions and thoughts spring to mind?
'For us,' Daniel shrugs, 'it's just another gig.'
'We do find it very exciting,' expands and assures Carrigan, 'but we don't feel it deserves to be treated any differently to our other shows.'
'Yes,' Daniel rouses, 'because we played in Bristol the other night, and that was also sold out, and was an amazing gig - I'll remember that. Maybe tonight is important, but being from Ireland, for us to play in England or anywhere in Europe - that's a good thing. It's a cool venue here, and hopefully it will be a special night.'
Fortunately, it is - although provoking a typically guarded response in a very Capital-of-the-UK, don't-show-'em-your-enthusiasm kind of way, The Thrills excel and dazzle in the face of high hopes, delivering a sharp thirty-five minutes that these few hundred will no doubt be proud in years to declare they were auspicious enough to witness.
Their own most discerning critics, at the after-show upstairs in the relaxed confines of the Lounge Bar, the guys profess to an uncertainty as to the quality of the show, but seem to be the only ones, management and label alike hotly - and fittingly - excited at the potential to arise following this landmark evening.
Saturday 8th February: 2003 Cardiff University - the penultimate date of the annual 'NME' Awards Tour, a four-band bill, which The Thrills have been a part of.
Since meeting with them initially, it was the group's inaugural major, full-scale support-tour playing alongside globally-originating hot-property The Datsuns, The Polyphonic Spree and Interpol that really begun to further the band's status. Playing to filled auditoriums of beyond 1,500 each night for the past fortnight, their advancement and live-prowess enhancement had been a rapid one, with new fans accumulated each night, in addition to yet more rave reviews.
We meet Daniel and Ben again in the band's new dressing-room - basically, a spacious university classroom - and manage to meet vocalist Conor Deasy properly (there were prior, various utterances at 93 Feet East, yet little in the way of real conversation), in addition to bassist/guitarist Padraic McMahon and keyboardist Kevin Horan - a man mysteriously, and much to his personal distaste, nicknamed 'The Dog' by crew and band alike. 'F**k you all,' he occasionally declares following such a disparaging term of endearment thrown in his direction.
Tonight, after befriending all artists during the dates, it's decided that The Thrills' upcoming single 'One Horse Town' should be further bolstered with the presence of The P. Spree's brass-section during tonight's set. After a successful implementation of the instruments to the mix, a celebratory game of football in the hall is deemed an appropriate activity (apart from a gritty ending where the inflated leather is kicked into a distant balcony, never to return). As if the scene were not more bizarre already, the accompanying backing-music is provided by toddler Oscar on drums - Polyphonic-leader Tim DeLaughter's adorable child.
Catching up with Carrigan, we ask if the quintet has been behaving themselves on the batch of dates. In a witty vocal-inflection, he deadpans, 'Absolutely. Not,' almost frowning at himself. The rings around the eyes and excruciating coughing tell the full story.
Yet, amidst the monstrosity of busyness - capped off by media and radio-interviews amidst proceedings - the band manage to find a rare moment of tranquillity five minutes before stage-time, sitting in a concentrated circle and, guided by Ryan's guitar, singing an abridged version of the impending set-list, warming up for the harmonies, and conjuring a communal spirit so commonly lacking. It's a strangely moving sight - yet one experienced every single night before a show.
As planned, the PS trumpets and trombones make a worthy appearance in the set, and the response is rapturous. Elsewhere, the song-selection and airings are just as extravagant, tonight captured in their full magic, with an achingly wondrous and downbeat 'Til The Tide Creeps In' cascading and washing the senses with a warm aural flush, whilst the happy-go-lucky innocence of a majestic 'Big Sur' and build-up stamina of 'Your Love Is Like Las Vegas' showcase a group as simultaneously bearing a prerogative on melodic-leanings as one-off charm. And compiling Danny's gently distorted, admirably distinct guitar alongside Deasy's subtly elevating, high-pitched vocal-tone, McMahon's brawny bass, Carrigan's obedient rhythmic control and Horan's compelling synths and keys, makes for one stand-alone package.
'We never, ever were concerned about scenes, from the time we started the band,' comments Ryan, back in that original meeting at London, regarding the group's lack of true contemporaries. 'When we grew up, there was a big grunge thing going on, and then there was Britpop, and now there's this whole garage-rock thing. But we always stayed focussed on what we were doing. And maybe that's the reason it took us so long to get signed, or get noticed, because we never let magazines or fashion lead us in a certain direction. Obviously, we weren't too sure how people would take what we're doing, but - fortunately - people do seem to like it.
