Redefining Hardcore: Thrice, 'Beggars'

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IF THRICE IS trying to reshape the definition of what a hardcore band can and cannot do, then the group has supplied a pretty solid new meaning for the genre with its latest album, "Beggars." The band's sixth release, "Beggars" is a hauntingly complex, mind-bogglingly dense foray into the softer side of the band — with fantastic results.

For Thrice, experimentation isn't really a new thing. The group's 2005 album, "Vheissu," incorporated electronica, pianos and layered choruses into its originally straightforward rock sound, while follow-up "The Alchemy Index" was a sprawling undertaking that focused on the four elements, included as many volumes and employed iambic pentameter (yup, you read that correctly — sonnets).

And if you look closely at "Beggars," there's a little bit of everything from those former releases.

As a concept album, its lyrics take a look at love, loss and the inequality of man; as a hardcore album, it delivers thrashingly fast tracks that never let up; and as an experimental piece, it incorporates eclectic embellishments that take the band into a determinedly Radiohead-like direction. There may only be 10 tracks here, but lead singer Dustin Kensrue, guitarist and keyboardist Teppei Teranishi, bassist Eddie Breckenridge and drummer Riley Breckenridge get a lot done in those 44 minutes.

Things start off with "All the World is Mad," which thrusts the listener squarely into the dynamic dementia of Kensrue's vision: As he describes a world in which "something's gone terribly wrong with everyone / All the world is mad," you can easily imagine a dark, survival-minded world in which some outside force — aliens, zombies, the Others, whoever — makes a play for human society's goodness. When Kensrue wails "Darkness brings terrible things; the sun is gone / What vanity!," a Christian underpinning may be obvious — but the song's instrumental similarity to likeminded hardcore band Godspeed You! Black Emperor and recent works from British band Muse is a welcome addition. Weighty riffs battle with lilting guitar lines, and happily, somehow both end up on top, with a sped-up flourish that ends the song nicely.

And although it seems like Thrice takes a few pages from other bands' books throughout the album, their mimicry is satisfyingly subtle.

For example, although love song "The Weight" pines as intensely as Kings of Leon's "Use Somebody," the aggressive instrumentation and screaming chorus work well at conveying Kensrue's unwavering loyalty and devotion. As he swears he "won't abandon you or leave you behind / Because love is a loyalty sworn ... Come what may, I will be standing right here by your side / I won't run away, though the storm's getting worse and there's no end in sight," the conviction in his vocal delivery is what truly makes you believe it, even if the song gets a bit repetitive toward the end of its five-minute runtime.

Plus, when Thrice tries Southern rock on with "In Exile," the foot-tappingly catchy beat and Kensrue's gravelly vocal delivery do great service to lyrics about eternal exile and endless pilgrimage.

Yet "Beggars" truly shines when Thrice is either doing its best Radiohead impression or returning to its roots. For example, on "Circles," Kensrue taps into Thom Yorke mode and employs echoing vocals and a whispered vocal style to get his frustrated point across — "The scenery's spent / We call it progress / I've seen this all before," he complains — while the band uses looping guitars and crashing drums on a frenzied, beautiful breakdown during the last third of the song.

Similarly, "Wood and Wire" is a trippy, psychedelic experiment that uses distortion and dubbing to achieve a pensive, contemplative feel as Kensrue laments, "And all my sufferings lie in momentary pain / While the weight of an endless glory still remains."

But that doesn't mean Kensrue and Co. have forgotten what its like to be themselves. Two of the album's most stellar tracks are "At the Last," which, as an angry rant against consumerism and immorality, is a return to the band's thrashing, visceral sound, while "Talking Through Glass / We Move Like Swing Sets" skips past any frills and launches right into a grinding, throbbing instrumentation and Kensrue screaming about "We cannot salvage it and start again / Feels like trying to catch the wind / And I can't carry on living like this." Sure, there may be a hushed, whispered interlude at the end of the track, but it wouldn't be Thrice without a bit of experimental wiggle-room, right? Thankfully on "Beggars," the band uses that flexibility to its best advantage.

» Sonar, 407 E. Saratoga St., Baltimore, Md.; with with Brand New and Crime in Stereo, Wed., Nov. 11, 6 p.m., sold out; 410-783-7888.

Written by Express contributor Roxana Hadadi
Photos courtesy Positive Nuisance