The Thrills - 'Let's Bottle Bohemia' (Virgin)
4/5
By: Toby L
Justice, it jumped this ship lately.
September 2004: 'Whatever Happened To Corey Haim?', one of the finest singles of 2004, and certainly the unsurpassed Thrills composition to date, enters the UK charts. At 22.
Twenty-two? In an age where Scissor Sisters' openly pap-pop can score top-20s more casually and assuredly than Har Mar chirping a future female conquest in a dingy nightclub hole, how the bloody hell does a single that simultaneously namechecks Andy Warhol, features the finest keyboard-hook we've heard for yonks, and boasts string-sequences from the same aged shoulders that provided Brian Wilson with his 'Smile' arrangements, not take over the world?
It's beyond us. Still, one remuneration for all is the full-length follow-up that hotly pursues it - 'Let's Bottle Bohemia', the Irish quintet's second album. Yes. Bloody quick turn-around from their last - 2003's 'So Much For The City': a 750,000-selling, Mercury nominated classic of the 00's, a record that warmed us in the lonesome winter eves and provided the quintessential summer backing.
Yet, whereas as the five-piece's previous was littered with wistful romances of distant America escapism, 'Let's Bottle Bohemia' is subtly bitter, introspective and demarking some of the beauty that The Thrills had - seemingly - previously embraced (address the restrained spite of 'You Can't Fool Old Friends With Limousines', or reserved joy that cloud 'The Curse Of Comfort' or 'The Irish Keep Gatecrashing'). It'd be cause for concern, if it weren't for the fact that such views are contrastingly coupled with a consistently melodious, enriching soundtrack, the very likes of which unarguably warmed us to the ensemble in the first place.
So, no mistaking, this is quite a different record. Ten songs, just over thirty minutes, and sharp, abrupt production from Dave Sardy (Marilyn Manson, Jet, System Of A Down), this is the stamp of a shaggy-bearded, resentful and aware group of young men; no longer the wide-eyed puppies that lapped up all before them while strumming the drunk yet glorious naivety of 'Santa Cruz'.
Like any departure, it's going to be met with resistance. Despite the saccharine sweetness of long-time live-staple and opener 'Tell Me Something I Don't Know' or the lilting ballad, 'Not For All The Love in The World', something about 'Bottle' is very, very urgent. This isn't the hazy, lazy, adorable slumber of 'City' - it's a record on a mission, lyrically questioning, and the equivalent of a beautifully resonating sigh. 'Saturday Night' is so cynical and wound up of the prospects out there for 'love on a Saturday night' that it can barely last two and a half minutes. 'Found My Rosebud', meanwhile, is the rejoicing antithesis - the closest to prior Thrills, and with a refrain so contagious, the fivesome can't help bu t say 'F**k it,' and repeat it several times more in their closing opus, the highlighted 'The Irish...'.
And because it ends all too briskly, its charms feel fleeting. Rewarded will be those then that engage consciously in several outings before warranting a final assessment - by which time, a devout loyalty will have reared itself. Somewhat credibly, The Thrills' return may not be the landmark arse-kicking we were all awaiting, eagerly bare-cheeked, but it has made for one seriously gripping, worthy record. And truly more-so than with most, it makes us wonder, quite grandly, just what's next.
Artists in this article: The Thrills
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