'There are so many bands out there at the moment as well, that aren't a million miles away - like The Libertines: they write cool, catchy songs; there's The Coral; and The Electric Soft Parade, a band that I think we'll all be hearing a lot more of all the time. There's a whole list of interesting acts, doing different things.'
Do you feel an urge to compete with such names?
Daniel, with conviction, is quite singular in his intent. 'The only thing we have to compete with are our own expectations.'
'Absolutely,' backs up Carrigan, 'we've always just done what we wanted to do; we've been very lucky at the timing of the moment - there's been such a regeneration of music again, and it only tends to happen every five years or whatever.'
'We started properly in this when we were 15, and were in school for three years, and messed around and didn't do much - just had fun and played gigs, practicing at the weekend,' elaborates Daniel, on to the band's origins. 'We then... well, didn't have a break... but just didn't follow up the band as much as we had been after we left school. We went to San Diego in the summer back then, and we got signed by an independent-label in Ireland when we came home, which didn't work out. I think that experience taught us so much. We thought we were ready to get things moving, but - obviously - we weren't. It also opened us up to how important record-companies are, and how important it is to make the right decisions.
'I think that a lot of bands might have walked away at that point, and I think we were lucky, 1), that we never released anything at that point and, 2), that we got out of the deal, and when we got out of the deal, no-one was having doubts about anything; it was just, 'We're lucky we're away from this now - let's really give it another shot.'
What were your foundational motives for the band's evolution?
Dan sits back briefly and considers the question. 'I think, for me, and for Conor as well, we started together and grew up together, and we used to listen to the same type of music, read magazines and the odd books about bands, but the group is made of friends that simply got on well; we're fortunate that we had patience... Even now, you learn everyday what to do.'
And if that learning constitutes for improving in the stakes of 'partying', then The Thrills seems to be bettering themselves on a regular basis. In Cardiff, the post-show celebrations kick off with profanities shared on the white-board, not to mention a deeply peculiar game of shuffling along the dressing-room's floor in empty beer-boxes and dodging chairs, whilst Deasy dives for a black bin full of alcohol after being accidentally tipped off that there's champagne to be consumed (the results are a broken watch and two grappling bodies trying to pull him away). When events really get going, the fire-alarm goes off. Of course, such is the drunken level of feverish exhilaration, this is completely ignored, until a half-hour later when we're all evacuated from the building.
After twenty minutes or so killed, we go in search of an after-show party. We fail, and return to the bus, to continue idle banter and indulge in microwaveable meals (the ensuing consequence of which means someone mysteriously soiling the toilet - an area for fluids only... Glen pays the £50 damage-bill.). At this point, the band reveals their sordid chalice - a brass cup that they drink from at various intervals throughout a day - in addition to a leather Viking-mask, both items allegedly 'found' recently on the tour (in Norwich, to be exact).
You'd anticipate that stepping into such a circus nearing its last few stops would be a challenging prospect - all relationships made, in-jokes abound, etc. - but never once does the experience prove alienating. Testament to the openness and warmth of The Thrills and their entourage, one day and evening in their company is an unrequited treasure.
Sunday 9th February: London's West End
Following a night's particularly crappy sleep for many, we awake to find ourselves nearing London's Astoria - the final date of an extensive, two and a half week jaunt. The band appear openly the worse for wear, but are excited about the evening's forthcoming show, traditionally the finest, most commemorative night of the whole set of dates.
Though there are other duties to attend to first, inclusive of an in-store at Oxford Street's Virgin Megastore. Hundreds present themselves for the four-song set - surprisingly, a blistering excursion of tracks, with a particularly fierce rendition of 'Santa Cruz...' - and as many queue up afterwards to gain the band's autographs during a lengthy signing. Backstage, amusingly, following their own set, one psyched-up member of Interpol leaps on to a table and unintentionally kicks a cup of coffee everywhere in a hilarious mock 'n' roll accident. It's altogether a successful warm-up for the big gig later on, the attraction of fans so early on an encouraging sign.
... Especially considering the lack of Irish acts flooding the market; to the band, is it unfortunate to you that Ireland incidentally hasn't had more of a spotlight cast on it from the last few years?
