Thrice
The Artist in the Ambulance (Revisited)

LA RECENSIONE

The year is 2003, the mecca of post-hardcore is alive and bustling, and Thrice is making their major label debut with "The Artist in the Ambulance," after the positive feedback for "The Illusion of Safety."

Expectations are high, and so is the pressure.
Island Records grants the Irvine combo just two months to write new material, and they don't get lost in pleasantries, releasing something that probably has more to do with musical excellence than with a mere genre manifesto.

The robust guitar fabric woven by Teranishi, the dense vocal harmonies of Kensrue, the imaginative strings at the finale, all wrap up "Cold Cash and Colder Hearts," simply one of the best openers ever.
The dust of September 11 still smolders somewhere in the collective memory, nonetheless, Thrice spares no cynicism:

We learned what matters most

So we keep our hearts cold

They are nobodies, they don't exist

They are not our problem

"Under A Killing Moon," "Blood Clots and Black Holes," and "The Abolition of Man" play a game of chase over visceral riffs perfectly held together in under three minutes by the Breckenridge brothers' rhythm section.

"The Artist in the Ambulance" is saturated with the emphatic complexity that would later become Thrice's stylistic hallmark, however, it's the sparser moments that showcase their maturity.
For example, the title track, along with "All That's Left," is a straightforward rock song.
Built on little more than a simple riff and a melodic lead, it keeps time just enough to allow Kensrue's lyricism to take center stage:

They gave me a second chance

The artist in the ambulance

I hope I never let you down

I know this is legit

Flashing lights and sounds

Can we lift you off the ground?

More than flashing lights and sounds

The downsides of signing with a major label spare no one, after all.

"Stare At The Sun" is as close as it gets to the essential ballad of the album, and even here, the lack of complexity is more than compensated by exquisite writing and emotional density.

When the curtain falls with "Don't Tell and We Won’t Ask," it's impossible not to recognize Thrice for executing an impeccable revamp operation, elaborate and aggressive when it needed to be, direct but moving.

The smudges and impulsiveness of youthful times aren't mischievously hidden under the rug. Much more simply, the way Thrice does justice to an ageless classic in their discography makes the original "The Artist in the Ambulance" an imposing, solid, timeless work.