Describing their sound defiantly as "no-fi", THE THERMALS hail from the Willamette River area of Portland, Oregon, and are an absolute throwback to the quintessential US DIY hardcore ethic, previously epitomised by Lou Barlow's early Sebadoh recordings or Bob Pollard's brain-boggling work rate with Guided By Voices.
Thus, "More Parts Per Million" is a warts'n'all recording, straight onto basic 4-track cassette recorder at singer Hutch Harris' house, usually dubbed The Moss Motel. It was "mixed" (term used very, very tenuously ) for general public consumption by Death Cab For Cutie's Chris Walla a little later in Seattle, but you'd be hard put to notice any doctoring.
However, while this resolutely anti-industry approach can get annoyingly anally-retentive in the wrong hands, Harris and his cohorts Ben Barnett (guitar), Kathy Foster (bass) and drummer Jordan Hudson have an innate melodic instinct for cool, uncomplicated, scuzzy guitar pop that usually manages to compensate for the fact the recording quality really does sound like a tramp's pissed all over the tapes.
Actually, the album "More Parts Per Million" most closely resembles is Guided By Voices' under-rated "Propeller", with sludgy, don't-give-a-shit production values failing to disguise a joyful, no-nonsense guitar pop heart. Harris' sneery, energetic delivery has a similarly bug-eyed appeal as Bob Pollard's brilliantly pissed-up Maths teacher approach, too. He's another sussed outsider winning through against the odds.
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The Thermals are a tight, well-drilled outfit. Barnett eschews wasteful soloing for simple chording and they power through 13 breakneck, but largely memorable tunes in a no-fat-whatsoever 28 minutes. Choosing faves probably isn't necessary as nothing here exactly outstays its' welcome, but standouts must include the dynamic "Time To Lose", the nagging, Stooges attack of "My Little Machine" and the proud mini-manifesto of "No Culture Icons", where Hutch revels in the ace chorus: "Hardly art, hardly starving! Hardly art, hardly garbage!!" Absolutely right, young man.
It's probably the last thing on their collective mind at present, but The Thermals bitten-off anthems are good enough to survive a shiny, "Do The Collapse"-style production makeover, should they ever feel ambitious enough. For the present, though, this is an economic, fizzing timebomb. Enjoy the blast.
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