'From an alternative-music point of view, I guess it is,' confirms Ryan. 'But there is a lot going on in Ireland, I think people just need to aim a little higher and realise that you can get deals over here, and push the boundaries a little bit. Which is what we wanted to do; there is a Dublin scene, where bands play every Friday, Saturday or whatever, and have a local-hero following, but we never took to that. It didn't bother us for people to know who we were, we just thought that the right time would come - and it did, and we're lucky we got it.'
Is your impending success the result of sheer perseverance, and - if so - do you think stamina is a must to achieve in the all-too-frequently cold infrastructure of the music-industry?
'You don't even need to ask people if that's the case,' ponders Daniel, 'as it's not just the case in music, but in everything; there are so many great bands that have been around for a long time - like REM, or Mercury Rev and The Flaming Lips, even Blur: a lot of people may know that Blur had two albums before 'Parklife', but many don't. If it's what you want to do - just keep doing it, and do it the way you want to do it.'
'Too many bands try and be like other people as well,' raises Ben. 'It's really great when people are different, and try hard and do their own thing.'
To those that don't carve their own mould, do you think they should get out of the industry?
'Never,' retorts Danny. 'If you want to get the biggest deal ever, or play every Friday to your mates, then it's cool either way. I think, for me personally, I was lucky that when I grew up, bands such as Oasis and REM were really big, and I got to see gigs that changed my outlook on it all. I saw both bands at their peaks, and it definitely does something for a kid. I'm sure there are 16 and 17-year-old kids that feel the same about Coldplay.
'Oasis released 'Whatever' in 1994, and they were booked to play a festival at Slane Castle with REM as the headliner around the time, but they hadn't really hit it yet, though the whole 90,000 just seemed to be there for them... Me and Conor were at the very, very front and it was unbelievable. To hear those songs - twelve perfect songs, one after another. And they played 'Don't Look Back In Anger' that day. I just remember thinking that they looked so cool. People were throwing stuff up on-stage, and myself and Conor had stuff ready to throw, but Liam stopped the song, and said, 'If anyone throws something else up here, we're out of here,' and it was so cool. I think they're an important band, and there's other bands I obsess about like the Beach Boys and stuff, but I never grew up when they were around, so I just remember fondly hearing 'Whatever' for the first time, and seeing that video...'
Do you aspire to get to a similar level of widespread popularity, or would you prefer to keep it more contained?
'We've got ambitions to go as big as we can,' dreams Danny. 'But we're not thinking about it too much at the moment - we just love what we're doing. With the shows we've recently done, there is definitely something to be said for the atmosphere you get from just 150 people in a room; it's why The Rolling Stones like playing club-shows every now and then... To try and get back to that level of intimacy...'
It's hit eating-time. Yet to sound-check, Conor, manager Alan and friends make their way to a nearby café across the road. Tim DeLaughter greets us from the other side of the room, disrupting an interview that he's a part of, and we find the time to steal some moments and reactions from Deasy about the past fortnight.
'I think it's been really good for the band,' he considers. 'Musically, we've tightened up; our harmonies have become stronger. There's a difference between playing normally to hundred people and then going on-stage at this tour where there are so many more, and people in Datsuns T-shirts or Polyphonic robes, so it's a bit of a challenge that keeps you on your toes. It's definitely a positive, good experience for us.'
How would you feel the line-up presents itself from an audience-perspective?
'It's very eclectic, so it probably comes across as a bit bizarre,' he grins. 'But it is a great bill, and a good deal - you get to see four bands, and they're not all doing the same trick; everyone's doing something different. It probably means you get the odd person that can't understand it; I remember the other night seeing a bunch of punks heckling The Polyphonic Spree, because they'd come to see The Datsuns, but that's bound to happen, and - fortunately - hasn't occurred too much.
'I've really enjoyed the last two gigs,' Deasy adds, 'just the performances, and of course being joined on-stage with The Polyphonic Spree on brass for 'One Horse Town'; that was definitely one of my highlights, and I'm really looking forward to tonight, to be able to do that again... It's weird in a way, because - so far - we've only had one single out, and it'll be great by the time 'One Horse Town' is out, because that's been getting some good radio-support, and it'll be at the state where people will just know an extra couple of songs, and maybe more about the band via press.'
How does it feel suddenly attracting this whole wave of interest?
