Hardly Art, Hardly Garbage

Seattlest loves Portland pop-punk band The Thermals. They're the only good that came of a brief relationship a few years ago, where the guy ended up being a complete tool, but his recommendation on this band was sound. Since then, we've seen them play twice: once at the (old) Vera, and once at the Crocodile. The crowds for both of those shows were raucous and fun, everyone singing along and jumping around.

So imagine our surprise Thursday night when we got to the Croc and found a practically empty venue. Are you kidding us? The Thermals are known for delivering a one-way ticket on the rock express. They don't engage in excessive talking from the stage (just the occasional "thanks"), so it's just song-song-song-song-song. And since all of those songs run approximately two minutes long, they can pretty much get through their entire discography (2003's lo-fi masterpiece More Parts Per Million and 2004's more overtly political, yet more optimistic Fuckin' A) in under an hour. How could they be playing to a mere smattering of individuals? Are we taking crazy pills? Fine, Seattle, be that way, it's just more Thermals for the rest of us.

Their set was pretty much as described above, with only a few differences from the past times we had seen them perform. In about forty-five nonstop minutes of rock, the band ran through twenty songs, including three new ones (upcoming album The Body, The Blood, The Machine should be out August 22nd). But wait, who's that on drums? We hadn't read up on our Thermals news ahead of time, but old drummer Jordan Hudson had left the band, replaced by Caitlin Love, a chick with über-muscular arms and mad drumming skillz. Meanwhile, left-handed bassist Kathy Foster had shorn her huge head of curls. We ran into her in the ladies' room before the show and had a brief conversation on the matter---

Us: You cut your hair!
Her: Yeah, it had just gotten to be too much.
Us: We always liked how your hair would bounce as you played.
Her: Yeah, but it was time for it to go.
Us: Understandable. Hair can be a hassle.

Thankfully, though her pate was much closer cropped, Kathy's curls remained bounceable. Scrawny-ass lead singer Hutch Harris spat out lyrics in his Valley Girl voice while tearing through myriad variations on the three chord theme, which left him quite sweaty. The band played all our favorite songs like "Back to Gray," "How We Know," "God and Country," and "No Culture Icons," the latter of which got the biggest cheers of the night. The crowd was really appreciative and bopped along, but it was far too sparse for dancing (and we are so reluctant to be That Guy). Look Seattle, the next time the Thermals are in town, you better damn well show up to their show, 'cause right now you're just plain missing out.

Photo care of flickr.com / user: hearmeshimmer.