Conor contemplatively pauses. 'We've been playing with each other since we were teenagers, even though we're not that well-known in Dublin, but we feel as if we've paid our dues. We didn't build up a local following, because we just decided to get our songs together, so it may seem to someone that we've just come out of nowhere, and are suddenly just getting this attention, but - in reality - we've worked hard, and have probably played more than anybody!' He laughs to himself, before continuing.
'I think we deserve a break as far as any new band; there's always a bit of luck - it always helps to be in the right place at the right time - but we don't sit around feeling guilty about the attention... You've got to make the most of the opportunities that are out there.'
How, sound-wise, has the band evolved, since your original formation?
'I think, with each tour, we've become more of a live-band - we really give it a bit more, because it's all about taking each of your songs and seeing how best to make them transmit to the audience. We pick up different things off each gig - we might change the set-list, or tweak little bits - and these are things you can only do if you're on the road each night, learning the best way to become a strong live-band... Playing one-off gigs here and there, you can't get into the momentum of it.
'Colin Murray (radio-broadcaster) came to check us out and said, 'Whoa, I loved 'Santa Cruz...' as a single, but when I went to see it live, it sounded more like The Who! Which is kind of cool, and I found funny. If you go and see Mercury Rev, for example, although 'Deserter's Song' is quite a relaxed record, it's really f**king full-on live; that's what you should do - you shouldn't be too anal at trying to replicate stuff... You should just let go of it, and let it breathe a bit more when you play live.'
And, specifically, which songs of your own do you feel a certain affinity towards?
'Well, 'Santa Cruz...', in a sense, because people know it,' he smirks. 'The cool thing though, is that a lot of songs seem to make sense with people at the first time they hear them - things like 'Til The Creeps In', 'Old Friends, New Lovers': these songs really seem to click with people, even though they obviously haven't heard them before a certain performance.'
What mood or state of mind do you have to be within, in order to write such tracks?
'We've never really analysed it, because most of these songs came together over a year ago, before we were signed - they just seemed the natural thing to do, and that's why they probably came about,' he simplifies. 'And that's why I reckon the whole difficult, second album syndrome kicks in, because people start saying, 'How do you do that,' about a process that you're totally unconscious about... So I try not to think about it; music comes naturally to us, and it isn't contrived. It's just what we do.'
So for your upcoming record, what input has Tony Hoffer (Beck, Air, Supergrass) held over the band's overall performance of material?
'By the time we went to LA to record it, we had the songs already written, but he helped us realise our sound; he just helped us create great-sounding drums and guitars, boring old muso stuff. But he really assisted us where we wanted to get musically. It was strange, because the demos we had recorded were really quite strong before then, so there was a competition to outdo what we'd done already, but - by the end of most of the recording - we felt much better about the way we'd conducted things recently.'
The food arrives to the table, so we round things up.
When you look to your approaching schedule, what are you most looking forward to?
Conor's eyes dart towards the ceiling, as he imagines the list of duties. 'Japan's going to be amazing... And I'm actually looking forward to playing back home, because we haven't done our own shows there for quite some time. We're finishing the record now, and what with the festivals, and our next tour in March, it's so busy - but an exciting period...
'There are new songs we're working on all the time,' he finalises. 'But, at the end of the day, we're not gonna scrap the board and do a 'Kid A' or something - we'll evolve the way we feel is right for the band and our sound.'
We all make our way across to the venue soon afterwards, and discover that the band's crew are clad for the occasion - dressed in all-out priest uniforms. It certainly helps provide the evening a near-heavenly euphoria - performances stunning throughout and hundreds entranced from beginning to end; with a stage-invasion from various stars of the tour during a memorable close, the gleaming beams from the bands say it all.
Next - all back to the Columbia Hotel, the rock 'n' roll location for many-a-group in town, where champagne-glasses are clinked, tipsiness reverts to drunken disorder, and the environment where we bid a tearful farewell to the band that have largely soundtracked our past few weeks and endured our watchful presence. The key facts fans should conclusively know about the band after such avid interrogation/stalking? Well, Danny - from that first conversation - sums it up best.
'There's a lot of personality to the band, and in the music,' he stated, with an air of assurance, as opposed to self-righteousness. 'If people meet us after shows, they might see that. We've also been in it for so long, and we're so ready to show people why we're here.'
They'll show you, alright - and you're going to relish what you'll see. And hear.
Artists in this article: The Thrills